This Is So Me Lmao

Voldemort not crucio-ing severus for criticising him!!?! Lets make a new ship!

Okay so this has been my shower thought for the past couple days…what’s the Death Eater initiation process like?? And why do I keep imagining it like some kind of bad PTA meeting?

I mean surely you don’t have to go hunt down Voldy himself to ask to join, so I can only imagine it’s more of a secret club type thing. Somebody pulls you aside and super casually goes “so we get together like twice a month, usually on a Saturday but sometimes during the week, it’s whenever the Dark Lord decides really. It’s mostly at the Malfoy Manor but one time we got summoned to some random graveyard a couple years back?? Now THAT was a meeting for the ages, lemme tell ya…bloody hell. Thirteen years we don’t meet and then within the first two minutes he has the nerve to chew us all out for being disloyal or some shit like that! Crazy. ANYWAY…it really just depends, ya know, where and when we get summoned, so make sure you have your Death Eater attire ready cause Voldy really hates it when you show up in street clothes, and “it’s in the wash” isn’t a good enough excuse, believe me. It’s always potluck style for dinner, so A-M bring a side dish, N-Z bring a dessert…Severus Snape’s allergic to tomatoes so might wanna avoid those. Oh, and here’s the best part!! If you join, you get this wicked tattoo!”

Which brings me to my next thought…is Voldy an amateur tattoo artist and does the Dark Mark tattoos himself? If so, I gotta think that his drawing has gotten better over the years from the first time he tattooed one of his followers.

Voldemort: *tattooing Lucius’ arm* Alright, you’re done!

Lucius: What…is it supposed to be?

Bellatrix: It’s clearly a snake, Lucius!

Narcissa: *pointing* Yeah, but what’s that odd shaped lump above it??

Voldemort: It’s a skull!

Snape: *looking over Lucius’ shoulder, bored AF* Looks like a severed head with its tongue out to me—

Voldemort: OH FUCK OFF SEVERUS

OR…if Voldemort doesn’t give the tattoos himself, then where do they get them? Is Voldy all *claps hands* “Okay, you’re IN! Once we get done with all this paperwork of you swearing your allegiance to me, yada yada….you’re gonna go to this tattoo shop in Knockturn Alley and ask for the Dark Lord Special. Severus said my drawing was shit so I’ve decided to have someone else do the tattoos…” *side eyes Snape*

New Death Eaters showing up to the shop and the tattoo artist being all like “…Dark Lord Special, huh? I’ll throw in a Nagini tattoo around your bicep for an extra 10 galleons, whaddya say?”

Eeeeee!!!! So cute!!! Eeeeeeeee!! I crazy, eeeee!!! But who cares?! Eeeee!!!!!..

What do u think james would have been like as a father

Oh boy, here we go.

Anon, this might be my favourite ask ever. Ever, do you hear me? So take a seat because this is going to be a long one.

It goes without saying that he would have been incredible, yes, but in what way?

(Under the cut because it got too long)

I don't think Harry was planned, purely because of the war. If it hadn't been for that, I think he would have still wanted to be a dad, without a doubt, and a young one at that: being raised by elderly parents probably made him realise that he was luckier than his parents, because they never got to see him grow up, grow old. Little did he know...

James adored being a young dad. He loved the fun bits and the ugly bits. Harry helped him become the man he was destined to be. In the 15 months they shared together (don't worry I'll answer your question in a moment), James was forced to learn some hard truths and make tough decisions. I've always seen him as someone who had a 'black and white' mindset when it comes to right or wrong: it was simple for him, and he couldn't really understand why people did bad things when they knew they were wrong. Well, he knew why, but it only started making sense when he became a father, because suddenly he realised how much he had underestimated the privilege of being able to choose. Having a kid during a war took a toll on him and changed him, because now he was forced to decide whether he was a father first or a soldier. And it was a choice he had to make every day.

He also had to choose what kind of father he was going to be. The kind who comes back from a mission and drinks himself into oblivion, or the one who goes straight to his wife and son and despite being bone-tired and with muscles that ache at every step, he's there for them with a smile on his face. And don't get me wrong, I do believe he did get drunk and felt utterly defeated sometimes. He could have done that and he knew no one would have judged him for it, but he couldn't let the bad days outnumber the good ones.

Let's pretend nothing bad happened on Halloween 1981, and that Voldemort died and everyone got their happy ending:

James is the kind of dad who has long conversations with his babbling two year old, where he pretends to talk about politics and books and Quidditch without using baby voices.

He does use baby voices sometimes, though. Mainly when Harry won't eat his peas or when James has to change his nappy (honestly I hope wizards use them, otherwise the poor babies just have to sit in their poop until someone vanishes it). He does impressions of all his Hogwarts professors, but Harry's favourite is Filch, he laughs so much he makes James laugh too.

He sings 'Beautiful Boy' when Harry can't fall asleep, a smile painted on his face, and when Harry's brows start to relax he whispers the rest of the lyrics, brushing his hair until his eyes close and his breath becomes even (credits to this post for the headcanon).

He's an extremely concerned toddler parent, because Harry learns to run first and walk second. The little boy hates hats, and he always comes back from his walks with his hair all tangled and with leaves in it (yes, Harry dives into leaf piles before his parents can stop him). James, heartbroken, takes a bottle of Sleekeazy's and pours the product on Harry's hair, apologising the whole time.

He watches him play and talk to his toys for Merlin knows how long, hypnotised by his brilliant son.

When Harry accidentally makes Sirius' pancake float towards his plate, James picks up his son and starts dancing with him around the kitchen, singing a made up song that Sirius will mock him for every time he has the chance. By noon, James has not only decided he's going to throw a party in honour of Harry's first accidental magic, he's also decided the menu and planned every activity. He invites Fabian and Gideon and asks to bring their nephews too because the more the merrier, and that's how Ron becomes Harry's best friend.

I also thinks James would absolutely love to have a big family, so in my headcanon Harry has at least a couple of siblings. Imagine being surrounded by all those Potters... A dream for some (James) a nightmare for others (probably Petunia, who is straight up horrified the one time she pays them a visit).

James teaches Harry to fly, reads him stories every night and they even have movie nights every Wednesday, even the day after a full moon, where James falls asleep on the sofa as they watch Star Wars, and Harry goes out like a light shortly after him, head on his chest, drooling on James' shirt.

