It was almost laughably easy to convince Arcturus to help them. His only condition was that he be allowed to join them wherever they were living instead of being left alone 'rotting' (his words, not theirs) at Black Manor.
36 hours after their prison break, Arcturus "Archer" Ares Black, born to Arcturus Black and Melania MacMillan on the 27th of March 1956 appeared on the family tree. 12 hours later the goblins, always happy to help Merlin, finished producing certified documents that established Archer as the Primary Heir to the House of Black, showed that he'd graduated from Beauxbatons, that he'd earned Masteries in Warding and Defense, and that he'd been employed as a Cursebreaker by the Paris branch of the Bank for the last eight years.
An undetectable glamour changing his eyes from the rather recognizable Black grey to the more subtle MacMillian blue and a backstory that he'd been raised abroad by his elder sister Lucretia Black and her husband Ignatius Prewett (to keep him away from public scrutiny) later, Archer Black was ready to be introduced to the British Wizarding World.
* * *
Wednesday, 6 November 1985
Remus laid awake staring at the ceiling trying to process the last week of his life … scratch that, the last several months.
He'd returned from the continent in the last week of July and headed straight for Gringotts to deposit the money he'd been able to make tutoring while completing his Mastery courses.
Then he'd received the surprise of a lifetime.
Despite what Dumbledore had said (I'm sorry Remus, his guardians want him to be disconnected from the wizarding world and, I must say, I agree), whoever was actually in charge of Harry had left a way for him to contact them. Remus had waited a week to actually send the letter, too nervous that it was some sort of trap or that it was too good to be true. But within hours of that owl flying off, a man he didn't recognize who had messy brown hair, bright blue eyes, and a smile that promised chaos had appeared out of nowhere and offered to bring him to visit Harry.
He hadn't let himself doubt it and had simply agreed.
The following months in Camelot had been some of the best of his life. Harry was genuinely the smartest child he'd ever met, and he'd met quite a few through his tutoring gigs. He could read full length books at only five years old, he thought through things like a general planning for war, he smiled like the summer sun, and he gave hugs freely and often.
Then he'd been the one to break Sirius out of Azkaban.
And then he'd been the one to come up with their story for getting Sirius back into society.
Now, in the little hall of suites that ran along the east side of the literal castle he now called home, Remus was staring at the ceiling with the love of his life tucked against his side sleeping peacefully, his light breaths fluttering across Remus' chest and his scent once more filling Remus' nose.
Remus snapped back to the present when he heard little footsteps outside his door.
Harry had nightmares every so often, usually involving a flash of green that he seemed to understand despite no one having the heart to fully explain it, and once Remus had appeared, he'd been the one Harry went to when he woke up in the night. At first, he'd been afraid that Merlin would be hurt as he'd been the one raising Harry the past few years, but he'd simply smiled softly and said he was glad Harry had multiple people he trusted in his most vulnerable moments.
A few seconds later, a little head of blonde hair, darkening now from the months separated from the summer sun, poked into the room, lit up by the moonlight flooding through the window, "Moony?" Harry whispered, stepping further into the room before he noticed Sirius and started to retreat with a mumbled apology.
"No, cub, come here," Remus said, patting the open spot on his other side.
"Are you sure?"
"I'm sure, brenin bach," Remus whispered back. He'd taken to calling Harry little King as Merlin did, though he preferred to use Welsh rather than Gaelic. It was odd knowing that this sweet little child would one day rule over a mythical kingdom, but somehow it just made sense. Harry was only five and could already wield a sword like a seasoned knight, he understood the weight of his decisions in a way most adults didn't, and he was genuinely kind – a trait Remus rather thought all leaders should have.
"Bambi?" Sirius said, voice thick with sleep as his eyes blinked open. "What's wrong, love?"
"Bad dream," Harry mumbled, pulling himself up onto Remus' right side before pausing for a moment and then seemingly coming to a decision and crawling right over him and making space for himself between Sirius and Remus.
"I get those too," Sirius said softly, happily adjusting to make room for his godson as he ran a hand through Harry's hair. "Wanna talk about it?"
