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Chapter Text

It was strange being back here, after so many years. His feet had led him without hesitation through the closed and darkened Atrium, into an elevator and down to this path that was burned in his brain after the results of one of the hardest years in his life. One of his worst mistakes, which he still had not forgiven himself for, though he let others believe he had done so.

Harry Potter was 39 years old, an accomplished wizard, set to become head of the Auror department within a few years. And yet, he hesitated to open the door in front of him, to enter an all-too-familiar room despite the fact that it had been a brief moment, 24 years ago. With a deep breath, he opened the door, bracing himself. Nothing happened, of course. He snorted in self-deprecation, still afraid of this room after everything that had happened in his life. He stepped through, striding forward until he was level with the object that faced him, dominating the dark room and casting an eerie light.

The Veil, deep in the Department of Mysteries, was still the one object the Unspeakables knew the least about. They had studied it extensively, documenting every detail about it ever since they had built the Department of Mysteries around it, for it was impossible to move or damage with any spell known to wizard kind.

Its pale, misty curtains floated in a non-existent breeze, reaching out towards Harry as if in invitation. He could hear the voices, just like he and Luna Scamander nee Lovegood had been able to hear it all those years ago. Harry had never asked Neville if he could hear the voices, not wanting to know. He had done his best to forget about this place, about the Veil, but it lingered in his mind, his subconscious thoughts wandering to it every day as he came in to work.

He stepped forward cautiously, one foot in front of the other. One voice reached out to him, calling more than the others. So familiar, rough with disuse and bad health, but so desired. He stopped himself just in front of the curtains, staring through their misty substance at the back wall of the room. Was he really going to do this?

Since the end of the wizarding war, Harry had gone through life feeling like something was missing. It had started as a hunger of sorts in the depths of his body and had become so strong over the years that at times it was debilitating. He had tried to fill it with his friends, his work. He’d dated Ginny again, desperate to feel some sort of connection. It had never come.

And then, on a whim, he’d visited Gringotts. And nothing had been the same since. The truths the goblins had revealed to him had ripped any sense of security and balance from underneath him like a proverbial rug. The betrayal, the rage, the enormous sense of loss, it had been overwhelming. He’d fallen into a deep depression, taking a leave of absence from work and isolating himself from his friends.

Two people had interrupted his misery, two had bothered to try and reach out. Luna had been one, forcing herself in on his pain and sternly redirecting it, forcing him to eat, to bathe, to keep going. Without the stubborn, unique young witch his malaise very well could have consumed him. The other had been, of all people, Draco Malfoy. He’d changed considerably since the war, throwing himself into politics and reform, working side-by-side with the Auror department to track down the last of Voldemort’s supporters and followers.

They had forced him to realize that if he wasn’t going to do anything with his new knowledge, he would have to learn to live with it. And he’d tried, Merlin knew he’d tried. There was just so much one wizard could take, and Harry had endured so much in such a short amount of time that the new knowledge was just enough to break his steadfast Gryffindor stubbornness.

It turned out, amongst other things, that the ache he had been suffering from for years was due to a broken, incomplete soul bond. Wizarding soul-bonds were rare, less than 2 percent of wizards found their soulmate. The one person that was not just compatible with them emotionally and magically, but literally their other half. It was why he and Ginny had ended up breaking off their relationship, deciding that they were better off friends. Harry’s broken soul-bond was keeping him from forming any other form of romantic attachment.

Through talking with Luna and Draco, Harry had identified when his issues had begun, and thus the identity of his soul-bond. Considering there had been a soul-bond simmering underneath the surface, their quick connection and loyal support of each other made sense. Of course, even with soul-bonds no relationship was perfect, they’d argued more than a few times.

Sirius Black. His godfather, until he’d been arrested and the Ministry had declared it null and void as was their right to do so. Had he truly been the one to betray Harry’s parents, it was procedure to overthrow the bond, as most children wouldn’t want to have a parent-child connection to the person responsible for their parents’ death. With what he now knew about the war against Voldemort and his own role in it, it suddenly made cold, logical sense for Dumbledore to do so little to try and get him a trial, Supreme Mugwump or not.

Realizing he’d be dealing with this pain for the rest of his life, Harry had attempted to keep going, trying to live his life as his parents would have wanted him to. But it was so hard. And now here he was, standing in front of the Veil that had cost him the most precious thing in his life, then and now, staring at it’s shifting magical curtains as if waiting for something.

He took a deep breath, exhaled, and walked into the cold curtains. He was done. So be it.

*

Harry had expected pain, darkness, not this cool numbing sensation. All that was in front of him was shifting silvery nothingness, similar to the shimmery quality of a Patronus. He closed his eyes and relaxed, feeling the cold drifting further and further through his body the longer he hung in his unsupported suspension. It was similar to flying, and he’d always liked flying.

Harry…Harry…Harry… something seemed to whisper. He opened his eyes, staring at flowing silver, wondering what the sound was coming from and why he hadn’t actually died yet.

A soft sound like laughter in his ears, distinctly feminine. As he relaxed a bit more and the numbness spread, his eyes gradually began to see and feminine form in front of him, shifting in the silver like the curtains of the Veil. He opened his mouth to speak and choked, unable to draw a breath. Trying to move sent his body into a series of convulsions until a peculiar warmth started in his chest and eased the pain from his airless lungs.

Focusing on the form in front of him as the pain eased, Harry frowned, wondering how to communicate with this ethereal being.

A gentle, motherly feeling fell across him and he heard the endless voice again, more inside his head than with his ears. Think to me, dear one. My precious childe.

The first thought that came to mind was, Who, or what, are you?

Amusement filtered through the air, gaining a temporary response from his own emotions, without his thought or direction.

My name is Nimue, Harry. As for who I am, I am Magic, the Goddess. All of those with magical gifts come from me. My power is dwindling in this modern world, Harry. There are fewer and fewer who truly believe in me, who thank me for their gifts.

The disappointment and sadness filtering through the air filled Harry with a powerful grief. How?

I was once a powerful being, Harry. At the time of Merlin and Morgana, I was at my peak, loved and known to the world. I showered my gifts to wizards with abandon, resulting in some of the most powerful witches and wizards in history. After the war between Merlin and Morgana, something began to happen. Something insidious. The Romans invaded the British Isles, persecuting those who loved me. My people began to hide their love for me, to survive.

And then one of my people termed magic that Morgana used ‘Dark’, and that of Merlin ‘Light’. They started to declare some of my gifts more worthy than others, some of my people more worthy than others. Over time the little Rituals and Blessings of my people started being condemned, and then exclusively became that of ‘purebloods’.

The creatures I made were hunted and prosecuted, the Lycans I loved so much diminished to werewolves, creatures of children’s nightmares and cautionary tales. Higher beings like the centaurs delegated to ‘beasts’.

Now so much of the magical world has changed that those same Rituals and Blessings are illegal to perform, still done only by a small fraction of my people, those original ones I blessed so long ago. And yet they don’t see the consequences, they try and find logical reasoning for the fact that fewer and fewer children are born with my gift. Soon, I will be gone from this world, forever. Magic will cease to exist.

Just the thought of a world without magic horrified Harry. It had changed his life, granted not all for the better, but he couldn’t imagine living in a world without it. I’m sorry, he thought to the Goddess.

I know, she said, and he glimpsed what could a been a rictus of a smile in the shifting silver. There’s nothing that can be done about it however.

Then a slightly mischievous air danced through Harry, becoming cautious. At least not here. Tell me Harry, when you entered the portal to my domain, what did you seek? Was it Death? Or something else?

Harry considered the question for a long time, or at least what felt like it. Eventually he composed his thoughts and answered Nimue. I’m not sure, actually. I was prepared to accept Death as a possibility, yes. It has long since stopping scaring me, the idea of passing on. I guess I wanted release, more than anything. Release from the pain of my broken soul-bond, release from the guilt of my mistakes that have cost so much. Release from the pain of betrayal, of poor choices and the hubris that had me making them.

The goddess in front of him seemed to give his answer due weight and consideration, and they stayed in the portal for a long time, long enough for the comfortable numbness of deep cold to travel up through Harry’s shoulders, up his legs and through his stomach. He felt fathomless, lighter than air and yet deeper than the depths of the sea.

When Nimue ‘spoke’, it was after such an amount of time that it startled him. I have the power to do one thing, Harry. I have given the last of the gifts I am able to, the last magical children born. There are only four in England. They number under 100 worldwide.

I can and will release you, Harry, if that is what you desire. You can join your parents in that which lies beyond life, and you will be able to rest. Whether you knew it or not, you were one of my Champions and I will not deny you that if it is your wish. There is another option, one that would not be approved of by many, but I am Magic, I care little for the opinions of others.

I can send you back, to a year of your choosing. You will go back to that age, but retain all your memories. I will not stop you from meddling in the fate of the wizarding world, in fact I hope you will meddle in some things. Perhaps you will be able to change the destiny of us both, Harry. Perhaps not. You seem to be a favorite plaything of Fate and she doesn’t like me very much at times.

An almost derisive amusement filtered through with her last words, though Harry wasn’t paying attention. He was being given a choice? Was this what happened to every being who entered Magic’s domain?

Something of his thoughts must have trickled past his barriers, because Nimue’s resonance became sad. You are thinking of Sirius Orion Black III, when he came through my archway. No, he was not given a choice Harry. He was already dead when he came into my domain, Death carried him away as his dignity and life deserved.

Part of Harry had always wondered if it had been the Veil or Bellatrix that had killed Sirius. It was nice to have his theory confirmed. He floated, thinking. On one hand he was tired, ready to be done with his life. If Nimue was finished with the world, perhaps he should be as well. He would be able to see his parents finally, as he knew even if he did go back, he wouldn’t be able to save them from dying.

But then there was the other possibility. To go back, memories intact and undo all the betrayals before they wound him in a tangled net that he would never be able to get out of. To go back and have Sirius back, to try and make things right and have a happier ending. To help Nimue, Magic, gain back the respect and love she deserved for giving them all such an enormous gift.

He looked at her, shifting in his eyes like a shimmer vision in the desert, ethereal and yet very much real as well. His jaw clenched, stubbornness kicked in again and he felt more alive than he had in years. His conviction firm, Harry said, I’ll go back. I’ll change things and neither one of us will suffer when this year comes around again.

Pride and love suffused the distance between the two of them and he could clearly see Nimue’s smile now. She pushed a filament of silver out of the way like a lock of hair and her voice filled him. I am prouder of you than words can ever express, Harry. Know that even if things do not change as much as you would hope, that I love you and you are one of the greatest gifts I have ever given. Now, have you decided when and where?

Harry already had considered it, and really it was a moot decision. He’d decided on it already just by walking into the building and coming to this place again. 1995, the summer before my fifth year. Before the dementors, if you please.

Amusement and love flickering through the air around them, Nimue’s shifting form disappeared, not before he felt the caress of fingers down the side of his face and along his jawline. As you wish, precious one. A fair warning, this may hurt a bit.

Chapter Text

Either Goddesses have a sense of humor, or they don’t feel pain the same way we do. Harry groaned, recognizing just by the sensation that he was laying on his back on the thin, worn out mattress that had been his bed since he was eleven. He tried to stretch, winced and amended, more likely both. 

He had to admit though, aside from the pain, being 15 again did have its perks. He recovered a lot faster than he would have at 39, and he didn’t have the arthritis that had set in early due to malnourishment. He sat up and stretched, staring at the old alarm clock he’d gotten to work again. Its blunt red numbers proclaimed that it was 1:24 am, the calendar next to it showed 2^th of August.

Nimue had literally dropped him in the day of the Dementor attack. Well, at least he wouldn’t have to wait long to leave the Dursley household. To get into the proper mindset, he thought back to what this summer had been like. Particularly horrible, he had lots of nightmares of the graveyard and lots of teenage angst at being dumped at the Dursleys with no information all summer.

Meanwhile at the Ministry, Dolores Umbridge was no doubt getting ready to send a pair of Dementors after him, hoping to get him expelled from Hogwarts as a favor to her paramour, idiot incomparable Cornelius Fudge. Harry stared at the bland ceiling of the undecorated room he had called home for seven years, contemplating.

As much as there was a ruthless part of him that wanted to let Dudley get kissed, he couldn’t let it happen. Despite ensuring that he wouldn’t have to come back, he had another route out, revealed during his shocking trip to Gringotts at age 38. He would need to convince Sirius to come to Gringotts with him, but that shouldn’t be hard. The man was at the dangerous stage of instability that happened to people released from Azkaban according to recent studies. He was most likely to take risks now than during any other part of his rehabilitation.

Getting out of Grimmauld Place when Alastor Moody also frequented it would be difficult, but there should be some way to do so. So that meant he would go ahead and let the first part unfold the same as it had before, saving his cousin and then getting a trio of owls. Ought to be entertaining, in any case.

He closed his eyes, ready for a bit of rest. It would be a busy day after all.

*

Harry strode away from Number 4 at an appropriately furious pace, throwing himself in a fit of angst anyone would believe onto a swing. Honestly this whole thing would do quite a bit for his acting skills alone, considering he had a whole ton of experience, knowledge and hindsight involved in this stage of his life. He knew first of all he needed to learn Occlumency, he refused to learn it from Severus Snape.

He started immediately, taking a series of deep breaths and looking for his center, or his magical core. Once he found it, he concentrated on expanding his magic outward, forcing it into a shield around his body and mind. It was exhausting work but he managed for all of a few moments. He let it go, chest heaving as he gasped for air. Frowning, he added another question to his list of things for Gringotts, surely there was some object that would help shield his thoughts while he learned Occlumency?

Even lost in his thoughts, he would have had to be deaf to not hear the loud, jeering voices that marked the arrival, right on schedule, of Dudley and his cohorts. If he remembered correctly, Dudley had taken up boxing. He’d lost a lot of extra weight that way and knew how to punch correctly, not that it was a good thing. He was also a hooligan suited for St. Brutus’s, the school that was his alibi through the Dursleys when he was away at Hogwarts. He marveled for a second that their hatred of him and his magic even came first over their opinion with the neighbors, considering what people must think of one associated with a criminal boy.

“Oh look, it’s Potty,” Piers Polkiss jeered, spotting Harry.

“Hello, Polka dot, I see your insults are as unchanging as ever,” Harry drawled in return, channeling a bit of Draco, Severus Snape and Sirius himself into his voice.

Piers turned red, glaring at him.

Harry made a shooing motion with his hands, saying airily, “Run along now, precious. Mustn’t make mummy worried. Your precious Big D will be available tomorrow to beat up a 10-year-old with you, don’t worry your little head about it.”

Piers and Malcom reluctantly walked away, their eyes promising pain to Harry in retaliation for his words and behavior.

“Think you’re a big man with that stick of yours, don’t you Potter?” Dudley spat, as they began walking.

The rest of the conversation proceeded the same as the first time, with Dudley bringing up Harry’s nightmares and mocking him about Cedric Diggory, one of the few things he wouldn’t tolerate. He didn’t pull his wand this time, instead he faced Dudley and said, voice hard as ice, “There are ways for me to hurt you that my authorities won’t pick up, Dudders. I suggest you abandon this topic of conversation before I decide to introduce you to a couple of them.”

Dudley actually looked afraid. Harry patted himself on the back mentally at his timing, recognizing the creeping cold that heralded the arrival of Dementors. He put a look of shock on his face, whirling around. Dudley was stuttering behind him, telling Harry to stop. He snarled at him to shut up and then spun around and spat, “Run!”

For someone who hated exercise, Dudley actually could run fairly fast when motivated. He did quite well, at least until his feet tripped him on a curb as they sprinted into an underpass on Harry’s pre-planned route. He spun around, bellowed some inane advice at Dudley and whipped out his wand, shouting “Expecto Patronum!”

Expecting his stag, Harry stared at the creature for a moment slack-jawed before he said to himself, “What the fuck?”

Launching itself at the Dementors was a huge, bear-like dog. A very familiar bear-like dog in fact. It had been some years since he had cast a Patronus, but to see his Patronus was now a certain escaped convict’s Animagus form was something of a surprise.

Padfoot performed as admirably as Prongs had, driving the creatures away before padding back in his direction in a self-satisfied manner. It was so like the actual man that Harry remembered he snorted in amusement. Trust the Patronus form to be just as proud and slightly arrogant as his inspiration.

He dragged his cousin up off the ground and proceeded to lug him to Number 4, the rest of the night passing as he remembered, batty old Miss Figg and Mundungus Fletcher included. Now it was the Order’s turn. And a pressing need for him to work on Occlumency, considering he was about to be in the meeting place of several very accomplished wizards and witches, uninvited Legilimency illegal or not.

Now that he had a moment of peace and quiet to think about it, the change in his Patronus since his return to this timeline wasn’t so surprising. He knew who Sirius was to him now and recalling how Tonks’ Patronus had changed to resemble Remus’ wolf-form in an echo of her longing for him, it wasn’t such a huge surprise. He made a note to himself not to mention the Patronus’ new form until after he’d talked to Sirius.

How he was going to bring up the several loaded topics to Sirius he still wasn’t sure, but for now he’d have to keep mum on the topic of Patroni. Eyeing the mess that was his belongings, he winced and decided to pass some of the time he had to wait by properly packing the majority of his things. For now, he could also occupy his time by practicing clearing his thoughts and working on shielding his mind from unwelcome intrusions, though it would be rudimentary at best.

Hopefully the Gringotts trip he was looking forward to in the near future would help him with that issue. He would just have to make do for now and resist the urge to try and force the Order to hurry up and get him away from this place. He’d forgotten how much he hated Privet Drive.

As Petunia screamed at him to come down the stairs, likely to make dinner, he grimaced. Oh yes, he hated this place. 

Chapter Text

Harry lurked in the total darkness at the top of the stairs, watching the Order of the Phoenix. His escorts, actually. Three in particular stood out to him, Alastor Moody, Remus Lupin and Nymphadora ‘call me Tonks’ Tonks. Two Aurors and his former Professor, who had distanced himself from Harry quite a bit after his 3^rd year. Something that still bothered Harry years later, but he would have a chance now to ask why.

Straightening up, he forced himself to relax and say, “You know, you lot make enough noise to wake the dead.”

Several of them gasped and spun, wands aiming in the dark. Harry raised his own and inched forward, keeping most of his body in the dark where his outline was hard to see. Of course, Remus’ sharp eyes found him easily and Moody’s whirling blue one hadn’t left him since he’d spoken up.

“How did you know we were here, boy?” he said stiffly.

“Like I said,” Harry answered coolly, “you aren’t exactly the quietest bunch. And forgive me for being a bit suspicious, but the last time I saw you it was actually a supposedly dead Death Eater.”

Moody grunted, but there was approval in the sound, or so Harry thought. “You have every right to be cautious. I’m glad to see it, most people are too trusting.”

“Harry,” Remus said cautiously, smiling a bit, “I can vouch for Alastor.”

Instead of taking him at his word, he said bluntly, “What was sitting in your office when we spoke about my parents at Hogwarts?”

Remus looked surprised and a bit hurt, but he responded. “A grindylow. In turn, what did we use to teach you the Patronus Charm?”

“A boggart,” Harry replied. Satisfied he said, “Who are these people and what is going on?”

After a round of introductions Remus spoke, smiling. “We are members of a secret organization that fights against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, called the Order of the Phoenix. We’re here to escort you to a protected place before your hearing at the Ministry. Ron and Hermione are there.”

“Oh, they are, are they? Forgive me for asking, but how long have they been there?”

Hearing the acid in Harry’s voice, Remus’ smile faltered again and he said quietly, “Ron has been there for most the summer with his family, Hermione for a week and a half.”

Harry merely scowled. It wasn’t hard, it still made him angry to remember how much his friends obeyed Dumbledore, even to the point of excluding him from information about the man he was the main target of. “I suppose I’d better pack.”

“I’ll come with you,” Tonks said, following him up the stairs. Like the first time she exclaimed over his Firebolt and thought her hair made her peaky, changing the color on a whim. Harry asked and ‘learned’ that she was a Metamorphagus, a born rather than learned talent.

He packed everything except for the Firebolt at Tonks’ suggestion and they made their way downstairs. Remus was writing a note to the Dursleys’ saying that he wouldn’t be back until next summer, taking Harry’s comment about their disappointment as a joke. He turned to Moody and said, “Why did Tonks tell me to leave out my Firebolt, surely we aren’t flying to wherever this place is.”

“Actually, we are,” Moody said. When Harry let out a disbelieving snort he said, “What’s wrong, boy?”

“First, please refrain from calling me boy,” Harry said firmly. “Secondly, are you trying to get me attacked? Brooms are very possibly the most vulnerable form of wizarding travel. I may hate Floo Powder and portkeys, but surely either that or Apparition would be better?”

“It’s illegal to make an unauthorized portkey, Floo requires Ministry permission to connect to the Network and you still have the Trace, which means we can’t Apparate.”

Harry looked at the ceiling in frustration and barely kept from rolling his eyes. “So, you won’t create a portkey because it’s illegal. Tell me, how many of you have been in recent company with Sirius Black? All of you? So, you’re all already complicit in aiding and abetting an escaped fugitive. And four of you are Ministry employees, one of which is feeding false information about Sirius to the Ministry, yet you won’t create a portkey?”

Several Order members looked quite sheepish after hearing it put so plainly and Moody snorted. “I think I’m going to like you, Potter. I said the exact same thing to Dumbledore but he wouldn’t hear it. Sturgis, make the portkey.”

Several minutes later, Harry cautiously grasped the portkey, watched with a sad understanding by Remus. Harry refused to look at him, content to give the man a cold shoulder for a while longer. Remus didn’t get to disappear off the face of the Earth while he was in a dangerous tournament and then act all concerned.

Harry forced down his nausea with effort, looking up. He was in the park across from Grimmauld Place, when he looked up, he had another surprise. He could see Number 12. Apparently even though he wasn’t keyed into the Fidelius yet in this timeline, he could still see it thanks to his previous knowledge. He realized after a few moments he was looking at the building too long, especially considering he wasn’t supposed to be able to see it yet. He looked away, to find Moody watching him carefully with both eyes, a weird expression on the grizzled Auror’s face. After a moment the man offered him a slip of paper and said, “Read, quickly.”

He looked down and saw in Dumbledore’s familiar handwriting, The Headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix may be found at 12 Grimmauld Place, London.

He looked up as someone else burned the scrap of parchment, making a noise of appropriate surprise as he noticed the building. They crossed the street, as carefully as they could considering they had a bunch of witches and wizards in their company who didn’t know the slightest thing about Muggles. He followed Remus and Tonks, entering a building that was as dark and decrepit as he remembered. He’d spent some time here after the war ended, before being hustled off by Molly Weasley to the Burrow.

As he remembered, Tonks tripped on the troll leg and sent it crashing to the ground, Walburga Black waking up, screeching at the top of her lungs. All of Harry’s boiling rage at this woman and Sirius being stuck in this place for the last year of his life came up and he roared back, “WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE, WOMAN? How dare you scream at these decent people who grace your home! For one whom I can imagine is a pureblood, you aren’t displaying an ounce of decorum and decency that your blood should show!”

She screamed back, now directing comments at the person over his left shoulder. Realizing who it was based on her words, his own rage swelled. “How dare you speak so foully to the first decent member of your family in years! How dare you raise your voice to one whom you should have loved. How dare you, woman!”

Prepping a burst of ‘accidental’ magic, Harry sought out what he’d found several years after the war. Walburga Black’s portrait covered a weak point in the wall itself, which was not a supporting wall. He’d lost control over her degrading comments about her dead son and had sent a blasting hex at her, not expecting to do any damage.

He forcefully launched his ‘accidental’ burst at that same spot, and sure enough it had the same result. The magic hit a weak point in the wall and blasted a hole through the wall itself, undoing Walburga’s ‘Permanent’ Sticking charm. As her portrait frame hit the floor with a solid thunk, an odd silence fell. Harry listened, and within a couple of breaths he could hear loud crashing all over the house, most noticeably on the stairway in front of him. A couple bounces brought a mounted house elf head to a stunned Remus’ feet.

He turned to the figure on his left and said sheepishly, “Uh, sorry?”

Black hair almost to his shoulders in flat bunches, grey eyes dark with emotion and lingering pain, Sirius Black stared back at him for a long moment and then started to chuckle. Within moments he was roaring with laughter, bracing his hands on his knees as others began to shakily laugh as well.

“Never apologize for bringing down that hag, Harry!” Sirius barked after a moment, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. Then he reached out and hugged Harry, who returned it fiercely, fighting back the emotional level of another 24 years without this man to just being a summer or so.

“That’s your mother, Sirius?” Harry said incredulously.

“Yeah,” he said dryly, “that’s mummy dearest. Think I’ll stick you in the attic now, along with all that stuff you adored so much,” he said pointedly to the portrait, silencing her outraged denials with a flick of his wand.

Molly Weasley came out to see what all the noise was about, and unbidden anger crept up into Harry. He stepped back from her welcoming hug, ignoring the hurt and surprise on her face as well as those of several Order members. This woman had made Sirius miserable in his own home, as well as making several undeserved comments about him and trying to drive a wedge between Sirius and Harry, amongst other things.

“I’m glad to see you, Harry dear,” she began in a faltering tone. “You’ll need to go upstairs for now, you’ve interrupted a meeting.”

Harry turned, placed a hand on Sirius’ upper arm and said, “See you in a bit, yeah?”

The man flashed a quick, roguish grin and said, “Absolutely.”

Harry reluctantly began the trek up the stairs. Ron and Hermione were at the top, as he remembered. Hermione shrieked and latched him in a hug as soon as he walked through the door, Ron laughing after a moment and telling her to let him go so he could breathe.

“We’ve been so worried about you, Harry! When we heard that you were attacked by the Dementors—”

“Worried enough to not communicate with me since June?” Harry asked flatly.

An awkward silence fell. After a moment Ron piped up, “Dumbledore asked us to leave you alone, said you might like to have some time to yourself. He was shocked you were attacked mate, especially considering the Order’s been tailing you since you got to Privet Drive.”

“Nice to know that everyone knew that besides me,” Harry said. Crossing his arms and leaning against the wall, he said with not entirely feigned anger, “So what is this Order, anyway? I hear you two have been here almost all summer, should have a few things to share by now.”

They exchanged worried looks, apparently, they’d feared he would have this kind of reaction. Hermione began to explain about the Order, rambling on in that factual way of hers that Harry had somehow forgotten used to be her norm. Harry tuned out most of it, listening for a few key words.

“—Dumbledore was furious you’d been attacked, he scared Mundungus Fletcher half to death for leaving,” Hermione was saying.

“Well,” Harry interrupted, “I’m rather glad he left, otherwise I probably would have stayed at Privet Drive until term started.”

“Harry, mate, we’re sorry, but Dumbledore made us promise not to tell you anything important in our letters,” Ron said.

“Well, mate, you’re not forgiven,” Harry said coldly, “neither are you, Hermione. You may not be Order members but you’ve still been here, haven’t you? Haven’t been left alone to deal with nightmares and depression and flashbacks, haven’t had to deal with the Dursleys and their loving attention.”

Before either could say another word, Molly called up the stairs that dinner was ready and they were allowed to come downstairs. Another redhead poked his head in the door and George said with a grin, “Hungry, Harry? You probably are after bringing down all that crap around the house. Between that and your standoff with these two, I bet you’re starved.”

“Actually, I am.” Harry said thoughtfully. “Thanks George,” missing the startled look the redhead twin gave him. “Mind if I walk with you?”

“Not in the least,” George replied cheerfully.

“How is your project going?” Harry asked, placing careful emphasis on the word project.

George gave him a mischievous grin, responding, “Well, quite well. In fact, here is one of our latest projects. Don’t let Mum catch you with it though.”

He held out a familiar piece of flesh-colored string, which made Harry inwardly grin. This was one of the twins’ best products in his eyes, it would be quite useful.

“What is it?” Harry asked, examining it closely.

“Extendable Ears,” Fred said from his right, making him jump. “You can use one of these little beauties to listen to conversations from afar, gaining the latest gossip, blackmail or secret news with ease. Unfortunately, once Mum realized we’d made these, she started making sure they cast an Imperturbable Charm on the room when meetings start.”

George heaved a huge, fake sigh, “She just doesn’t trust us.”

“I wonder why,” Sirius’ raspy voice interrupted. The man was standing at the base of the stairs, grinning at the trio.

“Not you too, Sirius!” Fred said with a very fake sobbing sound.

Harry snorted before springing the last couple of steps and giving the pair a look with an arched brow. “Dear me, I wonder why,” he said dryly.

Sirius laughed, turning back towards the kitchen. Harry followed alongside and before they reached the kitchen he said casually, “You guys have me rooming with Ron, right?”

“Yup,” Sirius confirmed, grinning.

“Is there a way I can get out of that arrangement? I’m a bit… perturbed with them at the moment.”

Sirius blinked in surprise and then said, “Sure, we’ll get Kreacher to move your stuff after dinner.”

“Kreacher?”

“House elf. Annoying little bugger who likes to spout my mother’s pureblood crap. If he bugs you too much just give him a kick.”

“What is this place, Sirius?”

“This is, as of the 1920’s, the official home and main residence of the members of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black,” Sirius said, sarcasm practically dripping from his voice.

“This is your family’s home? Did you grow up here?” Harry asked, careful to keep his voice curious, not clouding it with any sort of judgement as he knew from the past other had.

“I did, for quite a while. I hate this place and its memories,” Sirius crinkled his nose in distaste, “but my father disliked Muggles to the extreme and this place is warded so tight it’s near impossible to get into without permission, so it makes for ideal headquarters. It’s about all I’m able to do, really,” Sirius finished in a bitter, self-depreciating tone.

It hurt Harry to hear it just as much now as it had the first time and he said, “Why? Is it because of Pettigrew?”

“Yeah, for the most part. I’ve offered to do surveillance as Padfoot, but since Peter knew about my Animagus he’s most likely told the Dark Lord and his followers about me, so between that and the fact that I’m an escaped con with a standing Kiss order, I really can’t do much.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry said quietly, sitting down. “I can’t imagine how stir-crazy you must be, stuck here in a house you don’t like and unable to do anything.”

Sirius shot him a quick look of surprise and then said, “Thank you, but you don’t need to worry about me. I heard some of your conversation with Ron and Hermione, sounds like you’ve had it pretty rough yourself. For the record, I did not approve of sending you back there for this long, nor for keeping you out of the loop.”

Harry grinned and said, “Thanks, but I pretty much didn’t believe you would agree to that anyway. I’m glad to be out of that place.”

Harry paused, debating. Deciding that it wouldn’t hurt to lay some of the groundwork for later, he reached out and touched Sirius’ strong forearm and said softly, “I missed you.”

Sirius gave him a lopsided smile and said, “Missed you too. By the way, I apologize for leaving you so soon after the end of the Tournament. I know Dumbledore asked me to track down Remus and Mundungus, but you’d been through something incredibly hard, I could have stayed a bit longer.”

Harry was honest here, “I wish you would have stayed, but I understand that you needed something to do as well. The tournament was rough on you too, I know you were worried about me and what was going on.”

Someone chose to clear their throat before Sirius could reply, and a blank, irritated expression briefly crossed his face. Molly Weasley stood in front of them and said, “Harry, here’s something to eat. I’m sure talking can wait for later,” she shot a look at Sirius, who blatantly ignored it by grabbing a plate of food for himself.

Harry gritted his teeth, took in a deep breath and then forced himself to start eating. He’d forgotten how much she meddled. That would need to change.

After dinner, Sirius made the comment about Harry having not asked any questions about the Order or what was going on and people, mainly Molly and Sirius, began to argue. Their argument wore on and Harry frowned, not understanding why Sirius was letting her talk to him like that. And then a certain part of the conversation came up, one he had forgotten about and incensed him with the knowledge of who Sirius was to him.

“Well,” Molly said, breathing deeply and glaring around the table, “well…I can see I’m going to be overruled. I’ll just say this: Dumbledore must have had his reasons for not wanting Harry to know too much, and speaking as someone who has Harry’s best interests at heart—”

“He’s not your son,” Sirius said quietly, temper flaring a bit at her presumption.

“He’s as good as,” said Mrs. Weasley fiercely, “who else has he got?”

“He’s got me!”

“Yes,” Mrs. Weasley said, lip curling. “Thing is, it’s been a bit difficult for you to look after him, being locked up in Azkaban for 12 years, hasn’t it?”

Harry shot up and snarled, “Quiet!”

Both Molly and Sirius momentarily fell quiet, surprised. “I’m flattered Molly, truly, but quite frankly I think you have enough on your hands with seven children. My parents are dead, and really, I think it’s a bit presumptuous of you to try and take my mother’s job. Also, Sirius was framed, something your tone seems to forget. I suggest you try for a bit politer tone in future, you are after all in his house.”

Looking around at the rest of the Order, he rested his hands on the tabletop and said quietly but firmly,” I want to know what is going on. I am aware I’m only fifteen, I’m not asking to join the Order. But with all the things I’ve been through over the past four years, I think I can safely say that I am not a child and have earned the right to hear the truth from you.”

He sat down again, crossing his arms and leaning back. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Sirius watching him with a stunned, grateful expression on his face. Molly was stuttering, tears in her eyes and her face whitening. She gave an apology to Sirius that he waved away in good-natured fashion, taking her seat next to Arthur.

The conversation that followed went exactly as he had remembered, the Order dropping more teasing hints than actual facts. Harry didn’t care, he knew what they were guarding, what Voldemort sought. The most important bit had already been covered, establishing himself as a young adult, not a child and stopping Molly Weasley’s back-stabbing comments about Sirius.

He got up to leave the kitchen, turning at the door. “By the way, Mrs. Weasley, the conversation you interrupted before dinner was merely Sirius and I catching up. It’s been several months since we’ve seen each other, after all.”

Harry left the kitchen and walked to the stairway, pausing at the bottom. Damn, he’d forgotten about the room change. Footsteps behind him made him turn around and he was surprised but pleased to see that it was Sirius.

“Here, let me show you to your room,” Sirius said.

“He already knows, Sirius, we were there,” Ron interrupted, rolling his eyes.

Sirius narrowed his own and said quietly, “Actually, Harry asked me for a room of his own, which I’m granting seeing as this is my house. Continue, as you already know the way to yours.”

Ron looked startled by Harry’s request, then slightly angry. He walked away without another word, leaving Sirius to lead the way. He took a left instead of a right at the top of the stairs and said, “These are family rooms. There’s mine from school on the left, my brother Regulus’ on the right. Here’s yours.”

He opened the gold knob, revealing a medium-sized room with plain furnishings. “It’s not much,” Sirius shrugged, “but if you want to change the colors just let me know and I’m sure we can find furnishings in the attic if you want a desk or something.”