But most of all, James listens. He truly listens. He makes sure Harry never doubts his worth. He's the kind of dad who isn't afraid to show his emotions, and probably cries as Harry boards the Hogwarts Express for the first time.

When Harry gets in trouble at school for the first time, James realises that lecturing him is not that different from when he had to give out detentions as Head Boy... Except that it is, because when James has to tell him that it's wrong to put Padfoot's hairs in Malfoy's potion, Harry asks him why, and he tilts his head exactly like Lily does when she challenges him, and this kid has her eyes and James' knowing smile, but he's also clever in a way James and Lily are not, and James doesn't know what to do with this information.

Honestly, I have so many more headcanons and if I had to write all of them this post would never see the light of day, so I'll stop here and maybe I'll make a part two, who knows.

In conclusion, this James isn't a perfect dad, but he's a wonderful one. He might be too strict sometimes, and other times too lenient; he might disagree with Harry on some things, and they might fight and raise their voices. But James does everything in his power not to make Harry go to sleep angry or sad, and if it does happen, he makes sure to wake him up with a kiss on his forehead and a hug. Or maybe lots of hugs, because James is a very affectionate dad. With his parents in his life, Harry doesn't doubt for one moment that he's not worthy of being loved.

GGSB Fest 2024 - A Changed Ball

@goodgodfathersiriusblack

After the first task, Sirius reaches out to Harry to offer dating advice for the Yule Ball, which changes things.

AO3

***

Given that the first task is finally over, and Harry survived, Sirius can breathe a little sigh of relief.  At least one task down, and the fact that he did so well makes Sirius incredibly proud.  Next on the order of business for Harry is probably the Yule Ball.  Since he’s a champion he’s probably going to have to open it, and it may be a bit presumptuous, but Sirius couldn’t resist offering dating advice to his godson.  He figures he’s young and he doubts the Dursleys would bother to offer much guidance.  

Hopefully, Harry doesn’t really need too much, but Sirius had to offer just in case.

Sirius smiles when he gets another owl so quickly, Harry writing to him will always make his day.

Sirius,

What do you mean there’s a ball for Yule?  What do you mean that I have to open the ball?  

No, no – they can’t really expect that from me, right?

You’re pulling my leg, right?  Please tell me you’re pulling my leg.

If not, I need help.

Say hi to Buckbeak.

Harry

Sirius is stunned for half a second.  How had Harry not known about this?  Then, again, no one appears to tell the kid anything.  

Alright, well, at least Sirius was right to offer.  He’ll just have to meet with his kid on his own and give some concrete advice.  

Everything will be okay.  He’s sure of it.

***

“I still don’t get how they could expect this of me,” Harry groans as he sits on the floor of the cave beside Sirius.  “I mean – dragons are one thing, but girls?”

Sirius laughs.  “They’re not as scary as you think.”

“They travel in packs, and they giggle like … like my mere presence is hilarious.”

“They’re giggling because one or more of them have a fancy of you – hard not to given everything, and they travel together because … well, I never really understood that.”

“What am I supposed to do?” Harry questions, seeming quite freaked out.  “You were right, McGonagall says I have to open the ball with a date, and it’s only been like a day and a half, and every girl has gone nutty and I don’t know how to dance and I don’t want to go on a date… this is – this is unfair.”

“And the whole dragon thing wasn’t unfair?”

“The dragon thing was actually kind of fun.”

Sirius snorts and rolls his eyes.  “Alright, let’s start with the basics.  First, you have to select who you’re thinking of asking.  I would suggest someone you either fancy and want to get to know – but know there will be awkwardness and you’ll have to push passed that or a friend that you could potentially enjoy an evening with.  You could perhaps go with a friend that is someone you may possibly fancy or go with a friend that is someone who would only be a friend, but you’d have to be clear about that.  Do you have any ideas?”

He watches as Harry digests this information and says, “Well, I could go with Hermione if I wanted just a friend, but I think that would upset Ron and frankly, be unfair to her.  I’d really like to go with Cho Chang – I kind of, maybe, have a fancy of her, but all I know about her is that we’re both seekers.  I suppose another friend could be like Parvati Patil or maybe Katie Bell.  I’ve talked to both enough that maybe it could be… a friend date.”

Sirius nods.  “Okay, let’s leave Hermione out of it.  We wouldn’t want to disrupt your friendship with Ron again so soon.”

“Agreed.”

“That leaves Cho, Parvati, and Katie.  Now, this is where you have to make a decision – do you want someone that you barely know, but fancy or you know, but don’t fancy?”

Harry shrugs.  “I mean – it would be nice to get to know Cho better.”

“Okay, that’s fair.  You’ll have the dinner and dancing to get to know her, if you ask her,” Sirius states.  “Now, before asking, you should make it clear that you’re not that into dancing, but if you ask any of them to go, you should expect to dance more than just the opening dance.”

He groans.  “It’s bad enough having to do it once.”

Sirius nods.  “Yes, but you’re going to a ball.  It’s expected that you dance.  If you don’t want to dance too much, you should make that clear so that they don’t expect to be dancing all night and are disappointed.”

“Okay, but what if I tell them and they say no?”

“Then you have to accept no for an answer and find someone else who would be willing to support you.”

Harry nods.  “I suppose that I should try and learn dancing then?”

“That would be a good endeavor.  I’d suggest asking someone you’re comfortable with to practice or your date would be better, but it could be embarrassing admitting that, so you could always Hermione or one of the quidditch girls who would no doubt love to help you.”

“That sounds like a good plan,” Harry states.  “What about the actual asking?  If they’re traveling in packs…”

Sirius laughs.  “They may giggle, but simply ask for a moment alone and once you’re alone, tell them either – that you’d like a romantic date to the ball or a friend date to the ball – depending on who you ask.  Explain about the dancing to help them make a decision, and once they do – if it’s yes, ask them to meet up to practice dancing or if it’s no, accept their answers and move on.  Just be sweet and polite and you’ll be okay.”

“That sounds easier than it’s probably going to be.”

“It’s usually not that bad, I promise.  Maybe a little embarrassing, but the sooner you do it, the better,” Sirius assures him.  “Then you can focus on the actual date.”

Harry grimaces.  “Besides dancing, what would be expected?”

“Well, you should meet her at her common room probably with a nice flower – try asking her favorite or finding one that matches her dress robes.”  

Harry nods.  “Sounds easy.”