"No," Harry decided, pressing his nose into Sirius' neck like he often did to Remus. "I'm glad you're here Padfoot, I missed you."
"I didn't even realize you could remember me, pup," Sirius said, sounding almost sad as he hugged Harry closer. Remus couldn't help but wrap an arm around both of them, pressing his own nose into Harry's mop of curls. "You were so young when you last saw me."
"I remember everything," Harry admitted quietly.
"Everything?" Sirius asked, voice cracking.
Harry nodded, burrowing impossibly closer, his arm wrapped around Sirius' waist in a vice grip, "I think my first memory is riding a broom, you gave it to me. It all gets a little fuzzier as I make new memories but some things stick out. I knew Moony the moment I saw him and it was the same with you."
"You're a rather smart little guy, aren't you?"
"Moony and Em say so," Harry shrugged.
"Well, Padfoot says so too, alright?"
"Alright."
"Sleep, mon soleil," Sirius said, kissing the top of Harry's head softly before pressing a kiss to Remus' forehead. "I'll be right here."
"I love you," Harry said, voice hardly above a whisper.
"We love you too, Bambi," Remus told him, he'd loved this little boy from the moment Lily had told him she was pregnant and his love for him only continued to grow. It was like his heart existed outside of his body, running around in the form of the most energetic, most intelligent child he'd ever met.
* * *
Tuesday, 3 June 1987
"We need to rescue Kreacher from Grimmauld," Arcturus said, apropos of nothing, over breakfast.
"Rescue?" Sirius asked, raising an eyebrow.
"The house has been empty since your mother died and is likely swimming in unchecked dark magic. He's a Black elf but he was assigned to your family through your mother's line, you need to be the one to call him."
"If he kills me on sight it's your fault."
"I'll accept that," Arcturus decided, a slight smirk on his face.
Sirius rolled his eyes and called out, "Kreacher!"
With a pop and a grumble, an ancient elf appeared at Sirius' side, "what does Little Master Traitor require?"
"What does Little Master Traitor require?" Sirius echoed, looking at his grandfather for direction, an almost amused smile on his face as Kreacher continued to grumble.
"Oh!" Harry said, stepping into the room with the book he'd left to gather securely tucked under his arm. "Hello, what's your name?"
"Kreacher," the elf responded, looking at Harry in something like interest which confused Sirius to no end. "What is the Young Master called?"
"Harrison, you can call me Harry though," he responded with a bright smile. Sirius could never quite decide who that smile reminded him of. More often than not it was James but sometimes, if the sun caught his face just right or the tilt of his smile changed just so, it looked so much like Regulus' smile it was uncanny … and Sirius started to understand why Kreacher had decided he liked Harry. "Whose elf are you?"
"Yours," Kreacher decided, not asking for permission.
Arcturus raised an eyebrow in question and Sirius simply shrugged, "would you like to be Harry's personal elf, Kreacher?"
"Yes," Kreacher said with an almost excited nod, he was already standing up straighter, "Young Master Harry feels like Master Reggie. He is good. Strong."
"Thank you, Kreacher," Harry said happily. "Would you like to stay here with us or go back to where you were staying?"
"Kreacher gets to choose?"
"Of course," Harry said, as if it were obvious that a wizard would allow their elf to make any sort of decision on their own. "I'd like you to be comfortable, Kreacher."
"Kreacher will stay here," he decided. "What can Kreacher be doing for Young Master Harry?"
Sirius watched Harry roll his eyes slightly, likely at being called Master though he wished him luck breaking Kreacher of that particular habit, Regulus had certainly tried his hardest and, as far as Sirius knew, had never quite succeeded.
"Why don't I show you to where our other elves stay and you can find a spot to make your nest and get cleaned up? I'll bond with you so you have fresh magic and then I'll help you find some blankets and such, alright?"
Kreacher nodded, happily following as Harry left the room, talking a mile a minute as he walked toward the space behind the kitchens where the elves liked to hang out. It was warm from the central kitchen fire and close enough to the outer walls of the castle that they were near the power of the ward line and close enough to the natural magic that surrounded Camelot. Sirius recognized the look on Kreacher's face easily. It was the same way the elf had looked at Regulus, not so much worship as love, not so much simple care as I will tear apart anyone who injures this child limb by limb and laugh in the face of their pain.
