Sirius Black absolutely hated studying. There was nothing that bored him more than curling up before the fireplace of his flat with a dusty tome that reeked of mildew and droned on about various curses and blocks in increasingly pedantic tones until he fell asleep on top of it, drooling onto its monochrome and monotone pages so that they stuck together when he closed the book. Of course, he had to study in order to pass the upcoming Auror's exam—the one he had already taken twice before, with painful and disappointing results—but the tedium was almost enough to make him go home and have tea with his mum rather than read such an intensely mind-numbing book.
Almost, but not quite. Because if he didn't become an Auror soon, he might just have to go home to his mum to ask her for money.
Thus, there he was, at it again, dozing off in his armchair over a chapter on how to create a Chrysanthemum block that would turn whatever curse aimed at him into bouquets of flowers, when a soft pop from the hearth woke him. He looked at his fireplace, rubbed his eyes, and looked again. Why did he think he saw Lily Potter's disembodied head in the fire? Must have read so much that it finally addled his brain. . . now, he was starting to hallucinate.
"Sirius? Can I ask you a favor?" That definitely was not a hallucination. He'd recognize Lily's sugar-sweet voice anywhere.
He dropped his textbook onto the floor next to him and got onto his knees so as to be at eye level with his new guest. "Of course, Mrs. Potter," he drawled. "I'm always at your service. Fire away."
"Well, the thing is, I just got an owl from St. Mungo's—the Potion Mistress who replaced me called in sick with wizarding flu, and they have this huge, important order of Sleeping Draught that needs to be filled by tonight. They promised to pay me double-overtime for coming in during maternity leave. . . but James is at the office until seven, and he said he can't come home any earlier." James, unlike Sirius, had passed the Auror's exam on his first try and was now working for the Ministry. "Would it be too much to ask if you came over and watched Harry for the afternoon?" Lily gazed at Sirius pleadingly. "It won't be too much work—just make sure he stays out of trouble and all that until James comes home. Please?"
Sirius stared at Lily, then at his fallen textbook, then back to Lily again. His face broke into a grin. At last, his savior from death by boredom had arrived.
"I'll be over in five minutes."
Five hours and three temper-tantrums later, Sirius wished that he had a timeturner to warn his past self not to accept Lily's offer. This had to be the worst, most painful afternoon he had ever spent in his life, even compared to those dreadful hours wasted on studying.
At least, his textbook didn't scream like a cross between a banshee and a beached mermaid.
In the beginning, Sirius had tried to entertain little Harry by playing tiddlywinks with him. However, considering the fact that Harry was only one year old, Sirius supposed he shouldn't have been surprised that Harry couldn't (or wouldn't) comprehend that the point of tiddlywinks was to flip the little disks into the coffee can, not into his mouth. It was only when Harry nearly choked on one of the pieces that Sirius stopped, imagining the awful and imaginative tortures Lily would put him through should Harry happen to die under Sirius' care.
Next, Sirius attempted to read books to Harry. But how was he to know that Harry absolutely hated "The Three Little Pigs"? Harry screamed and screamed until Sirius realized the problem; the boy wouldn't stop crying until the book was closed and put away on the farthest bookshelf. At that point, Sirius wasn't in the mood to read anything else—his ears were ringing too much.
And so, Sirius found himself sitting dejectedly on the couch in the Potters' living room whilst little Harry sat on the floor, amusing himself with a giant picture book of Quidditch that James had gotten for Harry's first birthday the week before. Harry was cooing happily, quite unaware of the cruel and unusual punishment that his presence was inflicting on his godfather.
Sirius leaned back into the couch with a deep sigh and closed his eyes. Perhaps Harry would be distracted enough to give him a few moments of rest. . . but it was not to be. Within moments, Sirius was rudely awakened by Harry's cries.
"Pa-fook! Pa-fook!"
This was how little Harry had managed to mangle his nickname. James and Remus had found it amusing; at times, so did Sirius. This definitely wasn't one of those times.
Sirius slowly got off of the couch and knelt before his godson. Smile, Padfoot, smile for the baby. . . "Yes, Harry? What is it?"
"Telly!" Harry groped at the air with his tiny hands. "Wan' telly!"
Sirius was completely puzzled. What in Merlin's name was a 'telly'?
"Harry," Sirius chose his words carefully. "I don't know what a 'telly' is. And unless I know what a 'telly' is, I'm afraid I can't give it to you. Not now, anyway."
"Wan' telly now!" Harry's lower lip started to tremble, a very dangerous sign indeed.
"I'm sorry, Harry. Maybe when Daddy gets back. . ."
A long silence. Then, Tantrum Number Four erupted.
"WAAAHHH!!!" Harry shrieked, flailing tiny fists. "Wan' telly! Wan' telly!"
Sirius tried to quiet little Harry in vain. "Shhh, Harry, shhh, it's all right, when Daddy gets back—"
But Harry refused to listen. "Wan' telly! Telly! TELLY!!" he screamed, finally making an accusatory pointing gesture at Sirius' head.
Suddenly, there was an explosion of blue light and smoke that momentarily blinded Sirius. By the time he could see again, he found that he was at least three feet shorter and could not move at all. The only thing that he could move was his eyes. . . and what he saw was not pretty.
He was now stark naked and completely covered with black fur. Not to mention the fact that he was no longer a human being. Harry had just accomplished a highly-intricate Transfiguration spell at the age of one year old.
Oh, no, he thought, horrified. I'm a—
"Telly!" Harry cried happily, crawling forward to give his brand-new teddy bear a hug.
Sometime around half past six in the evening, Remus Lupin knocked on the front door of the Potter residence. He always enjoyed spending time with James, and Lily, and even baby Harry; and when he heard that Sirius was baby-sitting for the afternoon, the opportunity was too great to pass up. Sirius was never a fan of little children, especially before they had been diaper-trained; Remus was looking forward to seeing how Padfoot got along with his young charge.