“You should offer your arm, and smile as you lead the way into the ball and take out her seat first before you sit.  At dinner, make sure you talk to her about her interests.  Start with something you have in common and let the conversation flow.  If it stalls, try to ask about things that are around you – the food, the music, the dancing, the people… anything that can spark something.  Remind her about being uncomfortable with too much dancing, but that you’ll make an effort.”

“Okay, okay.  Seems like genuinely good advice so far,” Harry says.  “Then, of course, the dancing.  I suppose if we practice before it might not be so bad.”

“I’m sure it won’t be as bad as you’re imagining,” Sirius assures him.  “Make sure to still pay attention to her as you dance, and if need be, make light conversation.  If you’re done dancing or taking a break, try finding a quiet area to continue chatting from dinner.  Don’t ignore her and even if it ends up being Parvati or Katie rather than who you fancy, remember that you can’t just glare at your fancy’s date – just focus on your own date.”

“Yeah, that – that wouldn’t be fair to her if I was staring at some other girl.”

“Exactly.  The focus should be on making sure that you’re both having a good time.”

“Okay.  Okay.  What about at the end?”

“Walk her back to her dorm, tell her you had a great time – if you fancy her (and this could go for if the date started as a friend, but you find you do like her) – then ask her to have another date.  This could be something simple and we can talk about that when the time comes in a letter.  Just maybe vaguely ask if she’d like to go out again.  If she says yes, tell her that you’ll let her know a time and place, if she says no – respect it and thank her for being your date and that you hope she enjoyed it.”

“And… then leave?”

Sirius tries not to laugh.  “Well, she might expect a kiss on the hand, the cheek or even the lips.  It all depends on the vibe, just go with your instincts on that one.”

Harry swallows, but nods.  “I guess.”

“It’s not as bad as it sounds,” Sirius attempts to assure him.  “Just take it one step at a time.  You’ll be fine.”

“If you’re sure…”

“I am, I promise.”

***

A few weeks later, Sirius knows that Harry’s managed to ask Cho to the ball.  He’s nervous, but he’s been preparing for the ball, and Sirius has assured him that it should be just fine.  He just needs to relax and not worry so much.  

He also told him to write to him afterwards no matter the outcome.  He wants to know how well his advice went over.

He grins when the owl arrives.

Sirius,

Thank you – thank you – thank you!  Your advice was perfect.  

Cho and I had a great date.  We practically danced the night away!  Okay, maybe not.  She was okay with only dancing half the time, but we went for a walk and – and it went so great that she kissed me before the end of the night!  

There was plenty of kissing before a final dance and walking her back to the dorm.  It went so well she said yes to a second date.  

So, now, I need advice on that.  Got any ideas?

Thanks again,

Harry

Sirius grins, happy for his kid.  He’s happy to offer more dating advice as long as his kid needs it.  

He’ll certainly be a ladies’ man after this.

Just like his father and godfather and it’s great.  

aww

Remus lupin- tell me a character/ship from harry and a situation I will write a short paragraph for them, and how they would react

regulus black meeting the potters for the first time properly after he ran away with sirius (lets pretend he ran away and got away from that toxic abusive household?)

Okay okay okay!

So.

Regulus was hidden behind sirius, not that sirius was trying to protect him from the potters, just that regulus was worried about how they would react. sirius rung the doorbell and Regulus jumped slightly.  miss Potter opened the door with a welcoming smile, regulus doesn’t think she noticed him yet. She brought sirius in for a hug.

Regulus stood still while they hugged, scared to move and for this reality to fall away. Miss potter looked over sirius’s shoulder at that point, and noticed him standing there.

“Who’s this sirius?”

“Regulus, my brother” he started simply, “I was hoping you may be able to help us both for a while, until we find a place of our own. I couldnt leave him behind”

“Oh sirius, of course that’s alright! More than! You, and your brother are both welcome here” she held sirius at arms length, before reaching out for younger black, and pulling him into a warm hug.

“Oh” regulus squeaked out, the first thing he had said since leaving the house. “Thank you miss potter”

Regulus felt like for once, he was home.

im rusty. so rusty. and also extremely late for christmas. i may as well have waited 350 days until the holidays came around again, but im trying to write more this year, so hear you go? eek im nervous. please pardon any grammatical errors or spelling mistakes. enjoy! also tumblr doesn't seem to have line breaks so sorry if any time jumps are confusing.

also a warning for language and mentions of wanting to step in front of a bus as an extreme response to being embarrassed. i swear this is all fluff otherwise.

Harry doesn't know what to get Sirius for Christmas.

Well, to clarify, Harry doesn't know if he can get Sirius anything adequately worth a damn. Because how can a game (magical or not) or piece of art or trinket or any sort of anything say hey Merry Christmas and by the way, thanks for saving me from my horrible abusive household where I lived in a cupboard and for wrangling a fucked up wizarding judicial system so that it both exonerates you from a murder you didn't commit and lets you adopt a kid you only properly met six months ago.

Harry would also like the gift (if he ever manages to find something) to say also thank you for giving me my own bedroom and for making pancakes every Saturday morning and for letting me visit my friends and for playing two-man Quidditch with me and for ruffling my hair and for always letting me pick the film that we watch and for telling me stories about my parents and for always being just enough and for not pushing me when I have nothing to say and for calling me by my name instead of shouting boy angrily-

Harry figures that he should cut himself off there. Any more gratitudes and the gift will literally be impossible to find, lest it be the size of Hogwarts in an effort to cram any and all unspoken messages Harry doesn't have the courage to voice out loud.

So Harry does what he usually does in a sticky situation. He turns to his friends.

No clue mate, Ron writes. I normally get Mum perfume and Dad whatever Muggle trinket he's been obsessing over. So unless Sirius wants a rubber duck, I probably won't be much help. But you could probably give him one and he'd be ecstatic. You're pretty much his favorite person right now.

Ah bloody hell. Do you think I should get Sirius something as a thanks for Pig?

Even though he's sure Ron's right (although Padfoot might enjoy a rubber duck more than Sirius), Harry doesn't have time to add Ron's own gift conundrum to his list of problems, so he turns to Hermione, who ends up being a bit more helpful.

I know you said that Sirius was interested in curse-breaking and how it can be used to help with cleaning up Grimmauld Place, so maybe something pertaining to that? A book or starter kit? Or perhaps something a bit more personal, something he couldn't just buy in a shop. Don't worry too much, Harry. He'll love whatever it is you give him because it's you.