An involuntary shiver ran down Sirius' back even as he smiled. That elf was terrifying but Sirius was more than happy to let him loose in the name of protecting his godson.
* * *
Saturday, 20 August 1988
"Young Master Harry!" Kreacher called, loud enough that his voice reached Harry even as he soared above the field on the back of a young hippogriff named Zephyr. With a slight huff of annoyance, Harry directed Zephyr toward the ground. They'd just taken off and he was rather enjoying the freedom of the air but Kreacher sounded like he needed something and Harry wasn't about to ignore his friend.
"Yes, Kreacher?"
"Kreacher has something for you," he said, a smile on his face that, to anyone else, would likely be panic-inducing but, to Harry, was a sign that the elf was simply excited.
"What is it?"
"Here," Kreacher said, pulling something out from behind his back and handing it over.
Harry looked down in awe. It was a broom, a Nimbus according to the handle. It looked brand new but for the slightly lighter spots around the ebony handle where someone's hands had worn away at the varnish. Upon closer examination, Harry found the outline of the Leo constellation right under where the left palm would rest. All of the stars but the heart of the lion were etched in silver, Regulus was in gold.
"Kreacher," Harry said softly, realizing just who this broom had belonged to. "Are you sure?"
"Yes," Kreacher said decisively. "Master Reggie would like Young Master Harry, he would want you to enjoy his broom. Young Master Harry will be taking good care of it," he said, pointing a finger with the threat clear in his eye.
"Of course," Harry said immediately. "I will treat it as treasure."
Kreacher nodded once before popping away, leaving Harry standing in an open field with a dead boy's broom and a new weight on his heart.
Sirius, Kreacher, and Arcturus had all said before that he was like Regulus, though it was rarely said in a way he was meant to hear. It was often under their breath as they stared at him with sad smiles. He didn't know much about who he'd decided to think of as his Uncle Regulus (since Sirius was his Uncle, it only made sense that his younger brother was as well … and, if really pressed, he might admit it was more because he saw Padfoot as a father). He knew that Regulus had been smart and kind, but that he'd been forced into a position he didn't want to claim by parents who cared more about having a proper heir than a happy son. He knew he'd played on his house quidditch team and that he was a prefect, both things Harry hoped to achieve. He knew that he had loved to read and that he was kind to Kreacher when very few people ever had been.
Harry decided he was quite alright being compared to Regulus.
* * *
Kreacher popped away, leaving his young charge behind staring at Regulus' broom like it was the most precious thing he'd ever owned. Kreacher had spotted it when he'd returned to Grimmauld Place briefly to make sure the locket Regulus had died for was still safe in the case with the other heirlooms.
When he'd seen that look in Harry's eyes, the one that said he appreciated this connection to Regulus deeply even though he'd never had the chance to know him, Kreacher made a decision.
It would have been nigh impossible to break an order up until the point that Harry offered to bond with Kreacher as his personal elf, not just as the family elf assigned to his care.
Kreacher had followed his final orders out of respect for his Regulus, but now it was time to disobey.
With one last thought of his departed friend, Kreacher popped back into Grimmauld Place, marched up the stairs, ripped that forsaken piece of metal out of the case, and popped directly into Merlin's study, "Kreacher has something for you."
"Good lord," Merlin yelped, turning around at the sudden intrusion. "Yes, Kreacher, what is it?"
Instead of answering, Kreacher just held out the locket and watched as Merlin's eyes grew wide, "where did you get that?"
"Master Reggie found it, he ordered Kreacher to destroy it but Kreacher could not. He also ordered Kreacher to tell no one and Kreacher kept his promise for many years, but no more. Young Master Harry is not safe if this exists and Kreacher cannot destroy it himself."
