The Boy in the Cupboard

Chapter 2

"Harry's my godson." Sirius barked at Minerva's caution, at the healers who stated that they'd prefer Harry be placed with two parents. Sirius hadn't abandoned Remus after learning of his condition and its wild side. He wouldn't dream of leaving Harry over his, either.

Among the many cards from well-wishers and an occasional Howler, Sirius received a owl from Remus asking if they could talk. It was the first owl he replied to.

Remus showed up at St. Mungo's looking shabby and a bit peaky, but he returned Sirius' embrace. "I'm sorry I thought-"

"Don't." Sirius cut him off, hugging him tighter. He'd been suspicious of Remus, himself, which had led to suggesting the treacherous rat as Secret Keeper. He hated himself daily for betraying James and Lily that way.

Sirius and Remus both remarked that the other looked worse for the wear, before Sirius focused on his future plans. "They want two people to raise Harry."

"You'd trust me to...?" Remus asked, eyebrows rising. Sirius bit back a question as to where Remus was all those years. Even with the mention of a new potion that eased his condition, Remus clearly didn't believe he was a good choice.

Sirius smirked. "Someone has to be the responsible one."

"How's Harry doing?" Remus clearly had no idea, thankfully the Prophet hadn't gotten wind of it.

Sirius left the explanation to the healers. He doubted he could get it out without cursing someone. Harry might as well have grown up in Azkaban with how he'd been treated.

Later, Sirius dragged a now-paler Remus to the closed ward, where Harry was intentionally rolling potion bottles off the edge of a table. The healers must have forgotten the unbreakable charm on one; like a house elf, Harry began harming himself when it shattered. His expressionless, silent punishment only increased when Remus flicked his wand and fixed it.

Sirius casually destroyed another vial, but Harry seemed to think it was his fault. His meltdown ended as abruptly as it had started when Sirius handed him a chocolate and another, unbreakable bottle.

"You sure about this?" Remus asked, though Sirius could tell Remus was already on board.

Sirius nodded without hesitation. He'd banished nappies and dried tears when Harry was a baby. How much harder could it be now?

Harry may have been delayed, but caring for him now wasn't like helping with him had been.

On Harry's first day at his new home, Sirius regifted Harry his favorite present from his first birthday- a toy broomstick. Harry sat on the floor, tugging at the twigs, and almost swallowed the Snitch. He wouldn't settle down for a story with Remus, wouldn't walk across the grass with Sirius. He tore through the ground floor of the cottage, skittering around any door that resembled a closet.

Sirius had to carry Harry upstairs, where Harry rejected his bed before Sirius could even tuck him in. Sirius understood. Even the hospital bed had felt too soft after Azkaban. When Harry wasn't looking, Sirius transfigured spare blankets into sleeping bags, ready to camp out on the floor with his godson.

Harry ignored the cuddly toys they'd given him, so Sirius transformed into Padfoot to offer snuggles. Harry took one look and scrambled to hide. He would have tumbled down the stairs if Remus hadn't grabbed him. Harry bit his own hands and arms hard enough to leave marks, but let Sirius carry him downstairs in his human form.

Harry didn't sleep. He found the stash of chocolate and stood, staring as if it would disappear.

They had a bit over two years before Harry would turn eleven, though it was no longer certain a Hogwarts letter would arrive. After hearing Dumbledore had left Harry with the Dursleys, Sirius wasn't sure he'd want Harry attending Hogwarts anyway.

Harry had reached so many milestones in his first fifteen months- who knew what they could accomplish in two years? Remus checked out piles of books from the local library, and Sirius howled with laughter when he heard that Remus and Romulus, the mythical twin founders of Rome, were said to be raised by wolves.

Unlike the feral children in the books, Harry had magic on his side. He was years younger than Genie, a girl who'd been strapped to a child's toilet seat in a bedroom until age thirteen, or Victor, the wild child of Aveyron.

Remus worked with Harry on using a spoon and stopped Harry from stealing his daily goblet of Wolfsbane potion. "Wonder how it'd affect him," Sirius joked, raising his hands when Remus sent him a deeply unimpressed look.

Sirius showed Harry how to punch a pillow in the hopes he'd stop hurting himself. He worked to lessen Harry's fear of dogs by buying him a muggle book on dog breeds. Harry ripped out the page on bulldogs. Remus pursed his lips at the desecration of a book, but he didn't repair it.

Within a week, Harry was petting Padfoot as easily as he stroked his toy broomstick. He even began playing with Sirius's long hair, though he hadn't seen Sirius transform. Sirius wondered if Harry noticed that the dog and his godfather were never seen in the same room.

Remus suppressed a sigh as Harry wandered from the table, again, and Sirius failed to hide his grin. "I get it, Harry. Lessons are boring. Want to go in the garden?"

"You're being a bad influence," said Remus. Sirius had been in the doghouse ever since letting Harry stay up most of the night during the full moon. Remus didn't seem to understand what it was like for time to lose all meaning.

Remus had taken on the role of teacher, encouraging Harry to repeat sounds and showing him how to use pictures to communicate what he wanted. Harry kept stashing them with his chocolate frog cards and wouldn't let Remus retrieve any.

"He needs fresh air. He's been cooped up for far too long." Sirius argued, already sliding Harry's shoes onto his feet. "Besides, his friend will be here soon."

"We still have a few minutes." Remus said. Harry watched their quarrel while Sirius fastened his shoes.

Harry had done the absolute least amount required for his lessons, letting Remus shape his hand to hold a quill but letting go as soon as possible.

"Go get those sign language books from the library." Sirius suggested. "Harry and I will work on his motor skills. Right, Harry?"

Sirius was convinced that Harry had to learn to throw and catch a ball. It could be a way to make friends that didn't require speech.

A green flash in the fireplace halted Remus's reply.

"Here's your friend, Neville." Remus enunciated. "Say 'Hi, Neville.'"

Harry couldn't, or wouldn't. The few times Harry had repeated a sound, his voice had been so soft it made Sirius's post-prison rasp sound like a banshee.

Neville didn't mind. He followed Harry to his hoard and silently proffered another chocolate frog card. Neville was far more intrigued with the communication cards, mumbling that maybe his parents could use them. He watched Remus guide Harry's hand to pick the card for outside, but Harry snatched the vulture hat instead.

"Gran said you can keep it," Neville told him.

Sirius led the boys out to the garden to play catch. Harry almost had better coordination than Neville, who tripped over the porch step and then his own feet. Harry wouldn't throw the ball back and repeatedly rolled off the front porch.

"Are you a squib?" Neville asked, sitting among the plants. "They thought I was, 'til my Great-Uncle Algie dropped me out the window. I bounced."

Sirius was struck speechless.

Harry grabbed his sleeve and pulled him him down to pet his hair. Harry even let Sirius ruffle his hair in return, though he fought whenever Remus tried to comb it. Sirius smiled. Harry had inherited his father's flyaway hair, and Remus had conceded that battle.

For that afternoon, Sirius didn't worry about whether or not his godson could do magic, if he'd ever hold a conversation or a quill and attend a school with his peers. So what if Harry didn't throw the ball back, may never play Quidditch? It didn't bother him that Harry tried to drink from the watering can Neville used on the plants.

All that mattered in that moment was that Harry and Sirius were both free in the summer sunshine.