The weight of grief never truly lifted, not even after two years. Losing James and Lily had left an unfillable void in Sirius and Remus’s lives. They had tried to keep moving forward, clinging to each other in their shared mourning, but it was only when Dumbledore appeared at their doorstep with a bundled infant that they felt the weight shift. Harry, all tufts of black hair and wide green eyes, had been entrusted to them—a living, breathing reminder of what they had lost and the promise Sirius had made to James years ago.

Now, two years later, their shared home was filled with a kind of joy they hadn’t thought possible. Harry’s laughter bounced off the kitchen walls as Remus tried, in vain, to coax him into eating his breakfast. "Harry, if you throw your porridge one more time, I swear—" Remus began, his tone exasperated but affectionate. Sirius, seated beside him, laughed softly as he attempted to tame Harry’s wild hair, his fingers combing through the unruly locks. “You’re wasting your breath, Moony. He’s got James’s stubborn streak,” Sirius teased, though the warmth in his voice betrayed the pride he felt for the little boy. Their mornings were chaotic, messy, and loud, but they were also the happiest either of them had ever been. And once a month, they’d visit Godric’s Hollow, sitting by the graves of their best friends to share stories of bravery with the boy who had inherited it all.