"Thank you, Kreacher," Merlin said, gently levitating the locket out of Kreacher's grip and into a box he'd pulled out of his desk drawer. Kreacher could feel the enchantments on the wood from across the room and knew that, at the very least, the pervasive dark magic would be contained. "I do not have the means to destroy it right now but I have been working on it. I'll be honest with you because you deserve to know, there was a soul shard from this same wizard embedded in Harry's scar right after the attack on his family but the goblins were able to remove it."
"Can the goblins remove this one?" Kreacher asked.
"No," Merlin said and Kreacher felt his face fall. "They were able to deal with the piece in Harry because it wasn't properly sealed. But don't worry, there are ways this can be destroyed, it just has to be something that destroys the vessel beyond repair which generally means either Basilisk venom or Fiendfyre. I don't currently have access to a basilisk, nor do I know where any might be. And Fiendfyre is almost impossible to control, even for me, so I'd like to collect all of the pieces and destroy them at once to decrease the chances of the spell going out of control and killing us all. We might be able to track the other pieces using this one but that will depend on what sort of precautions and protections the creator used."
Kreacher had to admit that was a rather smart plan. He also had to admit that he felt much lighter knowing that someone could fulfil Regulus' last order, even if it couldn't be him.
"Okay," Kreacher said and turned to leave the room before remembering something and looking back over his shoulder, "by the way, Kreacher gave Young Master Harry a broom."
"Oh good," Merlin huffed, flopping rather inelegantly back into his desk chair, "tell Sirius and Remus, that's their problem now."
"Kreacher will," he said with a smile before popping away to disturb Sirius and Remus' peace.
* * *
Wednesday, 26 April 1989
Harry was not having a good day. He'd woken up in a weird mood, he hadn't been able to sleep all that well and hadn't wanted to bug Remus and Sirius or even Merlin or Arcturus. He was almost nine years old, he was old enough to deal with his own nightmares.
Then he'd taken his broom out for a fly and had ended up so distracted he'd run into a tree which hurt and normally he had a high pain tolerance but he was just so tired and frustrated by the world in general that it made everything worse.
"Dad," he said, voice small and knowing he was starting to tear up as he made his way into the little sitting room between his bedroom and Remus and Sirius'. They'd ended up building shelves and turning it into a bit of a library with the number of books that had made their way into the room over the years. Remus was settled on the soft couch beneath the window quietly reading through a large book on the history of magical communities with his feet up on the coffee table but he sat straight up when he saw Harry at the door.
"Oh, cariad, what happened?" Remus asked, holding his arms open. Harry immediately darted across the room and jumped into Remus' lap, not caring that he'd decided he was old enough to deal with his own problems, he just wanted the comfort. He pressed his nose into Remus' neck like he'd done when he was small … well, smaller … and just let himself be held. "Shh," Remus soothed, "it's okay, cub, you're okay."
"Dad," Harry found himself repeating as the tears finally spilled from his eyes, deciding he was done pretending this man he'd known his entire life, who'd spent the past four years standing directly by his side, teaching him everything he knew and soothing his nightmares wasn'this dad. He knew he'd had a father, he knew all about James. Sirius and Remus hadn't been shy about telling stories and he loved to hear all about this incredible man he'd never know, but that was just the thing, he didn't know James. He knew Remus. He knew his Moony better than anyone. He'd grown up with Merlin but it was somehow easier to see him as just a guardian. Remus and Sirius were different. He had a literal bond with Sirius because of his godfather oath and Harry, who was rather sensitive to magic, could actually see that bond. He knew in his very soul that Sirius could be trusted. Remus was much the same but it wasn't because of an oath; Moony had claimed Harry as Cub, as Pack, and Harry, who'd always been attuned to creatures and natural magic, could feel that as well.
He felt Remus freeze slightly as he finally processed what he had said, and then he absolutely melted, wrapping his arms more tightly around Harry's shaking form, "oh, fy mab, my sweet boy, what's wrong, love?"
"I'm just so tired," Harry admitted, wrapping his arms as best he could around Remus' torso and tucking his head against his chest. "I didn't sleep well."
"Why didn't you come to me?"
"I didn't want to bother you, I'm old enough to deal with my own nightmares."