Harry disregards the book suggestion immediately. Sirius does read; over the holiday break the two of them have taken to sitting quietly on opposite sides of the couch in the sitting room, reading books from the Black family library and munching on the latest treat Mrs. Weasley has sent them while flames blaze in the fireplace, only breaking the peaceful quiet occasionally to share whatever interesting passage has just been read. But Harry doesn't want to give a present that reminds Sirius of the exhausting work they do every day trying to make Grimmauld Place a habitable home.

Hermione's other suggestion, however, gets Harry thinking. Something he couldn't just buy in a shop. That obviously eliminates all of the last-resort items Harry had on his mental list, as they were dumb things he had planned to frantically order by mail once he gave up on the idea of finding something good enough for Sirius. But it also opens up a new idea, something that Harry himself had appreciated when he had received it a few years ago.

He begins firing off letters and mail-in order forms with an efficiency Hermione would admire. The owls return in quick fashion, up to three or four a day. Sirius doesn't notice anything at first, but when Hedwig taps on the kitchen window for the second time that day during breakfast, he gets up and lets her in with a raised eyebrow at Harry.

"Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment?" he asks, somewhat incredulously, peering at the label on the package. "Harry, love, you know we can just go to Diagon Alley whenever you'd like. No need to rely on owl post if you're running low on supplies."

Harry flushes and snatches the small, soft package from Hedwig, stuffing it under his armpit and looking determinedly at his porridge. He hopes he doesn't have ACTUALLY IT'S PART OF YOUR CHRISTMAS PRESENT written all over his face.

"It's fine," he shrugs, aiming for casual nonchalance with his tone. "It's just a small thing. No point in going all the way down to Diagon Alley. Besides, the crowds would drive you crazy. They'd probably give you a concussion trying to get a picture."

Sirius grimaces, probably thinking of their last attempt to go for an ice cream at Fortescue's shortly before Harry had left for the fall term. They'd returned to Grimmauld Place ice cream-less and with a giant tear down the front of Harry's robes.

"Nothing a Glamour Charm wouldn't fix," he responds, grabbing his own empty bowl and bringing it to the sink. "Anyway, it's not fair for us to be shut up in this damned house because some people can't behave themselves in public. You just let me know whenever you want to go out, alright? I promise I won't breathe down your neck while you look at potions ingredients and whatnot. Even if they all suspiciously happen to be ingredients for an Enlarging Potion."

He manages to ruffle Harry's hair before the boy squawks out a "Sirius!" and darts out the kitchen, cackling in response to Harry's sputtered "I'm not... I wouldn't... SIRIUS!"

As Christmas approaches, Harry begins to stay up later and later into the night, working frantically to finish Sirius' present. One late night (or early morning, really), he hears a gentle knock on his door. He jumps and shoves the half completed project under his comforter.

"Come in!"

Sirius peeks his head through the cracked open door. "Are you alright? I was getting a glass of water and noticed your light was still on."

Harry nods, trying to convey a casualness he doesn't feel beneath the stress of wanting to have the present ready by Christmas morning. "Yes. Fine. I was just... reading." He reaches for his nightstand and holds up the latest book he's knicked from the Black family library for this exact purpose.

Sirius raises an eyebrow. "You sure? I've read that one before. Couldn't last more than thirty seconds at a time without falling asleep."

Harry glances at the cover. He hasn't even cracked it open yet. "It's actually quite interesting. I've always been fascinated by... the evolution of wizarding legalese from 1500 to 1800." He internally winces as the subject matter is finally made apparent to his sleep-deprived brain.

Sirius pauses, clearly sensing that something's up. He must decide that now's not the time to probe further because he says, "Alright. You're stronger than me, then. Let me know if you need anything though." He begins to retreat and close the bedroom door but stops right before he actually does. "I forgot, " he murmurs, opening the door wide and stepping fully into Harry's bedroom. He approaches Harry where he's sitting on his bed. Harry tries to discretely shove the half-finished present further under the covers. "You had a letter downstairs. We must have missed it earlier. I only saw it when I was getting water." He hands over a rather thick envelope to Harry, who flips it over, notes the name of the sender, and smiles, relieved.

Sirius lets out a small puff of air, and Harry looks up at the sound. Sirius pastes on a rather strained smile. "Do you often write to Mrs. Weasley?"

Harry's brain scrambles for a response. "Erm. Not really."

He doesn't say anything else, unsure how to explain away the situation convincingly. A rather awkward silence settles between them. Sirius looks as if he's summoning the courage to say something.

Sirius takes a deep breath. "I'm here if you ever want to talk, Harry. I know the Weasley's have always been great to you, and I never want to feel like you're getting that taken away. But, I just want you to know that I'm also here, in addition to them. For anything. No questions asked or judgement cast. Alright?"

The letter slips out of Harry's grip, as he frantically waves his hands in front of him, desperate to correct Sirius' perception of the situation. "Oh, no, Sirius, I know! I swear it. We were just... planning Ron's birthday present this year. They wanted to throw him a party." The fib comes easily.

Sirius visibly relaxes. "Oh. Ron's birthday's not until April though."

"Yes," Harry's brain scrambles for an explanation. "But you know how Mrs. Weasley is. Always trying to stay ahead. She's already starting to plan the menu. Fretting between bacon sandwiches or chicken legs for the main course."

Sirius shakes his head, a genuine smile starting to form on his face. "Well you know my vote is always for chicken legs. Assuming I'm invited of course."

"You know you're always invited. Mrs. Weasley always wants an opportunity to make sure you're feeding me properly," Harry rolls his eyes. "And Ron thinks you're pretty cool too. Even though you broke his leg."

Sirius gives him a mock scowl. "Hey now! I wasn't in my right mind that night. And I gave him an owl to make up for it! Even though I was probably doing myself more of a favor than him. That damned owl was driving me mad."

Harry giggles, and Sirius' smile grows wider at the sound. He lets out a dramatic sigh and leans over to ruffle Harry's hair, ignoring the sounds of protest that come in response to the action.

"Alright then, love. I'm off to bed. Shout if you need anything, and I'll be here in faster than you can say chicken legs. You hear me?"

Harry nods. "Yes sir."

Sirius scowls for real this time. "None of that now, remember?"

Harry nods again, this time rather sheepishly. Sirius bends over to kiss his forehead before heading out of the bedroom, shouting a "Good night!" over his shoulder before he closes the door behind him.