But no one answered the door, even after five minutes of constant knocking, and no sign of life was visible from the window next to the front door. Remus frowned. Could Sirius have taken Harry out for a walk?
Then, he tried the door. Strangely enough, it was unlocked. Remus made a mental note to remind Sirius for his carelessness as he stepped into the Potters' dark entryway. "Prongs? Lily? Padfoot? Anyone home?" Remus called. No answer—except for a baby's giggling that originated from the living room.
Remus sprinted to the aforesaid room and skidded to a halt inside. Sure enough, there was little Harry, wrestling with a big black teddy bear on the floor. Sirius was nowhere to be found. Where in Merlin's name is he?
"Moo!" Harry had learned all of the Marauder's nicknames by the time he was seven months old. There was Pongs, Pa-fook, Wer-tay, and himself, Moo. Remus found it amusing that his nickname was the only one that resembled an actual word, but the joke was lost on the rest of the Marauders—and on Harry, for that matter.
"Hey there, little guy," Remus swung Harry to his shoulder, leaving the teddy bear behind on the ground. "Where's Padfoot?"
Harry pointed to the bear on the ground and giggled again. "Telly!"
"Yes, that's a very nice teddy bear, isn't it, Harry?" It was indeed very nice—all shiny and new, quite unlike the raggedy one Remus had seen last time. "Did Mummy give it to you?"
"Pa-fook! Pa-fook!" was Harry's reply.
Oh, great, Remus groaned inwardly. Sirius gave Harry a teddy bear and left the house to amuse himself. Lily issogoing to kill him. "Do you know where Padfoot—"
"Da!" Harry shrieked gleefully from his perch on Remus' shoulder. Remus whirled around—to find James Potter grinning at him from the living room doorway. Damn. Padfoot, don't come back now, whatever you do.
"It's good to see you, Moony." James strode in and clapped Remus on his free shoulder before taking Harry. "Oof, I'd forgotten how heavy you are!" Harry just squealed as his father mock-tickled him. James set Harry down on the ground before turning back to his friend. "So, did Sirius pass the baton on to you? Lily said he was going to be watching Harry—I'd hoped to ask him how he liked his brush with parenting."
"Well, no, actually—" Sorry, Padfoot, you're on your own here. "I just walked in the door a few minutes ago, and Harry was playing with that new teddy bear over there. I haven't found Sirius yet, but I'm sure he must be around here, somewhere." You'd better be, because otherwise I'll have to attend your funeral once Lily's through with you.
And Remus had thought that Lily would be angry. "Why, that irresponsible prick!" James was downright furious. "He left Harry all by himself?! When I get my hands on him, I'll—" His eyes fell on the teddy bear. "Say, where did that one come from? Did Lily get that?"
"Harry said Padfoot gave it to him," Remus replied dutifully, which caused James to mutter curses under his breath. And, unfortunately, Lily chose just that moment to Apparate into the living room.
She greeted all of them warmly. "Darling," a kiss for James. "Remus," a strong handshake. "And how's my baby tonight?" Harry, hugging his teddy bear again, cooed happily at his mother. "But where's Sirius?" she asked the men, puzzled. "He didn't leave already, did he? I was going to pay him—"
"For what? For leaving Harry home alone while he went off to have some fun?" James interrupted. "I don't think he needs to be paid forthat!"
Lily's eyes narrowed dangerously. "What do you mean?"
"Exactly that. Remus found Harry alone, the house abandoned, Sirius gone! Isn't that right, Moony?" Remus nodded reluctantly. "I don't want to think what could've happened to Harry if Moony here hadn't shown up."
"Thank you, Remus." Lily looked as furious as her husband—and when she was angry, there was no telling what she would do. "I'll have to have a word with Sirius—any idea where he might be?"
Remus shrugged as James went over to Harry and tried to take away the teddy bear unsuccessfully, since Harry started screeching so loudly that James immediately backed away. "Oh, by the way, honey," James turned to his wife. "Did you get this bear, or did Sirius? Harry seems to be particularly attached to it."
"I certainly didn't," Lily wrinkled her nose. "Goodness knows Harry has too many as it is!" She knelt before her son. "Did Padfoot give this big guy to you, Harry?"
Harry merely crowed, "Pa-fook!"
"Oh, dear," Lily sighed as she reached for the bear. "Did Sirius bribe Harry to—" Suddenly, she pulled away from the stuffed animal, horrified. "Oh, my God, it's alive!"
"What?" Remus spluttered. "What do you mean, 'alive'?"
"It was breathing! I saw it, it moved!" Lily was becoming hysterical. "I swear, its chest moved! And it's so warm. . . Lord, what did Sirius give Harry?!"
James stepped over and tried to pick up the bear; but after much huffing and groaning, he wasn't able to lift it more than several inches before dropping it on the floor again. "Why is this thing so bloody heavy?" he grumbled, completely bemused.
Suddenly, Remus was struck by a realization. "Sirius. . . Merlin, Prongs,that's Sirius!"
"What?!" Lily shrieked.
"You're kidding!" James gasped.
But Remus already had his wand out and aimed at the innocent-looking black teddy bear. A flash of blue light, and it was aimed at the chest of a very disheveled—but very much human—Sirius Black. The three other adults in the room stared at him in shocked silence while Harry made happy gurgling noises in the background.
"Sirius!" Lily was the first to get her voice back. "Whatever in the world happened to you?"
The man addressed swayed where he sat, his eyes glazing over. "I—will never—baby-sit—again," he croaked before sprawling on the floor in a dead faint.
Sirius Black had avoided death by boredom, certainly. . . but he had not counted on death by baby-sitting.
FINIS