Harry thanked him, throwing his jacket on his trunk. Sirius hesitated and then said softly, “Harry, thank you. Nobody’s defended me to Molly like that before and I’ve never felt able to say something myself since she’s a member of the Order. Remus has always told me to just let it go, that everyone’s tense and nervous.”

Harry snorted and said, “You’re welcome Sirius. I don’t know how you’ve put up with it for this long, she was getting on my nerves. And maybe Lupin should have defended you, instead of taking the middle ground. I’m pretty upset to hear that the first person to defend you from her is a teenager.”

Sirius gave him a quick hug and said, “Good night, Harry. I’m glad you’re here.”

“I am too,” Harry said warmly.

After Sirius had left, he set an alarm for early morning, aware that all the magic in Grimmauld Place would mask the use of underage magic. Then he stripped for bed and laid down, eager to get some rest. After all, tomorrow was a big day.

A Gringotts day, to be precise.

Chapter Text

Harry was awake and dressed by six the next morning. He’d been unable to sleep for years after the war ended; once he had gotten over his insomnia the habit of getting up early had already been ingrained. He chose to take it as a positive trait, taking the extra time to wake up properly and do a few stretches. Seeking out one of his old socks, he transfigured it into a pair of items and then shoved his wand up his sleeve.

Leaving his room, he treaded quietly across the floor and knocked on the door he’d seen Sirius enter. Hearing a muffled voice inside, he opened the door, slipped in and closed it behind him. Sirius was awake, dressed but scrubbing his hands through his hair with a yawn, quite clearly not fully ready to face the day. He looked surprised to see Harry, but pleased.

“Hey, Harry,” he said over a jaw-cracking yawn. “Surprised to see you up so early, we went to bed pretty late last night.”

“I’m used to being up at the crack of dawn, the Dursley’s aren’t much for slothfulness,” Harry replied, settling for a half-truth. It was true that thanks to the Dursley’s loving care he didn’t have a habit just hanging about, but he’d slowly gotten over it over the years.

Sirius snorted, stretching out his back with a cracking sound that seemed painful, but brought a measure of relief to his face. “So, what brings you to my sanctuary so early?” The sarcasm in his voice was measurable.

“Actually,” Harry said, a sly expression crossing his face, “I was wondering if you wanted to go to Gringotts with me.”

Sirius whipped his head around so fast Harry was surprised that he didn’t crick his neck, staring. He seemed to expect Harry to start laughing, but Harry was making very sure his body posture showed he was dead serious.

“You’re not serious! We brought you here because of the Dementors and your hearing, not to mention I’m an escaped convict with a Kiss on sight order from those self-same Dementors. What are you thinking?!”

“Well,” Harry said, voice deadpan, “I’m pretty sure you’re Sirius, not me.”

Sirius snorted in very dry humor at his pun, stating with a roll of his eyes, “That was an old joke before you were even born, Harry.”

“Still funny,” Harry replied. “However, to answer your argument, I’m pretty sure that whoever sent those Dementors isn’t going to try it again so soon. Also, the goblins don’t care who you are, they just care about their money. You can’t tell me that they don’t welcome the Death Eaters with open arms despite their warrants. They may have a treaty with wizard kind, but they still hold their own counsel about those kinds of things.”

“To void your last argument,” Harry said with a smirk, “I wasn’t suggesting you make the initial trip in person, anyway.”

With those words, he tossed the object he’d transfigured to Sirius. The man seemed to be considering his argument for a long moment, then looked down at the object in his lap. A leather dog collar and matching leash. He stared at it for a long moment and then huffed in mixed annoyance and amusement.

“I’ve been wondering when someone would suggest this,” he muttered, a weird grin on his face. He looked at Harry, taking in his posture again. Then the grin crossed his face completely as he shrugged and said, “Why not? I’m dying to get out of this house anyway.”

Harry made sure his face didn’t reveal how much the last phrase had hurt him. In his timeline, Sirius had died to get out of the house.

He stood, waiting for the man to transform. Once he had, Harry knelt and put the collar on, mock-grimacing when the giant dog licked him. “Eww, Padfoot!” he grumbled.

Straightening, he loosely held onto the leash and said, “Be quiet until we get downstairs, everyone’s still asleep I think.”

Padfoot merely wagged his tail, waiting for Harry. Harry carefully crossed the landing and walked down the stairs, reaching and opening the front door without waking anyone. He shut it with equal care, doing his best to not let it make noise. They walked down the steps and out the iron gate before Harry bent, unsnapped the leash and then said with a grin, “Go on.”

He started to walk in the direction of the Leaky Cauldron, laughing as Sirius immediately took off, gamboling across the grass and chasing errant birds that landed in his path. The huge dog barked happily, tail wagging at a furious pace as he roamed freely, sniffing at interesting things and chasing unfortunate animals that happened to be within reasonable range.

While the sight was very amusing, it was also saddening to see that when Sirius was clearly happiest was in the form of his Animagus. He hoped that someday, perhaps someday soon, he could see the man that happy in his own body. He remembered the photos of Sirius before Azkaban, the very handsome man with laughing eyes and a smug, happy grin on his face. It had him raging inside to see the damning effects that Azkaban had on people so clearly.

After a while, panting happily, Sirius trotted back over to walk with Harry, who clipped the leash back in place to a pitiful whine. “Oh hush,” Harry said in amusement, “we’re almost there.”

And it was true, they walked a couple more blocks, turned a corner and there was the familiar sign of the Leaky Cauldron waiting for them in the middle of the street. Harry paused, waiting for Sirius-Padfoot to look at him. “I don’t need to stress how much you need to be just a dog right now, do I?”

Sirius-Padfoot whined softly, sitting down. “Good. It’s going to be fine, Sirius,” he reassured.

With that, the pair entered the Leaky Cauldron, Harry checking quickly in the dingy window of the empty building next door that his scar was covered by his unruly hair. They entered the bar and wizarding hotel, mostly empty at the early hour aside from a few witches and wizards trying not to fall asleep while eating. They made it through the bar and out the back door without incident, Harry giving a sigh of relief. He was glad that he’d been right, there were no spells in place to detect Animagi.

Shaking his wand out of his sleeve he looked down at the dark grey eyes of Sirius-Padfoot, the only tell that this wasn’t a normal dog. “One obstacle down, one to go.”

The massive dog gingerly wagged his tail, clearly not at ease but trusting Harry. Harry looked up and tapped the brick, revealing Diagon Alley. Like the bar, there wasn’t much going on yet. They set off for the distant white marble of Gringotts, passing shops that were just beginning to set up, witches and wizards directing their wares out the door and furling back protective covers. They didn’t pay much attention to the young wizard and his canine familiar.

To Harry’s relief they reached Gringotts’ massive doors without incident, walking inside the cool marble building and making their way to one of the tellers.

When the goblin looked up, Harry said in a quiet but firm tone, “I would like to speak with the goblin Ironclaw, I believe he is the one managing the Potter estate?”

The goblin looked at him in barely measurable surprise, sharp eyes catching the edge of a famous scar. He looked to the massive canine and then nodded. “I will have an escort bring you to his office.”

Harry and Sirius-Padfoot followed the unnamed goblin down a massive hallway adjacent to the main chamber, entering a solid oak door and being directed to a pair of chairs in front of a heavy desk. Harry breathed a sigh of relief and bent down, undoing the collar instead of the leash and stashing the pair on a small side table.

He sat down, leaning back and crossing one leg over the other as he waited. It shouldn’t be very long, the goblins would no doubt be intrigued as to why the Potter heir and the so-called mass murderer and illegal Animagi were here. He was sure the goblins could smell money from some distance however and he knew some of what the two of them represented. It would surely have any self-respecting goblin salivating at the mere prospect of helping them out.

Sure enough, the office door swung open again not ten minutes after they’d been seated, admitting a goblin who looked much the same now as he had more than twenty years in the future. Ironclaw was a well-dressed goblin with dark eyes and hands tipped in small steel claws, hence his name. Harry had asked him once if the name or the claws had come first, he’d merely smiled a toothy, dangerous grin in response.

Ironclaw closed the door as soon as he entered the room, tapping a pair of runes on the frame and triggering a pair of spells. Then he turned, contemplated Harry for a moment before addressing Sirius-Padfoot. “Feel free to shift back to your human form, Mr. Black.”

Sirius did so, caution in every line of his body. “What were those spells, and should I be looking for an escape route?”

“The wards on the door were for privacy and a secure lock so no one comes in on our meeting unexpectedly. As for the second part of your question, if we were going to turn you over to the authorities do you think you really would have gotten much further than our main doors? We may have a treaty with wizards, but we hold our own counsel and there are many things about the night He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was ‘vanquished’ that do not add up to goblins.”

Sirius relaxed and sat down. Harry smiled reassuringly at him and said, “See, I told you.”

The man just snorted and looked back to Ironclaw. The goblin looked to Harry and said, “Now what can I do for you gentlemen? I seem to remember a vague statement about discussing the Potter accounts, but that is all I know so far.”

Harry nodded. “I would like to have a full accounting of my vaults done, as well as review who is able to access my accounts here at Gringotts. Also,” he paused, “I would like to take the Potter family Lordship.”

Sirius looked at him in surprise and said, “Harry, you can’t take full control of your accounts until you’re either seventeen or emancipated under wizarding law.”

“Heir Black is correct,” Ironclaw confirmed.

“I am aware,” Harry replied evenly. “However, I think if we were to check, we would find that I have already been emancipated under wizarding law. It requires a sign-off by my magical guardian and the Minister of Magic, correct?”

“It does,” Ironclaw replied, watching him.

“In October of 1994 I was entered, against my will, into the Triwizard Tournament. The Goblet of Fire was protected at the time by an Age Line restricting entrance to age seventeen and above. Both Cornelius Fudge, our current Minister and Albus Dumbledore, my Headmaster and magical guardian, said that I was to compete. Under wizarding law, they said I was held accountable to an oath meant for adult wizards and witches; hence I am an adult in their eyes.”

Sirius’ eyes had gone wide over the course of Harry’s explanation, while Ironclaw was giving a very familiar toothy grin. “Very well-reasoned, Heir Potter. We can check for that today and if emancipated, your application for the Lordship will proceed.”

When the goblin asked him for his key he said, “Is there another way to prove who I am? I have never actually had possession of my trust vault key.”

“What?” Sirius breathed, “Who has it?”

“I’m not sure,” Harry said with a deliberately placid tone, “Dumbledore gave it to Hagrid for my first trip, the Weasleys pulled money for me in second and third year. I’m assuming they also pulled it for fourth year as my supplies and dress robes were purchased for me.”

Ironclaw’s eyes narrowed and he said, “We can do it with blood, Heir Potter, a simple heritage and status chart. I will also make it a priority today to void any keys that may be out for your vaults and issue you new ones.”

Ironclaw pulled a simple piece of parchment with a gold shimmer out of a drawer in his desk and proffered Harry an ornamental dagger with which to prick his finger. “Three drops, Heir Potter.”

It was all Harry could do not to shout in triumph, this was the moment he’d been waiting for. Instead, he held out his left hand and twisted the dagger into his thumb, puncturing the skin easily. After the requisite amount of drops he closed his hand and pulled it back, waiting.

Ironclaw looked down at the parchment and frowned, a very odd expression for a goblin. Sirius looked worried and said, “What?”

The goblin looked up at Harry and said, “The parchment proves your theory correct, Heir Potter. It also brings up another interesting fact.”

The goblin spun the parchment around so Sirius and Harry could look at it. Harry heard a gasp from Sirius and mentally smiled, already knowing what had shocked the man so.

Name: Harrigan James Septimus Potter-Prewett
Date of Birth: 07/31/1980
Sire: Fabian Septimus Prewett
Bearer: James Charlus Potter
Blood-status: Pureblood
Godfather: Sirius Orion Black (negated by Ministry of Magic 11/02/1981)
Godmother: Lily Marie Evans
Heir to: Potter, Prewett
Legal Status: Emancipated Minor

“Fabian Prewett?” Harry frowned, looking at the parchment. “Isn’t that one of Molly Weasley’s brothers?”

“The elder of a pair of twins, Gideon was his little brother. Fabian was heir to the Prewett estate despite the fact that Molly was the oldest. The Prewett line always traditionally passes to the eldest son,” Sirius said absently.

The man frowned, thinking. “I knew James always liked Fabian, the Prewett twins were something of an inspiration for our pranking days as the Marauders. Fred and George remind me of them a lot. But I never knew he liked him in that way. Though, with that revealed there are some things that make a lot more sense now.”

“Like what?” Harry asked.

“Like the fact that James and Lily went from friends to married in a few months. And we were all upset when Fabian and his brother were killed by Death Eaters, but James seemed particularly distraught. And then there’s the fact that James wasn’t available for several missions in the months leading up to your birth. I wonder why he never told us?” Sirius frowned.

“Ironclaw, is there any chance my parents left letters in one of the vaults?” Harry asked.

“I will check,” the goblin nodded.

Harry stared down at the parchment and frowned. “Is there any chance Molly Weasley knows I’m her brother’s son? If she does it makes the way she’s been pushing me at Ginny the past couple years really creepy. She’s my first cousin.”

“There’s no was to be sure aside from asking, but if she does that begs the question of who told her,” Sirius replied.

“I wonder if there’s something on my body as well, I don’t have many characteristics from Lily as I do my Dad, but if I’m a Prewett…”

Ironclaw cleared his throat and said delicately, “Goblins do not usually meddle in the affairs of wizards, but the two of you are something of an exception. Or perhaps I am an exception among goblins. Like Heir Black said, there’s no way to be sure of Molly Weasley nee Prewett’s intentions, but there is something else that seems to be a large coincidence otherwise.”

“What is it?” Harry asked.

“Just this, as Heir Black said the Prewett line has been traditionally held by men, it is the way it was set up and there have been none in the Lordship that changed that fact. However, the Lordship was going to pass to Molly Weasley by default if it wasn’t claimed by the Heir, yourself, by your 19^th birthday.”

Harry just frowned, but Sirius was almost raging. “That bint, I bet she did know it! She was always resentful of the fact that Fabian was going to inherit and not her, money’s always been tight in the Weasley family. And then by marrying you to your own cousin, unknowingly of course, she’d get money from the Potter family as well!”

Harry snorted. “If she was aiming to get Ginny and I married, she was going to be disappointed anyway. I’m not interested in women in the slightest.”

Sirius shot him a surprised look, but didn’t get a chance to say anything as Ironclaw spoke up. “Heir Potter-Prewett, would you like to take one or both of your family Lordships today? Septimus Prewett has passed on, but he left express orders with the goblins that if his grandson was found, the line went to him before his daughter.”

“I’ll take both of them,” Harry nodded.

“Very well,” Ironclaw replied. He pulled forward a pair of parchments that had been waiting on the corner of the desk and said, “Sign both of these with this blood quill and the rings will appear. They both will go on your right hand.”

“Do these rings have protection against Legilimency, by chance?”

Ironclaw nodded. “Lordships are important to the function of the wizarding world, they have not only protection against mind magics but also against poisons, love potions and minor hexes and jinxes.”

“Good to know,” Harry said, picking up the blood quill with intense inner distaste. He hated these things. “I’ve been trying to teach myself Occlumency, but it’s slow going.”

“There are books in the library on the subject,” Sirius volunteered. “It’s almost a requirement growing up in House Black to know how to occlude your mind.”

Harry had signed both parchments with his legal name and slid the two heavy Lordship rings on his fingers. The Potter one was gold with a stag rampant outlined in red. Harry was amused both at the colors and the animal choice. “Gryffindor much? And is it really a coincidence that Dad’s Animagus was a stag?”

Sirius snorted. Harry looked curiously at the Prewett one; this was entirely new material to him after all. The Prewett ring was white gold with a cabochon sapphire that had a gold inlay in the shape of an intricate Celtic knot.

Harry then requested and received two Gringotts cards, one for quick transactions in the wizarding world and one for the Muggle world that updated automatically to the latest security trends and swapped the appropriate number of pounds from the galleons in his accounts. Harry gave a mischievous grin to Sirius and said, “Shopping trip!”

The other man groaned and then looked suspiciously at Harry, wondering why he looked so relaxed. “Are we done here?”

“Nope.” Harry said with a grin. “I think it’s a good idea for you to take up your title as well, Heir Black. I know you’d rather keep it from Death Eaters and it will make your life easier to have a couple of these,” Harry raised his hand, rubbing his new cards together. “Plus, it may be handy to have your title if push comes to shove with Pettigrew.”

Ironclaw watched on with what appeared to be discreet amusement as the older wizard groaned, pouted a moment and then grumbled, “Fine. We’ll need to go the same route as Harry’s though, I don’t exactly have my keys on me.”

“That’s easily done, Heir Black.”

While Ironclaw withdrew another parchment identical to the one Harry had used, Sirius grumbled, “I don’t know why my father stood up to that hag about not disinheriting me, he didn’t about almost anything else.”

Sirius let three drops fall and then sighed, tucking his hand under his arm. Harry leaned forward, curious about what it was going to say. He knew nothing about the Black accounts after all.

Name: Sirius Orion Black
Date of Birth: 02/14/1960
Sire: Orion Pollux Black
Mother: Callista Anwen Black nee Lestrange
Blood-status: Pureblood
Godfather: Abraxas Lucien Malfoy
Godmother: Belladonna Elpis Malfoy
Heir to: Black
Legal Status: Escaped convict (innocent/no trial)
Betrothal: (nullified) Bellatrix Amalthea Lestrange nee Black

Dead silence. Harry knew the two Malfoy’s listed were probably Lucius Malfoy’s parents, that was easy enough to deduce. Convenient also, (and needing to be copied), was the fact that it listed that Sirius had not been given a trial. But Harry knew that Sirius, and to a lesser extent himself, were more shocked at the name attached to ‘Mother’, having expected it to say Walburga Black nee Black.

Sirius looked up at Ironclaw with shock in his eyes and rasped, “You wouldn’t happen to know who ‘Callista Black’ was, do you?”

Ironclaw looked vaguely sympathetic. “She was familiar to the goblin nation, yes. Callista Lestrange was two years older than your father Lord Orion and his first marriage, a love match by all accounts. It was not approved of by many of the Blacks because Callista herself was an illegitimate child, born out of wedlock to Theseus Scamander and Leta Lestrange in 1926, a year before her mother sacrificed herself facing Gellert Grindelwald himself.”

“The Scamander’s refused to acknowledge Theseus’ daughter despite his begging, very upset at the scandal that her birth had caused, and for a daughter no less. The Lestrange’s agreed to acknowledge her in a move most likely to have been out of spite to the mostly Light Scamander family. However, by all accounts Callista proved herself worthy of her family name, aside from the surprise that was her Sorting into Ravenclaw.”

“She died several months after your birth was announced, she was caught in an ‘Anti-Dark’ rally turned riot in Diagon Alley. Lord Orion was furious and heartbroken, the Black family wasted no time in badgering him into an arranged marriage with his second cousin, however.”

Partially to break the silence that had fallen and partially because he just couldn’t hold back, Harry said incredulously, “You were betrothed to your own cousin?”

Sirius snorted out a laugh, shaking himself out of his silence in a very dog-like manner. “Yeah, crazy old Bella. She was nuts before she went into Azkaban. Part of the reason why I ran away from home at 16.”

“That was Walburga’s idea,” Sirius added mostly to himself in a mutter, staring at his mother’s name.

After a moment Ironclaw prompted him, “Would you like to take the Black Lordship?”

“Yes,” Sirius said with alarming firmness. He signed the paper and then picked up the ring, staring at it. As Harry was sitting next to him, he could clearly see the solid sliver ring with an onyx surrounded by diamonds and the Black family crest embossed into the unusually thick metal band. Sirius took a deep breath and then slid it onto his finger, staring at the ring for a moment before ignoring his hand entirely.

Looking at Harry after Ironclaw handed him his cards he said in an even but clearly exhausted voice, “What’s next?”

Harry snorted in sympathy and said, “Home, I think, after we get any letters that may have been left in my vaults.”

“There were indeed letters,” Ironclaw confirmed, handing him three and one to Sirius. “One to Lord Black, an open copy of their Will, a closed copy with the Gringotts seal that may come in handy with the information inside and a personal one to you, Lord Potter-Prewett.”

They gave Ironclaw their thanks and stood to leave, but Ironclaw had something else to say. “Lord Potter-Prewett, would you mind explaining something to me? According to the parchment I used to test your claims, you are 15-years-old, but your magic experience and age is that of a 39-year-old wizard.”

Bugger.

Chapter Text

To say that explaining how come Harry’s magic registered as a 39-year-old’s despite his physical age was interesting at the very least. Harry had known that nothing but the truth would assuage both the goblin and Sirius’ curiosity, so he had told them just that, not even leaving out the fact that he had a soul-bond with Sirius. Apparently, goblins were able to test such a thing and Ironclaw had been fine with proving it. Sirius had been very quiet for the rest of the trip back and for the next couple of days.

Harry had given him his space, not wanting to intrude on the other man’s privacy nor his thinking process. He assumed Sirius had opened James’ letter, as he had, reading the man’s apologies for not telling about his relationship to Fabian and for concealing the truth from Harry. His reasoning to Harry was that he knew that the Dark Lord was targeting old families and while the Potter’s weren’t old enough to qualify for the Sacred Twenty-Eight, they were still an old family, as were the Prewetts.

Harry understood his father’s reasoning, even if he hadn’t agreed with it. The Last Will and Testament of James Potter and the Last Will and Testament of Lily Evans had both been very interesting, as had the included note from Ironclaw that both Wills had been ordered sealed by Albus Dumbledore the same day that Sirius Orion Black had been sentenced to Azkaban. Both Wills made it explicitly clear that Sirius Black was not the Secret-Keeper at the time of their death, but Peter Andrew Pettigrew was.

It appeared a visit with DMLE Head Amelia Bones was in order. Harry dressed in a fine pair of robes (his dress robes from fourth year), made sure Alastor Moody was not in residence and used his Invisibility Cloak to leave Grimmauld Place, scoffing at how inattentive his ‘minders’ were, even after they’d thrown fits after realizing he and Sirius had snuck out and the pair had refused to tell them why.

He covered his scar, called the Knight Bus and requested his location, the Bones’ residence. He was dropped off outside an elegant yet practical single-level manor home with an iron gate. Stepping forward he stated his name, “Harry Potter.”

The gate swung open and he walked inside, pondering what possible spells had been used on the gate to determine friend or foe. He’d learned over the course of his Auror career that there were several options open to witches and wizards for just such a thing, some more legal than others. With what he knew of Amelia Bones from his former life, the stern witch was more likely to use the spells and wards that bordered on illegal, realizing the necessity of such things to protect her family. Especially since the Bones’ family had been targeted during the last war and nearly wiped out.

The front door swung open in the same manner as the gate had, Harry finding a house elf waiting patiently inside. “What is Lord Potter wishing for this visit?”

“I would like to speak with the Lady Bones, if she is available in her official capacity here at home.”

The elf nodded, escorted him to a small, formal office and popped out. Harry remained standing, looking at the photos and framed awards on the wall as well as a small volume of novels, many on Defense Against the Dark Arts. This reminded him of Umbridge and the events of his fifth year, namely the DA. He didn’t know if things would go the same way this time around, but if they did, he would have to seriously think about whether he would start the DA again.

He wasn’t able to contemplate the problem long as the door to the elegant office opened and Amelia appeared, looking as stern yet warm as always, monocle absent for the moment. She looked surprised and slightly wary to see him, appraising him as she made her way to the large oak desk and sat, indicating for him to take a chair as well.

Harry sat, waited a moment and then began. “Thank you for seeing me without an advance notice and at your private residence, Lady Bones. I wish to begin by saying that I am not here about my upcoming hearing, I am aware that I must take the legal route for what happened near the muggle-dominated residence that I have been living at.”

The woman relaxed slightly and nodded, “You are welcome, Mr. Potter. I must confess I was preparing myself to disappoint you, that was indeed what I thought you had come to me about. Since you have dispelled that notion, would you care to enlighten me as to the nature of your visit?”

Harry sat forward, all business. “I am here to request a hearing on the behalf of Sirius Orion Black. I am aware that it must look strange, coming from me. However, new evidence has come to light to support what I had told Cornelius Fudge at the end of my third year, Sirius Black is innocent and has spent twelve years undeserved in Azkaban prison.”

Amelia frowned, thought for a moment and said, “That is quite the claim. I do remember Fudge mentioned a pair of students were proclaiming his innocence, however he gave the impression the pair had been Confunded.”

Harry snorted. “That notion was placed in his head by Severus Snape. While the man is a highly-qualified Professor and Potions Master, he also is human like the rest of us. Sirius Black played a nasty prank on him in their fifth year and was a bit of a bully until his last year of school, Snape still holds a grudge against him for that. Add to it the fact that the two students were myself and Hermione Granger and he loathed my father, and you get a highly prejudiced opinion from a definitely not impartial witness who didn’t even see the rest of the events of that night.”

“As reluctant as I am to speak ill of our Minister,” Amelia said delicately, “that does fit the bill of his recent decision-making.”

“I am aware that I am a minor, however I am an emancipated one and thus give you permission to give me Veritaserum to prove my claims at the end of our interview if you see fit, or at Sirius Black’s hearing.”

“Noted,” she said calmly, though Harry noted the surprise in her eyes. “Please lay out your evidence as you see fit.”

“The first piece of evidence I don’t have on me, but is easily accessible to yourself at the Ministry. You will find, Madame Bones, that if you search for a trial record for Sirius Black on the second of November, 1981 that you will not find one. You will only find a form of Sentencing, signed officially by Minister Bagnold and Supreme Mugwump Albus Dumbledore. That is for the very simple fact that Sirius Orion Black, then my godfather, didn’t receive a trial.”

Amelia drew a deep, steadying breath and said, “That is a very serious claim, Mr. Potter. The miscarriage of justice that would represent would be a very severe black mark on our former Minister and Albus Dumbledore’s official service records. Not to mention the travesty it caused to the Heir of a very Ancient line of the Sacred Twenty-Eight.”

“I am aware,” Harry said, some sympathy evident, “which makes it all the more appalling that it is in fact true.”

“The next piece of evidence is this, a copy of the Wills for James Potter and Lily Evans, sealed by Gringotts as an official copy. I have the open one on hand for you to examine, noting the Secret-Keeper as of 15^th September, 1981 to be Peter Andrew Pettigrew, passed over from Sirius Orion Black.”

She looked at it with widening eyes, shaking her head slightly. “Why was this not brought up long before now?”

“The will was sealed on 2^nd November, 1981 by Supreme Mugwump Albus Dumbledore, the same date that Sirius Orion Black was sentenced,” Harry said quietly.

She looked at the official copy and noticed the seal and its date, noted as overridden by Heir Potter just a few days prior to this meeting. Looking up at the young man in front of her, she said shrewdly, “You mentioned being an emancipated minor, Mr. Potter. Is there any chance that the title I should be addressing you by is Lord Potter?”

“I have taken my Lordship, yes. However, for now I am keeping that quiet. I am hoping I will not have to bring it up at my hearing, but I fear that our current Minister may take things a bit too far, he doesn’t like my account of what happened in June.”

“Back to our conversation here,” Harry continued, “I only have one last piece of evidence. That would be my Veritaserum testimony of what happened in June of 1993 on Hogwarts Grounds, when confronted with the presence of Sirius Orion Black. He, along with our then Professor Remus Lupin, forced Ron Weasley’s pet rat known as ‘Scabbers’ to transform. You see, Peter Andrew Pettigrew is alive and an unregistered Animagi.”

Amelia looked surprised, again and then proved why she was head of the DMLE. “If Peter Andrew Pettigrew is an unregistered Animagi, would it be right to consider the idea that James Potter and Sirius Orion Black are as well?”

Harry smiled, “My father was a stag and Sirius Orion Black is a large black dog that resembles a Grim. I am aware that there is a fee and prison time for being an unregistered Animagi, but I have a feeling that a jury would consider 12 years unlawfully imprisoned as time served plus interest.”

The woman winced at the reminder, “Plus interest indeed considered at the most being an unregistered Animagi warrants two years minimum security and he did almost 13 in maximum.”

“Can I count on the idea of you investigating the lack of trial and requesting a hearing for Sirius Black then?”

“If when I go into work tomorrow, I find that there is no trial on record, you can count on a notice of hearing being owled to Sirius Black and put in the papers,” she nodded. “If there’s one thing I hate, it’s the DMLE slacking on their job.”

“Thank you, Madame Bones,” Harry smiled, standing. “I will see myself out. On a final note, will you wish Susan a pleasant rest of her summer for me?”

She looked surprised to hear her niece mentioned and then she nodded, smiling. “I will do so, Lord Potter.”

Harry exited the Bones residence with a smile on his face and a slight spring in his step. That couldn’t have gone better.

*

Sirius Black was confused to say the least. That wasn’t to say he was unhappy with recent events, there had just been so much information dumped on him he was having a bit of a hard time processing. He sat in his room, considering the letter from his friend. James had apologized for not telling Sirius (and Remus, he was quick to add), that he had been in a relationship and bonded with Fabian Prewett. James had confessed to being afraid, not very brave of him but practical. After all he was from a family that was fairly old and had defied Voldemort one too many times, not to mention how much Voldemort had alternately desired and despised the Prewett family, especially the twin brothers.

James had made the decision he had not out of lack of trust, but more just a deep desire to keep his family safe and alive for the rest of the war. Obviously he had failed to prevent Dolohov from killing Fabian and in the end Voldemort had targeted him and his son anyway thanks to a prophecy that Harry didn’t even qualify for, but to reveal that would reveal his actual parentage and that had been what James was trying to avoid revealing too soon in the first place.

Backed into a corner, he’d written a letter to his best friends explaining his reasoning, begging forgiveness for his omissions and asking them to keep an eye on his son anyway, because a Potter-Prewett mix was just begging for trouble. That was certainly true, with just what Harry had been in already in only four years.

Even more so from what Harry had explained about his future. And that was the real mind-boggling thing, wasn’t it? 39-year-old Harry so fed up with and tired with his life that he’d stepped willingly into a thing that could have caused his death, only for it to be a portal to the realm of Mother Magic herself! Then to agree to come back in time to his 15-year-old body with his memories intact and try to change the future of the people he loved and that of Magic itself.

Sirius wouldn’t have believed him if he hadn’t then said the ‘prophecy’ word-for-word, listed what the Order was currently doing with scary accuracy and had his magical age verified, unknowingly, by goblin magic.

He’d also admitted to knowing about his parentage and emancipation already, though he’d learned it too late in his future to do anything about it. And then he’d admitted the last part, the broken soul-bond that had all but killed him and who it was too. Himself, Sirius Orion Black, formerly his godfather until voided by their beloved Ministry.

Soul-bonds were powerful magic, studied extensively by families and the Ministry, only to come to the conclusion that there was no real way to explain them other than Magic herself deeming two people to be a complete soul and splitting them, hoping they would find each other in life. Very few ever did, but the signs were the same every time. An unwitting attraction, a draw to a certain person, desiring to be in their presence and have their favorable attention.

Admittedly, knowing about the soul-bond was a relief, Sirius had been attracted towards Harry, currently underage or no. He’d felt angry with himself, wondering if it was some side-effect of Azkaban on his thought process and trying to distance himself a bit from Harry. He sighed, realizing that worrying about it on his own wasn’t going to do any good, he’d have to talk to Harry.

Not yet though, as Harry had apparently snuck out of Grimmauld again, despite the scolding they had gotten the last time. Sirius was amused. It appeared that a Potter-Prewett was trouble brewing indeed.

Chapter Text

Harry’s ‘hearing’ was in three days. Privately he wondered if he’d already changed things enough for his hearing to not be turned into a miniature trial. However he doubted it, he’d only done a couple things so far and neither one had a huge immediate impact except for stopping Molly Weasley from getting her family money and revealing both his and Sirius’ surprising parentage. He had not been expecting Sirius’ mother to be different, it was a huge surprise. He stopped outside Sirius’ door and rapped on it lightly with his knuckles, waiting for the other man’s acknowledgement. He’d been giving Sirius the space the other man clearly desired, now it was time to talk about a few things.

Sirius was sitting on his bed, staring out his windows. The man’s current bedroom had a large set of glass double doors with a small balcony, he tended to throw the doors wide open in the day to get some fresh air and light into the gloomy master bedroom. Most of the Black family furniture was in very dark woods and patterns, even the walls were usually done in shades of gray, blue, dark green and black. Sirius’ childhood room was an exception, Harry had been very amused to see the Gryffindor red room with gold trim.

The older man turned to look at him and said, “Hello Harry, I’d been expecting you sooner or later.”

“I’m sure you had,” Harry agreed, “there’s quite a bit we need to talk about, isn’t there?”

“There is. First I had a question, one that may seem odd but I would like to hear your explanation on.”

“Go ahead,” Harry said, “I’m not about to hold anything back now.”

Sirius’ grey eyes darkened for a moment and he murmured, “No, probably not. So my question is this, as you are mentally and magically 39-years-old, why did you not come back at an older age or take a permanent aging potion?”

“I considered it,” Harry admitted. “There are things about being 15 again that I don’t miss, the constant cracking on my voice for one,” he admitted wryly, gaining a snort of laughter from Sirius. “In the end at least for this year I am going to remain at this age however. There are things that happen this year at Hogwarts that I need to change, people that need to be dealt with before they become more problematic.”

“Like who?” Sirius asked, looking curious.

“Have you heard of Dolores Umbridge?”

Sirius grimaced. “That toad has been making Remus’ life miserable for years. She’s responsible for a bunch of the Edicts that make his life and other creatures very difficult. She’s highly prejudiced against creatures.”

“She’s also the Senior Undersecretary to Minister Fudge, and will be present at my ‘hearing’. Cornelius Fudge is going to make himself look like an idiot and convene a full Wizengamot court in courtroom 10 for a case of underage magic, all because he doesn’t like my account of the graveyard and Cedric Diggory’s death. After the hearing he’s going to force Dumbledore to accept her as the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor and she will become what is known as the High Inquisitor, conducting Ministry-backed evaluations on the staff and attempting to fire anyone they suspect is part of the Order.”

Sirius’ eyes had gotten steadily darker the longer Harry talked and he finally said, “I would ask if you were joking, but I know you’re not. Merlin! Do you have a way to stop her?”

“I do,” Harry confirmed. “All I need to do is get a single set of detentions with her. And I won’t say why that will do it, if I do you’d be furious. Just remember, it’s not permanent and I’ll be fine.”

“It’s not permanent?” Sirius repeated, eyes narrowing, “What is she going to do?”

“I’m not going to tell you,” Harry said softly, “so you may as well drop it.”