Harry sighs in relief, pulls the present out from underneath the comforter, tears open Mrs. Weasley's letter, and gets back to work.

The morning of the 25th is bright and cold.

Harry is a ball of nerves as the breakfast plates get cleared away and the two of them prepare to go to the sitting room to open presents. Padfoot had barged into Harry's room at half past seven, barking loudly and leaping onto the bed, nearly giving Harry a heart attack in the process. He'd only finished Sirius' present in the wee hours of the morning and had barely managed to shove it into his desk drawer before he'd fallen asleep.

Sirius had dragged Harry into the kitchen for special Christmas chocolate chip pancakes and hot chocolate but had only allowed Harry to start eating once he agreed to don a ridiculously oversized Santa hat that matched the one Sirius had on his own head.

"If I'd known you liked Christmas so much, I'd have taken you to the Muggle mall to get a picture with Santa," Harry grumbles only half-heartedly as he watches the milk heat up on the hob. Sirius was adamant about making hot chocolate the old-fashioned way.

Sirius laughs loudly and hooks his arm around Harry's neck, pulling him close and planting a kiss on his forehead with a loud smack. "It's our first Christmas together, kiddo! First of many. You can get past your anti-morning attitude for that, can't you?"

"I gueeeeeeees," Harry mock-whines, drawing out the word as he adds the chopped chocolate to the steaming milk. He's secretly pleased that Sirius seems to somewhat enjoy his company. It shows he's not such a terrible charge.

"Thank you for your sacrifice," Sirius states dramatically. He gives Harry one last squeeze before releasing him. "Now come on, let's get to presents. I call going first!" He darts off to the sitting room where, overnight, a large pile of presents has piled in front of the eight-foot tall tree Sirius had dragged home one afternoon (with lots of swearing).

Harry gulps nervously as he pours hot chocolate into two mugs and tops them both with a handful of marshmallows. His hands are slightly shaking as he brings them both to the sitting room. Sirius is poking around the heap of gifts as he enters the room, and Harry spots the hastily wrapped, lumpy package he completed only a few hours ago.

Please like it, please like it, please like it, he silently begs as he sets the mugs on the coffee table. The sight of the gift is almost nauseating, and he keeps his eyes fixed on the hot chocolate.

Sirius turns at the sound to spot Harry and grins. "Alrighty, kiddo, what do you want to unwrap first? I did go a bit overboard this year, you'll have to forgive me. But there's plenty here from your friends!" He's practically vibrating with excitement.

Harry straightens his back and clears his throat. "Actually, do you mind if you do the opening first?"

Sirius pauses. "Are you sure? I swear mine are quite good."

Harry nods vigorously. "Yes. You can start with mine. It's right on top. The green wrapping." Let's just get this over with, he thinks.

Sirius picks up the package and shakes it gently. It makes no noise, and Harry can't help but let out a chuckle despite the knots in his stomach. Sirius grins at him and begins to carefully unwrap the gift.

Harry's legs suddenly feel like treacle tart filling. He lowers himself onto the couch so he doesn't pass out.

The wrapper paper gently falls to the ground, revealing a mound of knit material. Sirius unravels the pile to reveal a rather lumpy, oversized navy blue sweater with a slightly misshapen black dog woven onto the front.

Sirius doesn't say anything.

Harry's heart drops to his stomach. He opens his mouth, desperate to explain away the situation. "It's uh... it's... erm... it's a sweater? I made it?" As if that wasn't fucking obvious, he internally snarls at himself. He shakes his head, trying to organize his thoughts. "Yes, I, um, I made it. That's uh... that's Padfoot. On the front of it. I knitted it."

Sirius doesn't say anything.

Harry's words start coming out faster and faster, hoping something comes out that remedies this clusterfuck of an event. "Mrs. Weasley helped me. She sent me instructions. And the patterns? That 's why she was sending me so many letters. I didn't know how to do it. They aren't throwing a party for Ron."

Sirius still doesn't say anything.

Oh fuck! Harry thinks wildly. He's probably livid I lied. Oh fuck fuck fuck. "I'm sorry I lied to you! I just wanted it to be a surprise," he manages to get out. "That's why I was ordering so much through owl post. I had to get the yarn and the needles. And I kept having to order more yarn because I kept getting frustrated and messing up a lot. I didn't want you to know. Until now, that is. Obviously."

Sirius. Still. Doesn't. Say. Anything.

Harry wants to crawl into a hole and die. But for some stupid, idiotic reason, he keeps speaking. "I wasn't sure if you'd like the color? I actually realized that I don't know what your favorite color is. But whenever Mrs. Weasley makes one for me or for the Weasley kids, she usually does our favorite color. Or house colors. But I figured you have lots of things in Gryffindor colors? Like your wand holster. And then I noticed that you wear a lot of navy. So I thought that might be nice."

If Sirius doesn't say anything, Harry just might call the Knight Bus so he can step in front of it. He decides to get everything off of his chest before he has to do so.

"Mrs... uh... Mrs. Weasley made me one," he explains softly. "My first year. And every year after that. It means a lot to me. I think it was probably the first gift I ever got. And it kind of made me feel like part of their family? A little bit at least. So... so I wanted to give you one. Not from her, of course. But from me. So you could feel like a part of... our family?" His sentence embarrassingly ends like a question, so he hastily tacks on, "If you want to, of course."

Sirius finally moves, and Harry shuts his mouth. He gently sets the sweater down on the armchair next to him, walks over to where Harry is sitting, and pulls him up into the tightest, fiercest hug Harry has ever experienced.

Neither say anything for a few moments. Until Harry can't deal with not being able to breathe and squeaks out, "Uh? Sirius? I can't really inhale."

Sirius releases him quickly and takes a step back. "Sorry."

Harry feels awkward again. He clears his throat, hoping to fill the silence with something. "I hope you like it. But I know it's not done very well. So I can take it apart if you'd rather that. The shop said they'd take the yarn back as long as it wasn't too worn."

Sirius' head snaps up. "What? Harry, my love, I don't not like it. I love it."

Harry's mouth goes dry. "What?"

Sirius gives him a small smile. His eyes look suspiciously glassy. "Harry. You made this for me. You made this for me! It's my favorite color, and it's got me on it! Of course I love it. Not just because you took the time and the effort to make something for me. Because, my goodness, how do you even start with something like this? It must have taken you ages. But also because, well, you said it yourself. I mean, I already felt like part of the same family with the whole adoption bit and knowing you since you were a baby and whatnot, but it's always nice to know you feel the same. And I'm so honored to be a part of your family. Always will be. You have to know that, alright?" Sirius presses their foreheads together. "Alright?"

