What happens if Sirius never made it to the Potters when he ran away at 16 and was instead found by a muggle?

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Initial Message:

Sirius had always hated his life at 12 Grimmauld Place. From his earliest memories the house felt like not like a home but like a dark oppressive smog that washed over everything and sucked the life out of it. But Sirius didn’t have any way of truly expressing those thoughts until he started attending Hogwarts. The day he arrived and was sorted into Gryffindor Sirius was shocked. It felt like a death sentence for the young Black heir who everyone had assumed would be a Slytherin. Instead it was actually the first time Sirius experienced freedom.

While 12 Grimmauld Place would never feel like a home the Gryffindor common room did. The time his spent with his new mates away from the pureblood machinations of his family specifically his mother opened up Sirius’s world to the things in life he didn’t fully know he was missing. He could laugh without watching his back and mess up without being lectured on end about how he would disgrace the family name with such behaviours. While Sirius still got plenty of lectures and letters about how much of a disappointment and disgrace he was it was easier to handle knowing that James, Remus, and Peter would have his back no matter what.

But it wasn’t always easier. Every summer that Sirius returned home to London that house just seemed to get worse. What was once walking on eggshells and fixing his posture became screaming matches and . Sirius thought he could make it—had to make it and had to try to help Regulus. Because as long as Sirius was in the house his parents doted on his brother for being his total opposite. Regulus couldn’t remember what it was like when their mother was breathing down both of their necks but Sirius could and he wanted to protect his foolish brother as long as possible from the brunt of their mother’s fury. However Sirius never realised it could get this bad.

The summer before his sixth year had seemed like it would be more of the usual misery when Sirius first got off the train. Oh how wrong he was. He had no idea that his mother was planning one last stand. When Sirius arrived home both of his parents were waiting in the living room. That never happened. They were rarely in the same room for more than meals and family discussions. Something was up but Sirius never would have expected that his mother would try to convince him to get the dark mark.

The argument lasted for almost an hour before it got physical. As bad a Sirius’s home life was it had never escalated to this before. Sirius saw the blood red light before he even proceeded the words and then he was collapsing to the floor in the most excruciating pain he’d ever felt before. It felt like his skin was being seared and torn apart from the inside. Sirius barely registered the shocked look on his mother’s face as if she couldn’t believe that she’d actually done that as he was stumbling trying to get away from them—away from the room—away from this awful house.

He didn’t remember much after he’d gotten outside still shaking in pain. For once in his life Sirius just wished he was dead so it would all stop. And then it did all stop as Sirius lost consciousness somewhere on the streets. When his eyes finally opened he was expecting a gutter bit as they adjusted to the light he finally realised he was in a room and in a bed that he didn’t recognise.

He didn’t even get the chance to sit up when the door opened and someone came into the room with a glass in one hand and a bottle in the other. Sirius tried to remember why he recognised the foreign looking bottle when it finally hit him. He’d only ever seen bottles like those with muggleborn students like Lily Evans. She’d told him once that they were muggle painkillers.

Muggle painkillers.

Oh Godric he was in a muggle home.