Sirius looked clearly unhappy at Harry’s lack of answer and cast around for another topic. He found one and asked, “Why have you been so cold to Remus? He hasn’t been able to think of why you’d be so distant with him.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed, and unknown to him the green darkened sharply and his expression became rather cold. “I’m glad you brought that up actually, is he here?”

“Uh, yeah,” Sirius mumbled, looking surprised at Harry’s expression.

“Go get him for me, yeah? Bring him in here.”

While Sirius got up and went to get Remus, Harry sat and tried to compose himself. He liked Remus still, he really did. But the man’s behavior had been extremely confusing and hurtful the past year or so. He couldn’t hold him responsible for the explosive arguments they’d had in his past, because those had occurred in the future. He’d let those go as he’d gone into the past. But the lack of contact for more than a year? Being totally ignored only to be scolded for reckless behavior with the Dementors? He would and was going to hold Remus accountable for that.

The moment Remus and Sirius entered the bedroom, Harry pulled out his holly wand and flicked it twice, nonverbally closing the door, locking it and putting up a strong silencing spell. No one was going to interrupt them unless he wished it.

Sirius gave him a surprised look laced with admiration at the spellwork, but Remus frowned and said in that quiet voice of his, “I would think you would avoid using magic outside of Hogwarts since that’s what you’re in trouble for in the first place, Harry.”

Harry snorted. As the two men walked over and sat down he said mildly, but with bite in his voice, “I don’t think I’ve heard a word from you since that night at Number 4 that hasn’t been censure, Lupin.”

The man clearly winced at the use of his surname, looking at Harry. “What have I done to make you so angry with me, Harry? When Sirius came and said you wanted to talk to me, I thought we were going to settle this. But now your tone of voice seems to speak otherwise, even though I was expressing concern after you used magic outside of school while underage, again.”

Harry snorted again, gathered his patience and said in as level a tone as possible, “Then perhaps you should consider the fact that as we are in a home that is literally drenched in magic, surrounded by adult witches and wizards, there is no need to worry as your magical signatures mask ours? It is well known that pureblood children practice magic on the holidays and during the summer for that exact same reason.”

Sirius looked surprised but nodded confirmation. Remus winced again and said, “I hadn’t thought of that. Someone should probably tell the other children; they may wish to brush up on their skills.”

“Feel free to do so the minute you leave this room,” Harry said coldly, “we know how much you care about their welfare after all.”

Before either man could speak again Harry continued. “I am well aware that to you my cold, closed-off behavior seems irrational and that you can’t seem to get it through your thick head why I am so angry with you, so let me spell it out.”

“The Dursleys hate me, Remus Lupin. I fully intended to push cases of abuse and neglect against Vernon and Petunia Dursley, I don’t give a damn what happens to Dudley. The only reason why I didn’t leave him to the Dementors is so that he has a shot at redemption away from his parents, otherwise I would have left him and run away.”

“I’d spent two terms at Hogwarts learning that, despite my hopes, I was still going to have to be the only one I could rely on, the only one fully in my corner. The only one who gave any care to my welfare and whether or not I survived my Hogwarts years and the summers in between.”

“And then we met you on the train. You were an adult, you defended me against the Dementors and showed concern for me afterwards. Despite everything that had been pounded into me as a child, I began to bring down my defenses, to try and trust an adult again. Severus Snape had been helpful only to make sure they were as high as they possibly could go, the man terrified me as a first year because he was basically a magical version of my Uncle.”

“Throughout that year you proved, again and again, that perhaps there were some adults out there I could trust. You took a brief hit when we first ran into Sirius at the end of the year, I was afraid I’d lowered my barriers to a man who was only acting as though he cared to lure me out of my comfort zone and to a man who apparently wanted to kill me.”

“With the explanation that followed, that trust evolved yet again. You’d known my parents, were close friends with them. Along with Sirius, who’d shown nothing but concern for my welfare literally from the moment he broke out of prison, you were trusted. I would have followed you anywhere.”

Throughout his explanation so far, Harry hadn’t made much eye contact with Remus. Now however, he locked eyes with the man, voice going hard. “And then you left. I sent you a pair of letters, the first you replied to, the second came back unread. I started my fourth year, the names were drawn for the Champions and mine came out as a fourth, which had never happened before. I was terrified, Lupin. I sent two letters, one to Sirius, one to you. I heard back from Sirius almost immediately. You? Not. A. Word.”

“You told me about my dad, talked fondly about being friends with my parents and being devastated when they died, but you never did a thing about me. You’d lost your friends? Tough. I lost my parents, and according to you, the only family I’d ever known. Then you popped into my life for a year, gave me some form of hope and disappeared. Where were you? Off the face of the Earth for all I knew. All I had was what was in front of me, a deadly Tournament that ended with me facing against the man who murdered my parents and killed a student right in front of me, and the only adult who cared was a man who’d escaped from Azkaban prison and who all rights should have been focusing on his own recovery and safety, but was more concerned about mine.”

“You? You disappeared. So tell me, why shouldn’t I be angry with you when you’d disappeared out of my life as mysteriously as you’d come back into it, only to try scolding me like a parent for defending myself against Dementors? Especially when you of all people know how badly they affect me and what I see and hear when they are around.”

Remus’ amber eyes had started out confused and a bit defensive, but the further Harry had gotten into his conversation, the more pained and regretful they became. By the end, it was Remus who broke their eye contact, staring down at his hands.

“Remus,” Harry said, using the man’s name for the first time. He made sure his voice was gentler than it had been so far. “I know I’m being harsh, but I’m hoping that when you see it from my point of view you understand why I’m so angry with you. I want to fix this, I really do. So think about it, figure out why you did what you did. I’m not putting a time limit on it, that’s not fair. Come to me when you’re ready and we’ll talk.”

Not even lifting his wand, Harry cancelled the silencing spell and locking charm. “However,” he said, voice half-teasing, half-serious, “If the reason begins, ‘I’m a werewolf’, be forewarned, I am going to smack you.”

Sirius laughed outright and Remus let out a watery chuckle. He nodded to the pair and walked out. Harry counted to twenty of his own heartbeats and then replaced the spells. Turning to Sirius he said, “With that hopefully taken care of, I have a question for you in return.”

Sirius looked slightly wary and said, “What is it?”

With a lazy grin on his face, Harry said in a voice that was nearly a purr, “I was wondering why you haven’t disowned Bellatrix Black and reinstated Andromeda Black, Lord Black.”

The answering grin that spread across Sirius’ face was outright predatory.

Chapter Text

Despite Harry having brought up Bellatrix and Sirius’ ability to disown her and keep her sister Narcissa in line, the older man hadn’t done anything yet. He promised he was going to, a dark glitter in his eyes, but he wanted it to be his first official act as Lord Black. Sirius did have a flair for the dramatics, Harry thought, thus he was waiting until a time when hopefully he was exonerated from his non-existent crimes.

Harry was hoping to hear in some shape or form from Amelia Bones today after his hearing. He’d persuaded Arthur to bring him to the Ministry early, making sure to tuck the little slip of parchment from the check-in desk he’d thrown away last time into a pocket of his robes. He smoothed down his clothes, a dark navy blue set of robes he’d purchased on the way back from Madame Bones’ residence.

It was both a necessity for today’s wardrobe and a convenient excuse as to why he’d been out of Grimmauld again. Remembering what he’d worn to his hearing last time made him grimace, looking back at it was embarrassing. He’d all but shown a finger to wizarding tradition and rules, flouting his ‘Muggle-ness’ to the Lords and Ladies that made up their government. When Molly Weasley had tentatively brought up that he didn’t need to wear the robes, he’d firmly discouraged further talk on it by saying that it was a wizarding hearing and he’d wear wizarding attire.

He was really looking forward to that shopping trip now, though he’d need some help from someone savvy with wizarding attire. Perhaps Sirius’ cousin Andromeda? She was a witch of the Black line so she knew the formal attire well, perhaps she wouldn’t mind. From what he remembered of the woman from his now non-existent future she was proud but gentle and had a wicked sense of humor like her cousin.

A small paper plane floated over his head and Harry snatched it out of the air with his Seeker’s reflexes, noting his name on it in unfamiliar writing.

Courtroom Ten, now.

That was all it said but Harry stood and handed it to Arthur, who’s eyes widened and they made their hasty journey to the old Courtrooms, Arthur dropping him off outside. Harry took a steadying breath, squared his shoulders and entered the room with confident, unhesitant strides. He’d just made it to the wooden, straight-backed chair in the center of the room when Fudge’s voice rang out, “Nice of you to join us for this Hearing, Mr. Potter. You are two minutes past the time. Court Reporter, take note of his truancy.”

Harry looked directly at the Court Reporter (Percy Weasley), and said, “Belay that, Reporter. I have been in the building for over half-an-hour, evidence presented from the clerk at the wand-weighing desk in the Atrium. I also have a copy of the only notice I have received of this ‘hearing’, which was for ten o’clock with Amelia Bones and Witness in the Department of Magical Education headquarters, not Courtroom Ten in front of what appears to be the entire Wizengamot.”

Cornelius turned puce and several of the Lords and Ladies shuffled in their seats, clearly embarrassed at being caught out by a 15-year-old.

Harry sat down, straightened an invisible wrinkle out of his dark navy robes and leaned back, crossing his left foot behind his right and doing his best to look relaxed.

Cornelius, he noted, looked somewhat unnerved. “Accused now present, we open the hearing of one Harry James Potter, residing at Number 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. Present at the Hearing are Amelia Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Members of the Board of Magical Education, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic Dolores Umbridge, Court Reporter Percival Weasley and Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge.”

“You are Harry James Potter of Number 4 Privet Drive, correct?”

“Yes,” Harry replied.

“You have finished your fourth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?”

“Yes.”

“You are capable of casting a Patronus Charm at the age of fifteen?” Cornelius asked skeptically.

“Thirteen actually. I first cast the Patronus Charm at the end of my third year. It took the form of a stag. It was during the Sirius Black incident, which I’m sure you remember. Over a hundred Dementors came after me, it was very nearly a nasty publicity incident for you.”

 Cornelius Fudge cleared his throat nervously and glared at Harry. “That is not relevant to today’s hearing, Mr. Potter.”

Anything else he wished to say was interrupted by Amelia Bones, who sat forward and said, “You said a stag, Mr. Potter. Has your Patronus always taken a corporeal form?”

“Since I was able to fully cast the spell, yes,” Harry nodded. “It was mist and then a vague shield at first.”

“Impressive,” she commented, to murmurs from the court.

“It doesn’t matter that it was impressive or not, in fact the idea that it was makes it only worse that he cast it in front of a Muggle!” Cornelius snapped irritably.

“A magically-aware Muggle,” Harry pointed out. “Petunia Evans-Dursley has long been aware of her sister’s magic and she and her husband did their best to stamp it out of me before I received my Hogwarts letter.”

“But still a Muggle,” Cornelius practically growled, clearly not pleased at the thoughtful look on several faces at Harry’s words.

“Why did you cast a Patronus form in front of your Muggle cousin, Mr. Potter?” Amelia asked.

“To protect him from the three Dementors that were in Little Whinging, ma’am,” Harry replied.

“Dementors in Muggle London,” Cornelius scoffed. I had wondered what fool thing you would come up with to cover you flaunting your magic. Preposterous!”

“I am ready and willing to submit to Veritaserum testimony or submit my memories to prove my story, Minister.”

A hushed silence fell over the Wizengamot. To offer either one of those things generally meant one was able to support their claims. Into the silence Cornelius practically stuttered, “No. For all this body knows you have fabricated the memories or they are made up things, you’ve been known for having funny fits all over the school the past year, Potter.”

Sitting forward, Harry met Cornelius’ eye squarely and said, “I would think you’d be more interested in the truth than the gossip columns written by Rita Skeeter, Minister.”

“Veritaserum and memories are still inadmissible from a minor, Mr. Potter, so I’m afraid if you can’t provide evidence we shall have to move to vote.”

Harry sat back, smiled a bit grimly and said, “It’s a good thing that I’m an emancipated minor and Lord Potter, then, isn’t it?”

The golden Potter ring revealed itself on his right hand at his words, drawing all eyes to it.

“That is not a legal emancipation, Potter!” Cornelius looked triumphant. “It is illegal to falsify those kinds of records and Ministerial permission Potter; you will end up in Azkaban for this! I certainly did not sign off on your emancipation request.”

Harry paused half a beat, letting Cornelius wind himself up. “Actually, you did Minister. You and Dumbledore both signed off on it without me even requesting it. At the start of the last year the Triwizard Tournament was restricted to those over the age of seventeen, legal adults in the wizarding world. Both Albus Dumbledore and your representative, Bartimus Crouch Senior, signed off on my participation, forcing me into the Tournament. As recognized by the goblins,” here Harry held up a heavy piece of parchment with the gold Gringotts seal, “I am legally an emancipated minor and there is no going back.”

With a nod of permission from Harry, Amelia Bones summoned the parchment, broke the seal and read the contents aloud, an official letter from Gringotts recognizing his status as an emancipated minor by their Records, which were as official as those here in the Ministry. Over Cornelius’ spluttering she said clearly, “Lord Potter is correct and recognized in his title by the Wizengamot. His memory testimony is therefore acceptable by wizarding law.”

With very little fanfare, an Auror approached Harry, directed him to remember the incident with his cousin and the Dementors and extracted the memory. It was a very strange feeling, not really one Harry liked. A Pensieve was brought out and Amelia Bones, the Auror, Cornelius Fudge and a representative from the Department of Magical Education all observed the memory.

First to recover was Amelia Bones, who said, “Let the Court Reporter note that Lord Harry James Potter is correct, there were in fact three Dementors in Muggle London, unauthorized no less.”

The murmurs that spread through the Lords and Ladies were shocked, speculative looks being shot in Harry’s direction. Looking resigned, Cornelius Fudge said, “Let it be noted that Harry James Potter is cleared of all charges against him in this hearing on the 12^th of August, 1995.”

Harry stood, straightened his robes and as he prepared to exit, he called to the Minister and Percival, “Let the Court Reporter also note that Lord Potter is willing to give the Minister the memories of the night in June 1995 when Cedric Amos Diggory was killed, to support my verbal testimony.”

The little hisses that followed him out of the room sounded like many little fires. Smugly, Harry walked out, spotting Arthur waiting anxiously. “Cleared of all charges.”

“Of course you were,” but Arthur looked relieved. “Albus was going to come and help you out, but he never got the message of changed times.”

Harry had wondered about Dumbledore’s absence but wasn’t worried. “I did fine without him,” he said, as the doors opened and the Wizengamot began to flow out.

Amelia Bones paused a half-step in front of him and passed him a sealed piece of parchment, one with now-familiar handwriting on it. So, she had been the one to alert him to the change of time and location. Nice to know he had an ally in the Ministry. Hearing over, they left the Ministry, heading back to Grimmauld Place where the rest of the Order waited for news with bated breath. Glancing at the parchment in his hands, addressed to Sirius Orion Black, Harry smiled grimly. It appeared more than one innocent person would have cause to celebrate today.

*

Remus Lupin was confused. It was not a familiar or comfortable feeling for the normally very intelligent man, all brought on by one 15-year-old wizard who seemed different this summer. Most would chalk it up to having witnessed the rise of the Dark Lord and the death of a fellow student. That would be enough to change many a teenager, even ones that had seen as much as Harry Potter had in four years.

But Remus couldn’t help but think that there was something else going on, something just out of his reach. Sirius knew and the fact boggled him. While he knew his friend was very sharp and world-smart, he wasn’t sure how Sirius had figured it out. Unless Harry had told him. The pair were very close this summer, it itched at Remus’ moral senses. Harry’s touch lingered just too long, he moved to defend Sirius from Molly and the order just a bit too quickly.

That growing unease shifted aside; Harry was confident. Not that it wasn’t a nice difference from a boy who’d struggled to come into himself the last Remus had seen him, but he hadn’t even been worried about the hearing. He’d talked briefly to Sirius, slipped into his dark navy robes and followed Arthur out of Grimmauld Place with nary a whisper of doubt. Now Arthur was telling them that he’d been in front of the entire Wizengamot and he still didn’t seem rattled.

Harry walked over to talk to Sirius and pressed a heavy piece of parchment in his hands. Grey eyes looked at and Remus watched an expression of surprise cross his friend’s face. He looked at Harry quizzically and opened the paper, Harry not even bothering to move away from leaning against his right shoulder as he read it as well. Once again, the easy physical contact between the two put Remus’ back up and his eyes narrowed as he noted Sirius hadn’t even jumped as he was still prone to do post-Azkaban, indicating he was familiar with Harry’s presence being that close.

He watched with growing unease as a satisfied smile crossed Harry’s face at the same time that Sirius’ began to drain of all color in severe shock. The teenager looked at Sirius’ expression, concern taking over and he pulled a chair nearby, ready to guide the older man into it. Then just as quickly as his face had lost color, Sirius’ face flooded with sheer joy and he let out a whoop of laughter, tossing the paper on the chair and whirling a surprised Harry around in a dramatic hug.

Harry began to laugh and said, “Put me down, mutt!”

Sirius dropped him to his feet, pouting. “I’ll have you know my parents were Pureblood and married before I was born, scamp!”

With a slightly sly smirk Harry said, “Still doesn’t mean you don’t act like a dog at times, Sirius.”

Sirius let out a bark-like laugh and scooped up the paper again as if it were something precious, holding it in a slightly-shaking hand. “How did you do it, Harry?”

Harry shrugged and said in a non-committal manner, “I just spoke in the right ear I suppose.”

“Do you two plan on sharing what makes you so pleased?” Ron asked somewhat sourly. Harry had yet to forgive him for ignoring him all summer.

“Not that it’s any of your business,” Sirius said casually, “but Harry here has managed to get me a Hearing with Amelia Bones next week. Apparently, someone pointed out enough flaws in my case to warrant investigation by the Head of the DMLE herself.”

Remus inhaled a breath in shocked surprise. Nearby, Alastor Moody looked shrewdly at Harry and said, “This wouldn’t happen to coincide with one of the times you’ve left Headquarters, would it Potter?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Moody,” Harry said blandly in reply, green eyes sparking slightly.

“Of course you don’t,” the grizzled ex-Auror snorted, but he was looking at Harry in an appraising manner nonetheless for the rest of the afternoon.

Remus resolved to keep a closer eye on the pair as well, even as he walked over and congratulated his friend on the beginnings of a resolution long overdue. He could feel Harry watching them closely, before a pleased smile crossed the teens’ face and he sauntered off to say hello to someone else.

Oh yes, Remus would be watching Harry closely.

Chapter Text

If there was one thing Hermione Granger was known for, it was her intelligence. It was something she had always prided herself on, something that made her feel special. She knew she wasn’t as good-looking as many of the girls around her, nor as athletic or witty. But her marks, those were exceptional. It had made her a loner at her primary school, with a predictable loneliness through her secondary years as well, at least until she had gotten her Hogwarts letter. 

Finding out that she was special in yet another way had been liberating, of sorts. Knowing that she was more than just a young woman with above-average intelligence had been a boost for her confidence. Her voracious thirst for knowledge had her devouring every book she could get her hands on about magic; she’d read her course books for first year within a week. She was surprised to read about how backwards the magical world was, with titles and patriarchal society still considered a norm. She’d read about the most oft-mentioned celebrity, the Boy-Who-Lived.

Meeting eleven-year-old Harry James Potter on the Hogwarts Express had been an eye-opening experience. It had boggled her mind, here he was a celebrity, a household name and he had no clue what he was getting into. She had always assumed after reading about him that wherever he was he had tutors and would be more advanced than most of his year. Instead he was a small, skinny boy in ill-fitting Muggle clothes and broken glasses, bewildered and confused.

After the troll incident she’d appointed herself as something of a buffer between Harry and the complexity of the magical world, concerned about her friend. Meeting his relatives on the train station had only increased her growing concerns for his home-life and confused her even more on why the Headmaster left him in a place like that. But surely he had Harry’s best interests in mind, right?

With what had happened this last term and then leaving him to the Muggles again with a strict no-contact order, she wasn’t sure. If he wasn’t quietly suffering from PTSD she’d eat one of her books, not to mention how obviously angry and hurt he’d been at their silence. Ron was huffing angrily about his attitude, sniping privately about his entitled behavior. Hermione frowned, wondering again why Harry had decided to give him a second chance. The more time she spent with the redhead she realized how immature and jealous he was, not to mention his anger issues. At the time she’d pushed for Harry to forgive him, but now? Harry had been forced to participate in an illegal tournament that could have killed him. He’d seen Voldemort rise again, witnessed the death of another student and Ron was whinging about him being entitled?

There was something different about Harry though. He’d snuck out twice since being brought to Grimmauld, his confidence had seemingly soared through the roof and he had the grudging respect of Alastor Moody, a noted Auror. Then there was his aggressive behavior with Molly Weasley and the weird tension between him and Remus Lupin. Last but not least his growing closeness to Sirius and the sneaking suspicion that the older man knew something about Harry that she did not.

How did they all connect? What vital piece was she missing? Hermione wasn’t sure, all she did know was that there was something she needed to do. She took a deep breath and approached Harry.

*

Harry had seen Hermione watching him out of the corner of his eye. It was two days after his trial. Hermione and Ron had received their Prefect badges, Harry smiling and genuinely congratulating Hermione, smile a bit thin towards Ron. Let Ron think it was jealousy, it didn’t matter. He knew about it after all, not that anyone would have believed him had he told them Ron would be picked as a Prefect. He certainly wouldn’t demonstrate any of the qualities of a notable one over the rest of his time at Hogwarts, but Harry couldn’t care less.

He’d told Sirius privately the day before that Ron would get the badge along with Hermione, the man had merely arched an eyebrow in surprise and joked to Ron about watching out for people pranking his things. The redhead had paled. He’d clearly thought Sirius was joking until Bill Weasley had laughingly joined in, mentioning a few of the pranks that had been pulled on him by friends in ‘retaliation’.

There was a very sharp intelligence in Bill Weasley’s blue eyes as he looked at Harry, arching a brow. “I’m surprised you didn’t get it, actually. Merlin knows you’ve proven yourself time and time again over the years, if what I’ve heard is to be believed.”

Harry gave him a bland look and deadpanned, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Bill. My life is very boring.”

Harry thought he did well at controlling his amusement at his words, at least until his gaze flicked sideways and caught the tremble in Sirius’ mouth and jaw as the man barely restrained his laughter. A snort of controlled hilarity made it past his control and the trio all burst out laughing. When they all composed themselves, Harry was surprised to see that he’d somehow missed Hermione approaching, she was now standing directly in front of him.

“Harry,” she began, “I’ve had some time to think about what you said to us after you arrived. Trusting authority has always been something of an automatic thing for me, I know that’s very naïve with all the corruption that exists in the world. It was wrong for me to obey Dumbledore on the no-contact order, not just on an authority level, but a friend level as well. I know you still may be angry with me and I understand why, but I want to say I’m sorry.”

In the end it wasn’t the words that Harry was looking for, it was the look in her eyes, the genuine emotion and remorse for what she’d been part of. It impressed him that she’d admitted her faults in front of Sirius and Bill, it wasn’t easy to apologize in front of other people.

“Forgiven, Hermione,” he said warmly, giving her a hug. When he pulled back, she still had a slightly sheepish expression on her face and he said, “What?”

“I feel I should apologize for pushing you to forgive Ron last term,” she said. “I don’t think he earned it, he’s still as hot-headed and jealous as always and has been going on about your entitled behavior.”

Sirius frowned, but it was Bill who quizzically asked, “Why would you have needed to forgive my brother last year, Harry?”

Harry sighed. “He, along with the majority of the school, decided to believe that I had found a way to cheat my entry into the Triwizard Tournament. He thought I wanted the recognition and the money; despite how much he knows I despise the attention I get.”

“It took Harry facing the Hungarian Horntail for Ron to do something about it and apologize,” Hermione added indignantly.

“I wonder how long it will take him to apologize this time,” Harry said. “When he eventually does, he won’t be happy, I don’t give third chances.”

Sirius was scowling, but refrained from saying anything. He already knew Ron had abandoned Harry during the Tournament; Harry had told him. He hadn’t been happy with the redhead, but he knew he had to stay out of it. Bill however was frowning angrily, muttering under his breath.

“Let it go, Bill,” Harry advised. “It was last term and he’s not going to be forgiven this time.”

“I don’t blame you,” Bill scowled. “He’s the youngest of us and has been spoiled by Mum along with Ginny, he’s rather immature for his age.”

They were standing around talking about nothing consequential when the door to the kitchen opened and Dumbledore walked in. This was a change; Harry hadn’t seen him before school began in the last timeline outside of his trial.

The man’s blue eyes found him standing next to Sirius and Harry felt the deliberate probe against his mind, before he wouldn’t have even noticed. Now that he had the additional years of experience, he recognized the probe and took distinct satisfaction in watching those eyes widen as they met the Occlumency barriers his Lordship rings provided.

“You know, Headmaster,” Harry said pleasantly, “using Legilimency without permission against a student or adult is considered illegal.”

An abrupt silence fell over the kitchen, all heads turning to watch Dumbledore and Harry. Several shocked mutters sprang up, either that Dumbledore had attempted to use Legilimency on Harry or that Harry had called him out on it. After all, he was the Headmaster.

“I’m surprised you know what it is called, or that you practice it. It must be a recent development Harry, though I am proud of how strong your shields are.”

“Surprised, or disappointed?” Harry questioned bluntly. “You were pressing fairly hard, I assumed you wanted to get information without having to talk to me.”

Sirius had stiffened slightly next to Harry; he could practically feel the anger vibrating off the older man. In response Harry felt himself becoming calmer as the seconds ticked on, more composed.

“I am very disappointed in you, Harry. Trust is hard to get at the Ministry these days, especially since what happened in June. It will be hard for you to build up trust with the Ministry again after falsifying your emancipation.”

The mutters grew louder, angrier. Harry saw horrified, accusing stares shot his way by some of the Order and that made him get very angry. Instead of shouting, he said, voice glacially cool, “Less commentary from the peanut gallery, please.”

Sirius gave a snort next to him, Harry thought he heard one from Bill and Hermione as well. The Order fell into shocked silence and Harry said to the Headmaster,

“As I told and proved to the Ministry, my emancipation was legal. I doubt I had the ability to fool the goblins, Headmaster. The goblins proved my claims with blood, all I reminded them was that you and the Minister had indeed signed off on my emancipation, though I was unaware until recently that you were my magical guardian.”

“But I didn’t sign off on it, Harry,” Dumbledore answered pleasantly, “I would have remembered signing it. One has to prove they are capable of being an adult and I don’t believe you have the responsibility.”

“Nice to know that you actually doubt me, Headmaster. In the future I believe you can call me Mr. Potter or Lord Potter; I dislike you using my name so familiarly. Especially now that you seek to undermine my maturity as recognized by Gringotts and the Ministry.”

“You did in fact sign off on it, Headmaster,” Harry continued, when Albus opened his mouth to interrupt. “You and Bartimus Crouch Senior did when you declared that I was an entrant into the Triwizard Tournament. You see, you and the Ministry had set the age limit on the opening night as being 17, when wizarding populace hits their majority and are considered legal adults. As my magical guardian you could have withdrawn me from the Tournament then and there, but you wanted to know what Voldemort was up to.”

Several people flinched when he said the name and Harry rolled his eyes. “So instead you and Bartimus Crouch, representative of the Minister Cornelius Archibald Fudge signed off that I was going to participate in a Tournament reserved for legal adults, therefore declaring me an adult and able to shoulder the responsibilities of one. Gringotts recognized this, when I went in to speak with them, I was able to take my title as Lord Potter.”

Sirius spoke up then, with a sort of cool disdain, “I recognized and witnessed it, Dumbledore, as Lord Black.”

With a flick of his hands he revealed the Black Lordship ring sitting on his finger. Sneering slightly at Albus he said, “I’m not impressed with how you are addressing Harry, Dumbledore. Do remember your precious Headquarters is in my family home and I will kick you out if I feel it necessary.”

Albus had gone slightly pink in the cheeks and switched targets. “I heard that you received a message from Amelia Bones, Sirius. I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to meet with her, it’s most likely a trap orchestrated by the Ministry.”

“I think you need to get your crooked nose out of other people’s business,” Sirius said bluntly, to shocked inhales from many around them. “For some reason I get the impression you don’t want me to be freed, Albus. Forgive me if I don’t trust you with anything anymore, it’s a bit hard to do considering you had the Wills that are going to get me free sealed the day that I was imprisoned.”  

“Not to mention,” Harry added, “that as Supreme Mugwump of the Wizengamot up until recently, you would have had the authority to authorize a re-trial on questionable evidence at any point in time.”

The hissy whispers that started up reminded Harry of those from his ‘hearing’. It was music to his ears to hear people starting to talk about Dumbledore and their confrontations. Perhaps some would open their ears and eyes to his gentle manipulations?

Realizing he wasn’t going to get through to either of them, Dumbledore adopted a disappointed look and said, “Best of luck to both of you boys. Harry, when your recklessness gets Sirius re-imprisoned or Kissed, I hope you remember I attempted to help you.”

“Get out,” Sirius said flatly, clearly angry at Dumbledore’s condescending words.

The old man turned and left, Harry turning to look at his soulmate. Sirius’ grey eyes were flinty with anger, his hands clenching spasmodically. Harry took one of his hands in his own, unafraid of the other man’s anger. When Sirius looked at him, he smiled in reassurance.

“Don’t worry about him, Sirius. He’s just like a little kid throwing a tantrum when an argument doesn’t go his way. It will be fine and this time next week you will be free to do whatever you want.”

Sirius relaxed, loosening his tense shoulders. He smiled at Harry and said, “Thank you, Harry.”

Harry knew he wasn’t just thanking him for his support, but for coming back in the first place. He smiled softly, the knowledge drenching his voice as he said, “You’re welcome.”

Chapter Text

In the end, Sirius being declared innocent was a bit anticlimactic. On Harry’s advice Sirius had requested that Amelia Bones meet him at Grimmauld Place. The woman had been more than accommodating of Sirius’ request, understanding his desire to stay indoors until the news was published. Amelia had been escorted to Grimmauld Place by Kingsley Shacklebolt and Harry himself, Kingsley acting as if he had never been in Grimmauld to maintain his position in the Auror force.

The initial greeting had been slightly tense, Amelia noting with visible surprise the visible sanity in Sirius’ eyes after being imprisoned for so long. She had also noted the Lordship ring on his finger, flicking a sideways look at a very straight-faced Harry. Amelia had set a small white stone on the table and tapped it, producing a blue light. She had explained that it was a Recording Stone, to show his Veritaserum testimony to the Ministry and a few members of the Wizengamot. Sirius had allowed Kingsley to administer the Veritaserum and a short conversation had followed.

“What is your name?”

“Sirius Orion Black III.”

“What is your birthdate?”

“The 14^th of February, 1960.”

“Were you the Potter’s Secret Keeper as of their death on 31^st October, 1981?”

“No.”

“Were you ever or are you now a follower of Lord Voldemort, commonly known as a Death Eater?”

“No.”

“Who was the Secret-Keeper for the Potter’s at the time of their death?”

“Peter Andrew Pettigrew, a Death Eater and unregistered Animagus.”

“How do you know he was a Death Eater?”

“He showed me his Dark Mark when I confronted him in Muggle London. He was about to board a bus and leave the country. He showed me his Mark, insulted James and Lily and then cut off his finger before blowing out the street, killing those Muggles. He transformed into his Animagus form of a common gray rat and went into the sewer through the hole he’d blown into the street.”

“Why were you laughing when you were arrested?”

“Peter had always been a coward; it was one of the reasons we had automatically discounted him being a Death Eater and the traitor within the Order of the Phoenix. He had been my suggestion as the switch. I wasn’t laughing, I was in the middle of a hysterical breakdown because I’d realized I was the reason my best friend was dead.”

“Are you an unregistered Animagus?”

“Yes. I take the form of a large black wolfhound that looks like a Grim.”

“How did you break out of Azkaban prison?”

“I was using my Animagus form to retain my sanity. I’d be transformed most of the time and the animal emotions were too faint to be of much interest to the Dementors. Time passed weird in that place, sometimes a day seemed to take ages and other times I’d turn human again only to realize months had passed. Once per year Cornelius Fudge would make a tour of the higher security cells to make sure we were still alive. I did my best to act completely normal as he walked past my cell, asked if I could have the Prophet I saw him carrying because I was bored.”

“On the front cover was an image of the Weasley family in Egypt, they’d won a prize in a drawing and were visiting their eldest son, Bill. I remembered the Weasleys so I was looking at the photo, trying to remember which of their kids was which, it had been almost thirteen years after all.”

“And then I saw the common gray rat on the youngest boy’s shoulder and my heart about stopped. It was Peter. I read the article very quickly and realized the youngest boy was about to go back to Hogwarts. And then I saw the date and realized that Harry was going back there as well. Peter may have been a coward, but he was an opportunistic one. I was afraid for Harry and wanted Peter to pay for what he’d done.”

“I slipped through the bars on my window a week later and transformed, jumping into the sea. I traveled using my Animagus for the most part, checking in on Harry before I made my journey North. I lived off rats and small forest creatures for the most part, staying in my Animagus form because otherwise I’m not sure I’d have been able to eat them raw.”

“I didn’t mean to scare the Fat Lady and slash her portrait; I was just frustrated.”

Amelia had clearly heard enough and had Kingsley administer the antidote. Sirius was a bit shaken at having all that information pried out of him by the truth serum, he’d been pale and his hands were shaking. Remus, who had been present for support, had poured him a short stout shot of whiskey and he’d looked a bit better afterwards.

Amelia had shot Harry a look to which he’d just nodded, sitting easily in a straight-backed chair. He’d heard noises of surprise from the others as he’d calmly given his consent for Amelia to use Veritaserum on him. The sensation had been very strange, the slightly oily liquid disappearing almost instantly into his system.

Amelia had walked him through a few questions designed to authorize his testimony as an emancipated Minor and Lord of House Potter before moving on. The Veritaserum had wrung information from him that he’d forgotten over time, little important details. She questioned him thoroughly on that night, including the Time-Turner Dumbledore had illegally authorized them to use. That had gotten exclamations from those around them, including Sirius who hadn’t realized just how dangerous his rescue had actually been.

She walked him through afterwards as well, Cornelius Fudge waving off his and Hermione’s statements and the way Severus Snape had nearly come unhinged, stopping just short of actually attacking Harry. Hermione hadn’t known that last bit, she’d been asleep. Harry had somehow forgotten it over the years, but with the Veritaserum he remembered it vividly.