Harry nods, feeling a little something catch in his throat. He nods.

"Thank you for my gift," Sirius says softly. "I love it. No talk about talking it apart. I'll be proper mad if you do, you hear me?"

Harry nods again. Sirius releases him. He grabs the sweater from the armchair and pulls it over his head. The hem is uneven and the dog looks more like a cat once the sweater settles on his body, but Sirius only looks down at it and grins.

"Now come on, it's your turn to open presents. I don't think any of mine are as good as a handmade sweater, but I hope you like them anyway. And that's got me thinking, we ought to do a Christmas card no? Especially now that I've got a nice sweater on. Mrs. Weasley might tear up at the sight of a photo of the two us. Come on, come on, pick a present."

Harry rolls his eyes without any real heat behind the action. And he doesn't say anything later when he feels a burst of pride when he sees the photo they take in front of the Christmas tree that afternoon, Sirius wearing the sweater with the biggest, proudest smile Harry has ever seen.

He just bottles the feeling and hopes to remember it forever.

*screams* silently cuz yk sitting with a very anti harry potter family

Something He Never Got To Say Before

for @impishtubist 's prompt here ; it's not wolfstar raising Harry, but close! hope you like it ! words: 955 summary: Harry wants to call Sirius ‘dad’. [Set in the summer after PoA, Peter’s caught, Sirius is free and raising Harry the best he can.]

It frustrates Harry how it fits so perfectly. Sirius is spelled soft and warm on his tongue but dad—it’s tender and something Harry’s never got to say before and homey and it makes his cheek hurt with a smile. Harry loves how it sounds.

But he isn’t meant for it.

Harry stares at the words.

Oh, and I’m sure my dad will~

That’s where they end, the curved end of the l smudged into a waving, blotted line; Harry’s quill had jerked with the realisation of what he’d written.

Dad.

He stares, biting his lip, heart starting to pound in his chest. Sirius, he means. But.

Sirius isn't his dad. Harry doesn't have a dad.

It shouldn't hurt as much as it does.

Sirius changed his whole life. He bought Harry a home, now gives him a life that is a thousand times less miserable and more exciting than his previous one—it is love filled and brimming with smiles and soft touches (instead of shrieking and pan-throwing and knee-scraping heart-wrenching hurt) and Sirius buys him candies and ice creams (the very best ones) and takes him to carnivals and teaches him about Holi and Diwali and tells him stories about his parents. Sirius ruffles his hair and watches the telly with him and tells Harry: I love you, kid.

You're the best, Harry.

It's enough. It should be.

It is, in a way. Harry is more than grateful, beyond it really, for all that Sirius has done—he’s done so much for him in a mere twenty days than the Dursleys ever did for him in all of Harry’s thirteen years.

And yet, he finds himself wanting more.

His lips taste of blood as he scrapes back his chair to throw the crumpled parchment into the bin.

-

He is four (but he doesn't know it then) when he, looking at Petunia's long pale hair and Dudley's very blue eyes (handsome, Petunia always says), asks: “Are you my mum?”

It's a question that's been troubling him, after that Incident at the grocer's, whizzing around in his mind and buzzing right next to his ears and crawling over his fingers ever since.

Petunia turns with a crack of her neck, her face pinching and scrunching. “Where did you get that idea from?”

“That woman at the—”

“I am not,” she cuts in, sharply. Then she shudders. “I'm not your mother and never will be, you understand? I would never want you as my son, you freak of a child.”

Harry fights back tears.

“Who is, then?” he whispers.

“You don't have a mother, you idiot.”

One of the words he learns that day is orphan.

-

It frustrates Harry how it fits so perfectly. Sirius is spelled soft and warm on his tongue but dad—it’s tender and something Harry’s never got to say before and homey and it makes his cheek hurt with a smile. Harry loves how it sounds.

But he isn’t meant for it. It’s how it is. Like how he will never have his parents back. How the sky is blue. It’s how it will be.

Yet. There’s a childish part of Harry that hopes so badly, hopes with all of his snitch-sized heart and rule-defying soul that Sirius accepts him and calls him ‘son’ and —

Maybe he should write a letter to Hermione. Or Ron. They’re good at family stuff, especially Ron. Harry wonders what his best friend would say if he asked: ‘Mate, what do you do when you feel like calling your godfather ‘dad’?

He probably wouldn’t know, nor Hermione, Harry thinks, chewing his morsel for far longer than he should, staring at his plate.

The thing is, the real thing that is behind it all, that Sirius is really, when you think of it for a good while, the perfect picture for the word ‘dad’. He’s the synonym of dad, really, and Harry’s sure that if he said it to whoever wrote dictionaries, the writer would most definitely agree and immediately jot it down next to ‘dad’ and congratulate him immensely for the insight. (In his mind, he looks like Cornelius Fudge.)

And that is why, when Sirius asks Harry in his gentle voice, eyes grey and kind, if something is wrong (because Harry has been quiet throughout dinner and Sirius is sure the curry tastes alright and there’s nothing wrong Sirius has said and he’s wracking his brain if today is a date kids should be morose on but he can’t handle Harry looking so sadly at his plate, like it’s broken his heart or something) that Harry blurts, “Can I call you dad?”

Sirius blinks.

His spoon clatters on the plate.

Harry’s mouth parts as he realises what he’s said and he inhales a sharp, stuttering breath.

Way to go there, Potter. “Er—I mean…”

He doesn’t know what he means except what he said and he knows that he shouldn’t have said it and there’s an expression (shock? surprise? dread?) drenching Sirius’ face and he needs to look away and down at his plate.

Shame burns in his throat, flaming his face and his heart twists.

Harry says, “I meant…” He has no idea what he can say that would rectify this situation. He stares at his orange-red curry, imagining his face is as red as it.

“Oh, Harry…” Sirius say, voice sounding... strange. He clears his throat. “I—of course you can. If you want to.”

Harry looks up so quickly his vision greys a little. “I can?”

“Yeah, you can.” Sirius’ hand flies to his smooth hair to smoothen it.

“Oh.”

He can’t believe it. Sirius smiles; a smile that makes him think of his parents’ wedding photos, that makes Harry believe in everything, including this.

