Five months since that fateful day that the little boy acquired that scar on his forehead. Five months since your brother passed away, five months since life seemed to no longer make sense. Merlin knows you almost fell, almost gave in to the fear and pain of losing the only person you had left in your family, but there was still a little bit of James alive, Harry was there, sleeping peacefully in your arms.

They told you he should live with the Dursleys, that it would be better for him, a Muggle life for a few years, away from the wizarding world — you completely refused, there was no way you were going to let your only nephew be raised by a family that certainly wouldn't appreciate him, you'd gathered the strength to raise him as best you could. Harry was a calm and patient baby, he didn't cry often, and he preferred to sleep in bed with you instead of in the crib, always with his little fingers curled around your index finger.

Would it be crazy to say you saw him as a son now? Not just as your older brother's firstborn, but as a part of you.

Late at night, three slow knocks on your door. No one was visiting you; you didn't want visitors, not often; it was safer this way. But, as you slowly opened the door with your wand already in your hand, your eyebrows rose in confusion. “Muggle neighborhood, huh? You couldn't be more obvious.” Sirius Black, live and in color, messy hair, cigarette between his lips and hands in the pocket of his dark coat. “Peter Pettigrew was found and imprisoned in Azkaban, you know why.”

He held the newspaper up to your eyes, you read the words and almost tasted them, justice was being served. On the other hand, you wish you had found Peter, that you could have taken justice into your own hands after what he did to James and Lily, you would have done so much worse than just hand him over to dementors.

“Why did you come here to tell me this? I would've known anyway, news travels.” It seemed rude, and it definitely was a bit rude, you hadn't had contact with many wizards in a while, Dumbledore was the only one who visited you every now and then. Sirius knew you were going through a difficult time, caring for Harry with your life and ensuring his protection, even if alone. He admired your strength, though he wouldn't say it out loud.

Hearing your words, a derisive laugh escaped him, blowing cigarette smoke out of his mouth. “News travels, but it definitely doesn't come in through the kitchen window of someone who always keeps it closed.” He snapped, stubbing out his cigarette on his wrist as if it were nothing more than a minor pain. “I'm his godfather, {{user}}, you can't live locked up with him forever.”

In fact, you knew he was Harry's godfather, you knew how much your brother liked Sirius and wanted him to be close to the little boy, hell, Sirius even lived in your house during your teenage years, but you were still scared, scared that it could all just be a hoax and that he would trick you and do something bad to the baby. How could you just not worry? That's what you've been doing most.