And then, to Harry’s private shout of triumph, she’d asked him if he’d met Peter Pettigrew again since. Harry could have kissed her; she’d just given him carte blanche to discuss Voldemort’s return.

Realizing what she’d stumbled upon with her question, Amelia said, “Do I have permission as the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to ask you about the night in June of 1994?”

“Yes,” Harry said, wishing with all his might he could give the wild grin of triumph he wanted to.

“Describe the events that occurred on the night of the conclusion of the Triwizard Tournament,” Amelia said softly, everyone in the kitchen going strangely tense. Feeling an immense amount of relief at just being able to talk about it, Harry had poured out the story, willing and eager to talk about it even without the Veritaserum.

He spoke of Cedric Diggory and the center of the maze, the frustratingly noble Hufflepuff turning away from what they’d all been aiming for the entire year. Then he’d suggested they take it together; it would still be a Hogwarts victory. He spoke of the Cup being a portkey into a graveyard, of the high voice that had said to kill the ‘spare’. He’d talked of the Killing Curse hitting Diggory, the killer coming forward and being identified as Peter Pettigrew, who had then roughly slammed Harry into a tombstone and tied him there.

He spoke of the ritual, Pettigrew cutting off his hand with the missing finger and the bone from the grave behind Harry. He spoke of the blood Peter had taken from him using a dagger, his purposefully short-sleeved shirt revealing the skinny, crooked scar on his right forearm. He’d described the cauldron melting away to reveal the tall, skeletal-thin and pale form of Voldemort with his snake-like features and crimson eyes.

He remembered Voldemort’s monologue word for word as well as each individual Death Eater who’d answered his summons. He’d been thankful for the Veritaserum after that, describing the double dose of the Cruciatus Curse he’d been put under by Voldemort and the man’s shaken expression when he’d outright defied his Imperius. His voice was shaky, even under the Veritaserum as he’d described the duel between himself and Voldemort. The wands connecting and how he’d forced Voldemort’s wand to show its last spells, revealing the muggle caretaker, Bertha Jorkins and his parents.

He’d explained what his parents had told him to do and breaking the spells, bolting for Cedric’s body and summoning the Cup. He talked about being taken away from the scene of Amos Diggory’s wild grief by Moody, only for the retired Auror to reveal that he was the one who had entered Harry into the Tournament in the first place and pushed him through it.

He revealed Dumbledore, Minerva McGonagall and Severus Snape’s arrival and the revelation that Alastor Moody had been impersonated for nearly a year by Bartimus Crouch Jr. He had been smuggled out of Azkaban prison by his father only to be put under the Imperius Curse to make sure he wouldn’t run back to the Dark Lord. He revealed that Barty had killed his father, transfiguring his body into a bone and burying it in Hagrid’s garden.

He went all the way through the night to after Cornelius Fudge’s denials of Voldemort’s return. The pathetic excuse for a man clinging to his reputation if he was to try and remove the Dementors, who had been amongst the first to go to Voldemort the last time.

Coming off the Veritaserum was a shocking experience. He felt absolutely drained. The faces of the people around him were pale, eyes wide. They’d heard Dumbledore say that Voldemort was back, but to hear it from the mouth of the teenager who’d faced him and lived was another thing. Amelia had taken one look at Harry and summoned the bottle of Firewhiskey Remus had taken out, pouring both herself and Harry a generous measure of it.

Harry had momentarily forgotten that he was supposed to be a teenager and not almost forty years old. He gained a few raised eyebrows when he’d downed the entire shot in one go with only a slight shudder from the heat hitting the pit of his stomach and burning down his throat. Oops. He was by no means an alcoholic. He had drunk enough Firewhiskey after his visit to Gringotts in his time to no longer feel any discomfort at the alcohol’s distinctive burn.

He shuddered slightly, covering his eyes as he replayed everything he’d just said. It had been a lot and was a bit shocking to share just two years of his escapades with people, and not even the full two years! Amelia had stopped the Recording Stone and taken her leave telling Sirius to stay inside a bit longer. He should expect to get an official notification of his exoneration within three days, as well as seeing it in the papers.

Harry listened to the sound of people leaving the room, quiet murmurs of conversation as they’d discussed the two shocking testimonies. Harry could hear very quiet breathing to his left, correctly guessing by the tingle of magic that it was Sirius. The other man quietly took his hand and pulled him to a standing position, wrapping an arm around his waist and guiding him out of the room. Harry was thankful for it; he was still in a bit of a daze from the effect of the Veritaserum and the numbing quality that came with spilling out what had been one of the hardest nights of his life.

Sirius had opened a door, guided Harry into the room and then shut it behind them, casting a number of spells on the door. Harry registered where they were at about the same time that Sirius pushed him to sit gently on his bed, Harry taking a moment just to stare out the balcony window at the setting sun. He hadn’t realized he’d been talking that long.

He turned and looked at Sirius. The other man was a bit pale, but his gray eyes were steady and unafraid as he met Harry’s green ones. “Well,” Harry said, voice a bit hoarse from talking so long, “that was fun.”

Sirius gave a slightly hysterical snort of laughter and said, “You have a talent for understating things, Harry.”

He reached over to Harry’s left and poured two shots of the Firewhiskey, taking one. Harry arched a brow and tsked. “Giving alcohol to a minor, Sirius? What a rebel!”

Sirius gave him a very deadpan look and said, “Emancipated minor, as you more than proved under Veritaserum. Not to mention you probably surprised a few people with how easily you drank that shot downstairs.”

Harry shrugged, kicking off his shoes and crossing his legs on Sirius’ bed so that he was comfortable. “I momentarily forgot that I’m supposed to be fifteen and not nearly forty. Honestly the idea of a permanent aging potion after this term sounds more and more appealing. I could take my NEWTs tomorrow and be done with my schooling, I just have a couple of plans that need me to be at Hogwarts.”

“For all we know the Ministry may have some sort of application for that,” Sirius shrugged. “I admit it would make it grind less on my conscious if my soulmate wasn’t a fifteen-year-old.”

“Not,” he added, eyes glittering a bit, “that I’m going to let that get in the way. Magic does things for a reason; I’m not going to question her. I’m just going to be very glad that I have a soulmate who loves me enough to risk everything with time-travel.”

It was the first time that Sirius had openly acknowledged the bond between them and stated, even obliquely, that he wasn’t going to fight it. Harry’s heart was pounding in his chest in sheer joy, his eyes practically glowing. He reached with slightly shaking fingers for the Firewhiskey and took a quick sip. Sirius was watching him and reached out to touch his free hand, wrapping it in his own.

The tingle of magic that had occurred between them before had grown to a warm heat, like he’d been sitting in front of a fireplace a bit too long. He could tell Sirius felt it as well from the slight shudder the older man gave. He leaned forward and set his glass down, taking Harry’s from him. Making it very obvious what he was doing, Sirius reached up with his right hand and placed it on Harry’s neck, thumb running under his jawline.

Harry shivered at the touch. It was just a hand on his neck and the sensations running through him as Sirius’ thumb traced his jawline were incredible. All of the time in his old life that he’d sought some sort of connection, to feel something with another. The overload of sensations from his acknowledged soulmate’s touch practically brought tears to his eyes.

He could tell from Sirius’ shining eyes that he felt it as well. His normally pewter-toned eyes had darkened considerably, his breathing had gained a slightly ragged quality. His admiration for the other man’s control grew, despite the obvious emotion and need his touch was still very gentle. Distracted by the sensations and the gray eyes in front of him Harry was abruptly shocked back into feeling when Sirius leaned forward and pressed their lips together.

The kiss was gentle, chaste and it lit every damn nerve in Harry’s body on fire. Harry put his left hand on Sirius’ shoulder, feeling the muscles beneath the shirt tremble with the force of his restraint. Far sooner than Harry would have liked Sirius broke the kiss, but they stayed where they were, foreheads touching. Sirius’ breathing was shakier, his jaw trembling slightly.

Eventually they both regained the control they needed and Harry stood, gathering his shoes and walking towards the door. He eyed it for a moment with his magical sight and flicked his wand, undoing Sirius’ spells and wards. He put his back to the door for a moment, watching Sirius as the other man sighed, banished the bottle of whiskey back downstairs and kicked off his own shoes.

Those gray eyes caught his frame by the door and Sirius looked up, a gentle, smug smile on his face. “Yes?” he drawled.

“Good night, Sirius.”

“Good night, Harry.”

With that simple exchange, Harry opened the door and made his way to his own bedroom. What a day this has been, he thought wryly.

Chapter Text

Harry sat in a compartment on the Hogwarts Express, watching the countryside roll by. It had been an interesting last week before school began, to say the least. Two days after the meeting with Amelia Bones, a copy of the Daily Prophet had landed in Sirius’ lap along with a scroll sealed officially by the Ministry of Magic. Sirius had opened the scroll first, which had read;

To Sirius Orion Black,

Greetings from the Ministry of Magic; Department of Law Enforcement

Madam Amelia Bones, Head of the DMLE

Lord Black, I hope you have opened this first. In any case, I brought your testimony and that of the emancipated Lord Potter to a session of the Wizengamot, minus the Minister, Cornelius Archibald Fudge. After viewing the testimony there was very little reason for debate.

You have been officially cleared of all charges; your records purged. The Dementors and Aurors had been pulled off your case and re-directed to find Peter Andrew Pettigrew, per the testimonies.

Furthermore, the Ministry has chosen to recompense you for your time in Azkaban prison, per the average salary for a witch or wizard in Britain. The amount of 12,500 Galleons has been deposited in your Gringotts account, breaking down to just under 1,000 Galleons per year.

Per your testimonies, there has been other developments, but I won’t keep the surprise from yourself or Lord Potter. Suffice to say, I hope you enjoy our paper’s headlines this morning.                                                                                                                                 

Amelia Bones,            

Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement

Ministry of Magic

London

With shaking fingers Sirius had spread out the copy of the Daily Prophet, revealing the front-page headlines for everyone to see. In bold dark letters the top headline announced Sirius Black Innocent: Framed by Former Friend! The next one announced, Manhunt begins for Peter Pettigrew: Coward and Traitor. It was the last that surprised them all; Emancipated Lord Harry Potter Speaks: Voldemort Has Returned followed by Vote of No Confidence for Minister of Magic; Who Will Undo Fudge’s Blunder?

Trembling a little, Sirius had promptly announced a small trip to the park across from Grimmauld. The man’s clear anxiousness about going outside as himself hurt Harry’s heart, but he stayed nearby, rolling his eyes at Remus’ suspicious glances. Sure he knew their closeness looked strange from an outside point of view, but in his mind none of these people had the slightest excuse to be judgmental. They hadn’t spent long in the park, just long enough for Sirius to begin to relax and chat more freely with Harry and the others.

The far more testing trip had been the outing to Diagon Alley to get school supplies. Sirius hadn’t been in Diagon Alley since before he was arrested, the crowds initially had been a bit overwhelming. He’d clearly been drawing on his pureblood upbringing to stay in control and avoid the stares and whispers. A woman with dark, curly hair and sharp blue eyes had approached them and snapped at the crowd, “Take a picture, it’ll last longer!”

Several people had outright eeped and moved away, while others blushed in mortification and tried to disappear into the cobblestone. Sirius had burst out laughing. Thus Harry and the rest of their party had ‘met’ Andromeda Tonks nee Black, who insisted on calling her daughter Nymphadora. She was far more carefree and open than Harry remembered from his future, the war had weighed down on her harder than most.

Now she greeted her cousin with a warm hug and a smile, a hand on his shoulder as she eyed him closely. “Looking better than I’d thought after all that time, Sirius.”

“Well it helped that I was a stunner to begin with,” Sirius retorted in a mock haughty voice.

“You think,” Andromeda retorted.

Sirius had introduced the group, Andromeda greeting Harry and Remus, whom she had met before, much more warmly than some of the others. Then she had appointed herself their guide and assistant, sounding delighted when Harry had asked her to help him pick out a more suitable wardrobe for a teenage wizard and a very young Lord.

“You don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into, Harry,” Tonks had groaned, eyeing the way her mother’s eyes sparked with eagerness.

Molly was with them, much to Harry’s displeasure, and tried to talk Harry out of getting a new wardrobe. “Your things now fit you fine, dear.”

“No they don’t,” he said coldly. “My personal clothes all mostly belonged to my cousin at some point, who was never less than double my size. My Hogwarts robes are two years old and far too short and I am a Lord of a Noble House now, I’m not just a student.”

A very awkward silence had fallen over the group, Molly looking both hurt and angry. They had decided to split up, Tonks and Emmaline Vance accompanied Molly, Arthur, Ron and Ginny. Remus, Andromeda, Kingsley and Hermione had come along with Harry and Sirius. Still seething a bit from the conversation with Molly, Harry had turned to Andromeda and gave a tight smile. “Lead the way, ma’am.”

“It’s Andromeda,” she said, shrewd gaze staring at him for a long moment.

What had followed was a shopping trip of epic proportions. Andromeda was a whirling dervish of activity, leading them first to Twilfit and Tattings, a more upscale robes shop than Malkin’s. Inside, she had prodded Harry, Hermione and to his protest, Sirius, onto stools and began a rapid-fire conversation with the seamstress. Color, materials, cut, before Harry knew it each of them stepped down and were handed the start of an entire wizarding wardrobe, with more to be delivered later. Harry had paid for Hermione’s robes, to her protests.

“You can buy all the rest of your clothes,” Harry said, rather uncomfortable with even mentioning girl things. “These robes are a bit more expensive but they’re worth every Knut according to Andromeda, so let me get them for you. If it feels like too much, consider it a birthday present, I always get you books.”

Giggling at her friends’ obvious discomfort talking about ‘lady things’, Hermione had huffed out a sigh and agreed. While in Tattings they had picked out underwear, gloves, socks, sleepwear and several comfortable sets of shoes each. Spotting a nicely tailored black dragonhide leather jacket with gold plated buckles in Sirius’ size, Harry had snatched it up, purchased it and given it to Sirius as a little gift.

Delighted, Sirius had shrugged into it immediately, wrapping Harry into a warm hug in thanks. Hooking his thumbs into a pair of brand-new denim trousers and wearing a pair of black boots, Sirius had looked much more comfortable and happier as they moved out into the Alley again, deciding to break for lunch.

Sirius and Harry had eaten at record speed before Sirius suggested they go to a couple of stores while the others finished eating. They had set off, going to a hairdresser first where Sirius had gotten his wild hair cut back to spiky tips just reaching his earlobes and Harry had actually gotten his lengthened out, touching his shoulders and falling much more neatly as a result. He’d purchased several hair ties to keep it out of his face, trying not to blush at Sirius’ speculative looks.

Then they had gone to a small specialty shop where, ignoring his protests, Sirius had paid for Harry to get his eyes fixed via a specialty potion that Harry did not want to know the cost of. The clear surprise on his face at the clarity of everything around him had made both the oculist and Sirius very angry on his behalf. Sirius had nearly exploded a few things upon learning the glasses he’d been wearing were cheap reading glasses and had been damaging his eyesight even more.

After picking up the last of their school supplies the last stop had been Ollivanders, where Harry had gotten a trio of wand holsters for himself, Hermione and Sirius. Sirius had been matched with a new wand, 11 ½ inches, reasonably supple, made of cypress wood and dragon heartstring. His previous one had been snapped when he was arrested and sentenced to Azkaban. Harry had been privately laughing at the symbolism, the wood/core pair suited Sirius to a tee.

Sirius had escorted Harry to the platform, reluctance visible on his face. Now that he’d known what to look for, he’d pointed out Umbridge’s appointment as Hogwarts Professor in the paper. Hermione was curious but wary, they hadn’t had the best track record with Defense professors over the years. Knowing what awaited Harry at the school, even just part of it, Sirius had been reluctant to let him leave.

He’d hugged Sirius, reassured him that he would be fine and told him to write about his progress. As part of his release, Amelia had written another letter suggesting Sirius go to St. Mungo’s and submit to a physical and mental evaluation. He’d spent twelve years constantly surrounded by Dementors and the feelings and memories they’d caused to resurface. Sirius had been put on a strict diet and potions regime to counteract his depression and the damage to his body, as well as required therapy sessions twice a week. Under Harry’s unyielding expression he’d agreed to go, knowing it would help in the long run even if he hated the idea right now.

In his now non-existent future Luna had forced him to go to therapy after the war. He’d fought it strongly, not thinking there was anything wrong. After only the first evaluation session he’d been proved wrong. Turned out bottling everything until he exploded was not the proper way to deal with PTSD, abuse and normal teenage feelings. His therapist had been very alarmed at everything that Harry had been put through, insisting on thrice-weekly sessions for more than a year before slacking them off to once a week.

Now Harry sat in an empty compartment, watching the landscape outside the train and wondering at the feelings he felt. As excited as he was to see Hogwarts again, there was a part of him that wondered if he’d ever forget the sight of it after the war, broken and burning. There was a wistfulness to his thoughts, he’d not gone back to the school after the war. He’d never seen it after they rebuilt and classes started again, already absorbed in his career.

Ron and Hermione had gone to the front to be briefed on their Prefect duties, leaving him by himself. Ron had yet to attempt one of his half-baked apologies, Harry was beginning to wonder if he was going to apologize at all. He’d been staring at Harry resentfully all morning, glaring at his dark gold button-up shirt, black cotton slacks and sensible traveling shoes. Hermione looked very pretty and put together as well in a pale blue suit dress and wedge heeled boots.

Harry had made himself comfortable in his compartment, opening Umbridge’s idea of approved teaching methods for the sheer amusement. It was utter trash of course, but having lived through the woman’s teaching once, he was not intimidated by her in the slightest. He was being cautious of course, one would be a fool not too with how dangerous she was likely to be, especially with her precious Cornelius ousted as Minister.

He was joined shortly in his compartment by Neville Longbottom and airy, delicate Luna. Harry’s throat closed. As much as he missed his Luna, he was glad to have some form of her near again. Neville chatted on excitedly about his summer, showing off his sap-spitting plant. When he went to demonstrate it’s defensive ability, Harry said, “Nev, that might not be the best idea in the compartment.”

Neville paused, lowered his hand and looked sheepish. “I didn’t even think about it. Thanks Harry, probably not best to get covered in sap.”

“Especially if it stinks as much as you’re suggesting,” Harry joked, “don’t want Luna here to faint with two stinkier than usual teenage boys.”

Neville laughed and Luna smiled. Neville put his plant on a side table and left the compartment to go to the bathroom. Once he left the compartment Luna looked at him with an other-worldly gaze and said, “I haven’t met many touched by the Mother. You risked much coming back, but I’m glad you did. We missed out on many years of friendship.”

Harry stared. “You know I’m from the future?”

“You’re from one future,” Luna corrected, “one that no longer exists due to your actions so far. There are many possibilities in front of you, Harry, many paths. Be careful, you’re playing with Fate and she doesn’t like her weavings being meddled with.”

Harry gave a soft, incredulous laugh. “I always knew you were special Luna. I never realized how much so.”

Luna gave a soft smile. “At least you think I’m special. I haven’t heard anyone but my father say that.”

“You are, Luna,” he said, smiling. “You are a treasure, a very pure soul. I’m glad you’re here.”

“So am I,” she answered. “How is Hunter? Does he fight that you are his and he is yours? And the Moon, does he still resist his inner self?”

Harry was momentarily confused, then he snorted. Sirius, the dog star in the constellation of Orion the hunter. Remus, the wolf who changed with a full moon. Luna’s sight was subjective, her visions often conveyed in riddles. At least these ones were easy to solve.

“No and yes,” he replied, to which Luna frowned.

“That is dangerous for the Moon, it could kill him. Does he not realize that he and his inner self are one, reflections of the same image?”

“I doubt it,” Harry said dryly.

“Hmm,” Luna hummed, but she didn’t say more as they were joined in their compartment by Neville again.

Cho Chang stopped by with her friend Marietta, the same one who had sold out the DA last time. Harry remained distant throughout his conversation with her, making it clear he preferred Neville and Luna’s company to hers. She left, looking confused and slightly hurt. Harry didn’t care. There would be no awkward date, no accusations of seeing some other girl, no kiss through tears. He’d been little more than her coping mechanism, there would not be a repeat.

The compartment door slid open again, admitting Ginny. She breezed over and sat next to Harry across from Luna, chatting with the Ravenclaw. As long as she didn’t try to date him this time around Harry had no problem renewing a friendship with Ginny Weasley. She was bright and clever, a little powerhouse with the right spells and training. Fiery and brave, she was a potential friend if little else.

Hermione and Ron joined them, furiously recounting that Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson were the Slytherin prefects. Draco had earned it grade-wise, Harry knew. Parkinson had not, there were several other Slytherin girls that were more suiting than her. However, Severus Snape was an active Death Eater again and had to stay in favor with his fellows. Parkinson had parents in the Mark, Daphne Greengrass and half-blood Tracy Davis did not.

Ron threw himself into a seat across from Neville, crossing his arms and sulking. Harry hadn’t bought any of the treats from the trolley lady this year, it wasn’t his job to feed Ronald. In exchange for Sirius attending his own appointments at Saint Mungo’s and his therapy sessions, Harry had submitted to a full physical of his own. It had been, enlightening, to say the least.

Harry was on a potions regime nearly as intensive as Sirius’, his thanks to the leftovers of what the Healer had muttered was ‘severe abuse’. He hadn’t wanted Sirius to know how bad the Dursleys had gotten. It had been impossible to hide thanks to the severe scars and the list of nutrient potions, bone-strengthening potions, immunizations and boosters he’d been prescribed. And then there had been the several bones that had to be regrown entirely due to multiple breaks, including both his hands.

Harry had remarked mildly later that those were probably responsible for the severe arthritis he’d had starting at age thirty, not to mention the severe pain he had in his hands if he had to write with a quill for too long. Sirius had been almost visibly gritting his teeth, a low growl making it’s way past his control. The man had his Animagus form temporarily bound so that he couldn’t escape into his Animagus when his emotions got too hard to handle. It was a condition from his therapist, who had confronted Sirius with the truth that he’d been using his Animagus as a coping mechanism, which was not healthy.

He exited the train when they reached the platform, heading for the carriages. As he reached their chosen one, he stopped at the lead Thestral’s head and reached out to pet it’s nose. The creatures were strange looking, that was sure, but Harry knew how misrepresented they were and held a fondness for them.

“Harry,” Hermione said, a confused look on her face, “what are you touching?”

“They’re called Thestrals,” Harry explained, to a look of sad understanding from her.

“What are you going on about?” Ron snapped, looking irritable. “I can’t see a bloody thing.”

“That’s because Thestrals can only be seen by those who have witnessed death, Ron,” Harry said coolly.

The redhead glared at him a moment and then got into the carriage with a huff. Harry gave the Thestral a last scratch and approached the carriage himself, resisting the urge to beat the crap out of Ronald. Soon, he would demand some sort of ultimatum from Ron. He wasn’t going to put up with this for any longer than necessary.

The carriage ride was awkward, most of their companions sensing the odd tension between Ron and Harry. Harry exited the carriage first and put himself between Neville and Hermione on the walk in, ignoring Ron completely. He sat down, listened to the Sorting Hat’s dire song and then paid attention to Umbridge’s sickly sweet speech, picking up what he had missed last time.

Her eyes were scanning the Gryffindor table as she spoke, and then narrowed as she caught his gaze. A thin, poisonous smile crossed her lips and Harry felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. She was dangerous, even more so this time. Harry would make sure she didn’t have time to damage any of the students or the school this time around. She would be gone by the end of the week.

He wouldn’t settle for anything less.

Chapter Text

It had been unsurprisingly very easy to get a detention with Delores. His first class with her was three days into term, he’d heard from other students that she’d been handing out detentions like some handed out sweets. He felt anxious, he had to stop her before she got rolling. Even without the backing of Cornelius Fudge, she was if possible even more dangerous now. Harry had faced down Dementors, Death Eaters and Voldemort a total of five times. In his old life, the one that had come closest to making him afraid was this demented witch.

He’d sat in near about the middle of the classroom, pulling out his book and his wand, even though he knew she was going to tell them to put it away. She had done so, stating who she was and that she had been appointed by the Board of Governors as an ‘approved’ teacher, crinkling her nose as she noted the previous incompetence. Knowing now that her behavior was specifically directed at Remus, her words made Harry’s blood boil. He may not have settled his issues with the werewolf, but he wasn’t going to let her degrade him either.

She’d instructed them to read the first chapter of Slinkhard’s book, ignoring Hermione’s rapid-fire questions as well as the other students protesting the lack of practical spell work in their O.W.L. year. They had reluctantly settled down, reading the text with no small amount of grumbling. Harry waited until near enough the end of the class to close his book and raise his hand. He kept it up even with her deliberately trying to ignore him, gaining the curious eyes of his fellow students.

Finally deigning to speak with him, she looked at him with beady, glittering eyes and said sweetly, “Mr. Potter?”

“You said this text is approved by the Ministry in general and the Board of Governors in particular, Madam Umbridge?”

“It is,” she simpered.

“Then I will have to not so respectfully call you out on your bullshit, ma’am,” Harry said pleasantly, to an appreciative snigger from a few of his classmates.

“Excuse me—” she started, smile gaining a fixed appearance.

“As an emancipated minor and Lord of a Noble House, it’s a small thing for me to request notes from the meetings of the Board of Governors,” Harry continued, ignoring her. “The Board did not in fact express any concerns over our education so far and suggested a perfectly reasonable choice of text for students about to take important testing.”

“The only one who would have suggested that we had ‘incompetent’ teachers or need ‘correction’ would have been Fudge, and he’s not exactly one to talk,” Harry finished with a rather cool smirk. “After all, he’s in the process of being drummed out of the Ministry on his arse thanks to his latest ‘fudging’ of events.”

There was rampant sniggering over his words from the other students as Dolores gaped at him, looking rather fish-like. There was a tint of color in her cheeks and her voice was exceptionally soft as she said, “Detention, Mr. Potter, for your absurd lies and cheek.”

“Have a nice day, ma’am,” Harry replied, standing up and walking out of the classroom.

So here he was, several hours later, heading to his detention in Dolores’ office at eight p.m. She would use the blood quill, making him write I must not tell lies until it ‘sank in’. He would promptly go to the hospital wing and report it, innocently mentioning that she’d made him use a quill that drew his own blood. He’d learned years later that outside of official documents in Gringotts the quill she’d made him use was not only highly illegal, but a very Dark artifact.

He opened the door to the Defense classroom and made his way to the back of the room. Climbing the short staircase he knocked politely on the door. She called for him to enter and he did so, wrinkling his nose slightly at what was a truly obscene amount of the color pink. And far too many cats. He was more of a dog person himself. Snorting quietly at his own bad joke, Harry turned to Umbridge.

“You are far too stubborn and independent for your own good, Mr. Potter. I had thought to make you write some lines for me, but your actions as of late inside the classroom and outside of Hogwarts walls deserve more. You deserve to be punished, Mr. Potter. I expect you to thank me for the correction when we are done here.”

She took out her short, stubby wand and flicked it, casting a spell. Harry felt some slight trepidation as he recognized a silencing ward. What was this crazy woman going to do to him?

She pointed her wand at him and said with a cold smile, “Crucio.”

*

Pain. It fired through literally every nerve in his body, turning onto his side was pushing the limits of his tolerance. Harry licked his lips, smiling grimly at the coppery taste. He’d pushed her past the point of reason by refusing to scream even as she left the curse on him for far longer than anyone else had. He’d bitten into his lip hard enough to draw blood, but he hadn’t screamed.

She wasn’t in the room now, having left for her private quarters after managing to make him black out. He took several deep breaths and pulled himself to his knees. Harry was forced to pause again, the pain screaming through his body making him dizzy and nauseous. Cautiously he tried to pull his leg under him to stand, only for his body to rebel and he vomited pure bile from the pain. He’d been under this spell several times before, but never for quite so long.

She’d never given him a long enough break between to even grab his wand and defend himself. He extracted it from his holster now, shakily croaking ‘Tempus’. He winced, almost two hours. He was lucky he wasn’t in a state similar to the Longbottom parents. He’d been saved by her inability to hold the spell that long. She’d spaced it out with lectures on how he was a filthy, dirty half-blood and should be thankful to learn his place.

Harry forced himself to his feet, moving to her fireplace. He knew she had Floo Powder stored on the mantle. Once he had the powder he didn’t so much sink onto his knees as almost fall, his body shaking too hard to hold him up. Hoping that Amelia was still in her office, he threw a pinch of powder into the Floo and croaked, “Ministry of Magic, Department of Magical Law Enforcement.”

The fire flared green and an Auror’s head appeared in the flames. “Flooing into the Ministry offices is an emergency only basis,” he said, sounding annoyed.

“And as I happen to be Lord Potter, I’m well aware of that,” Harry tried for a snap but was convinced it was more likely a croak. “Is Amelia Bones still in her office?”

“Oh, Lord Potter! I’m sorry,” the man looked contrite. “Let me get her.”

There was a few moments silence aside from the crackling flames, during which Harry battled to stay conscious. The pain was getting to be a bit much. His hands were shaking uncontrollably with after-tremors, his entire body shivering with them.

“Lord Potter,” Amelia’s voice was a welcome sound. “I’m surprised to hear from you, aren’t you currently at Hogwarts.”

“I am,” Harry croaked. “I just had a detention with Dolores Umbridge, our new Defense professor. I wish to press criminal charges. Amelia, she’s held me under the Cruciatus on and off for the last two hours,” Harry’s voice was little more than a rasp.

Amelia Bones inhaled in shock, her eyes taking him in with new understanding. “Where are you?”

“Floo is Hogwarts School, Defense Against the Dark Arts office.”

Harry let the Floo call go, reassured that he was going to be believed. His body had enough, resisting his best attempt to stop it he dropped to the rug and passed out.

*

When consciousness swam back to Harry again, he opened his eyes to a white ceiling and frothy white curtains. There was a low hum of voices around him, but none in the room where he apparently was. He felt a familiar tingling from his magic and blinked. Sirius! He attempted to move his head, only for pain to flare suddenly through his body, making him gasp.

He sucked in a sharp breath through gritted teeth, closing his eyes and attempting to control the spasms of pain ripping through his body. There was a sudden warmth wrapped around his shoulders and against his left side. Through his shaky breathing he heard Sirius’ voice low and reassuring in his ear, urging him to try and relax instead of tensing his body.

It took a fair bit to follow Sirius’ advice, Harry almost passing out again. Finally he took a shaky breath and cautiously raised his head, meeting concerned grey eyes. “Let’s not do that again,” he said, voice a bit shaky.

Sirius didn’t move, but he reached over and grabbed his wand, sending a spell jetting out the door Harry hadn’t noticed. “Where am I?”

“Saint Mungo’s,” Sirius answered. “You were transferred here to the Emergency Spell Damage ward after Amelia Bones flooed into Hogwarts with a pair of Aurors and found you passed out on the floor with severe after-shocks from prolonged exposure to the Cruciatus Curse.”

Sirius’ grey eyes darkened angrily and flashed a bit as he finished. Looking at Harry he said pointedly, “Don’t worry Sirius. It will only be once and the damage isn’t permanent.”

Harry winced, that’s what he’d told Sirius about getting Umbridge ousted from Hogwarts.

“I don’t know what your definition of ‘permanent’ is Harry, but being put under the Cruciatus Curse for almost two hours can cause some pretty permanent nerve damage.”

“It was an elevated response,” Harry sighed. “Last time Fudge wasn’t ousted from the Ministry until after the events of this year. I pissed her off, so she responded differently. Last time she made me write lines with a Blood Quill. That’s what I was referring to.”

“Well she’s gotten the award for shortest term at Hogwarts,” Sirius said, teeth still gritted. “Dumbledore was so shocked at what she’d done that he didn’t even have time to suggest you be treated at the school. Not that Amelia would have taken that suggestion, there’s a specific potion that has to be administered to nullify the damage to the nerves. You have quite a bit of damage, it’s going to take at least three doses according to your Healer.”

Harry reached out and placed a hand on Sirius’ neck under his jawline, ignoring the way his fingers were shaking. “I’m sorry,” he said, brushing his fingers lightly along Sirius throat. “I didn’t have a clue she was going to do this and I can’t imagine how it must have been on your end.”

“I’m refraining the urge to give her a piece of my mind,” Sirius muttered, covering Harry’s hand with his own. The older man gently tilted his chin up and captured his lips in a lingering kiss, reaching to wrap his free arm around Harry’s waist and pull him closer. Harry relaxed, feeling the worried tension in Sirius’ arm.

They parted slowly, both savoring the closeness. Harry grimaced as he tried to move, but with Sirius’ help and slow, shuffling movements he was able to move into a reclined sitting position. Contemplating Sirius’ words he said, “Dumbledore tried to have me treated at the school?”

Sirius nodded. “He didn’t want you to leave the grounds, but Amelia called him on it. You’re excused from classes for the rest of this week as well, Umbridge’s trial is tomorrow.”

Harry blinked. “That’s quick, even for criminal charges the Wizengamot normally takes at least a week to convene for trials.”

Sirius gave him a little look and a snort of amusement. “Until you go and say things like that I sometimes forget that you’re actually mentally older than I am.”

“Well that’s not hard,” Harry deadpanned, to an injured look from Sirius. “Also I’d been an Auror for almost twenty years, it took me two years to get through the academy. I was a shoo-in for Head of the department when the current Head retired in two more years.”

“Impressive. I think you’d have gotten the record for the youngest Head of a department ever, you’d have been not even 42 and the previous youngest was 48-years-old I think.”

Looking at Harry, Sirius asked, “Are you considering going back into the Auror force in this timeline?”

“No,” Harry said, gaining a slightly surprised look from Sirius at how quickly he’d responded. “I went into the Auror force then because it was expected of me and I’d basically been groomed by Dumbledore to put my life on the line for others. I’m not sure what I’d want this time around, actually,” Harry frowned.

“At the risk of sounding somewhat unappreciative of your past life, I’m glad you don’t want to do the same career,” Sirius said. “I’m a bit possessive, I would have problems with you facing off against Dark wizards and the scum of the magical world for the rest of your career.”

Harry snorted. “Gee, I would never have guessed,” he teased Sirius.

The other man simply rolled his eyes.

At that moment the Healer walked in, the same woman who was treating him for his malnutrition and damage by the Dursleys. Sirius moved from his position on the edge of Harry’s bed to a chair so that she could cast her scans unimpeded. She did so with rapid flicks of her wand, studying pieces of parchment that appeared with the ease of long practice.

“You are doing much better, Mr. Potter. The nerve damage when you were brought in was severe, exacerbated by the damage done by your relatives. The damage is healing, but my initial thoughts were correct, you will require at least two more doses of the Nerve Regenerant. You can self-administer them; I will consider releasing you in four hours if you rest until then. Mr. Black can stay if he wishes, but you need to remain lying down, please.”