Harry’s face splits into a wide wide grin. “Um, thank you… Dad!”

Sirius’ smile wobbles. “Come here, kid.” Sirius gets up and raises his arms, inviting Harry for a hug. Harry rushes forward, chair screeching, heart soaring in delight, and burrows himself in the tight hold of his godfather, and—dad.

no thoughts just james potter, quidditch whiz, worried out of his mind chasing after his toddler who’s riding a baby broomstick— while his wife laughs at him in the background

(sirius, somewhere on his order mission: *cackling his head off*)

Golden Trio Headcannons:

Ron was the one who taught Harry how to tie his shoe laces, after he noticed Harry tucked his laces into his shoes. "No-one ever cared enough to teach me..." "I care enough."

Both Ron and Harry were with Hermione when she started her period for the first time. "I'm...BLEEDING" "Calm down, it's your period, its just the shock of it, My sister got hers last year." "should I get Mcgonagall-"

Ron is the only one of the 3 who regularly goes to breakfast, he tends to pack toast in his bag to give to Harry and Hermione because sometimes they forget or they just don't bother and IT WORRIES HIM-

Harry and Hermione have the same favourite book as a child. Matilda, both relate to the book in very different ways. "It just gave me hope, really, she discovered her magic and found someone who loved her." "Harry, you also found people who love you" "I know"

Harry memorised how ron and Hermione drink their tea. Ron dash of milk, lots of sugar. Hermione, lots of milk, 1 sugar. He makes the best cups of tea. "It's really a ghastly amount of Sugar Ron-" "Your tea is literally whiter than me, don't judge"

Ron bakes treacle tart and jam tarts for Harry and Hermiones birthdays.

Harry and Hermione were once mistaken for siblings, and neither of them corrected the person. "Yeah, she's my older sister" ron would never forget the smiles on their faces. Everytime Hermione would go back to that Cafe, they would always ask about her younger brother.

Hermione was also the first person to hug Harry since he was placed with the Dursleys when he was 1. Ron was the second person to hug him.

Harry used to leave change around Rons room when he knew he was a few sickles short of something he knew Ron wanted. Because Ron would never accept money from Harry. Ron never found out, but Hermione saw him do it one day. "Your secret is safe with me"

Ron and Hermione are the Godparents to Harry and Ginny's children. And vice Versa. (Exept Lily Luna, whose God Parents are Neville and Luna)

Harry has a photo album filled with photos of him and his friends, that made in 2nd year, that album starts with him and ron and hermione, and ends with him and his family together.

It was actually Hermione who taught Harry how to tie his tie for school, and she wouldn't let him get on the boat without "being in proper uniform. Just because your the boy who lived doesn't mean you can just not tie your tie."

Harry and Ron were eachothers best men.

Ron and Hermione sometimes purposely walk slowly, when Harry finally starts to open up, so that he has more time to talk and won't close back up when they near where they're going.

Harry and Ron carrying some of hermiones work for her in lessons they share, because "Mione, you'll break your back carrying all that?!?!" "Yeah Ron's right- why the fuck do you have so much paper?!?!" "Parchment" "YOU KNOW WHAT I MEANT HERMIONE-"

Harry and hermione sharing their favourite muggle treats with ron "Mars bars mine" "I've always loved strawberry laces myself!!" And Ron sharing his favourite wizard treats with them.

Harry teaching Ron how to cook the muggle way and Ron teaching Harry how to cook the magic way. (Hermione was banned from the kitchen after she got frustrated with the spells and just decided to leave the boys to it as they actually enjoyed it) "I mean, you cooked for us during the hunt, the least we can do is cook for you now!" "You don't have to be good at everything, babe!!" "FINE-"

Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione make sure too meet up for lunch at least twice a week, as they have busy lives now and they want to make that effort too see eachother. They've only missed around 15 of these, either because of honeymoons, child birth, Harry being "INJURED WHAT THE FUCK MATE DID YOU DO?!" "He was stabbed" "LIGHTLY stabbed" "YOU BLOODY PASSED OUT FROM BLOOD LOSS-" "eh" "EH?!?!?"

GGSB Fest 2024 - Let Me Take Care of You

@goodgodfathersiriusblack

Prompt - Sick Harry

When Harry gets sick, Sirius has to convince him to let him take care of him.

AO3

***

If there was one thing that stuck with Harry even six months after he’d been rescued from the Dursleys and Sirius was given custody, it was that – he should try to be the least burden that he could be.  That meant that he should help out around the house and not let Sirius feel like he has to do too much for him.

Which is why when he wakes up sick as a dog that he does his best to hide it.  He couldn’t let Sirius think that he had to take care of him.

Unfortunately, Harry was too miserable in his sickness to fake being fine for more than a few minutes.  Especially when he attempts to cook breakfast side by side with Sirius and sways a bit too much on his feet.  

He would have fallen over if not for Sirius catching him and helping him to a nearby chair.  “Harry, are you alright?”

“Fine, fine – no worries about me.  Promise.”

Apparently, Sirius can see right through him.  “Kid.”

Harry sighs and groans, his head throbbing.  “Fine, I’m sick, but it’s fine – I can still help around the house and cook breakfast and –”

“And I don’t think so.  You’re going straight to bed.”

“No, I can’t,” Harry states.  “I need to help… I need to not be a –”

“Not be a what?” Sirius states.

“A … nothing.”

Harry’s ashamed and ill, but he’s not going to admit the real problem.

The look on Sirius’ face tells him that he doesn’t need to finish.  He knows.

“Alright, kid, let’s get you upstairs…”

“I’m fi –” he’s not fine.  In fact, he starts coughing so much that he could barely breathe.  

“Come on, Harry, let me take care of you.”

“Fine.”

***

Sirius leads Harry upstairs, and tucks him in.  The kid falls asleep in moments.  

He’s relieved and spends the day making sure that the groggy Harry is taken care of and reassures him every time he wakes that he is not a burden and that he needs to be resting and taking care of himself.  

Around lunch time, Sirius makes him some soup in bed, has him drink some water and take some potions before going back to sleep.  

Sirius makes sure that he’s comfortable and reads him back to sleep.  

***

It takes a few days, much to Harry’s annoyance, but once he’s all better, he makes breakfast in bed for Sirius and says, “It’s just a thank you for taking care of me.”