"You'll never be a bother, cariad. And there's no such thing as too old. I still have nightmares and Sirius is always there to make me feel better and when Sirius has nightmares I help him in return, do you think we're too old to ask for help?"
"…no."
"So then neither are you, brenin bach," Remus said, running a hand through Harry's hair and holding his head securely against his chest, just as he'd always done. He'd told Harry once that this was exactly how he'd held him when he was a baby. It always made Harry feel safe and warm, he could hear Remus' heart beating steadily in his chest and the rhythm soothed Harry's anxious and overtired mind. "You, my darling boy, can always come to me. For anything, alright?"
Harry sniffled slightly, "alright."
"How about a bit of a nap?" Remus asked gently, his thumb running softly along Harry's cheek. "You can stay right here and I'll keep reading my book, alright?"
"Can you read aloud?"
"Of course, cub."
Harry finally let his eyes fall shut, nodding off against Remus' chest, the soothing sound of his deep voice lulling him to sleep.
* * *
Remus looked down at the sleeping boy in his arms, not able to stop himself from pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. He'd called him Dad.
Harry was his boy, always had been.
Sirius had joked when Harry was about a month old that he was the group's kid. James had grumbled and held Harry tighter to his chest, claiming he was his for all of a minute before Lily had laughed brightly and pried Harry out of his grip, settling him in Remus' arms and heartily agreeing with Sirius' claim.
It became less of a joke after that.
It became even less of a joke when he'd shown up in Camelot four years ago and held his cub in his arms once again.
But he never imagined that Harry would see him as a father, that he'd be called Dad. He hadn't dared to dream of it. But here Harry was, a miracle child in more ways than one, calling him Dad and falling asleep feeling safe in his arms.
Remus realized he'd been staring down at Harry in silent awe for several minutes when Sirius settled next to him and rested his head against his shoulder, "what's on your mind, Moons?"
"He called me 'Dad'," Remus said, voice hardly above a whisper.
"Really?"
"Really."
"Wow," Sirius said, running a thumb across Harry's cheek before softly combing through his hair. "Congrats, Mr. Lupin, it's a boy."
"Quit it," Remus said, trying not to laugh, not wanting to dislodge Harry if his chest moved too much.
It didn't work.
Sleepy blue green eyes blinked open, looking confused for a minute before they locked on Sirius' softly smiling face, "I'm calling you Papa now. If you don't like it, take it up with whoever created the French language."
"Wait, really?" Sirius asked, sounding far more shocked that Harry had deemed him a father figure than Remus.
"Really," Harry said, voice still thick from sleep.
"Pup," Sirius choked out, voice cracking as tears welled in his eyes.
Remus huffed and threw an arm around Sirius' shoulders, pulling them both against his chest and resting his chin atop Harry's head, "both of you need to stop crying or you're going to make me cry."
"Sorry, Dad," Harry said with an adorable little giggle as he squirmed slightly, trying to get as close to Sirius as he possibly could while remaining perched on Remus' lap.
"I love you, cub," Remus whispered once Harry had gotten settled.
"I also love you," Sirius added, pressing a dramatically loud kiss to Harry's forehead.
"Love you too," Harry whispered, his form getting heavier against Remus' chest as he started to doze off once again.
"We have a kid, Moony," Sirius whispered, voice awed as he looked up at Remus with wide blue eyes.
"Apparently so," he whispered back.
Remus almost laughed as he looked into Sirius' eyes. If someone looked at the three of them they might actually believe Harry was theirs. The light brown curly hair was much like Remus', big hazel blue eyes could be a mix of his own hazel green and Sirius' bright blue, a freckled nose and cheeks exactly like Remus' after months in the summer sun, that smile that promised mischief that was a near perfect replica of Sirius' own grin.
At the same time, though, that shape of his nose was all James and the reddish tint in his light brown hair could've only come from Lily. His laugh was identical to James' and when it rang through the walls of Camelot Remus could sometimes swear it was James. His nose and cheeks weren't only freckled in the summer, they remained that way year round exactly like Lily.
Sirius had been right all those years ago, as much as it had been a joke at the time. He was their kid. All of them. And Remus would do everything he could to protect this precious child.