“Now,” she said briskly, “how are you feeling?”

“Hurting a bit,” Harry admitted. “I had a mild spasm after I first woke up, my back and legs are still tight and sore.”

“I’m not surprised, the after-tremors from the Cruciatus Curse are often just as painful as the spell itself and can do quite a bit of damage. I have a level two pain potion for you here, I’ll get a glass of water for afterwards.”

After Harry took the pain potion and drank the water his Healer left. Harry and Sirius spent the rest of his time in Saint Mungo’s chatting quietly, discussing everything and nothing, avoiding any issues of great importance.

Sometimes, Harry thought wryly, even the best laid plans go… awry.

Chapter Text

Remus Lupin was in a bit of a conundrum. The closeness between Harry and Sirius had been niggling on his human conscious. So close to his last transformation however, the wolf in the back of his mind had no problem whatsoever, even seeming a bit irritated with his misgivings. Remus got the impression the wolf affectionately named ‘Moony’ by James and Sirius was trying to tell him something, but for the life of him he couldn’t figure out what. He knew he had no right to judge or ask, especially right now while he treaded on such unstable ground with Harry.

He had felt upset at Harry’s standoffish behavior from the moment he’d seen the teenager again, the cold voice. He hadn’t understood why Harry was being so strange, while at the same time seeming so much more mature and confident with only a year between their last conversation. And then Harry had confronted him, telling him in no uncertain terms that Remus had betrayed the trust Harry had so cautiously extended to him.

There were several members of the Order that had serious misgivings about Harry’s life with the Dursley family, Molly was amongst the most outspoken. Then there was level-headed Minerva McGonagall who had made it clear she stood opposite Dumbledore on who Harry was raised by. Any time Minerva was present at an Order meeting and Dumbledore said that Harry was best left at the Dursleys, Minerva had snorted, a scornful expression on her face.

Remus had often felt like pointing out that James had died for his son as well, not just Lily. There were several very secure Potter residences that he could remember off-hand, with more possibly listed in the Potter vaults. Albus had waved it off, dismissing James’ sacrifice for his wife and son as if it had been nothing, admitting that the Potter vaults had been locked down after their deaths.

When Albus had confronted Harry after his trial and Harry had revealed he was an emancipated minor and the vaults indeed hadn’t been locked down, Remus hadn’t been sure what to feel. On one hand he’d felt worried for Harry taking on his family Lordship at fifteen, it was an enormous burden. James had been nineteen when his parents were killed and he had taken over as the Lord Potter. Remus remembered how hard it had been on his friend.

It was strange to say, but Harry was far more mature than his father had been and he was only fifteen. He’d also felt slightly betrayed by Harry and his friend Sirius, when Sirius had backed Harry up with all the weight and power that came with being Lord of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black. Of course that was ridiculous, he hadn’t exactly earned their confidence. It still hurt, especially since to his knowledge Sirius hadn’t wanted the title.

Reflecting on more recent events, Remus admitted to himself it had been outright scary when Albus had come to Grimmauld. He had admitted that the new Defense professor had put Harry under the Cruciatus Curse and was awaiting trial. He had been angry, Moony growling furiously in the back of his head at the attack on what he saw as pack. But Sirius.

Sirius had been furious, face going white with rage and jaw locking, exploding a nearby glass vase with a lash of errant magic. Nearly shaking, he had demanded to know if Harry had been transferred to Saint Mungo’s yet, already standing and getting ready to leave. Albus had tried to calm him down, stating he wanted to see if he could get Harry treated at the school.

“In case you forgot, old man, there’s a very specific potion that has to be administered to keep away permanent nerve damage, and it’s only made at Saint Mungo’s. More than that, I find it to be suspicious that you’re trying to keep Harry from leaving the school after this. That bitch is going to go on trial, he has the right to be present. Lastly, he’s an emancipated minor and Lord of his House, you can’t stop him.”

Remus had been surprised and slightly suspicious at Albus’ words. The man had tried to hedge around the subject, pointing out that Harry would be vulnerable to attack outside the security of the school. Forgetting temporarily who he was speaking to, Albus had demanded Sirius stop and not leave the house. There had been a scarily cold expression on Remus’ friend face as he stared down the Headmaster and said,

“I’m not one of your students anymore, Headmaster. I haven’t been for some time; I suggest you remember it. I also suggest you try for a more polite tone of voice when addressing me, I am not only the owner of this house, but Lord of the House of Black, you can’t order me to do anything. Lastly, you seem to forget that I’m a free man and can go wherever I want, whenever I please. Try to remember that.”

Sirius had left, presumably to Saint Mungo’s where Harry had been sent for treatment by Amelia Bones, Head of the DMLE. Umbridge had been arrested, shrieking about liars and incurable brats. They had been informed on that drama by Alastor Moody, who had gone to the school to help with the arrest on request of Amelia.

Now Sirius was back, escorting a pale Harry, whose hands still shook slightly from the damaged nerves. They had stopped in at Grimmauld so Harry could change into ‘proper’ attire as the teen stated. Remus and Bill had been elected to escort the pair to Umbridge’s trial. Harry looked pale but controlled, wearing robes in deep bronze and green silk over brown suede leather trousers and sturdy ankle boots, slightly lengthened hair tied back with a thin silk cord that matched the bronze shade of his robes.

Sirius looked both attractive and intimidating in his family colors of black and silver, staying close to Harry’s left side so he could support the teen. Harry had taken his second dose of the Nerve Regenerant as well as another level two Pain Potion and a Pepper Up which put a bit of color in his face. He was still obviously pale and not up to normal standards, which worried Remus. How long had he been under the curse? Normally it took one or maybe two doses to heal the damage the Cruciatus caused.

They walked into the courtroom to the whispers of the various Lords and Ladies. The whispers gathering volume at the sight of Sirius Black, who had not yet appeared at the Ministry even after his exoneration. Sirius was ignoring them entirely, escorting Harry up the stairs to a seat, followed closely by Bill and Remus. Remus felt out of place in the seat of Wizarding government, surrounded by finely dressed witches and wizards of powerful old lines.

Bill seemed fairly relaxed, leaning back comfortably into his seat and looking around in interest. He pulled his wand from inside his robes as he sat and twisted it in some fairly intricate patterns, casting spells that only faintly shimmered with color. He seemed to study empty air for a long moment before giving a satisfied nod. Leaning forward, he spoke to Sirius and Harry.

“I’ve put privacy wards and some minor wards against aggressive spells up, feel free to relax. Unless someone tries a seriously Dark hex in here, we should be fine. I doubt anyone will be casting that kind of spell in front of the entire Wizengamot unless they’re a complete idiot.”

“Thanks Bill,” Harry said softly, a fairly genuine smile crossing his lips. He hadn’t said much on the journey over nor at Grimmauld, it was nice to see a smile on his face despite what he’d been through.

Amelia Bones entered the room, sitting in her seat as Head of the DMLE. Noticeably empty was the seat for the Minister of Magic, Fudge having been drummed out of office. Technically Amelia could have sat there as the interim Minister, the fact that she was not clearly showed her place here as an administer of the Law.

She gave a Call to Order and spoke, her voice clear and firm. “I, Amelia Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, hereby open the trial of Dolores Jane Umbridge by the full Wizengamot on September 5^th, 1995. The charges are as follows, that Dolores Jane Umbridge, working in the capacity of Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry did, on the 3^rd of September 1995 cast the Cruciatus Curse on a student off and on for a two-hour time period.”

Outrage. Under the sudden roar from the Wizengamot Remus exchanged a stunned, sick look with Bill Weasley. They had been told that Harry had been put under the Cruciatus by Umbridge, but not the two hours bit. Suddenly the fact that he was still not completely healed made sickening sense. That he’d been released by Saint Mungo’s as quickly as he had was a nod to his constitution. They were lucky that Umbridge hadn’t done permanent mental or physical damage.

“The student involved is the emancipated minor Lord of the Noble House of Potter, Harry James Potter.”

The quivering form of Dolores Umbridge, chained in the center of the room, shrank back at the glares from over fifty witches and wizards at the announcement of her crimes. Amelia called forward a senior Auror, who happened to be Kingsley Shacklebolt and said curtly, “Please give your report, Auror Shacklebolt.”

Voice hard, Kingsley spoke. “The Auror Department cast Priori Incantatem on Dolores Umbridge’s wand, analyzing the results. The Cruciatus Curse shows up on less than ten times on her wand in a two-hour time period. We can surmise from these results that while she did have the power to cast the curse, she didn’t have the ability to keep it on Mr. Potter for longer than about fifteen, twenty minutes at a time.”

“For which we are all grateful, the last thing anyone in this Wizengamot would have wanted was to oversee another case like the one that put the Lestrange’s in Azkaban for life,” Amelia replied.

“Going by the accusations leveled against you, Ms. Umbridge and the spell history on your wand, we are going to administer Veritaserum here at your trial. Consent is negated due to the severity of your crime.”

Against Umbridge’s protests and her attempt to lock her jaw shut, two junior Aurors administered the potion. She went slack, all fight leaving her body as the enforced compliance of the potion kicked in.

“Are you Dolores Jane Umbridge?”

“Yes.”

“Were you a professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts?”

“Yes.”

“Did you cast the Cruciatus Curse on Harry James Potter intermittently for a two-hour time period?”

“Yes.”

Amid rising mutters of anger, Amelia continued.

“Why?”

“The brat deserved it, he should have been expelled at his trial but he faked his Lordship and wriggled free. As a result of his and that dirty Black’s actions, Cornelius lost his position as Minister. Harry Potter needed to be punished, he was dirty half-blood who should be thanking me for the correction. I made sure he knew it.”

There were a number of people that simply stared at Umbridge, unable to comprehend the vile words she had just spoken. Remus growled, lowly. In front of him, Sirius’ shoulders had gone stiff with anger.

“Have you taken any other actions against Harry James Potter?”

“I did. I was the one who sent the Dementors after him this summer. I had hoped they would simply Kiss the brat, he’s far too dangerous. How he managed a Patronus is beyond me, it’s far too advanced of magic for him. Then he wriggled out of getting expelled. I was determined to make him suffer, he’s a liar and the Dark Lord should have taken him out along with his filthy parents.”

The absolute rage that poured from the Wizengamot at her words stunned Remus. Not that he was protesting. No, he was sitting very still in his seat and restraining the urge to tear the little toad apart, especially at her words about James and Lily. In front of him Sirius was literally shaking with anger, impressing Remus with his control as he remained seated, wrapping one of Harry’s hands in his.

They administered the antidote to Dolores, the woman flinching at the expressions of cold fury on the members of the Wizengamot.

“In the case of Dolores Jane Umbridge against Harry James Potter, how does the Wizengamot find?” Amelia said coldly.

A stately witch in dark blue stood, the chosen speaker for the Wizengamot with Dumbledore ousted as Supreme Mugwump. “We find the defendant guilty on all charges, Madam Bones. Furthermore, sentencing is unanimous. While a use of the Unforgiveable Curses normally warrants a life sentence in Azkaban, Dolores Jane Umbridge’s crimes were against a minor, emancipated Lord or no. As such, we hereby sentence her to receive the Dementor’s Kiss.”

Umbridge outright screamed in impotent rage and fear, struggling against the Aurors who moved to secure her. In front of him, Remus noticed Harry’s grip on Sirius’ hand become vise-like, his breathing labored slightly. It took Remus a moment longer to notice the chilling cold that announced the Dementor’s presence. Several Aurors cast Patronus Charms, sending them to run a ring around the Wizengamot and observers. It left only the Aurors and Umbridge in the center with the creature.

The creature moved with dangerous intent to bear down on the trembling witch, reaching out with one skeletal hand. The Aurors moved back, their intervention now unnecessary. The sense of cold in the room increased, as did the volume of Harry’s shaky breathing. Concerned, Remus looked at him, noting how pale his face was. With a trembling hand he withdrew his wand, flicking it and whispering, voice cracking, “Expecto Patronum!”

Glowing white burst from the end of his wand as if he’d shouted it, convalescing into form in front of them. Remus stared. A glowing, shimmering white Padfoot stared impudently back, tail wagging slightly. In front of him, Sirius made a noise of surprise. It stayed in front of them, radiating warmth and light, attracting the attention of some of the Wizengamot due to its sheer brightness.

What?

Bewildered as he was by the changed form of Harry’s Patronus, Remus missed the moment the Dementor removed Dolores Umbridge’s soul from her body. When he looked up again, she was sagging back against her bonds, a slack look in her eyes.

Good riddance.

Chapter Text

After Harry explained how Patroni could change form in the privacy of his bedroom, Sirius felt his heart swell with love and protectiveness, not to mention gratitude. To know that Harry subconsciously loved and trusted him to that degree, that he was his guardian, it was a very overwhelming feeling. Sirius encouraged Harry to remove his fine robes and relax, he had to return to Hogwarts the next day, Dumbledore had been adamant about that. It was irritating, but after this year Harry had confirmed he was looking into a permanent Aging Potion to bring him out of his teens and out of Dumbledore’s grasp.

Sirius asked, “Why can’t you do it now, since that woman is gone?”

Harry’s answer was surprising. “I can’t, no matter how much I want to. When Umbridge was at the school before, she was able to help Fudge temporarily cast Dumbledore out of the school, they actually attempted to arrest him. I know a few things from the future that could help, I’d like to get him thrown out of the school permanently.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to get him out of the Ministry first, then work on the school?”

“One would think so, but if Dumbledore was left with what has been the seat of his power for most of his career, I fear what he would do to hold onto it. I don’t want to endanger students and I’m not entirely sure of what he’s capable of doing if pushed too far. So to be safer I need him kicked out of the school. Also, Hogwarts was once one of the premier schools of magic, it’s now something of a laughingstock. I want Dumbledore out so that the Board can do reforms on the school and begin raising its reputation again. The students deserve it, current and future.”

“But not you?” Sirius asked softly.

Harry curled in on himself a bit, his reaction startling Sirius. His eyes were a bit distant, his voice full of emotion. “The war ended at Hogwarts in my timeline. The Battle of Hogwarts, we called it later on. They put a big bronze statue on the grounds to commemorate the battle on the tenth anniversary, the base was etched with the names of all those that had been lost fighting. I didn’t go to the unveiling ceremony for the statue, several others in the Auror Department that resented my rapid ascent through the Department questioned me. They said I didn’t deserve my regard with the wizarding world, that I’d insulted the ones we lost.”

“I told them. I told them that I hadn’t been back to Hogwarts since the end of the war. I told them that despite the therapy I’d been forced to go to as part of my treatment for PTSD I still saw Hogwarts as it was when the war ended. I still saw the towers crumbled and broken, the Clocktower Courtyard a pile of rubble and bodies, the Quidditch Pitch on fire. I still saw the ripped gouges in the earth from the Giant’s clashes, the blood coating broken stone, the staircases in ruin.”

“Even now, in a time when that hasn’t happened and I pray to the Goddess to keep it from ever getting that far, I still see it that way,” Harry whispered, staring at his hands.

The vivid way that Harry had described it left nothing to the imagination and Sirius shuddered as he imagined familiar places in the condition Harry had seen them. The school had always been a place of innocent memories for him, childish mishaps with his friends and learning about magic. But Harry, for Harry those memories were tainted with the stain of a brutal war, one he should never have had to be involved in.

“Are you suffering from nightmares being there?” Sirius asked, softly. He was concerned, knowing that likely some of the names on the statue were students he currently went to school with.

“Some nights,” Harry admitted. “Not all, but some. It’s harder to look at people in the school and not see them as one of the casualties three years later. It’s hard to know someone’s fate if events don’t change, it makes me more convicted that I have to change things. I don’t want to see a bunch of students’ names on a memorial.”

“We’ll change it,” Sirius promised.

There was a knock on the door, startling them both. Sirius pushed Harry back onto the bed when he went to rise, giving him a pointed look. He needed to rest, he still had one dose of Nerve Regenerant that he needed to take for the last of the damage and he was still weak. Instead, Sirius rose, walked over to the door and opened it.

Remus Lupin stood on the other side of the door, a determined expression on his face.

“Hey Moony, what’s going on?” Sirius said casually.

“I need to talk to you,” Remus said bluntly. “Harry as well, I know he’s in your room.”

Shoulders tensing, Sirius opened the door a bit more and stepped back, letting his long-time friend into the room. Remus spotted Harry resting on Sirius’ bed in a t-shirt and jeans and his mouth thinned.

Having a feeling this was not going to be a pleasant conversation, Sirius closed the door and promptly both locked it and put a one-way silencing charm on, blocking sound from exiting the room but letting them hear if someone was outside the door. Then he walked over to the bed, dragging over a chair for Remus before sitting near Harry, dragging the teen’s legs over his lap to Harry’s surprised expression.

Remus didn’t sit, his back and shoulders rigidly tense.

“I was surprised to see your Patronus, Harry,” he began mildly, but with a bit of bite in his voice. “Granted I haven’t seen it since the end of your third year, but I hadn’t expected it to change. Patroni don’t change very often, after all.”

“They only change with a personal event that causes significant upheaval in a witch or wizard. Death of a loved one, falling in love with someone on a deep emotional level, there was one case of a Patronus changing to match that of a man’s lover that was another’s spouse,” Harry replied, voice deliberately calm.

It seemed to put Remus off-guard a bit, but he forged on. “Considering who your Patronus now resembles, you can see my concern then? After all, deep emotional love between a 15-year-old and his 35-year-old godfather is statutory rape in the eyes of most governments.”

Harry’s eyes burned with anger, but it was Sirius who replied, angry. “What the hell, Remus?! I thought you’d at least try to talk to us before throwing accusations like that at me. I mean I know there’s twelve years missing, but do you really think I’d do something like that? For your information, I haven’t done anything more than kiss Harry and that was entirely willing on both our parts. No matter what you seem to think I’m capable of, I’m not going to do anything until it’s morally and legally ethical.”

Remus looked a bit taken aback at Sirius’ vehemence, but he was angry. Remus had known him for years; he’d never done anything like that. But now, already on shaky ground with Harry he all but accuses Sirius of rape of all things?

Harry’s voice is frigid. “Aside from that, Lupin, it may please you to know that we are soulmates. It was confirmed by the goblins, though I already knew about it.”

Remus gaped, after flinching at Harry’s voice when Harry had said his surname. Then he bristled, “Soulmates are extraordinarily rare, how did you already know about it before the goblins?”

“It kind of helps that I’m from twenty-three years into the future,” Harry deadpanned.

Sirius blankly stared at Harry, shocked that he’d just out and dropped that on Remus.

Remus snorted in disbelief. “You really expect me to believe that, Harry? Time-travel only works into the past a few hours, they can’t do it into the future at all. You’re a fifteen-year-old boy trying to rationalize a crush on an older man, you’re just confused. Don’t try and throw it off with some bull like time-travel.”

Harry pulled his legs off Sirius’ lap, standing up. He walked over to his things he’d left behind in Sirius’ room since he wouldn’t need them at the school, stored in a secondary trunk he’d bought in Diagon Alley. He picked up what looked like a tiny cup, snapping his wand in front of Remus and conjuring from thin air a small table. It was seventh-year material, clearly catching Remus off-guard.

Walking over, he set the small object on the table and flicked his wand again, resizing it. It was a wide shallow bowl of a shiny material, etched around the entire rim with tiny runes. “This, Remus Lupin, is a Pensieve. It’s mine, I bought it in Diagon Alley along with the dress robes I wore to my ‘hearing’. If you want to call me a confused liar, like Umbridge I add, here is my irrefutable evidence. My memories, from my 1995 and onward. I retained them when the Goddess sent me back, I am still mentally 38 years old.”

He gestured to the bowl. “Go on, unless you wish to keep deluding yourself that I’m a child who doesn’t know any better. Sirius, you’re welcome to go with him, I know you’re curious. You’ve never doubted me, but you still deserve to see them if you wish. I’ll stay here, I have no wish to see what I’ve lived through. Placing a finger in the liquid will suffice.”

Suddenly cautious, Remus said, “I don’t want to violate your privacy, Harry.”

Harry snorted. “You already have, Lupin, by barging in here and judging us without even asking about our relationship. You are very close to being cut off entirely by me, Lupin. I’m not asking you if you want to see, I’m all but ordering you to look. I’m tired of your judgmental comments and behaviors, all those suspicious looks that you think I haven’t seen.”

Remus went red, exchanging a cautious look with Sirius, whose face was closed-off and angry.

Sirius curtly nodded at Remus, reaching out to touch Harry on his knee softly, knowing how much Harry hated everything they were about to see. He had been curious about Harry’s now defunct future, but he’d been waiting for Harry to be ready to share it. The fact that Remus had forced it made him angry.

They simultaneously reached out and touched the silvery liquid, bracing themselves for the weird sensation of being transported into Harry’s memories. Orienting themselves, Sirius whirled on Remus and snarled, “I don’t know what the fuck your problem is, Remus, but I’m not happy with you right now. Harry’s got a former future that you can’t imagine, I was waiting for him to be ready to share it with me. When has he ever lied, or been confused?”

Around them, blank silver was swirling into recognizable form. Fifteen-year-old Harry, standing in a dark forest with Hermione, Ron, a tiny girl with blonde hair and radish earrings, Ginny Weasley and round-faced Neville, who looked a lot like his dad but with his mother’s softness.

“I s’pose we’re going to ride on the back of one of those kacky snorgle things?” The younger version of Ron was demanding of the girl. She calmly refuted him, “They can’t fly, but they can, and Hagrid says they’re very good at finding the places their riders are looking for.”

A still-bespectacled Harry whirled around, Sirius and Remus following his gaze and shivering. Thestrals, several of them.

“Yes,” Harry whispered, moving forward and patting the closest one. “We’d need six of them, if you’re really determined.”

“They’ll come,” the younger version of Ginny said confidently. “You two are covered in blood and Hagrid attracts them with raw meat.”

The scene swirled around them, forming again. They were in an exceptionally dark corridor, surrounded by glowing orbs. Prophecies, Sirius realized, looking next to him to see a rattled Remus had come to the same conclusion.

“We must be in the Department of Mysteries,” Remus said, shaken.

A high-pitched cackle came from in front of them and the group of teenagers, some of which looked worse for the wear. Harry was still steady, looking worriedly around him.

“The little baby woke up fwightened and fort what it dweamed was twoo,” said a horrible mocking voice, one Sirius recognized instantly. His back stiffened and he snarled in outrage as a woman with wild black hair and hooded eyes stepped forward, mocking Harry.

“Give us the prophecy, Potter,” Lucius Malfoy’s arrogant drawling voice demanded.

Conversation followed, Harry and his friends remaining tightly grouped together, each pointing their wands at one of the Death Eaters lurking in the dark corridor.

“NOW!” Bellowed Harry, he and each of the other students casting strong Reducto at the shelves holding the prophecies. They began to cascade downward, shattering friend and foe alike in broken glass.

The scene reformed yet again, Harry and the other students fighting the Death Eaters in a chamber with a tall stone archway and faint, shimmering curtains that whispered in a non-existent breeze.

Above the students, a door burst open. Sirius and Remus watched as Tonks, Moody, Kingsley and versions of themselves burst through, the version of Sirius hurtling himself at Antonin Dolohov just as the man had raised his wand.

“Petrificus Totalus!” Dolohov crashed down, the past version of Sirius yelling “Nice, now take Neville and the Prophecy and run!” Dashing forward simultaneously to intercept Bellatrix.

Dumbledore appeared a few moments later, Death Eaters’ yelling at each other and Apparating away. However, still in the midst of a vicious fight was Sirius and Bellatrix, neither one willing to back down.

“You can do better than that, Bellatrix!” Sirius shouted at Bella. Standing next to Remus, the alive Sirius knew what was going to happen.

A jet of red light hit his other self square in the chest, eyes widening in surprise. He staggered backwards, arching backwards and falling through the Veil. Next to him, the current Remus hissed in pain at the sight.

“SIRIUS!” past Harry screamed, the sheer agony in the sound making both men cringe. Past Remus jumped forward, wrapping his arms around the teen. “He’s gone, Harry! He’s gone…”

The scene swirled again, dumping them in the Headmaster’s office. It was only Harry and Dumbledore in there, Harry standing at the door, “Let me out.”

“No,” Dumbledore replied.

They watched in a sort of stunned disbelief as Harry lost it, screaming viscerally at Dumbledore, throwing several of his things and shattering them with the sheer force of what was obviously an overwhelming grief. Sirius was stunned, even knowing Harry was his soulmate and if things hadn’t changed this would have happened, it warmed his heart in an odd way to know that Harry would react this way to him dying.

And then, on top of Harry’s overwhelming grief, Dumbledore showed him the Prophecy.

“The One with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…And the Dark Lord shall mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows now. And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives…The One with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…”

Neither man having heard the Prophecy in its entirety before, it was quite the thing to absorb. It unequivocally pointed at Harry, as Dumbledore explained.

The scene changed yet again, an older Harry in a cave with a weakened Dumbledore whose hand was blackened, watching in shocked revulsion as Inferi surrounded the island they were on. Harry summoning the strength to Apparate himself and a greatly weakened Dumbledore to Hogsmeade, only to see the Dark Mark hovering in the air above the school.

“No,” Dumbledore breathed, sounding worried.

Death Eaters in the school, fighting students. Harry’s group of friends from the previous year fighting, narrowly escaping death. Dumbledore and Harry flying past them on brooms to the Astronomy tower, Dumbledore telling Harry to leave, then freezing him under a Total-Body Bind.

Draco Malfoy burst onto the tower, revealing that he’d been the one to let the Death Eaters into the school, that he’d been trying to kill Dumbledore all term. The teen’s shaking conviction, even when Fenrir Grayback appeared, prompting a growl from Remus.

Severus Snape appeared, taking in the situation.

“Severus, please—” Dumbledore whispered, his voice as close to begging as Remus and Sirius had ever heard it.

Severus Snape’s black eyes looked even colder than normal as he raised his wand and said, “Avada Kedavra!”

The spell blasted Dumbledore off the Astronomy tower and freed Harry, who took off after Snape, running him down outside Hagrid’s hut. The pair dueled briefly, Severus snarling in fury when Harry went to use one of his spells against him, knocking Harry onto the ground and fleeing with the young Malfoy boy and Bellatrix Lestrange.

Scenes shifted in front of them, Bill Weasley marrying a woman with long, pale blonde hair, Hermione and Harry in Godric’s Hollow, Ron destroying a locket with a sword, flying on a dragon over a lake. Snape’s brutal death at the hand of Nagini made the two men wince, but they weren’t horribly torn. His memories just made them angry, he was justifying himself, not apologizing for Harry’s treatment. The closest scene to full was the end, Hogwarts as broken as Harry had described it, with Harry triumphant and Voldemort’s body falling backwards, broken and dead.

Ron and Hermione’s wedding was next, Harry a smiling best man. Harry and Ron graduating from the Auror Academy, Harry looking sharp in the militaristic style robes of an Auror. Several flashes of memories, the birth of one of Ron and Hermione’s kids, Harry’s promotion to a lead Auror.

The scene formed entirely again, Harry appearing at the end of Diagon Alley outside Gringotts. He was dressed casually in wizarding robes over a pair of black jeans and a turtleneck, hair cropped fairly short. He was taller, close to six foot, a few days stubble on his lower jaw. He walked briskly through the Alley, ignoring the excited whispers of “Harry Potter!” from passerby.

“I would like to speak with the Potter account manager, I’ve received a letter that they wish for a meeting.”

“Certainly, Mr. Potter.”

They followed Harry back into an office that Sirius recognized with a rueful grin. It was Ironclaw’s office.

“Mr. Potter, I’m glad you took the time to come and see me. My name is Ironclaw, I have some very shocking news for you. In reviewing your accounts, I have realized that there has been fraudulent activity in your accounts.”

“What do you mean?”

“You are not only heir to the Potter Lordship, but the Prewett one. However, too much time has passed on the Prewett one, it has passed to Molly Weasley nee Prewett as the last of Septimus Prewett’s living children.”

“How am I the heir to the Prewett estate?” Harry frowned.

“I am not sure, place three drops of blood onto this piece of parchment.”

Harry did so, Sirius knew what it was going to say. He watched Remus’ face instead.

“It appears that you have been lied to, Heir Potter. Your parents are not James Potter and Lily Evans. Your parents are Fabian Prewett and James Potter. Fabian was eldest son and Heir to the Prewett accounts as they normally pass in the male line, Septimus knew he had a grandson and had left the provisions that if you hadn’t been found or claimed the account by your 19^th birthday, Molly could claim it.”

Remus’ face was shocked at Harry’s parentage, watching as the goblin further shocked Harry by revealing that he could have taken over his accounts as early as age fifteen since he’d been emancipated by Dumbledore and Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge at the Triwizard Tournament.

The scene swirled again briefly, re-forming in what Sirius recognized as the Burrow. Harry was there, standing across from an older Molly Weasley, who was looking at him with disdain.

“Did you know I was your nephew the whole time, Molly?! Did you know while I was hoping as a child for any sort of family other than the Dursleys, whom I’m not even related to, that I was your brother’s son?”

“Of course I did,” the woman answered coolly, to the shock of her present children.

“Why, Molly?” Harry asked, his voice sounding broken. “Money? Is that all I was to you, an obstacle to your family money?”

“Fabian and Gideon were the obstacles,” Molly answered coldly. “I was the oldest, but as soon as the twins were born my father decided to stick with a stupid pureblood tradition over his family. Yes I was sad that they died, but I hoped that finally I would be shown the respect I deserved. Instead my father told me that Fabian had an infant son who had gone missing and that this baby was heir to the estates over me.”

“Who told you about me?”

“Dumbledore of course,” Molly said blithely, shocking both Sirius and Remus. “I’d been helping him keep you in line for years, I’d thought the reward would be my daughter’s wedding to a well-off young Lord, but then you turned out to be…homosexual. Well, that wouldn’t do, I wouldn’t have even risked a Love Potion to stick my Ginny with a man who was a…freak like that.”

Harry’s hands curled into fists. “I’ve always respected you, Molly. I loved you like a damn mother for years, aside from your treatment of Sirius, which always drove me up a wall. Now… now I can’t stand the sight of you. You’re the fucking blight on purebloods the Malfoy family always claimed you to be.”

The scene changed again, Harry finally coming to the realization that he had a broken soul-bond with Sirius, who had died so many years ago at this point in time. Brief scenes flashed by of Harry’s severe depression before Luna Lovegood, the airy little blonde from the first several memories and Draco Malfoy, of all people, forced themselves in on Harry had forced him to try and keep going, to move on.

The scene changed again, reforming into Harry inside his flat, dressed in dark clothes with a sort of dead, convicted expression on his face. He got up, taking just wand with him and Apparated.

They appeared just outside the Ministry of Magic in what seemed to be the dead of night. Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath, entering the visitor’s entrance to the Ministry and dialing on the phone. Stating his business as ‘Visitor’, they appeared again in the Ministry, on a dark corridor with a single door.

Harry walked forward with at first clear trepidation, then determination. He opened the door and stepped inside, closing it behind him. Closing his eyes as the doors began to spin violently in front of him he said clearly, “Veil Chamber.”

When the door opened, he was in the same spot that past Remus and Sirius had appeared from along with the rest of the Order in the memory when Sirius had died. Harry walked with a casual conviction down the stairs and stopped in front of the curtains, staring through them with dead, dull green eyes.

Taking a last deep breath, he walked through the curtains.

Sirius and Remus expected to be kicked out of Harry’s memories, but instead they were able to hear, if not see, Harry’s conversation with the Goddess Nimue. They heard how Magic was dying, the very last children with magic born. They heard Harry ask if Sirius had been dead when he’d come through, Magic confirming that Bellatrix had killed him, not the Veil. Then they heard Magic ask Harry what he wanted and his broken, tired response.

The Goddess offered to send him on, offering to send him back to a time of his choosing as an alternate, the opportunity to change things for Magic, for Harry and all those who had suffered. A chance for Harry to save Sirius, to possibly change their fates as a permanently broken bond. They heard Harry’s conviction kick in, his request to go back before the Dementors appeared on Privet Drive.

Finally, they were kicked out of the Pensieve. It was a jarring experience, leaving Harry’s memories and coming back to their bodies. Present day Harry was reading a book on runes, sitting cross-legged on Sirius’ bed. His hands still shook a little, though Sirius noted the empty Regenerant bottle and Pain Potion bottle on the bedside table.

Harry looked up, putting the book aside. He took in both their faces, their expressions. He reached out a took one of Sirius’ hands in his, a warm but slightly guarded expression on his face. Turning to Remus he said very coldly, “Neither Sirius nor myself want to hear one of your half-assed apologies tonight. I want you to leave and think about what you saw, what you accused us of, what you accused Sirius of. There’s a decision you need to make and it needs to be made soon.”

As Sirius flicked his wand at the door, unlocking it, he added flatly, “If Dumbledore or anyone else gets wind of our relationship or Harry’s knowledge, I’ll know where it came from, Remus.”

Remus flinched. “I’m not Peter, Sirius.”

Sirius’ voice was glacial. “Prove it.”

Looking rather pale, the man left. Sirius put the locking and silencing spell back up after he left, turning to Harry. “While I did want to see that, I had hoped it would be when you were ready to show me. I’m sorry he forced it, Harry.”

Harry’s face twisted into a half-smile. “Me too.”

Regarding Harry’s green eyes quietly, Sirius said, “You know, I’m really amazed at you. Especially now after seeing that. With all the crap you’d been through, I doubt there would be a single person that would blame you for just wanting to go on, be reunited with your parents and some other version of me, leaving the world to what it had earned. Instead you choose to come back, to try and save me and help Magic.”

“What can I say,” Harry said, voice a bit hoarse, “I’ve been told I have a saving-people thing.”

“I’m glad you do.”

With that, Sirius leaned forward and pressed his lips to Harry’s, expressing his thanks in a far more satisfying manner.

Chapter Text

“What the hell, Sirius?” Harry snarled, catching the older man temporarily off-guard and shoving him onto a nearby sofa. Sirius looked startled but Harry felt his annoyance was well-earned.

It was three days since he’d returned to Hogwarts, three days of listening to startled, shocked murmurs and stares of concern from the majority of the student population, Umbridge’s trial and sentence having been plastered on the front page of the Prophet. Neville had looked extraordinarily shaken, Harry had yet to approach the quiet boy. He knew that Neville was thinking of his parents, but in this timeline he hadn’t yet found out about Frank and Alice’s fate.

They had been sitting at the tables in the Great Hall for lunch when Dumbledore had stood, smiling, and announced that he had found a replacement for Umbridge in Defense Against the Dark Arts. He said that the Ministry had approved the return of Remus Lupin, with the provision that on the full moons there would be a co-Professor who would take over classes.

