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Remus takes his Wolfsbane before he goes searching for Sirius and it makes a world of difference. Harry still has to cast his Patronus when the Dementors swarm them, but this time, Remus’s grim joins his stag, and both of the remaining Marauders shed a tear to see Padfoot and Prongs playing together again, even as ghosts.
But in this world, Sirius is exonerated.
In this world, Sirius throws the full might of the Black family behind his trial and is found innocent. He uses his considerable lawyers to sue for full custody of Harry and the Ministry, eager to please him to avoid a lawsuit for wrongful imprisonment, smooth the way in the Muggle courts. The Dursleys barely even put up a fight, and Sirius gathers that the only reason they do fight is the stipend from the Potter vaults that they had been receiving for “raising” his godson.
Whatever way it shakes out, it ends up with Sirius and Harry, godfather and godson, Padfoot and pup, permanently reunited.
Sirius takes Harry to see his parents graves, and to the house James had grown up in, and the first flat that Lily and James had lived in together, and even tracks down James’s relatives in India so Harry can meet them. He gathers stories from Lily’s friends and sends the Unspeakables so many letters that they eventually turn over everything Lily so much as touched just to get him to stop.
To Harry, who hadn’t known his parents names until he was eight and the doctor had asked Petunia in front of him, it’s a deluge of information. It’s a banquet laid in front of a starving boy, and Harry, in true teenage fashion, devours it all.
In less than one month living with Sirius, he knows more about his parents than he had learned in twelve years with the Dursleys. Sirius has photos and letters and memories, and he shares them freely. The only comparison that Harry ever got with his parents was his looks, but Sirius tells him so much more.
His hatred of cinnamon belongs to Lily. His Seeker reflexes come from James. His sarcasm was his mother’s staple. His Defence and Transfiguration skills were passed down from James. His green thumb is identical to Lily’s.
Harry is made of more than just his parents, but now that he knows them, as well as he can from stories, he can see just how similar he is to them. His quirks have an origin, his laugh is the same as his father’s and when he smiles, dimples appear in the same place as they had on his mother’s cheeks.
It’s everything to Harry, and Sirius doesn’t stop there. Euphemia Potter scrunched her nose the same way Harry does. Fleamont Potter was constantly losing his glasses, and Sirius laughs every time Harry can’t find his. Sirius tells him stories about his grandparents, about his great aunts and uncles, about family dinner at the Potters house.
And when he brings Harry to India to meet James’ family, Harry cries for a solid hour, clinging to Sirius as he thanks him. Harry had a family for the first year of his life but then spent the next twelve growing up in a home devoid of love, in a house that saw him as a freak and a burden.
Sirius loves him freely, and his father’s family do too. They have even more stories than Sirius, pulling out baby photos of James, and a family map twice as extensive as the Black Tapestry. Harry has cousins now, and proper Aunties, and an ancestral home. His new family teach him the same things that Euphemia had taught James, and Harry learns new spells, new styles, new culture that should have been his all along.
It's almost overwhelming to be surrounded by so much love after years of neglect, and really, Harry should have expected the breakdown to come eventually.
It’s the last week of summer holidays before he has to go back to Hogwarts, and Sirius is making sure that Harry is packed and ready to go to the Weasley’s for the World Cup.
“Okay, you remembered to pack your mirror? If you need anything, even just to ask me to put more socks in your school trunk, just give me a call alright?” Sirius fusses as Harry packs away his books and suddenly, it hits him that Sirius loves him.
He’s said it so many times to Harry now, but the way he shows it, the way he proves it in everything he does for Harry, makes it real.
Tears drip down Harry’s face as he shakily throws the books into his bag, years of practice at the Dursleys keeping him quiet.
But Sirius, who knows him so well, loves him enough to notice he’s gone silent, no come back or eye roll, and lays a concerned hand on his back.
“You alright, pup?” He asks, and it’s too much.
Harry turns to him and falls into his arms, tears pouring down his cheeks.
“Harry? What’s wrong, are you okay?” Sirius asks frantically and Harry can only cry harder. Twelve years with the Dursleys and they never once asked if he was okay. His injuries were met with annoyance, not concern, and in some cases even glee.
“Why- why is it so easy for y-you to love me?” Harry gasps out, and Sirius clutches him tighter.
“Oh Harry. It just is. The sun rises and sets, the moon pulls the tides, and Sirius Black loves Harry Potter. You’re incredible Harry, and I thank James and Lily every day for you. You’re so good, you know that?” Sirius says, petting his hair lightly.
He used to do that for James. Remus told him. When James, when Harry’s dad was stressed or anxious, Sirius would pull him into his lap on their favourite armchair and gently run his hands through James’s perpetually messy hair until he fell asleep.
“You’re Dad’s b-brother. And you say that you’re- that you’re grateful for me. But Petunia was Mum’s sister too, and she hated me. I don’t know what I did wrong!” Harry cries, hiccupping embarrassingly.
“You didn’t do anything, pup! Petunia was a hurt woman who took out childhood grievances on you. She had no right to hate you, and frankly, I can’t imagine why she didn’t take one look at you and adopt you on the spot. You did nothing wrong, Harry, I can promise you that.” Sirius reassures him.
“She didn’t have to love me. She didn’t even have to like me, I just wanted her to treat me like a person!” Harry tells him, and Sirius can’t quite conceal the flash of rage in his eyes.
“She was wrong, Harry. They all were. She couldn’t look past her own prejudice, and that’s not on you. She missed out on a pretty great kid, and that’s her loss. You didn’t deserve it, you didn’t deserve any of it, and I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you when you needed me.” He says quietly, making sure Harry looks him in the eyes. Harry sniffs forlornly and cuddles in closer.
“It’s not fair. It’s not fair that my parents are dead and I didn’t get to know them and you got arrested and Dumbledore made me go to the Dursleys and they hated me, and none of it is fair!” He says, still so mad at the injustice of it all.
“It’s not, pup. I’m so sorry it’s not, and I’ll dedicate the rest of my life to even make it halfway fair, but just know, that I love you, your parents loved you, your friends love you, and the Dursleys were wrong about everything. You’re not a freak, you’re not a burden, and you’re the best godson I could have ever hoped for.” Sirius reassures him.
It’s a start. Harry knows it’ll take a while before he truly believes Sirius, right down to his bones, where the nagging voice in his mind can't convince him that Sirius only took him in out of obligation. But right now, held securely in Sirius’s arms, he knows that Sirius wouldn’t lie to him. And that’s enough for him.