“Oh, kid.  You don’t have to thank me – I love you, it’s my job to take care of you,” Sirius says, love in his eyes.

Harry flushes.  “It’s just – I know you say that, but … growing up, I was always told that…”

“You were a burden,” Sirius guesses.  “I realize after fourteen years of being told that it would take longer than six months for you to accept that you are not a burden, but you aren’t.  They are terrible people for making you believe that, and I want you to know that you are never a burden to me.”

Harry flushes.  “You mean that?”

“Of course I do,” Sirius assures him.  “Do you believe me?”

Harry nods, shyly.  “Yeah, Pads, I do.”

“Good, then why don’t we spend the day celebrating that you’re all better and away from those people.”

“Sounds great.”

“Good.”

I love the good godfather sirius black thingie!!!

GGSB Fest 2024 - Perfect First Day

@goodgodfathersiriusblack

Prompt - First Day of School

Sirius isn't ready for Harry's first day of primary school, but it turns out it's perfect.

AO3

***

Despite the fact that Sirius had gotten to spend the last few years as a stay-at-home parent and knew that this time was coming, he’s still sad even as he packs Harry’s bag for his first day of school.  They had gone shopping the day before to make sure he had all of his school supplies.  He’d picked out a nice outfit for the first, and once he’s packed, it’ll be time to tuck Harry in and before he knows it – they’ll be at the school… for Harry’s first day.

“Pads?” the small voice of his godson says from the top of the stairs.  

“I’ll be up in a minute to help tuck you in, just change into your pajamas.”

“Okay!”

It only takes a few more minutes before he steels himself and goes upstairs.  Tonight was the last night before everything would begin to change.

“Ready for bed, kiddo?” Sirius asks, a smile – only slightly forced – on his face.  He has no idea what he’s going to do without his kid for hours every day.  

“Yeah!” Harry cheers.

“What kind of bedtime story are you looking for tonight?” Sirius questions.

“Will you tell me about your first day of school?” 

Sirius let's out a little laugh as he sits beside Harry’s bed.  “Well, your dad and I didn’t go to primary school – only Hogwarts, and I’ve told you about meeting your mum and dad on the train ride to school, but your mum did go to primary school.”

“Will you tell me about her first day, then?”

Sirius hums.  “Well, she always liked to say that she met her best muggle friend on the first of school.  She had sat in the wrong seat and another classmate of hers had said that it was her seat – they were arguing as much as five-year-olds can argue and it turns out her name was Lila and with your mum’s name as Lily – they were so close it was easily mistaken.  The teacher thought they should separate the girls, but they became friends instead.”

Harry’s looking at him like that wasn’t much of story – which makes sense, his own story about meeting on the train and James pulling an imaginary sword had been far more entertaining.  

“Do you think I’ll make a friend like mum did?” Harry asks, eyes wide like he’s worried about that.

Sirius smiles softly at him.  “I’m sure you will, but not if you’re grouchy from lack of sleep.  So, get some sleep – big day tomorrow.”

Harry pouts a bit before he yawns.  “Night, Pads.”

“Night, kid.”

***

In the morning, Sirius packs Harry’s lunch before helping him with his backpack and taking him by the hand to walk him to the school down the street.  His kid is happily chattering on and on about what school might be like and not at all noticing that Sirius isn’t nearly as ready for this as he pretends to be.  

He knows that this is what Lily (and James) would’ve wanted, but after so long of never being away from one another, Sirius can’t help freaking out a bit.  

He’s just not ready for this – Harry’s not ready for this – maybe … maybe it would be better to hold him back a year … or homeschool him…

But they reach the school before Sirius knows it and he’s … disappointed.

He’s not ready for this.

Unfortunately, that doesn’t matter as they enter the school and Harry happily finds his classroom rather quickly for his age.  The teacher greets Harry and says, “Mr. Potter, please go ahead and help Harry find his desk – you can stay until class starts.”

“Thank you,” Sirius says.  He doesn’t correct her.  James’ parents had practically adopted him, and he hates the Black name, so when they moved, he simply decided to go by Potter, made things easier. 

He helps Harry find his desk next to a little boy, whose name plate reads Dean Thomas, and he smiles at the mother beside him.  

“Look Dean, here’s your deskmate,” the mother says.  “Why don’t you introduce yourself?”

The little boy – Dean – smiles and introduces himself, and Harry smiles and does the same after a quick nod from Sirius.  

Then, in his excitement once Dean shows him what he’d been drawing, Harry turns to him and says, “Look, Paddy, I made a friend.”

Sirius barely stifles his laugh as he says, “You sure did.”

Before anything else could be said, the teacher calls for last goodbyes and he hugs Harry tight, like he doesn’t want to let him go, and barely contains his desire to cry.  Another parent – not Dean’s mother – says, “Don’t worry, the day will go by faster than you think.”

Sirius nods, and let's go, telling Harry to be good and learn lots before following the other parents outside the classroom.  The one that had spoken to him, introduces himself as Holly’s father, and says, “First one?”

“And only,” Sirius says.  “He’s technically my godson/nephew.  I won’t have kids of my own, but I’ve been raising him since we lost his parents.  I was a stay-at-home parent and now… well, I don’t know what to do with myself.”

Holly’s father gives him a small smile as they leave with Dean’s mother.  “Well, I’ve got a small shop that works on motor vehicles.  You know anything about that?”

Sirius grins.  “I built my motorbike from scratch.  I love motor vehicles.”

“Maybe we could go out to eat and talk about it?”

“I’d like that.”  

“Then, let’s go.”

***

Sirius could admit that he rather liked Holly’s father and Dean’s mother (who had come along as well, purely because she also expressed an interest).  Their outing had helped pass the day (which did go quickly) before they arrived to pick up their kids.  

As soon as he sees Sirius, Harry takes off at a run and straight into a waiting Sirius’ arms.  He’s already babbling about his day and his new friends Holly and Dean.  

“I made new friends, too,” Sirius teases, gesturing at Holly’s father and Dean’s mother.  The adults laugh, but Harry cheers and it’s wonderful.  

Holly’s father claps him on the shoulder and Dean’s mother smiles.  “I’ll see you both tomorrow?”

“We’ll be here.”

“Good.”

With that, they all wave goodbye and start to head home.  

Harry reiterates his entire day all happy and excited and honestly, there’s nothing better than this. 

He’s so thrilled that it’s all worked out – they’re both happy and they’re off to brighter future. 

The perfect first day of school.