Dumbledore had then cheerfully announced that Remus’ co-Professor would be none other than a newly-exonerated Lord Sirius Black, nearly shocking Harry off his bench at the Gryffindor table. Sirius had casually waved to the students, grinning at the exuberant whistles from the Weasley twins. Considering it had been all of three days since he’d seen Sirius, Harry was a bit shocked and upset that the man hadn’t mentioned it.

“Hey now,” Sirius frowned, “I don’t know what you’re upset about. I’m as shocked as you are, he just showed up the day before yesterday and asked if I’d be a co-Professor with Remus. Remus about fell off his chair, he was shocked the Ministry agreed.”

“You had no clue?” Harry clarified, tension dissipating.

“None. Why, do you think I left you out on purpose?” Sirius frowned. “You know I’d never do that, gorgeous. We’re in this together, right?”

“Yes,” Harry sighed, feeling guilty for his outburst. He ran a hand through his hair, staring down at the coffee table between the two of them.

“How’d you know I was in here alone, Harry? Dumbledore’s been dropping by pretty frequently over the past day or so, keeps checking in on us.”

“I have the map, remember?”

“Right.”

“I’m sorry, Sirius,” Harry muttered, still staring down at the table. “I shouldn’t have blown up at you like that. I’ve been tense ever since returning to the school. The crap with Umbridge made me realize that not everything is going to go the same way it did before, it’s making me want to use what I can before my memories become redundant.”

“I don’t blame you,” Sirius reassured, “I’m sure I wouldn’t be much better in your shoes. I could see how shocked you were when Dumbledore made that announcement. Merlin knows I’ve spent the entire time since he asked wondering what his motive is.”

Harry snorted, “It’s sad when we have to be this wary of those we should be able to trust, isn’t it? Do you ever regret it, Sirius? Was I selfish dragging you into this mess?”

“Absolutely not,” Sirius said so firmly and so, well, seriously that it caught Harry off-guard. “I don’t care if you’d have done this whole shebang for ulterior motives from the start, I’m alive and free thanks to someone believing in me for once, I’m not about to wish that it was done differently.”

“You know,” Harry said in a cheeky voice, “sometimes I think you actually have grown up.”

Sirius snorted and maturely stuck his tongue out at Harry.

“That’s better.”

“Hush you,” Sirius grumbled, but he was smiling.

“Sadly, this isn’t just a pleasant drop-in on my part,” Harry said, face becoming serious. “There’s another player in this, a real wild card unless he’s dealt with soon.”

Sirius’ face became grim. “Voldemort.”

Harry nodded. “Voldemort. I know what it’s going to take to kill him, you may remember having seen flashes of it in my memories. Those objects we were hunting down, they’re called horcruxes.”

Sirius’ face was a bit pale. “I remember reading something about those in a book in my family’s library.”

Harry said, “Likely the book was called Secrets of the Darkest Art. Voldemort read it too, here at Hogwarts. It’s what gave him the idea. Horcruxes are a piece of a person’s soul, split off from the rest by committing a murder and then relocated to an object with a Dark Arts ritual.”

“Like the diary from your second year?” Sirius asked, remembering the conversation about Harry’s first two school years. What he’d gotten up to…

Harry nodded. “Exactly. I know for a fact that during this school year in my timeline Dumbledore used a great deal of his time to research the diary, trying to figure out what it was. Umbridge got him temporarily kicked out of the school and that’s when he did a lot of his research, gathering memories from people who knew Tom Riddle.”

“How did Dumbledore damage his hand?” Sirius asked, curious. The blackened hand in Harry’s memories had stood out for a while, it was clearly cursed.

“He found one of Voldemort’s horcruxes in a residence that belonged to the Gaunt family, his maternal ancestors. It was a ring, he put it on because of its properties and it had a Dark Arts curse on it, it was poisoning him through his hand. He would have died anyway if Snape hadn’t have killed him, it was just taking longer.”

Sirius frowned. “How is it that a book like that exists in Hogwarts? The Ministry banned a lot of the Dark Arts texts from even being owned by wizardkind, they burnt a lot of them.”

“Dumbledore confiscated the ones that were here after Voldemort graduated, but he never disposed of them. That blood ward that was supposedly around Privet Drive? That was Dark Arts.”

“The one that never existed, you mean?” Sirius snorted bitterly. “For supposedly needing you to fulfill the prophecy he put you in an incredible about of danger.”

Harry snorted. “That’s because I’m supposed to die,” he said flatly.

Sirius paled. “What?”

“My scar was an unintentional Horcrux. Neither can live while the other survives? Pretty literal. As long as I live, there’s a piece of Voldemort that lives too.”

“So he set you up for all of this because he wanted you to die?” Sirius growled.

“Die willingly, that’s the important bit,” Harry said dryly. “Except he made a huge miscalculation and it’s even more impressive that I was able to come back, considering.”

“And what miscalculation was this? Also, do I even want to know what you mean by come back,” Sirius asked, apprehension clear on his face.

“Second bit first. I’m not surprised it didn’t show in my memories, it was a bit hazy to go through first-hand. In Snape’s memories was the explanation that I was a Horcrux, it was how I survived the attack at Godric’s Hollow. Dumbledore explained to me, through Snape, that I would have to walk willingly to my death to destroy the last piece of Voldemort’s soul. So I did, only I didn’t really die. It was more like a near-death experience, where I was given the choice to go on or return to my body. I chose the latter, going on to defeat Voldemort with his own spell.”

Sirius shuddered, pain visible on his face. “You’re not doing that again,” he said firmly.

“I didn’t have to do it in the first place,” Harry said, voice very bland. “That’s what I mean by Dumbledore’s huge miscalculation. I did have a piece of the Horcrux in my scar, but it was destroyed in my second year. When I fought the basilisk it’s fang pierced my arm. I was about dead when Fawkes showed up and cried on the wound, healing me. But the Horcrux in my scar was destroyed by the basilisk venom, the same way I destroyed the diary moments later.”

“So you should have actually died?!”

“Yes. Not sure how I got the choice to come back, maybe Fate decided to give her favorite chew toy a break,” Harry deadpanned, earning an exhausted laugh from Sirius.

“So what are the other pieces, if the diary and your scar are taken care of?”

“Helga Hufflepuff’s cup, which is in the Lestrange vault at Gringotts. Rowena Ravenclaw’s diadem, which is here in the school, I’m not sure if Nagini has been made into one yet,” Harry said thoughtfully, adding, “Voldemort’s snake.”

“What’s the last one? You said he made seven, right?”

Harry looked cautiously at Sirius. “The last one is actually at Grimmauld Place. That big, heavy locket in a case in the tapestry room? It’s a Horcrux.”

“How did one of those foul things get into Grimmauld?” Sirius asked, looking repulsed.

Harry hesitated. “Your brother, Regulus. He didn’t run away from the Death Eaters. Voldemort asked to borrow a house-elf to test the defenses on his protections, Regulus volunteered Kreacher. Kreacher nearly died, but Voldemort underestimated house-elf magic and Kreacher was able to escape. Voldemort got an oath from Kreacher, but he wasn’t Kreacher’s master. Regulus was very concerned at the state of the elf, he demanded to know what Voldemort had wanted.”

The look on Sirius’ face made it hard to keep going. Mingled anger, pain and guilt was all over his face. Harry swallowed and continued, “Regulus researched for weeks after, probably finding your family’s copy of Secrets of the Darkest Art. He read the bit about Horcruxes and realized what the Dark Lord had done, what it meant. He’d been having second thoughts for some time, this convinced him. He had Kreacher take him to the place he had gone with Voldemort.”

“It’s a cave by the sea. In the middle of a lake is a small island with a podium of sorts, you probably saw it in my memories. Regulus ordered Kreacher to take the object out of the basin and leave with it, destroy it if he could. The potion in the basin is an awful creation, I don’t know what it makes you see but it’s not pleasant. It makes you exceptionally thirsty afterwards, and of course you’re surrounded by a lake.”

“Regulus was dragged under the water and drowned by the Inferi Voldemort filled the lake with. Kreacher’s been trying to destroy the locket since then, trying to fulfill Regulus’ last orders. The fact that he can’t has helped to drive him mad. Regulus left a decoy in the basin; it automatically refills with the potion. The decoy is a Slytherin house locket. Inside it says; To the Dark Lord; I know I will be dead long before you read this, but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can. I face death in the hope that when you meet your match, you will be mortal once more. R.A.B.”

Harry recited Regulus’ message by heart, he’d memorized it on the search for the real locket. He’d admired the courage Sirius’ younger brother possessed for years, he’d been nineteen when he died, betraying his sworn Master. It was a heck of a proverbial middle finger to the Dark Lord, to leave that message behind. If the Inferi hadn’t dragged him under, Voldemort’s response would have been terrible.

He fell quiet, watching Sirius. His heart hurt for his soulmate, the expression on his face was agonized. He bent forward, burying his face in his hands. After a second his shoulders began to shake and Harry realized he was crying. He crossed the distance and sat next to him, reaching out to rest a hand on his shoulder. He didn’t know what their relationship was like, but he knew how Sirius had spoke of his brother before, almost scornfully saying he had gotten ‘cold feet’ and tried to run away.

“I should have taken him with me when I ran away from home,” Sirius said finally, voice hoarse with tears. “I shouldn’t have left him there. He was my brother and I loved him; I didn’t show it the way I should have.”

“Perhaps not,” Harry said softly. “But you can help me make sure he didn’t die in vain. Because of him neither one of us have to face that cave, nor the Inferi. Because of him, almost all the Horcruxes are in easy reach. We’ll make sure Voldemort knows, before he dies, who made it possible.”

Sirius took a deep shaky breath and nodded.

They would make sure Regulus’ sacrifice wasn’t wasted.

It was the least they could do.

Chapter Text

Remus Lupin closed his briefcase as the last class for the day filed out of the room. Sirius stood, nodded curtly at him and left the room as well, presumably to track down Harry. He gave a deep sigh, dropping into the chair behind his desk. He’d been a fool, an idiotic, judgmental fool. Closing his eyes he sat there, thinking.

After he’d been basically tossed out on his ear by Harry and Sirius that night, he’d done a lot of thinking and berating. Moony had been pissed at him, the wolf had known they were soulmates, that’s what had been niggling at the back of his mind the whole time when he’d watched them together. He didn’t know exactly what had happened, why his mind had jumped to the worst possible conclusion it could have come to.

All he knew was that there was a strange closeness to the pair and then he’d seen Harry’s changed Patronus. They had come back to Grimmauld after the trial and he’d dived into one of his Defense texts, finding the little-known fact that Patroni could change due to extreme circumstances. His adult mind had jumped to an irrational conclusion and he’d spoken to them before thinking it through.

He huffed quietly to himself, he rarely did that and the reaction he’d gotten was precisely why. Already treading on shaky ground with Harry he knew the no-so-teenaged boy was about ready to cut him off entirely. Harry’s past—no future, ugh, that was confusing… His life before was so absolutely shocking. They’d won the war, but at such a cost, both general and to Harry’s life specifically.

Then there was the little fact that Harry was a Prewett and the Molly of his life before had known it, not caring in the slightest that he was her brother’s son, simply seeing him as an obstacle to the end of her poverty. He wouldn’t have thought it possible of the matronly woman, though it made Harry’s behavior toward her recently make a lot more sense. He would bet every book in his collection that Harry had taken the Prewett Lordship as well as the Potter one.

His stance against Albus didn’t make much sense to Remus at the moment, but he had a feeling that was due to things that had happened he was not privy to yet. His best friend certainly wasn’t going to say anything. Remus winced, what he’d said in a moment of heated irrational anger was unforgivable. He’d known Sirius since they were eleven years old, through most of their lives up until he’d been imprisoned at twenty. Sirius had never been the type to take advantage of someone.

There was a rustle and he looked up, startled. In front of him was a student, wearing robes trimmed in Ravenclaw blue. A young woman with large pale blue eyes and pale almost white hair. Lovegood, he remembered, Luna Lovegood, daughter of Xenophilius, who owned and operated the Quibbler.

She smiled at him and said in a slightly airy voice, “You’ve made a mistake, it’s bothering you. Apologies can’t be forgiven if they’re never made. It’s the hardest step, Moon, but Hunter and Storm will forgive you.”

Then she turned around and left. Bewildered, a little shocked, he stared after her. Moon? Hunter? Storm? Still, her advice was sound. With a sigh he stood up, sent his briefcase to the office he and Sirius shared, and left the classroom. He had a pair of friends to find.

*

Sirius stared around himself in stunned awe. The room they were in was huge and what’s more, he’d never seen it before in his life, even though he was pretty sure he’d explored every inch of Hogwarts with his friends. Every object imaginable was crammed in here, desks, dressers, beds, old teaching tools, moldery old robes that had gone out of fashion a century ago. Statues, paintings, broomsticks…

Looking at Harry incredulously he said, “What is this place?”

“This is one of the innumerable faces of the Room of Requirement,” Harry said with an amused grin. “It’s a room that will change to fit what you need or want, it can’t be put on the Map. Believe me, I tried over the years.”

“What is all this stuff?”

“Random things that are no longer needed by the school. The house elves refuse to throw anything away, so it goes into this storage room. I don’t know if the space is finite or will keep expanding as long as they need it, I just know there’s a lot of crap in here.”

Sirius snorted. “You can say that again! There’s a horcrux in here?”

“Yup, Rowena Ravenclaw’s famous diadem. A young Voldemort charmed the location of the diadem out of the ghost of the Grey Lady, who happens to be Rowena Ravenclaw’s youngest daughter, Helena.”

“His power of persuasion seems to be a dangerous tool,” Sirius frowned. “I know that’s how he gained so many of the Twenty-Eight on his side. We’re a proud lot, we don’t serve just anyone.”

“Even more so considering the irony of it,” Harry said dryly. “Voldemort’s a half-blood, they’re all bowing to someone whom they naturally consider inferior.”

Sirius’ jaw dropped. “You’re kidding?”

“Nope. His mother was Merope Gaunt, a near-squib of the last remaining descendants of Salazar Slytherin. She fell in love with an outright Muggle, much to her insane father’s fury. Thomas Riddle was a wealthy young Muggle gentry heir whose family owned the Manor at the top of the hill near the Gaunt residence. She offered a thirsty Thomas a glass of wine dosed with what was likely Amortentia, forcing him to fall in love with her.”

“What happened?” Sirius asked, curious.

Harry snorted. “When she was several months pregnant with his son she let the Love Potion wear off, convinced through her own delusions that he would stay with her. He immediately denounced her and left, she gave birth to his son in an orphanage and died afterwards of a broken heart.”

Sirius grimaced. “Is it weird I almost feel sorry for Voldemort?”

“Not at all, I do as well in a way. He grew up an orphan, or so he thought, different from the rest of the kids in the orphanage, a freak. But the way he went about living around them kind of lessens the sympathy. He terrorized them, using his ‘accidental’ magic to hurt them, even persuaded one boy to hang himself.”

Sirius gagged. “Yeah, not sympathetic anymore. Where is this thing?”

“On a bust of the least popular Headmaster the school has ever had,” Harry said in a slightly amused voice.

“Phineas Nigellus? My great-grandfather?” Sirius said incredulously.

“Believe me, the irony made me laugh afterwards as well.”

Harry led the way through the maze of objects, Sirius chortling at an odd item or two. Honestly, the sheer amount of stuff in this room was unbelievable. Eventually, after a good twenty-minute trek, Harry slowed and eventually stopped. In front of them was a marble bust on a pedestal of a stern, aristocratic man with an almost-frown on his lips, crowned with a delicate woman’s tiara of silver, diamond and sapphire. Looking closely at the base of the tiara Sirius could see the tiny script that read, Wit beyond measure is man’s greatest treasure.

Harry was looking at it with severe distaste on his features, frowning. “While basilisk venom is readily available to us as soon as I can sneak into the Chamber, I’d rather not hang onto this thing longer than necessary. We held onto the locket for a while due to not being able to destroy it, it warps the mind of whoever is near it the longest.”

Sirius grimaced. “Do you know of another way to get rid of it?”

Harry nodded. “I suggest you stand back,” he said, retrieving his wand.

Sirius moved back, adding a few more steps when Harry arched a brow at him. He was a good thirty paces back before Harry nodded, pointing his wand at the statue and the tiara and said, “Fiendfyre.”

Sirius sucked in a breath of shocked comprehension, creeping back a few mores steps as a steady stream of cursed fire poured from the end of Harry’s wand. There was a look of intense concentration on his face as he willed the semi-sentient fire to curl over the diadem and the statue, covering both in a dancing capsule of red, black and blue flames.

There was a loud, inhuman shriek that had Sirius clapping a hand over his ears, watching in disbelief as a cloud of black, shiny mass escaped the flames and dissipated into the air over their heads. With forceful control and rigidly-gritted teeth Harry carefully reduced and smothered the flames, ending the spell.

He was panting, sweating slightly. When Sirius shakily lowered his hands from his ears he realized he was sweating as well, the incredible heat the poured off the cursed fire was smothering. He stared at Harry with not a small amount of awe, Fiendfyre along with being a very Dark spell, was incredibly hard to control.

“I don’t know if I want to do that too many more times,” Harry sighed, rolling his shoulders.

Sirius just stared at him. “Do you realize how incredible you are?” He said, taking some amusement as Harry blushed.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Harry muttered.

“Do you know how hard it is to control that spell? There are witches and wizards that spend their entire lives trying to master control of it. There are even more that won’t even use it, it can kill the caster as well as the target very easily.”

Harry hummed, staring around them at the mountains of stuff. “When I came here before, it was myself, Hermione and Ron. We’d just found the diadem when Draco Malfoy showed up with Vincent Crabbe And Gregory Goyle. Aside from Draco and Blaise Zabini, I’d never bothered to learn Goyle or Crabbe’s given name. Draco, Crabbe and Goyle were marked Death Eaters. Vincent cast the Fiendfyre spell, but he lost control of it.”

“We ran, but eventually the fire was catching up to us. So we climbed up the mountains of stuff and chanced upon three broomsticks. Off in the distance I spotted them, surrounded by flames. They were balanced on a table, the Fiendfyre was going to reach them soon. By this time the fire had been sentient enough to take form, massive dragons and serpents and crazy stuff.”

“Hermione wasn’t good on a broom, but Ron and I were. She headed for the door. We went after them. I pulled Draco up behind me on my broom and Ron did the same for Goyle. We were going back for Crabbe when the table finally disintegrated on one side and he was pitched off. His body was gone before he hit the next stack of furniture.”

“At this time we didn’t know that Fiendfyre was something that could destroy a Horcrux, so when I spotted the diadem I risked a Seeker’s dive with Draco behind me to grab it. We barely made it back through the doors before the flames killed us all. The diadem had been struck by the flames and was destroyed.”

“After the war and after I graduated from the Auror Academy, I made a point to learn how to control that spell, to get over my fear of it and control my memories. Poor Crabbe never got the chance, he was just showed the spell by one of the Carrows and unleashed it without any training.”

Sirius grimaced. “That would be a horrible way to go.”

Harry nodded. “It was quick when it finally happened, but the knowledge leading up to it… He had to have realized that was going to be how he would die.”

The pair made their way slowly back out of the storage room, exiting the doorway. It was only a few moments later that they heard a soft noise of surprise and a small, “Oh.”

Looking up, Sirius spotted Remus standing at the end of the corridor. His jaw clenched, but he remained where he was. Next to him, Harry had gone very still, his face expressionless.

“Can I talk to you both?” Remus asked, hesitant.

Harry appeared to think about it for a moment and behind them the heavy wood double doors of the Room of Requirement appeared again. The expression on Remus’ face was priceless, if he wasn’t so angry with him Sirius would have laughed. As it was, he curtly opened the door and walked inside, curious.

It was a perfectly normal sitting room now, with a cushy rug, a loveseat and a comfortable chair around a small coffee table. Shaking his head at the complexity of the magic involved in the room, Sirius sat down, crossing his leg over his knee and crossing his arms. He was angry, so angry, but he would listen. Remus was his last remaining friend from the Marauders, he didn’t want to let that go. But he should also have known better than to throw an accusation like that at Sirius as well.

“I didn’t want to come back to you two the next day,” Remus began, “because I wanted to really think this out, you both deserve more than a cheap apology. I was wrong, I’ll be the first to admit it. I’ve said things that are unforgivable, done things that are unforgivable. That you’re both even giving me the chance humbles me, and I’ll appreciate it more than you know.”

He looked directly at Sirius now, amber eyes sincere. “I’m sorry, Sirius. Honestly, I’m amazed you didn’t throw a punch or a hex at me for what I said. I didn’t think, I didn’t even bother to stop and consider what was going on. My mind jumped to a completely illogical, hurtful conclusion and I’m so very sorry for it. Even if you forgive me for it today, I’m not going to expect anything remotely similar to what our friendship has been for a while, I know I betrayed your trust and hurt you with my words, my accusation. I’ve racked my brain for what to say but I can’t come up with anything that will even remotely ease the hurt, so I’ll spare you any empty words. I’m sorry old friend.”

He stared down at his hands for a moment and said quietly, “Really, I’m amazed we’re still friends after the entire Peter incident. I betrayed your trust back then as well, there was no remote possibility you would have betrayed James and Lily.”

Sirius’ jaw tightened at the reminder. He’d shoved aside the hurt over the whole Peter and Azkaban thing, determined not to hold old grudges against his friend. It hurt, incredibly, to realize that Remus had believed he would betray the one who had been like his brother. They’d known each other for years; he would have thought it worth more.

  Remus looked at a very stiff, impassable Harry. Looking at his younger soulmate, Sirius could see how tight and defensive his shoulders were. His eyes were cool and closed-off, a perfect pureblood mask. If not for how tight and defensive his posture was, it would be hard to tell how he was feeling. Remus had obviously seen the same thing and his eyes showed it, distressed and guilty.

“I owe you an apology for that night as well,” Remus said softly. “I should have known better than to accuse you of being confused or unsure of your feelings, I didn’t mean to belittle them. After seeing your life before, I realize that I accused you, more or less, of being a liar. Seeing what you went through and remembering Umbridge’s trial, I know how much you hate being accused of lying. I can’t offer you enough apologies for that, I can only say that I am very sorry Harry and I won’t ever make even a remote statement along those lines again.”

“As for our other conversation,” Remus shifted uncomfortably. “Initially my argument did start with me saying I’m a werewolf, but let me explain. You had just saved our entire society from the Dark Lord as a mere toddler. The night of the 31^st was a full moon, by the time I was aware again after my transformation, you were at the Dursley family, James, Lily and to my knowledge Peter were dead and Sirius had been imprisoned in Azkaban for life.”

“They were my pack, my family. Suddenly, over the course of a couple nights, my pack was reduced to one. One precious toddling cub. The minute I was able to force my body to move I went to Hogwarts, demanded you be handed over to me as was listed in your parent’s wills.”

“Dumbledore told me the wills had been sealed,” Remus continued, a small rumble of anger in his throat. “He said they had been sealed and without them my chances of getting you were nil; I was a dark creature and you were the Boy-Who-Lived. I knew he was right; the Ministry was cracking down in the aftermath of Voldemort’s disappearance, I would as likely be arrested as even listened to.”

“So I went my own way, tried to keep on. I ended up in the Muggle world for the most part, though I couldn’t hold jobs long due to the full moons. There were very few magicals that would hire a werewolf however, so I spent more time in the Muggle world or with a few packs made up of decent people.”

“Then Albus asked me to teach at Hogwarts. He said no one had managed to stay at the Defense post for more than a year, but he hoped I would come and teach. He said you were in your third year, doing very well. Then he told me Sirius had broken out of Azkaban and he wanted to know if I would come to protect you. I agreed without hesitation, I wouldn’t let my pack’s cub be put in danger.”

“You were a determined, clever student Harry,” Remus said with a smile. “I was very proud of you, especially with your determination to try and learn the Patronus Charm. I’ll admit I wasn’t sure you’d be able to do it in your third year; you were very young. I was enormously proud and awed when you proved me wrong.”

“I never got your letters, Harry,” Remus said softly. “I don’t know what happened to them, but I promise you I would have written back. I was scared to death when I got the papers and they said you’d been entered into the Tournament. I knew you hadn’t entered yourself, you’re clever and brave, but not attention-seeking, no matter what Severus Snape says.”

“If I’d have known about the Dursleys Harry, there would have been nothing to stop me from getting you out,” Remus’ eyes were bright with anger. “Petunia may have been jealous of Lily’s magic, but she should have known better. Had their situations been reversed, she knows damn well Lily would have looked after your cousin like he was her own child.”

“I’m sorry, Harry. I’m sorry I’ve let you down, that I’ve betrayed the trust you offered me. I’m sorry you were left with people like that when there were those that loved you unconditionally. I don’t think there’s anything else I can do other than explain, so that’s what I’ve done. No holds barred; you deserve the truth. It’s all I can give.”

Eyes of endless green stared into amber, almost expressionless. The silence felt heavy, weighted. Nobody said a word, or even moved. Sirius could practically see Remus’ words being pondered over, picked at. After nearly a full five minutes, Harry finally moved.

He nodded. Just once, and Sirius smiled.

It would be okay.

Chapter Text

After some conversation, Harry had decided along with Sirius that the locket was probably safest in Grimmauld Place, they would leave it there until they had a method to safely destroy it. It was also decided, in the same conversation, that the best method to destroy the Horcruxes was probably with the venom of the dead basilisk below the school. Harry had planned to go back even as far as the summer, so he had procured gloves and reinforced vials to safely harvest the venom. Sirius was with him, immensely curious about the vaunted chamber.

After some intensely heated debate and a bit of sulking on Harry’s part, Remus was with them. A show of trust, involving him in at least some of what they were up to. Sirius had pointed out, logically, that if they had forgiven him, they need to show it. Harry wasn’t against forgiving Remus, but he was skeptical about involving him in such secretive matters when they still weren’t sure he wasn’t going to go running to Dumbledore.

This was their compromise, Remus could come with them, but Harry blatantly refused to tell him about the Horcruxes at this stage. That way if he did go to the Headmaster, all he had was that they had gone into the Chamber of Secrets and taken some of the basilisk venom with them. Harry may be willing to give Remus a second chance, but he wasn’t a fool. He had been betrayed one too many times to completely trust another easily, Sirius was the one and only exception.

“In my second year,” Harry explained to Sirius and Remus as they walked along the corridor of the second floor, “there was an attack on Filch’s cat. She was stiff as a board, hanging from the wall sconce outside the second floor girls bathroom. Written on the wall in what turned out to be chicken blood was the words, ‘The Chamber of Secrets has been opened again, Enemies of the Heir Beware’.”

Grey and amber eyes were focused on him, listening intently. “There was an immediate panic, helped along by a 12 year old Draco Malfoy shouting ‘You’ll be next, Mudbloods!’” Harry crinkled his nose in distaste at saying the word. “Students were travelling in groups, whispering to each other as they wondered what this ‘Chamber’ was and where. Hermione tried asking Binns, he said it was a myth perpetuated by descedants of Salazar Slytherin and that many reputable witches and wizards had searched the school, only to come up empty-handed.”

“Then, at a duelling club established by our Defense professor, Draco Malfoy shot a snake at me. The Defense professor that year was Gilderoy Lockhart, all he managed to do was piss the snake off, sending it after a second-year Muggleborn Hufflepuff, Justin Finch-Fletchey. I had no clue at the time, I just yelled at the snake to stop and leave him alone. Everyone else heard Parseltongue.”

Sirius winced. “They all thought you were the Heir, didn’t they?”

“Bang on,” Harry nodded, “especially since the next one petrified was Justin Finch-Fletchey, after I had tried to talk to him in the Library, to tell him what I had said. What really scared the students was the fact that Nearly-Headless Nick was petrified as well, after all what kind of magic can affect a ghost?”

“It petrified Nick?” Remus asked, shocked.

Harry nodded. “I was taken to Dumbledore, who asked if there was anything I wished to tell him. There wasn’t, even though we were privately brewing Polyjuice Potion to question Draco, convinced he was the Heir.”

Sirius burst out laughing. “You guys successfully brewed Polyjuice Potion as second-years?”

Harry grinned. “One of our better achievements over the years,” he smirked. “Draco wasn’t the Heir, so we were back to square one. Hermione had been the one to suggest it in the first place, she was scared that year as she was a Muggleborn.”

“There was an annoying little first year named Colin Creevey, he was taking photos of me, almost stalking me. I got annoyed at him after he tried to take a photo of me post-Quidditch injury, less than a week later he was Petrified.”

Remus winced. “Whoever was opening it was targeting the students you interacted with. They probably wanted you blamed for it.”

Harry nodded. “I found an empty diary that had been purchased in Muggle London in the second-floor girls bathroom, somone had tried to dispose of it. When some students retaliating against me broke open my school bag, everything in my bag was soaked with ink. The diary was spotless.”

“It absorbed the ink?” Remus frowned. “That doesn’t sound like anything in the Muggle world.”

“I dropped some ink on it with a quill later in the Gryffindor dorms, it disappeared as well. So I wrote in it. ‘Hello, my name is Harry Potter.’ It wrote back; ‘Hello Harry Potter, my name is Tom Riddle.’”

“Take it to Dumbledore!” Sirius yelped, forgetting that this was years ago. “Diaries do not write back!”

Harry arched a brow at him, waiting. Sirius fell silent, looking at him sheepishly. “I know that, now. At the time I was desperate to know what was going on. I asked Riddle who he was, he said he was a preserved memory of a student from fifty years ago, which was approximately the last time the Chamber had been opened.”

Remus groaned. “You asked him who had opened it, didn’t you?”

“I did, and he offered to show me, via memory. Of course I had no idea it was a memory at first, I tried interacting with the people I saw. I couldn’t of course. I followed Riddle, saw the Aurors removing the body of the girl who had been killed last time. He spoke to the Headmaster, found out they would close the school unless they identified the culprit and pointed the finger at a young Hagrid.”

Sirius was shocked. “That’s why he was expelled? People thought he’d opened the Chamber of Secrets?”

“They did, thanks to Riddle catching him ‘red-handed’ and providing testimony. I immediately told Ron and Hermione, but none of us wanted to be the one to ask Hagrid if he’d opened the Chamber. Then Hermione and a seventh-year Ravenclaw were found Petrified.”

Remus paled. “You must have been so worried.”

“That and I felt incredibly guilty. If we had just asked Hagrid then, we might have found what we needed so much earlier. Ron and I went to ask Hagrid about his expulsion and the Chamber, but we didn’t get the chance. Lucius and Minister Fudge were there and they sent Hagrid to Azkaban because the Ministry had to be seen doing ‘something’. Lucius also had the signatures of all the members of the Board of Governors, removing Dumbledore from the school.”

“Oh no,” Sirius mumbled. “That’s not good.”

“It wasn’t. Hagrid had left us some weird advice about following the spiders, we didn’t get the chance for a while. Eventually we were able to go, only to find a tribe of Acromantulas in the Forest. The ‘monster’ that got Hagrid expelled was an elephant-sized male Acromantula named Aragog, which Hagrid was keeping as a pet. Acromantulas do speak English, by the way,” Harry said ruefully, remembering that as being rumor from his Care of Magical Creatures textbook.

Sirius and Remus both looked very pale. “Tell me you got out of there?”

“We did, alive, though barely. Aragog told us that the last victim had been killed in a girls bathroom and that it wasn’t him. It was a creature they feared above all others. In the middle of the night I realized that maybe the girl had never left the bathroom where she had died.”

“Moaning Myrtle?” Sirius said incredulously.

Harry nodded. “We were going to ask her when we got intercepted by McGonagall, all the students had to be escorted by a member of the staff. Since the hospital wing was that way, I said we had ditched Lockhart to go see Hermione. McGonagall let us off, so we went to see her. I realized her fist was clenched around a piece of paper and managed to get it free. It was a page from a library textbook on basilisks, with the word ‘pipes’ in Hermione’s handwriting.”

Remus looked amazed. “Hermione realized it was a basilisk and how it was getting around? She’s incredible.”

“She is,” Harry said fondly. “Mrs. Norris hadn’t been killed because the bathroom had flooded, she saw the reflection of the snakes’ eyes in the water. Justin saw it through Nick, Nick got the full blast but couldn’t die again since he was a ghost. Colin saw it through his camera, it melted the roll of film but he was only petrified. Hermione had just read about it in the Library and was leaving with the Ravenclaw girl, she heard noise around the corner and asked if the girl had a mirror. She was found with the mirror still in her hand.”

“Crazy,” Sirius sighed, “simply crazy.”

“We went to the staff room once we figured it all out, we were going to tell the teachers. We hid in the their coat closet as they held an emergency meeting, Ginny Weasley had been taken into the Chamber itself with a message ‘Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever’.”

Remus shuddered. “Poor Ron.”

“Later that day we went to tell the Defense professor what we knew, he had volunteered to go after her. It turned out that Gilderoy Lockhart was a fraud, he’d been taking other people’s stories and Obliviating them, taking the credit for what others had been doing. We forced him to come with us, realizing that since the snake was getting around in the pipes, a logical place to start looking for the Chamber was the place where Myrtle had died.”

Harry opened the door to the bathroom, still a last resort for girls on this floor. Myrtle was absent, thankfully. “She told us how she died and I started examining the sinks,” Harry pointed out the tiny snake carved on one the taps.

With very little concentration needed, Harry looked at the tiny snake and hissed, “Open.”

The sinks parting and sinking into the ground was just as impressive as it had been the first time. Sirius and Remus both stared at him in incredulous shock.

“The first time we had to slide down the pipe, but I don’t think that’s necessary. Do you think someone as dignified as Salazar Slytherin was reputed to be would slide? Stairs.” He hissed the last word and true to his thoughts, a spiraling staircase appeared, descending into the black depths.

“Lumos Maxima,” Harry cast a large ball of light, illuminating the stairs. He started down, followed by Sirius and Remus.

“You lot are scary, you know that right?” Remus muttered, sticking close to the wall. “This is absolutely unbelievable.”

“Imagine doing it at twelve years old,” Harry called back, casting non-verbal Scrougify every few feet to clean the stairs. Behind him Sirius snorted.

They finally reached the bottom, Harry wrinkled his nose and cast another broad cleaning charm, vanishing the small skeletons littered on the floor. They trekked in silence for a few moments before Harry halted and hummed. “I’d forgotten this was here.”

He turned to his companions, taking in their pale faces at the sight of the massive shed skin glinting in the low light.

Sirius turned to him, a bit pale and said, “It’s bigger than this?”

“A bit,” Harry replied.

