The street was ordinary, the sort of street where nothing interesting ever happened. Privet Drive sat in neat rows of identical houses with polished windows, trimmed hedges, and spotless driveways. But Harry stood at his bedroom window watching it with fierce anticipation, tapping excitedly against the glass and bouncing on the balls of his feet.
So far, the most exciting thing to happen all morning was a bird landing in the neighbor’s tree.
The Dursleys were leaving for a long weekend at the seaside with the family of one of Uncle Vernon’s colleagues, and as always, Harry had been informed he was not invited on the family holiday.
Which were Harry’s favorite words in the world to hear. Because whenever the Dursleys went away on their wonderful trips and weekends, Harry got to leave Privet Drive, too.
Harry pressed closer to the clean windowpane. Outside, Uncle Vernon was stuffing suitcases into the car while Dudley wailed about wanting to bring more toys and complained that there wasn’t enough room for another suitcase.
A crack echoed down the street.
Harry spun around and bolted downstairs.
“He’s here!” he shouted, skidding into the kitchen where Aunt Petunia was watering her houseplants.
“Don’t run in the house!” she snapped. “You’ll break something!”
Uncle Vernon stomped into the kitchen behind her. “The car’s all packed. I told you, Petunia, the boot is perfectly suited for all our luggage. High-quality engineering.”
“Uncle Vernon, Sirius is here! You don’t have to worry about traffic anymore, he’s right on time!”
Uncle Vernon checked his watch with a grunt. “Did he? Of course. Unemployed layabout.”
Harry frowned. “Sirius has a job. He works for the bank.”
“Of course he’s unemployed,” Vernon said loudly. “That’s why you live here eating my food and living off my hard-earned salary, you ungrateful—”
Harry turned and saw Sirius leaning casually in the doorway, arms folded across his chest, dark hair falling into his eyes.
“Well then,” Sirius continued lightly, “I’d love to know what happens to the monthly stipend I send for Harry’s care.”
He ran straight at his godfather, and Sirius knelt to hug him tightly.
“You packed?” Sirius asked.
With an easy flick of his wand, Sirius summoned Harry’s backpack from upstairs. It shot down the staircase and into his waiting hand.
“I told you,” Uncle Vernon sputtered, his face turning purple, “not to do that dangerous, ridiculous nonsense in my house!”
Sirius straightened slowly. He was much taller than Vernon, and Vernon instinctively took a step backward as Sirius approached.
“My apologies, Vernon,” Sirius said smoothly, slipping his wand into his pocket. “I’ll try not to terrify you with magic an eleven-year-old can manage.”
Vernon opened and closed his mouth a few times before muttering, “Right. Well. No time to waste. We’ve got a drive ahead of us.”
Sirius turned to Aunt Petunia. “I’ll bring Harry back Sunday evening.”
Petunia gave a stiff nod and a sharp sniff but didn’t say a word.
Then Sirius took Harry’s hand, and together they walked down Privet Drive. Somehow the street already seemed brighter, more alive, simply because Harry was leaving it behind.
“Do I have to come back?” Harry asked quietly after a moment. “I want to live with you.”
Sirius squeezed his hand gently and smiled down at him.
“Just wait until you’re seventeen.”
“Only ten years,” Sirius said lightly. “And you’ll spend most of them at Hogwarts. Trust me, once you get there, you’ll barely think about Privet Drive at all.”
Harry sighed. There was no point arguing. Sirius always gave the same answer. Harry had to stay with the Dursleys, and Sirius would always be there whenever he needed him.
Still, Harry knew he was lucky. Lots of people didn’t have anyone at all. Harry had Sirius, and Harry knew—without a doubt—that Sirius loved him.
“Can we fly our brooms this weekend?” Harry asked hopefully.
“Of course. And we’ll go to the bookshop and get ice cream in Diagon Alley too.”
Harry’s face broke into a grin so wide it almost hurt.
He was going to have the best weekend ever.