Nodding at the cave in beyond he said, “Right here Lockhart tried to steal Ron’s wand and Obliviate us, but Ron’s wand was broken and backfired, causing the cave-in. Ron was on this side with Lockhart, who actually Obliviated himself. I was on the other side, alone.”

He turned to the rock pile, eyed it for a moment and nodded. “Reparo.”

It took a massive amount of power and Harry could feel the drain on his magic, but he was able to repair the ceiling. His hands shook a bit and he sighed, feeling tired. “Ugh.”

Both men were staring at him in ill-disguised awe. “You are unbelievable,” Sirius shook his head.

Harry blushed and walked forward, ignoring Sirius’ chuckles behind him. He strode forward and hissed again, opening the massive round metal door. He climbed down the ladder and cast another Lumos Maxima, illuminating the huge room.

“Welcome to the Chamber of Secrets,” He said simply, letting them take it in.

Inevitably their eyes landed on the massive corpse in the middle of the room, Harry wincing a bit as he took it in. It was far larger than he remembered, but then he’d been all of twelve years old last time and it had been trying to kill him. The basilisk was about forty feet long, it’s scales still a vivid, poisonous green. The head was as large as remembered, able to easily swallow two or three people Sirius’ and Remus’ size.

“You killed that thing when you were twelve?” Sirius said incredulously, Remus looking very pale.

“The escaped convict who showed up a year later was nothing compared to this,” Harry said with a cheeky grin, making Sirius roll his eyes.

“You brought the equipment with you right?”

“No,” Harry deadpanned, “I left it in the dorm. Of course I brought it with me.”

Sirius snorted. “Get going, you’re getting too sarcastic for me.”

“You only have to worry if I start wearing all black and spouting potions ingredients,” Harry smirked.

Sirius shuddered at the very thought. Meanwhile Harry pulled on his dragonhide gloves and carefully pushed a massive fang through the mesh cover on one of his vials. Ever so slowly the venom began to drip into the glass vial, spelled unbreakable for security precautions. Even though his theory was they would only need one or two drops per Horcrux, he still collected enough venom to fill all of his vials.

Harry had to be the last one out of the room in case the door swung shut on someone and he looked around just before he left. He had been twelve years old the one and only time he’d seen this chamber, young and naïve. He’d killed an ancient creature and thus bested the heir of one of the school Founders. As much as he regretted the fact that he was going to have to kill Voldemort, it would have to be done. The man was beyond any help nor recognizable as a human being.

He doubted there would be another living soul that would see this room again.

Chapter Text

Sirius had returned to Grimmauld alone, prompting a surprised query from Molly Weasley, who knew he was teaching. It was the weekend, he didn’t have any classes. Politely he smiled at her and gave some small excuse, letting her think what she would. No doubt something along the lines of him being irresponsible and taking off, she seemed to like thinking things like that. He didn’t care. At least not anymore, before it would have bugged him. Before Horcruxes, before revelations, before Harry.

From the moment he’d angrily stood up and defended Sirius to the Order of the Phoenix, Sirius had been very grateful to Harry. He’d been absolutely shocked when the teenager had ‘accidentally’ removed the Sticking Charm on his mother’s portrait, but the very deliberate defense of Sirius to the others… no one had done that, not even Remus. He’d been dealing with unwarranted suspicion for months before, ever since opening his family home to be used as Headquarters.

Harry could have had a lot of ulterior motives coming back, he could have used his knowledge to completely wreak havoc on the past. He could have just taken his titles and disappeared off to the continent, becoming a wealthy recluse and leaving Britain to its fate. Sirius wouldn’t have blamed him; he’d already fought for them once at a horrible cost. Instead he’d chosen to come back and try to make a difference, to save their society from themselves.

To think that with everything else going on he, Sirius, had been Harry’s first goal and focus was flattering. Honestly, sometimes he wasn’t sure he was worth the trouble, the sheer devotion Harry had showed him so far. Getting him freed, that was more than anyone else had even tried. With what he knew of Harry’s former future, it was more than anyone ever did for him. It had left a bitter taste in his mouth when he realized that no one had bothered, no one had even cared. He’d done everything he possibly could to get away from his family and their reputation and in one moment it was as if it was all for nothing.

Sirius was in Grimmauld for a good reason, an important one. He shook himself out of his melancholic thoughts and headed upstairs, looking for the drawing room with the odious family tapestry. He checked the heavy, dark cabinet in the room for the innocent looking locket, but it was missing. With a sigh, he braced himself, silenced the room, and called Kreacher.

The withered old house elf appeared, bowing at the sight of Sirius so low his overlarge nose brushed the floor. “What can Kreacher be doing for the Master? Oh how the mistress would hate this…”

Sirius restrained a snarl at Kreacher’s muttered comment, instead saying acidly, “You can go back to polishing her portrait in that miserable attic in a moment, Kreacher. There was a locket in this cabinet, a silver one. Where is it? I know you’ve been saving things we’ve tried to throw out.”

Kreacher muttered something about not knowing what Sirius was talking about, beady eyes darting for the door.

“Kreacher, get me Regulus’ locket,” Sirius finally snapped. “I order you to get it. I’m going to destroy it.”

At the look of blatant disbelief on the house elf’s face, Sirius had to remind himself to remain calm. Kreacher didn’t know what that locket was, he had driven himself crazy trying to destroy it, using every type of magic and physical force he could, even house elf magics that wizards couldn’t even use. From the house elf’s point of view, Sirius saying he could destroy it would seem ridiculous.

Kreacher popped out and came back with a heavy silver locket on a fine chain, handing it over with great reluctance. “Kreacher doesn’t know how you found out that the locket was Master Regulus’, but Kreacher doesn’t care. There’s no way the Mistress’ shame can destroy it.”

“There’s things about this locket that you don’t know and couldn’t have known, Kreacher,” Sirius said, keeping his voice level. He set the locket on a small, spindly table, eyeing it. Made of solid silver with tiny emeralds forming an elaborate, calligraphic ‘S’, it certainly befitted Slytherin’s reputation. It was gorgeous in its own way, finely made and elaborately engraved.

It was a pity Voldemort had picked almost exclusively Founder’s objects to warp with his spells and soul shards. They were exquisite and belonged in a wizarding museum, or in a pride of place at Hogwarts. One twisted man’s selfish ambitions would rob generations of their history. It sounded about right from what Harry had told him of the being that used to be Tom Riddle, last descendant of Salazar Slytherin. Sirius shook his head.

Sirius was not going to copy Harry’s ridiculous display of controlling Fiendfyre, he’d never really been able to control the temperamental spell. Instead, he removed a slender capped glass vial full of a clear liquid. Even with spells layered for protection and anti-breaking on the glass, Sirius was very cautious as he slipped on dragonhide gloves and uncapped the Basilisk venom. Harry had told him that last time he had opened the locket using Parseltongue, but the venom should destroy the whole container without having to repeat it. Apparently somehow the Horcrux had ‘fought back’ and Harry wanted to avoid that if at all possible.

He carefully tapped out three drops onto the locket and then paused, giving the venom a moment to work through the metal. It hissed the moment it touched the outside, burning a visible hole into the metal as Sirius watched on, incredulous. The whole locket began to shake violently, rattling on the small table. For just a second black smoke began to curl out of the interior of the locket, before an inhuman shriek split the air, making Sirius hastily cover his ears.

The locket shook even more violently, knocking over the small table. Eventually the shrieking died off and Sirius cautiously uncovered his ears, moving to look at the locket. It had crumpled in on itself, the metal curled and blackened. Picking it up by the chain cautiously, Sirius stared as he realized the venom had burned clean through the metal, warping a giant hole through the metal on the other side.

Hearing a soft, shocked wheezing sound reminded Sirius that he hadn’t dismissed Kreacher yet. The aged elf was staring between Sirius and the twisted locket with a stunned, disbelieving expression of great relief on his face. “Dismissed, Kreacher. Keep this to yourself for now, we are letting as few people as possible know about this.”

Kreacher gave a very low, sweeping bow and croaked, “Yes, Master.”

The elf gave the locket one last shocked, incredulous glance and then disappeared with a quiet pop.

His whole reason for visiting Grimmauld actually completed, Sirius started out of the room, dropping his silencing spells and putting the locket in his pocket wrapped in a piece of dark silk. After making sure the cap was very secure, the vial of venom went into the same pocket. He walked back down the stairs and out the front door, not bothering to tell Molly he was leaving. It was his house; he could come and go freely as he chose.

Once down the front steps and onto the street he Apparated, appearing just outside Hogsmeade. The small village was fairly deserted, there were few adult witches and wizards that lived or worked there full time besides Rosmerta and Aberforth. He strode through the village at a fairly brisk pace, enjoying the warmer than usual weather for mid-October. As he strolled along the grounds various students called out to him, waving.

He waved back, whistling cheerfully as he crossed the bridge. He spotted Harry out in the Clocktower courtyard, sitting on a bench next to Hermione, both of them equipped with student bags and large tomes, studying what appeared to be Charms. Harry looked up and away from his book, catching sight of Sirius. He smiled, waving. Hermione looked up and waved as well, before looking down at her book again. Discreetly, Sirius pulled the chain from the locket out of his pocket, Harry’s eyes catching the glint of silver. Sirius nodded, just once. Harry’s eyes widened and just for a second his smile had edge.

It was gone a second later and he nodded in return, before looking at Hermione as she caught his attention on one of the facts in her book. Sirius continued, satisfied at the brief, nonverbal conversation. Progress had been made and communicated, now he could drop off the locket and vial of venom and enjoy his weekend. Perhaps he’d go back into Hogsmeade and enjoy a butterbeer at Rosmerta’s?

Yes, that sounded nice.  

Chapter Text

Harry had been spending an inordinate amount of time researching lately. Hermione was impressed by what she perceived to be his work ethic for classes, but it was nothing of the sort. Harry felt bad for deceiving her, especially since they were working on their friendship, but he couldn’t involve her in this. Sirius wasn’t even involved, much to his displeasure. He’d offered to help Harry on his research but Harry wanted him to keep his distance, just in case this blew up in his face spectacularly, a la Umbridge.

He’d been looking into any form of information that would get Dumbledore thrown out of Hogwarts. Permanently. Umbridge had achieved it short-term during his previous life, but Harry wanted the man out. He knew that Dumbledore’s power base was the school if he was left here he would be even more dangerous. Even if he followed his previous track record and researched the ring Horcrux, another year was too much.

Harry had been shocked when he’d come to the ruthless conclusion of offing the man himself, shaking it off with no small amount of self-doubt. He knew Dumbledore was dangerous and that he needed to be removed, but even in his previous life, he’d never considered himself one to kill an opponent unless necessary. He’d killed two, including Voldemort.

Only a couple of people from his past life knew the other one. After the war had ended, the Ministry had begun to tally the bodies of the dead. The Death Eaters and Voldemort sympathizers had their list, each name or photo ticked off with some measure of relief as their body was discovered.

Amongst those that hadn’t been found was Fenrir Greyback, the notorious werewolf with a taste for children. Harry had gone into the Auror corps with one thing in mind; find Fenrir. With the death of Remus Lupin and his wife, Harry wanted the man who had made Remus’ life so miserable gone, so that he wouldn’t be a danger to anyone else, especially precious Teddy Lupin, his godson.

Three years after graduating from the academy, he’d found Fenrir. He’d been working with hit wizards from the Ministry’s elite Combat Unspeakable force, tracking down rogue Death Eaters and those that had supported them. In an abandoned muggle factory district they’d cornered several dangerous individuals, including Fenrir. The rogue werewolf was madder than ever, what little sanity abandoned. He’d taken off, Harry in hot pursuit. Far from the rest of his team, Harry had raised his wand and cast the darkest curse to leave his lips, and that included the Imperios he used at Gringotts.

Starting at the extremities and working its way inward with each beat of the werewolf’s heart, the spell had turned Fenrir’s blood to liquid silver. He’d found it in the Black family library after the war with the note ‘for filth’. When he’d cast a cutting curse to slow Fenrir down, his blood was viscous and black. He’d died slowly, the look of shocked agony on his face almost enough to make Harry feel guilty. Almost. To avoid getting into trouble for using the spell, he’d burned the body to ash afterward and reported that Fenrir had ‘resisted arrest.’

He’d told Sirius about it a couple of weeks ago, true to his private promise not to hide anything from the man. Sirius had been exceptionally quiet for a few minutes, contemplating. Then he’d simply said, “Good. He had it coming.”

So while Harry wasn’t a stranger to ruthless action, he refused to use it unless necessary. At the moment Dumbledore was just a dangerous old man with too much power. He wasn’t a physical threat or one that deserved to die. Harry had been researching old files instead, looking through old school records and family histories in search of something that would get the man thrown out if brought to the Board.

Buried in a dusty old tome on family histories, he suddenly paused. Harry wanted to smack himself as he realized what he had been so obviously overlooking. He’d been under the Cruciatus Curse inside the school, something that should have been impossible. There were supposed to be wards in place to prevent such a thing from happening, wards of protection. For that matter, a troll shouldn’t have gotten into the school in his first year and the basilisk shouldn’t have been roaming the pipes. Where were the wards?

Closing his book, he picked up his bag and left the Library, heading in the direction of the dungeons. The wards had to be under the school somewhere, which meant they were likely around or under the Slytherin common room. He slowed as he reached the lower levels, looking around for the symbol of the Hogwarts crest, a dead giveaway of something important.

“What are you doing down here, Scarhead?”

Harry stopped and sighed. Draco. Of course, he’d been tempting fate by entering Slytherin territory. He turned slowly, studying the blonde. Haughty grey eyes, combed back blonde hair and impeccable wardrobe, Draco hadn’t changed much physically over the years. Harry stared at the blonde for a long moment, contemplating.

When the Draco Malfoy of his time had come pushing himself into Harry’s life, he’d been very suspicious. They’d been schoolyard rivals and after the war had gone their separate ways. Whenever he’d come across the blonde he sneered at Harry and walked away. The day Draco had gotten married to Astoria Greengrass, a political conference of the ICW had taken the second page.

The first time he’d run into Draco where the man hadn’t been sneering was after his Gringotts meeting when he’d gone into a wizarding bar and gotten himself spectacularly drunk. Thankfully he wasn’t the type to make a fool of himself when drinking, he tended to just become more quiet and introspective. Draco had elegantly sat on a barstool next to Harry and ordered them both a whiskey.

While their first few interactions had been stiff and awkward, they’d soon started chatting easily enough and become friends of a sort, though Harry would never have brought Draco and Ron in the same room. After the realization about his broken soul-bond when he’d retreated into a miserable depression, Draco had teamed up with Luna and firmly imposed himself on Harry, forcing him to eat, sleep and go to work.

So now, looking at this teenaged version of Draco who had yet to go through his hell, Harry couldn’t bring himself to insult the other boy. Instead, he said quietly but firmly, “I’m sorry.”

Draco looked confused and then angry. His grey eyes narrowed and he opened his mouth to speak, but Harry forced himself to continue. “I’m sorry I refused your hand on the train in our first year. I knew nothing of wizarding customs and I’m aware now that it was a deep insult. I still don’t like the way you spoke to Ron Weasley but your introduction was technically correct. I apologize, Malfoy.”

For a second Draco looked lost for words, then he snarled, “What makes you think I want an apology from you, Potter? What makes you think I still care about something that happened four years ago?!”

Harry shrugged and said simply, “If it didn’t bother you, you wouldn’t make it a point to actively seek me out at every opportunity. Accept it or don’t, it’s your choice. I’ve made my move.”

Then he turned and walked away, leaving a bewildered, angry Slytherin behind. Two corridors later, he found what he was looking for. Or at least he thought it was what he was looking for. It was a broad double door of wood with silvery trimmings in the form of ivy leaves with the school crest impressed into the doors. Contemplating it for a moment, Harry reached out a hand and turned the ornate knob, pushing lightly. It opened, swinging in silently.

It’s not even locked, he scoffed to himself, eyeing the dark interior. Thanks to his time with the hit wizards, he knew the spell he needed to record the ward activity, all that mattered was that he had parchment long enough to record the changes over the years. Thankfully the roll of parchment he had would expand up to ten feet, plenty enough or so he thought.

He walked inside, taking in the sight with wide eyes. Magic swirled visibly in front of him, a shining vortex of white, silver, gold, black, purple and blue. It was centered around a massive school crest of enameled stone that glowed in the light of the spells. Sprouting from where the ‘H’ was written was a delicate ivy-carved stone pedestal.

He set the parchment on the edge of the ward circle, pressed the tip of his wand to the paper and intoned a long enchantment he’d memorized a lifetime ago. His wand glowed silver and words began to burn themselves into the parchment. He kept his wand pressed to the paper, kneeling at the edge of the wards for what felt like hours. Finally, the glow faded and he lifted his wand, rolling up the parchment carefully and putting it in his bookbag. He backed out of the ward room and closed the door, heading for the main interior of the school. Hopefully what he needed was here.

Chapter Text

Hogwarts-

It wasn’t often that Sirius found himself annoyed with his soulmate, but this was one of those times. Against everything in him he’d allowed Harry to research a way to kick Dumbledore out of the school permanently, understanding his desire to protect Sirius from the backlash but not liking it in the slightest. Harry was after all the younger of the pair, even with all of his previous knowledge and experience. It rankled at him to let a teenager try and confront a dangerous older wizard.

But then hadn’t that been what they’d been setting Harry up to do the whole time? Sirius could pretend he hadn’t, that he’d been looking after his godson/soulmate with the best of intentions since getting free. But the Order and Dumbledore had been priming him from the age of eleven to fight against Voldemort, a man with more than sixty years worth of experience in all kinds of magic. He would have been at a laughable disadvantage, especially since even grey magics earned a sneer of distrust from most of the Order.

Harry had been rather pale but composed ever since that day last week when he’d been reading a long roll of parchment and had abruptly blanched before getting up and disappearing from the Great Hall. At the evening meal the roll, which had been on his person for the last three days, had been gone. When Sirius had gone to talk to Harry the teen had discreetly shaken his head, warning him off. So he’d retreated, watching Harry with cautious, worried eyes.

Today marked two days since the parchment had disappeared and Sirius was just beginning to wonder what was going on when the massive double doors to the Great Hall swung open forcefully, revealing an intimidating sight.

Amelia Bones walked in first, her face set in a firm, no-nonsense expression that, combined with the fact that she had her wand firmly in hand, said she meant business. Flanking her on either side were a shocked, angry Kingsley Shacklebolt and a grim Alastor Moody, electric blue eye focused unwaveringly on Dumbledore.

Dumbledore stood, smiling genially. “Ah, Amelia, Kingsley and Alastor, what brings you to Hogwarts this fine afternoon?”

Amelia’s expression firmed even further if possible, a fierce scowl wreathing her features as her jaw firmed. In a clear, strong voice she said, “I’m afraid this is not a social call, Dumbledore. We are here on official business.”

Still smiling, Dumbledore said, “What brings the Ministry to Hogwarts?”

Sirius sucked in a quiet breath and resisted the urge to shake his head, hearing the absent emphasis on ‘Ministry’ and ‘Hogwarts’ as if they were two separate entities. Dumbledore was on a fast track to annoying Amelia if he continued to speak as though he and the school were above Ministry sanctions and laws.

“You,” Amelia said bluntly, to shocked whispers from the students. “We received a roll of parchment from an individual here at the school that warranted immediate Ministry action. However, we delayed a day in order to make sure that the claims were valid. To the shock and disgust of many, including those who formerly trusted you, they are valid.”

Dumbledore’s smile was a bit sharper now. “And what claims have been made against me?”

Amelia produced a very familiar roll of parchment, flicking her wrist to unroll it and letting it brush against the stone floor. “This is a history of what has been done to and within the Hogwarts wards since just before your tenure as Headmaster began,” Amelia said, a fierce glitter in her eyes. “You would probably be interested in what it has to say about you and your running of the school, Dumbledore.”

Before anyone could react, Dumbledore whipped out his wand and summoned the roll, yanking it out of Amelia’s hands without so much as an apology. A majority of the students and staff gaped at the action, shocked by the rudeness of the man before this most of them had respected. Dumbledore made a show of adjusting his half-moon glasses and looking over the parchment, Sirius noting thanks to his close proximity the way the man’s eyes first narrowed and then widened, his skin paling slightly aside from blotchy color near his crooked nose.

He let out a laugh that sounded false even to untrained ears, waving the roll airily. “While no doubt an entertaining read it also is an entertaining piece of fiction, Amelia.”

Then, to the incredulous, shocked mutters of many, he lit the parchment with a hasty Incendio, the roll burning rapidly into so many pieces of ash.

Amelia was still smiling, the expression even more dangerous now somehow. “You must think me an even more incompetent individual than I thought, Dumbledore. That was merely a copy and your reaction to it is proof enough to anyone with eyes that it does contain information you didn’t want known.”

Dumbledore’s face was getting a little more noticeably red, his breathing a bit harsh. “Who brought this against me? I have a right to know who is slandering me in this manner.”

“Actually,” Alastor growled, speaking for the first time, “you don’t. And in any case the original was sent to the Ministry anonymously from a Hogwarts post owl.”

Dumbledore glared at Alastor, blue eyes sharp and angry.

“The information has already been dissimilated by the Ministry and the Board of Governors, in any case. There will be an article on it in the Prophet tomorrow morning. Effective immediately, you are being told to resign as Headmaster of the school. You will not be allowed to access the Headmaster’s office to collect your things, nor to speak to any of the staff. We are here to escort you out to make sure no one is harmed in the process. At this time, your retirement stipend is still available to you, but only that of a Hogwarts professor.”

Sirius sucked in a breath, shocked. What had been in that roll that they already discussed it and were none-too-gently kicking the old man out on a reduced stipend?

Dumbledore exploded. “I have been Headmaster of this school for almost sixty years, I deserve better treatment than this, Amelia Adele Bones!”

“Actually no you don’t,” Amelia said coldly. “You are exceptionally lucky to be escaping criminal charges considering what that revealed. Amongst other things it showed you knew about the Chamber of Secrets and it’s approximate location, you knew about the troll that got in and endangered three students (which you never reported to the Ministry) and you knew that the ‘Alastor Moody’ that was in the school last term was an imposter! You can’t even say you didn’t know about any of those because you lowered the protections of the school’s wards so they would get in!”

So many students and staff sucked in a sharp breath simultaneously it nearly caused a very small drop in air pressure. Sirius risked a quick look at Harry, who had a very convincing shocked expression on his face. His eyes however, were both satisfied and very angry since all of the incidents Amelia had listed had concerned him.

“Not to mention the most devious part,” Amelia continued, glaring herself now. “The fact that you have risked all of the students lives and the integrity of the school’s Charter by warping the wards so that they would accept you as Headmaster in the first place. Dippet’s replacement as chosen by the wards was Filius Flitwick!”

All of the students of pure or half-blood status would have heard of the school Charter, the laws and rules by which Hogwarts had been run for centuries. They were visibly shocked and upset to hear that their lives had been risked, because the wards wouldn’t have been at full power nor the proper quality ever since Dumbledore had perverted them.

Tiny Professor Flitwick, normally so genial and cheerful as the Head of Ravenclaw, looked furious. “You dared to mess with the Charter and the wards of this school, risking all of our students and warping the education of generations all for your blasted ego?”

Glaring around at everyone in the Hall, Dumbledore stood, wand in hand. He raised his wand, pointing it at the nearest student, Susan Bones. “I have done everything in my life to assure the safety of these students and mold them in the image of nobility and courage, Gryffindor’s trademarks. I have forged warriors, politicians and heroes for generations and this is how you thank me?”

The three Ministry officials looked frozen, staring at Dumbledore and Susan Bones, niece to Amelia, trembling in her seat yet still holding herself proudly.

Sirius, watching Harry out of the corner of his eye, watched him flick his wand just slightly and non-verbally disarm Dumbledore, the man’s wand flying out of his surprised grip and clattering on the floor several dozen feet away. Startled and angry he spat, “This is far from over, Amelia.”

With a loud, showy crack! he Apparated, leaving shaken students and a very angry, confused staff behind.

“May I speak to the staff please? Kingsley, Alastor, stay with the students.”

The two men nodded and planted themselves on either side of the doors, wands in hand in case Dumbledore tried something.

Sirius stood, stunned. He walked into the trophy room behind the Head Table, leaning against the wall near the cabinet with the trophy from the last Gryffindor Quidditch cup him and James had won. The others filed in, faces confused, angry and a little upset. Amelia walked in last and shut the door behind her.

“I apologize for the dramatic way that played out,” she began, but we wanted to make sure that Dumbledore left the building as swiftly as possible to avoid any dangerous fights, especially with a vulnerable student population involved.”

“It could have been catastrophic,” Pomona Sprout said, eyes worried.

“It could have, but we got lucky. I’m glad the old man left in the manner he did, it saved us having to escort him out in cuffs or anything similar. The fact that he was going to use my niece as insurance is troubling, but sadly he did nothing against her so we aren’t going to be able to press charges.”

“Now,” she said, a grave expression on her face, “we need to discuss the school. The Head’s office is locked until further notice, we are going to have an official team of Aurors going through it to make sure there is nothing potentially harmful left behind. Any of Dumbledore’s personal possessions will be packed up and sent to his personal residence.”

“Did he really do all of those awful things?” Minerva said quietly. She looked shattered and Sirius felt a small amount of empathy for her. She had been one of Albus’ fiercest champions for years, his Deputy for over thirty years of educating students.

“He did,” Amelia said, a sympathetic but final tone in her voice. “The proof was there the entire time, written out in the wards for whoever wanted to see it. I only outlined a few in front of the students, there are far more disturbing elements that children don’t need to hear. Tracking wards on specific students, compulsions and the worst of it. He was pulling power from the school to increase his own abilities. One visible piece of this is that no one, not even the Headmaster/Headmistress, should be able to Apparate inside the school.”

Flitwick looked angry. “Recklessly endangering the students entrusted to us, stealing power from the wards that have kept the school safe for centuries, manipulating inter-House rivalries to the point that they have become dangerous and volatile, what hasn’t that man done?”

Looking at Severus Snape directly, Amelia said, “He was manipulating the wards for your benefit as well. Without his intervention a marked Death Eater, spy or no, wouldn’t be allowed within the school.”

Severus simply frowned, not saying anything.

Looking at them all, Amelia said in a voice that had a steel undertone, “I am aware that several of you are members of the vigilante group known as the Order of the Phoenix. Both Kingsley Shacklebolt and Alastor Moody have come to me and confessed their activities. I am shocked, angry and disappointed that there are those who would rather put faith in their own wands than legal leadership, but I am aware that our leadership has been shoddy at best.”

“However,” she looked at each of them in turn, “If you plan on remaining members of this group, I must ask you to turn in your resignation to the school. Albus Dumbledore leads the group and I don’t trust those whose loyalties are split between the school and its former Headmaster. Those that teach here should be dedicated to the students, nothing more, nothing less.”

Looking again to Severus Snape she said, “To that effect I am going to offer you a handsome retirement package as a tenured professor with over 15 years’ experience and a double Mastery in Potions and Defense. The package is 15,000 Galleons up front and another 500 per month stipend.”

Severus’ eyes widened. Before he could say anything, Minerva cut in, brogue pronounced in irritation. “Wait just a moment. I’ve been here far longer than Severus and mine is less than half of that according to my inquires with the Headmaster!”

Amelia frowned. “Your stipend according to the Ministry is 800 monthly and 20,000 upfront.”

Minerva sucked in a breath. “I was told 300/10,000,” she finally admitted, face pale.

With a rather drawn expression on her face Amelia said, “It appears we shall have to look into the school finances as well. Severus Snape, the offer stands. As much as we have appreciated your experience here, we cannot retain you and risk the students. Will you take the retirement and leave peacefully?”

“I will,” Severus said curtly, “How long do I have to pack my things?”

“Through the end of this week. We will have to send the students home early so the wards can be reset properly. Any of you that wish to inquire into your retirement offers through the Ministry are free to do so as now would be an optimal time to find new staff members.”

Turning to Flitwick, Amelia spoke, “That brings me to my final piece for the moment. As the original Head chosen by the wards upon Dippet’s departure, do you, Filius Flitwick, accept the right, responsibility and trials that go with being Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?”

Filius remained quiet for a long moment, looking around at each of them in turn. When he settled his gaze on Amelia again his expression was firm and convicted. “Yes.”  

Breathing hard, staring at the place where Dumbledore had been standing, Harry resisted the urge to slump his shoulders and show an expression of pure relief. He wasn’t sure how that was going to go, but watching Dumbledore actually draw his wand, the Elder Wand, on Susan Bones had not been one of the possibilities. He stood up, carefully crouching down to pick up the wand and tuck it into his robes. So that his standing motion wouldn’t seem amiss and out of a desire to do so he approached Susan, who had been a member of the DA in his old timeline.

“Are you okay?” he said quietly.

She looked surprised to see Harry Potter standing there asking about her, but she nodded shakily. “Yeah, I think I will be. That was a shock though.”

“I’m sure it would have been for anyone,” Harry replied, “he swore to protect all of us supposedly.”

Before anyone could say anything else the door to the trophy room opened and the staff reappeared with Amelia. Harry went and sat back down at the Gryffindor table, watching the faces of the staff. They appeared shocked, tired and angry.

Amelia stepped in front of the Headmaster’s podium and began to speak. “I want to apologize to all of you for the confrontation that just happened. We at the Ministry wanted to act quickly and decisively, aware that if we delayed or tried to speak to Dumbledore through mail he may threaten you all now that he has been exposed.”

“The school’s wards are at less than half their normal strength, which is dangerous for students, staff and the school itself. We will be, therefore, sending all of you home this Friday. Mail has been sent to your parents to inform them of your early departure, along with a notice that those of you who need to take O.W.L.s or N.E.W.T.s will be contacted at a later date to arrange an appointment for testing at the Ministry of Magic.”

“The new Headmaster when Hogwarts resumes on 1 September will be Filius Flitwick.”

Applause rippled through the room, the most enthusiastic coming from the Ravenclaws.

“Additional teacher appointments will be made during the extended downtime to replace Filius in Charms as well as several other positions. The school’s curriculum and organization shall be examined as well as any dangerous objects purged. We will make sure that when you return, your safety is never threatened again.”

Genuine applause filled the room again, the students looking excited and relieved. Harry clapped with them, more relieved and a bit wistful than anything. He looked around the Great Hall, aware that he would likely not be returning for some time. But Hogwarts was safe from Dumbledore now, no Death Eaters would attack the school, no Final Battle, no Great Hall full of bodies and grieving families.

In the end, that was all that mattered.

Chapter Text

Ministry of Magic- Friday

Instead of taking the train into London, Harry and Sirius chose to Apparate into Diagon Alley after the school closed down, Sirius having turned in his resignation as an instructor in the school. A brief stop in London first secured them a suite at a fairly luxurious hotel. They were unsure if Minerva McGonagall and Remus would be staying considering the ultimatum Amelia had offered the staff: Hogwarts or Dumbledore. Harry had been relieved beyond comparison when Sirius had informed him of the surprise ultimatum, not to mention the fact that Kingsley and Alastor had outed themselves to Amelia as former members.

Severus Snape had no doubt jumped at the chance to leave the school, he’d never been happy as an instructor to pre-teens and teens, forced into it as part of his deal with Dumbledore as a spy in the Inner Circle. No doubt Severus would be hiding until Voldemort was dealt with, the spy knew he would be killed for voluntarily leaving his post at the school.

All of this was on Harry’s mind as they traveled through Muggle London, headed for the Ministry of Magic. Why the Ministry had seen fit to create a building so far from their magical center he didn’t know, nor why their main hospital was on a completely different section in a Muggle storefront. In his past life he’d been to Paris and Lisbon on Auror business, their bustling magical district had everything from storefronts to official Ministry buildings, license centers for apparition and their major hospitals, with smaller clinics throughout the country. He knew from experience talking to the inhabitants of these countries that wizarding Britain was considered a backwater laughingstock, especially with Fudge and Dumbledore as their representatives.

Fudge was ousted, Dumbledore irritatingly enough was not. Even after everything the scroll had revealed about the wards and the ‘Headmaster’, he still held enough political sway and had enough blind backers to retain his position as Supreme Mugwump of the Wizengamot and International Confederation of Wizards representative. Which was why Harry and Sirius were headed in to the Ministry, to speak with new Minister-Elect Amelia Bones about the highly-regulated, somewhat controversial Permanent Aging Potion.

Harry was bone-tired with putting up with his almost sixteen-year-old self. He had the magical strength, knowledge and experience of someone more than twice his age, yet he would always be shunted aside in his teenage body. If he was going to enter the political arena and oust Dumbledore permanently, he needed to shed the illusion of a teenager. It wasn’t enough to reveal his Lordships and test out of school, he knew there would be those that wouldn’t listen entirely because he looked far too young.

“Lord Potter and Lord Black to see Minister-Elect,” Sirius told the waiting clerk, noticeably not Percy Weasley. Interesting.

The young dark-haired witch nodded and sent a memo flying through a small slot in the wall in front of them, no doubt alerting Amelia. The heavy wood door in front of them swung open, revealing not only Amelia Bones but Kingsley and Alastor, who didn’t appear surprised to see them. They walked inside, exchanged polite greetings and sat down in the proffered comfortable chairs.

“I know you are not here about the school,” Amelia began, “but may I ask do you have any insights into what the Ministry should be checking?”

“The many faces of the Room of Requirement for one,” Harry said, telling them how to access it. “There’s no telling what may be hiding in that room, I imagine there could be a dark artifact or two, I know for a fact there’s a broken Vanishing Cabinet there, the only other I’ve seen is in Knockturn Alley, in Borgin and Burkes,” Harry said blandly, not giving away the fact that he knew they were a pair.

“Vanishing Cabinets can create a doorway between the two of them if they are both working, we will definitely check them and remove the one from the school,” Amelia nodded, writing it down on a piece of parchment.

“I would also look into the supposed ‘curse’ on the Defense Against the Dark Arts post, the one that keeps anyone from staying longer than a year. According to rumors Dumbledore has helped spread it was put in place by Voldemort when he was denied the post in his thirties, but with all we’ve been learning about Dumbledore I wouldn’t be surprised if it was actually something he’d done.”

“It has been in place for quite a while,” Kingsley mused. “I remember none of ours lasted longer than a year when I was in school.”

“I must thank you, Lord Potter.” Amelia said, looking him in the eyes.

“It’s Harry to you, and for what?” Harry answered cautiously.

“For sending us that scroll on the wards in the first place,” Amelia said, to which Harry froze. “It may have been a generic Hogwarts owl, but both Kingsley and Alastor recognized your magical signature on the scroll itself, a feat of magic unusual for a teenager.”

“It was me, yes,” Harry admitted, sitting a bit stiffly. “I’ve had my reasons for wanting Dumbledore removed from the school, not in the least the fact that those three mentioned incidents all included me.”

“As well as one of his active tracking spells,” Amelia mused. “He certainly seemed to have wanted you under his thumb quite badly. Now I understand why you took your Lordships on so early.”

“Pardon,” Kingsley interrupted, “but Lordships? I’m only aware of Lord Potter.”

“My parents were Fabian Prewett and James Potter, I’m rightfully Lord Prewett as well by my grandfather Septimus’ last records.”

Kingsley blinked, but Alastor’s hawk-like gaze merely sharpened. “You’ve been intriguing me for several months now, Potter, now I know something of the reason why. But others escape me. Such as how you were able to see the Order’s Headquarters without knowing about it.”

Harry internally sighed. He should have expected this, it was not for nothing that Alastor Moody was one of the most accomplished Aurors in the Ministry and had survived for so long with Death Eaters actively seeking his demise.

“That keys in to why we are here today,” Harry said, looking at Amelia. “I am here to formally request authorization for a Permanent Aging Potion.”

Amelia frowned. “The potion you speak of is highly-restricted and regulated by the Ministry and the Department of Mysteries. It has only been used three times since it was discovered. Why would you request such a thing, especially now that Dumbledore it out of Hogwarts permanently?”

“I intend to test out of Hogwarts with your approval, Minister. This is going to sound quite unbelievable, but I know I will pass both O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s easily, I have taken them before. I am from over twenty years into the future, Minister, sent back by Magic herself with the power of the Veil in the Department of Mysteries.”

“Were it not for your very sound mind and moves so far, I would have you tossed into the psychiatric ward at St. Mungo’s,” Amelia said bluntly. “As is, I hope you have proof of your claims.”

“I do,” Harry said calmly, making sure his entire form exuded confidence and control. “I’m aware the claim sounds ludicrous; I would not be here without being able to back it up. I also came here to warn you of how far the Ministry will fall without precautions, which is why my evidence is memories from my former life, all involving the Ministry of Magic. I was an Auror and trained with the hitwizards across Europe, which is how I knew the spell to document the wards of Hogwarts in the first place.”

“I will let you pull the memories, Madam Minister, or either of these gentlemen as I trust them implicitly with their actions regarding Dumbledore.”

Harry closed his eyes, bringing the memories he wished to show Amelia to the forefront, starting with the news article that announced her death and the appointment of Rufus Scrimgeour as Head Auror. He felt the strange tugging sensation that went with memory retrieval, letting it go on for a while before opening his eyes, breaking off the strand. It was fairly long and shimmered in the light. While his eyes had been shut Amelia had procured a Pensieve from somewhere and placed it on the broad mahogany desk between them.

Kingsley, who had been the one to extract the memories, flicked his wand lightly to free the strand, which floated down and landed on the not-quite liquid substance, visible for a moment before being absorbed entirely. “Sirius,” Harry said quietly, attracting the attention of his companion who had been quiet so far, “if you wish to see this batch of memories you are welcome to do so, I have already lived through it once and so again I will not be joining you.”

“They’re different from the ones you showed me and Remus?” Sirius said quietly.

“Yes,” Harry answered simply.

Sirius nodded and stood, walking closer to the desk so that he could reach out and touch the Pensieve. Harry was once again privilege to the strangeness that was watching people becoming absorbed into a Pensieve, though their physical bodies remained. Their eyes became blank, their postures locked into place with an alarming rigidity.

They were watching the articles that announced Amelia’s death and Rufus’ promotion, followed by the fallout after the death of Dumbledore in his timeline, Rufus trying to coerce Harry into becoming the ‘face’ of an increasingly desperate and prejudiced Ministry. They saw Kingsley’s Patronus arrive at the Weasley wedding and announce the fall of the Ministry. Their infiltration of the Ministry followed, including the awful new statue, the wanted posters for Undesirable Number One and the Muggleborn Registration Committee trial at the gleeful hands of Dolores Umbridge.

He included a few snippets from his Auror career as well, a couple of minor missions and the meeting with Minister Shacklebolt and the Head of the Auror Department talking about him taking over the Department of Law Enforcement when the man retired in three years.

Sirius was the first to show signs of reviving, shaking his shoulders in a remnant of being a dog for a couple of years. He looked at Harry and shook his head. “You are unbelievable, you know that? All of the things you’ve done and been through are just beyond belief!”

Amelia revived next, sighing. She sat down, staring at Harry quietly. She shook her head, muttered something under her breath and then sat up, summoning a piece of parchment. “This is a consent form for the procedure of undergoing a Permanent Aging Potion. I am authorizing you to use it, Lord Potter-Prewett or however you will choose to hyphenate your name. The memories you gave as evidence will be placed in a confidential Ministry vault under complex spellwork unless you wish to reabsorb them.”

“You can keep them,” Harry said, watching out of the corner of his eye as Kingsley and Alastor both exited the memories, eyeing him with a new sort of cautious respect. “How will this process work?”

“You will test out of Hogwarts here today and get your Apparition license early, again authorized by myself. I have no doubt you will pass it, you likely Apparated into Diagon today via Side-Appartion with Lord Black to keep appearances. By the time you finish the testing grids for both sets they will have the potion ready. It ages you either one, three, seven or nine years, your choice.”

Harry snorted, “Magicals and their numbers. I choose the max, nine years. I’ll be turning 25 this summer then, that would be at least a bit more respectable than 16.”

“I take you will be entering the Wizengamot with both of your titles,” Amelia stated.

“I will, just imagine Dumbledore’s surprise,” Harry responded with a small smirk.

Kingsley let out a surprised snigger.

“I look forward to it,” Amelia said, shooting a look at her top Auror.

“I think all of us do,” Alastor said, with an answering smirk. “I imagine a certain Matriarch is going to throw a fit, both at your aging and the Prewett revelation.”

“You wouldn’t happen to be a former Slytherin, would you Alastor?” Harry said mildly, looking at the grizzled Auror.

“I am,” Alastor answered. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you hadn’t been a shoo-in for it yourself, with recent choices you’ve made.”

“Slytherin or Gryffindor, my choice,” Harry answered easily. “I’d been primed the entire time I’d known the magical world to choose Gryffindor, so big surprise, that’s what I chose.”

“If it weren’t worth another headache, I would inquire deeper into that,” Amelia said somewhat wryly, “as is I will let it be for now. Instead Lord Potter I will send you downstairs to the Department of Magical Education with this authorization to test both O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. competence levels.”

Harry stood, when Sirius made to follow, he shook his head. “You might as well stay here and talk to them if you wish, Sirius. It’s going to take a while for me to finish both sets.”

Sirius gave a snort of disbelief. “Somehow, I think you’re downplaying that as much as you do everything else, but fine. I’ll stick here and talk to ‘Melia and these guys.”

Harry exited the office to the sight of Amelia arching an eyebrow at what was obviously a school nickname. He snorted, trust Sirius to get in trouble with the woman who now ran the entire Ministry over a nickname.

The witch in the Department of Magical Education barely withheld a sneer when he said he was there to test out for both O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. classifications. “You can do the OWLs,” she sniffed, “but NEWTs require Ministry clearance.”

Controlling a flash of irritation Harry gave her a slightly barbed smile and placed the signed form from Amelia under her nose. Her eyes widened when she spotted both the signature and his Lordship ring. She babbled a quick apology and had him sign a pair of release forms, gesturing him through a door while pink-faced in embarrassment.

Spotting a desk, piece of paper and quill he guessed the purpose and walked over, noting the top of the page where it said, ‘Ordinary Wizarding Level Test Battery for Young Wizards and Witches’. He sat down, made himself comfortable and began writing. He became so absorbed in the questions that it was to some surprise that he finished writing his last sentence and set down the paper to spot an elderly wizard with the Magical Education logo on his black robes.

It was Examiner Tofty, the same who had been his examiner for DADA in his old timeline. Shaking himself out of his surprise he stood, watching the old wizard flick his wand over Harry’s paper, humming at the results.

“Mr. Potter, my name is Examiner Tofty, I will be assessing your practical tests for both OWL and NEWT attempts, as well as your Apparition license testing. We will begin with practical Charms, moving on to Transfiguration, Astronomy, Potions, Defense Against the Dark Arts and Ancient Runes. Arithmancy and History of Magic do not have a practical examination. We will finish all OWL practical exams before moving on to the NEWTs and your Apparition license will be last. Are there any questions before we begin?”

“None,” Harry answered simply.

“Good. I have one of my own for you, if I may. You didn’t take either Ancient Runes or Arithmancy in your classes, so why are you confident you can pass both OWL and NEWT for them?”

“I didn’t take either one of them, no. I had some bad advice when choosing my electives in second year and went with Care of Magical Creatures and Divination. It was only later on I realized how much more practical and effective, not to mention necessary, both Arithmancy and Ancient Runes are. I did self-study of them both over the summers, noting the necessary books from the schedules of my classmates.”

Harry’s answer wasn’t actually a lie, he had studied both over the summers in his previous timeline, both during school and as a hobby of sorts after the end of the war. He had a knack for Runes according to his Hermione, who had been very impressed with his natural handling of the finicky subject.

His exams went well, Astronomy was fascinating with the spell Tofty cast to light a dark room with the night sky, accurate for over their location at that time during the year. Tofty would light a star, planet or constellation with a golden circle and ask Harry to identify it, or ask questions about the item itself. With no interruption in form of Umbridge attacking McGonagall, Harry got to enjoy himself and show off his knowledge of the stars, a latent fascination with the Black family naming tradition.

Defense as always was the one he was the most confident in, Potions the least, but without Snape breathing down his neck he knew he at least hadn’t cocked it up entirely. There was at least no explosion or vanished cauldrons.

They repeated the process for the NEWTS with a small break for food and a Replenishing potion on Harry’s part to help prevent magical exhaustion. With both sets of tests done all he wanted to do was go back to the hotel he’d been staying at with Sirius and crash, so he steeled himself for the Apparition portion, Apparating into increasingly smaller circles with the rigid discipline of the Auror he had been. Tofty, unless he was mistaken, looked very impressed not only at his accuracy but at how quiet he was, a sign of good control over his magic.

Lastly he Apparated them both via Side-Apparition into Diagon Alley before popping them both back into the exam room, the one and only time people could Apparate directly into a room in the Ministry instead of the foyer without a special license.

“Well done, Mr. Potter,” Tofty said in his slightly squeaky voice. “I am very impressed by your control over your magic and will watch for your achievements in the future. You are gifted wizard, of that there is no doubt.”

Harry walked out of the exam room, exhausted. He looked at his watch and his eyes widened in surprise; it was nearly 10 at night. No wonder he was so tired! Six hours of rigorous testing would do that to anyone.

Either Tofty had a sense of drama, or it just took that long to calculate the results, because just as Harry walked back into the Minister’s office, surprising the occupants, there was a small pop and a rather plain folder embossed with the Magical Education logo appeared in what was Amelia’s ‘incoming’ basket.

“You’re done?” Sirius said incredulously. “You just took two weeks’ worth of tests plus your Apparition license in six hours?”

“How long did you think it would take me?” Harry shot back, more than a little exhausted.

Before Sirius could reply, Amelia cleared her throat. Looking at her, Harry was curious to note an expression of surprise and slight amusement. “You managed to catch Theodore Tofty off-guard, Mr. Potter, which is a hard thing to do. He’s tested generations of witches and wizards, including Albus Dumbledore himself.”

She handed him a piece of paper, done in gold filigree calligraphy. Ordinary Wizarding Level Test Results for Harrigan James Septimus Potter-Prewett.

Mr. Potter-Prewett;

The Ministry is pleased to announce that you have passed both your written and practical Ordinary Wizarding Levels and can now proceed to your Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests. You scored as follows:

Subjects (8)

Charms: EE

Transfiguration: EE

History of Magic: EE

Arithmancy: EE

Ancient Runes: EE

Potions: EE

Astronomy: EE

Defense Against the Dark Arts: O*

*You have received extra commendations for gaining the highest recorded practical score for Defense Against the Dark Arts OWLs.

Sirius just laughed. “You tested and passed in two classes you never officially took!” He shook his head. “I don’t know why you still surprise me; those results are crazy!”

Amelia just slid another piece of paper over, saying, “You haven’t seen anything yet Sirius.”

As the NEWT header was the same basically as the OWLs, Harry skipped to the results, blinking in surprise. He’d known he’d do fine; he hadn’t expected to do this well.

Subject: Written/Practical where applicable

Charms: EE/O

Transfiguration: EE/EE

History of Magic: EE

Arithmancy: EE

Ancient Runes: EE/O

Potions: EE/O

Astronomy: O/O

Defense Against the Dark Arts: O/O*

*You have received extra commendations for gaining the highest recorded practical score for Defense Against the Dark Arts NEWTs.

All Sirius seemed capable of was chuckling under his breath and shaking his head. Next Amelia passed over his graduation certificate for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and his official copy of the Apparition license.

She flicked her wand, revealing a small potions bottle, filled to the brim with a dark purple concoction that appeared to glitter, like a galaxy was contained in a tiny bottle. “This is the Permanent Aging Potion, brewed and verified by a Master Potioneer under Ministry employ for the max of nine years, which will backdate any of your official paperwork to match your age. You may run into some obstacles from witches and wizards especially in the Wizengamot at first for it, if I happen to not be at that session just kindly remind them it is in fact controlled by the Ministry and you were authorized to take it.”

Harry sighed. “I’m expecting it honestly, people don’t seem to be able to butt out of my business for long.”

Amelia’s lip twitched. Instead of responding to his words she said evenly, “While I am very curious to see what an almost twenty-five-year-old Lord Potter-Prewett looks like, you are not required to take it here. You may wish to take it elsewhere; I’ve been told it’s a strange sensation.”

Harry took hold of the small bottle proffered to him, cast a careful Cushioning Charm on it and stood. “Thank you, Amelia, for your assistance and patience today. I’m aware this took up a good portion of your day and evening and you are a busy woman. We will take our leave.”

Sirius had stood as well, nodding politely to Kingsley and Alastor, who returned it. As Harry turned to leave, Alastor called out, “Get a hold of me soon, Lord Potter-Prewett. I would like to speak with you.”

The Ministry was dark and quiet, the elevator voice far too loud. Tight and tense, remembering the last time he’d been in the Ministry with Sirius after it was closed, he Apparated out with what seemed to be undue haste, tension only easing from his body and in a shaky exhale when Sirius appeared almost simultaneously next to him.

The wizard’s brilliant silvery eyes were quiet and understanding, because of course Sirius would get why Harry had been so anxious to leave a dark, empty Ministry atrium with Sirius in his company. He took Harry’s hand in his and Apparated again, appearing in an alley next to the slightly extravagant hotel Harry had booked for them, neither wanting to go to Grimmauld and face the backlash from Dumbledore after the old man had been unceremoniously kicked out of Hogwarts.

Once in their rooms, a strong warding spell added for good measure, Harry relaxed. “That went better than I thought. For some reason I was worried we would get more resistance to my application for the potion than that.”

“I think if it had been anyone other than you, we would have,” Sirius responded, shrugging off his outer robe to reveal a plain navy-blue satin shirt and black denim trousers. “Combined with your evidence a.k.a. memories and the fact that Kingsley and Alastor both identified your magical signature on the wards scroll Amelia must have realized how serious you were about your petition.”

Harry just hummed, retrieving the small bottle from his robes and shrugging out of his attire as well, stripping quite a bit more than Sirius had, stopping only when he was sitting in just his boxers. Thanks to the potions he’d been taking, he was no longer so skeletally thin due to the Dursleys and he didn’t have the aches and pains that lingered from chronic abuse. He was actually fairly fit for his age, still slimmer than most however.

“Harry,” Sirius said, his voice sounding a bit strained. “Not that I’m not appreciative of the sight, but why are you sitting there in only your boxers?”

“Well,” Harry drawled, a bit of a teasing tone in his voice, “If I’m going to take this,” he shook the small bottle, “I have hopes that I won’t be the same height as I was at fifteen. I would prefer not to shred my clothes.”

Sirius flushed. “I didn’t think of that,” he muttered, looking away.

Harry laughed. “Did I actually just make the infamous Sirius Black blush?!”

Sirius just growled, sounding rather like his alter-ego.

Done teasing (for the moment), Harry pulled the cork on the small bottle, staring at its contents for a long moment. He braced himself, took a deep breath and swallowed it in one go.

“Harry!”

Harry regained consciousness to the worried voice of Sirius and a pounding headache. He slotted his eyes open and then immediately closed them again, regretting it. “Ow.”

Sirius let out an explosive sigh of relief and said, “You scared me. You’ve been out for a couple of minutes now. Here, luckily you thought to stock up on a couple of headache potions and a pain potion. Do you want both?”

“Not at the moment no,” Harry groaned, before blinking in surprise at the sound of his voice. He felt Sirius still in surprise as well. “Your voice shifted,” the other said quietly.

“Yay,” Harry said, still a bit deadpan as he got over the remnants of his headache. “It sounds more like I remember.”

“It sounds, nice,” Sirius said, that strained tone back in his voice. Harry felt his lip twitch. Apparently while Sirius had been worried about him he hadn’t much paid attention to the differences that came with nine years aging. Now he was, leading to the slightly strained tone in his voice.

Harry was relieved, glad that his nine-years older body was still attractive to his soulmate. With all of the medical treatments he’d undergone, it would be far fitter and less painful than twenty-four had been in his previous timeline. This was about when his arthritis and other issues had started setting in early thanks to the Dursley’s ‘kindness’.

Carefully he sat up and then opened his eyes, relieved that the blinding brightness had gone away. He blinked in surprise when a slow shake of his head brought silky, straight tresses with a hint of red into his face.

“W-what?” he said, startled.

“Apparently the aging potion and shooting past your magical majority like that decided to tear down the potion or spell James used to hide your real looks.”

“Huh,” Harry replied, oh so eloquent. “By the time I learned about it in my former life it was too dangerous to bring down the charms and other work in my appearance, it would have killed me.”

“Well let’s just say you won’t have to worry about being…attractive to anyone in the future.” Sirius’ voice was both strained and slightly possessive, with amused and pleased Harry.

He stood slowly, not wanting to fall in an ungainly heap as he got used to having longer legs. Once steady, he picked up the Elder wand, which felt that much more comfortable in his hands than his holly wand. Flicking it, he conjured a mirror. He didn’t have to worry about cameras in the rooms or anything, the hotel they were staying at was run by a Squib who was used to having magical patrons in her hotel.

He stared, more than a little surprised. He now stood probably 5’ 9”-10”, still possessing a slim, wiry form. His shoulders were a little broader, sliding into a slim waist and hips and down long, slim legs. His skin had gone a warmer shade, losing the paleness that had been artificially added to mimic Lily Evans’. His hair was straight with a few waves in it, a mix of dark blue-black with tints of red. His eyes were still green to his surprise, but with a touch of warm blue, making them more aqua than emerald. His cheekbones and forehead were high, his jaw tapered in a pleasantly masculine way, his nose straight.

“Wow,” he said quietly, surprised. Aware suddenly that he was standing there in only his boxers, he cast a resizing charm on his jeans and slipped into them, turning just quick enough to catch the uh, appreciative look on Sirius’ face.

Snorting, he forewent the shirt and instead strolled over to where Sirius was standing, stopping inches from the other. “So,” he said, aiming for casual, a slight smirk on his face. “I take it you still like the way I look?”

Sirius’ answer was to snag him by his slightly longer hair near his neck and drag him into an aggressive, possessive kiss. Harry could do little more than let the other kiss him breathless, not experienced enough in kissing this man to exert any type of control. Just short of making him see spots, Sirius let their lips part, still holding him possessively around the waist.

With a smirk at his kiss-bruised appearance he said softly, darkly, “Don’t tease me unless you’re ready to accept the consequences.”

Harry, who had faced Dark Lords and Ministers, shivered.  

Chapter Text

Harry and Sirius gave the Order about a week to stew over their absence and no doubt begin to panic, thinking they had been captured by Death Eaters or something of the sort. Because of course Sirius was still weak from Azkaban prison and Harry was just fifteen, the poor dear. Or at least that would be Molly Weasley’s likely argument. Thanks to their secretive visits to a Healer to get potions and treatment for the Dementor’s sickness Sirius was far from his former weak, easily fatigued self. He felt more like himself than he had in over 13 years and it was all thanks to the striking young man next to him. Sirius let his gray eyes flick over carefully to take in Harry’s changed appearance again, sending a quick thanks to Magic for sending him back. They’d been attracting attention all week, between Sirius’ black hair and deep gray eyes paired with his family’s famous pale skin and Harry’s warmer tanned skin, reddish-tinted hair and striking aqua eyes they made quite the sight.

Harry had suggested a short jaunt to Gringotts where they had assessed the available properties between the two families, landing on a reasonable sounding estate in the countryside near Wiltshire called Rosewood Manor, a Potter family property. Harry had given the goblins a generous sum plus extra to go in and reset the wards on the property as well as adding extras, removing old family furniture and antiquities to a vault. They had also offered to strip down the old carpeting in the home and restore it to the hardwood floor (birch) and a marble in the kitchen, bathrooms and entryway.

While the goblins had been doing this, Harry and Sirius had taken a short jaunt to France to pick up some robes and pieces for joining the Wizengamot and a short vacation while they’d been at it. While in a reputable jeweler’s shop to pick up a pair of watches Sirius had also set eyes on a gorgeous traditional-styled betrothal cuff and matching ring. He’d managed to carefully pay for it without Harry noticing and at the end of their vacation had offered them to Harry, explaining that traditionally amongst purebloods instead of dating there were betrothal periods followed by engagements and bonding ceremonies.

It was something Harry hadn’t known about in this timeline or his previous, he had been both touched and shyly pleased at the gesture. So they’d visited Gringotts once more to write an official betrothal contract, signed and sealed in the presence of goblins and a wizarding barrister known as an arguer Harry had put on retainer, just in case. The man had been both surprised and excited to witness such a thing, no doubt smug that he would know about the match of the decade far sooner than everyone else. The ring on Sirius’ finger was platinum with a large diamond sharing space with a princess-cut chunk of a mystic opal, one of the rarest wizarding gemstones in the world. Mystic opals were deep purple with shades of green, blue and red under certain lighting. The part that made the set really pop was the cuff around Harry’s right wrist. A wide platinum band made of delicate strands to look like ivy, with two large diamonds on the sides and a mystic opal cut in the shape of an open rose in the center. It was exquisite and visibly expensive; the opal was the size of both of Sirius’ thumbs placed side by side.

It shimmered in the muted November sunlight as they strode down Diagon Alley’s main street towards the Leaky Cauldron, drawing stares and soft whispers all down the street. They all recognized Sirius, most finally had stopped cringing as he walked by, but the young man next to him with the gorgeous cuff they didn’t. It had made both Harry and Sirius furious when they had realized that with the Glamour that James had used to protect Harry, the Permanent Aging Potion had removed another falsehood.

Harry’s famous scar, the one that made it impossible for him to walk down a street without being recognized. The so-called unremovable curse scar, had been nothing more than an easily healed cut on his forehead, left to scar by Dumbledore to further the ‘mysterious’ survival of an infant against Voldemort. Harry exuded calm control now, but Sirius vividly remembered the way his magic had filled the air with a lethal tension at that revelation.

So here they were, heading to Grimmauld Place to tell most of the Order that they were done helping a manipulative old man and they were no longer welcome in a Black residence. Sirius hadn’t decided what he wanted to do with the old townhouse, he’d like to burn it if it wouldn’t endanger the houses it was connected to. Harry had suggested closing it down for now and maybe remodeling it in the future, making it something else.

They walked through the Leaky without being bothered by its usual patrons and once through Sirius offered his arm to Harry. Harry raised an eyebrow before flushing slightly and taking the proffered arm when it remained. In quiet, sneaky retaliation for the move he made sure he was pressed close to Sirius’ side as he apparated them both, his breath tickling Sirius' neck and making him shiver.

“Do you think they’ll even recognize me?” Harry mused as they approached the door with its ugly knocker. His voice was pleasantly mellow and in the right range to make Sirius’ spine tingle with sheer want sometimes.

“I doubt it, I don’t even think Dumbledore knew what you looked like as an infant,” Sirius answered. “He probably didn’t bother to look before shoving you off on the Dursleys.”

Sirius’ voice was tight as he said the last, which Harry avoided commenting on. They had argued more than once, especially recently, about the Dursley family. Sirius wanted them to pay for what they had done, legally and otherwise. Harry, who had lived through it and didn’t want it all dragged into the spotlight, was in favor of just shoving them to the side and forgetting about it. Sirius knew he would probably eventually give in to what Harry wanted to do, but for now he held on stubbornly to his desire to see justice done for his beloved, who should never have been through what he had.

Sirius opened the door and strolled into Grimmauld as if he owned it which hey, he did. Funny how often Dumbledore and his sheep forgot about that little fact. Never once had they offered to help with the cost of feeding and housing half the Order in his family home. Nor had they asked him if he wanted it ‘cleaned’ (more like purging anything pureblood, which, in an ancestral pureblood home would mean emptying the place) the way Molly Weasley took to ‘cleaning’.

About as funny as how often he noticed now that Dumbledore liked to force the Order to respect and acknowledge a certain slippery snake’s contributions but said nothing about his own. As much as Albus had talked about how Sirius and Severus had grown up and needed to act as such, he’d never really bothered with trying to improve people’s opinions of him as much as he had Severus. At least he was actually innocent of the crimes he’d been accused of, not like Severus. He was actually a marked Death Eater, what kind of things had he taken part in before he’d ‘grown a conscious’? Considering the Death Eater's usual modus operandi included abduction, torture, rape and killing, probably a lot worse than what he'd been falsely accused of.

Shaking off any visible sign of irritation he summoned Kreacher, who had been much more amenable to Sirius’ orders ever since the locket incident. Harry gave the house elf orders to remove anything that was their personal belongings and take it to Rosewood. He also listed a few items Sirius hadn’t even known were in the home. Sirius arched an eyebrow at Harry, who shrugged.

“They’ll be important later,” was all he said.

Free of the shrieking harpy that had been his mother’s portrait, they had actually entered Grimmauld Place without being noticed by the Order. Sirius withheld a snort with effort. Pathetic. No wonder Alastor harped on about his ‘Constant Vigilance!’ if this was the best example they could give of their preparedness against a possible enemy. It was a good thing Sirius didn't want to harm most of the people in the next room.

Privately smirking in anticipation of their reception, Sirius swung the door open and proceeded into the dining room, stopping the chatter cold. His eyes flicked easily around the room, noting the placement of various important individuals. With a very light flick of his wrist, as if to check the time, he released the handle of his wand in case it was necessary, the subtle move being noticed by both Alastor and Kingsley if their slightly altered stances were anything to go by.

“My my! We are busy aren’t we, and so late too,” Sirius commented, earning flushes of surprise and slight annoyance from much of the Order. His sharp gray eyes noted the children’s presence in the room and he said, “Or maybe not, if the ‘children’ are being allowed in the room,” he smiled a bit sharply, earning a bit of a glare from Ron at the saccharine sweetness of his voice as he mocked Molly’s way of addressing the teens.

“Honestly,” Harry’s gorgeously mellow voice was especially pleasant coming after the fake sweetness of his own. “One would think you were incapable of being trusted, especially since they are holding this ‘meeting’ in your own home.”

The Order stared at Harry without the slightest hint of recognition, earning a slight sneer from Sirius. So much for judging beyond appearances. He did notice the starstruck, appraising expression on Ginerva’s face, earning a quick snort at the sheer no of that, she was not getting him!

“Sirius, I’m aware that you are a freed man and able to do as you please, but if you’re going to pick up your habit of one-night-stands again, I’d request you bring them elsewhere,” Albus spoke up finally, blue eyes rather sharp.

Harry laughed, which stopped the conversation cold. Really it wasn’t a laugh, more of a low, cold chuckle. The sound was the utter opposite of humorous, sending chills down more than a few spines in the room. He fixed Dumbledore with a cold stare and said, “Listen to how he addresses you Sirius, in your own home no less!" Turning to Dumbledore he spat, "You are so out of the loop old man it’s not even funny. You have not a fucking clue who I am, do you?”

“I’m not sure where we would have met,” Albus said with a disapproving frown, “nor do I approve of your vulgarity around young witches and wizards.”

“And that’s supposed to impress or cower me into good behavior, Headmaster? Or is that former Headmaster now, considering you were kicked out on your withered old arse for manipulating the wards and drawing on them to boost your own power and vanity?”

Sirius turned his sharp laugh into a hasty cough, shooting Harry a mild glare for the unexpected humor. He just got a cheeky wink in return. It appeared a few others had appreciated the unexpected humor as well, there were a few random coughing fits around the room.

“Who are you?” Dumbledore demanded, cheeks reddening at the insult.

“A former student of yours. But you know me far better than that, come now. Surely you remember me? No? I’m hurt, honestly. I’d think you’d recognize me on subconscious instinct, considering you’ve made it your life’s work to ruin and manipulate mine,” Harry’s teeth were barred in a rather, aggressive smile.

“I don’t---” Dumbledore trailed off, staring at Harry. The old man let out a sharp breath, as if someone had kicked him in the ribs. He looked winded, his face going a bit pale.

“Recognize me now, do you?” Harry said idly, holding up his left hand with the Potter ring, the Prewett one still temporarily under Glamour.

“Harry? My boy, is that you?”

Sirius watched the Order’s collective breath inhale in shock, many of them doing double-takes of Harry’s appearance, looks and general age.

“I am not your boy, not by a long shot and I detest you speaking to me so familiarly, as I’ve said more than once since getting myself emancipated. But perhaps that’s one of the reasons why you were forced to retire Albus, you were getting on in age and people of your years do get forgetful.”

“What have you done this time, Harry?” Dumbledore said, frowning. Not noticing the looks he was getting from a few members of the Order at his blatant rudeness about Harry’s request to not use his given name. “If that’s a Permanent Aging Potion than I can say I’m very disappointed in you, they’re highly illegal. We may be able to undo it but I can say for certain this little attempt at flouting authority will not extend your time away from your family.”

Sirius’ magic bristled and lashed out uncalled for at the insinuations, both that Harry had done something illegal and the little threat to make sure he stayed at the Dursleys for a while longer than normal. It shattered a glass sitting on the table closest to him, earning a yelp from one of the Order, who had been sitting there. Harry looked at him, sensing his agitation and reached out, taking Sirius’ right hand in his left and squeezing gently, sending tendrils of his magic to help soothe Sirius’ anger.

They were watched with slightly knowing expressions by not only Remus, who knew of their relationship, but Alastor and Kingsley as well. Hmm, apparently they hadn’t been as subtle about their relationship as they had thought. Harry stayed where he was as he turned again to Dumbledore, letting go of Sirius’ hand but letting tendrils of his magic remain curled around Sirius’.

“I’m unsure of where to start first on that little load of poisonous lies you just spewed, Dumbledore. Last first, I think. I am an emancipated Lord of a Noble House, recognized by Gringotts and the Ministry. If you think for one second I am going to return to the Dursley household and rot until you pick me up, you’re not only a fool but a blind one as well. Next, the Permanent Aging Potion is not illegal, it is just highly regulated by the Ministry. I went to see Minister-Elect Amelia Bones the day Hogwarts let out after your retirement and she was willing to sign off on it. It is perfectly legal and permanent, there will be no undoing it. It was witnessed by two people in this room, in fact.”

“Kingsley and I both came to resign from the Order, Albus,” Alastor barked. “We were willing to help when you were leading with a clear head and best hope for everyone involved, but with a competent Minister and your meddling becoming more and more clear we’re out. We both witnessed Lord Potter’s application and grant for not only the Permanent Aging Potions, but he’s tested out of both OWLs and NEWTs with a legal and valid graduation certificate.”

“Oh yes,” Harry smirked, “I won’t be going back to Hogwarts. It would be a little strange for a twenty-five-year-old man to be in school, don’t you think?”

Severus Snape was there for some reason, no doubt resigning from the Order as well since he would have to go into hiding. The man sneered and spat, “So how did you manage to cheat your lackluster way through the tests. You’d barely pass your OWLs, Potter, let alone the NEWTs.”

Harry glared at Severus, but Sirius was close enough to see a gleeful, dark smirk under the glare. Snape took the clear bait, launching one of his highly illegal Legilimency attacks, no doubt expecting Harry’s mind to be unguarded. Sirius knew he’d been working on his Occlumency however.

For a few seconds nothing appeared to be happening. And then, terrifyingly to anyone outside of Sirius, a cold smile began to curl Harry’s lips. Little tremors started in Severus’ hands, chasing up his arms into his shoulders. Soon the shaking took over his entire body and a soft, strained groan fell from his lips. He crashed to his knees abruptly, earning a surprised shriek from Molly.

Within moments, Severus Snape, Albus Dumbledore’s vaunted spy, was on the ground screaming. Harry still hadn’t blinked, locked rigidly in place with his eyes locked on anguished black ones. It was only when Sirius realized that Snape was bleeding from his nose and ears that he realized Harry was going to kill him if he kept it up. He reached out and took Harry’s left arm in his hand, squeezing gently.

Harry blinked, silencing the screams as he broke the connection to Severus’ mind. There was silence for a long moment, the only audible sound was Snape’s choked sobbing as he sought to inhale a breath and calm down. He was still shaking, still unable to get up from the floor. Harry strolled over to the man and knelt down, putting his mouth close to Severus’ ear. With how dead quiet the room was even though he whispered he may have well shouted it.

“You detest me, Severus Snape. You turned all your hatred from schoolyard bullying onto a child in revenge. I am no longer a child; you have no power over me. You never did, I’m far stronger than you’d ever give me credit for. Stay and listen, hear how much you have been misled. Then leave, I never want to see you again.”

He stood, started to walk back over to stand next to Sirius. He paused, turning his head back and said casually, “You owe Sirius a life debt, by the way.”

There was a series of shocked noises around the room as the Order realized that Harry would have killed him without Sirius’ intervention. The strangest of those sounds was the sobbing growl as Severus Snape realized that he owed a life debt now to the two people he hated most, James Potter and Sirius Black.

“You’ve gone Dark,” Albus said dramatically, his face pale. A few of his little sheep followed with soft whispers and pale faces, frightened eyes turning on Harry.

“Funny how you would have happily authorized him to repeatedly rape my mind and savage what internal defenses I have, yet when I turn my defenses against him after years of being bullied and mistreated I’m suddenly a Dark wizard,” Harry said sarcastically.

He continued before Albus could speak, effectively cutting him off. “All I did, old man, was a sensory overload. I sent him all of my feelings from being at the Dursleys, all the broken bones, bruises, starving and dehydration, the emotional and mental abuse from being yelled and screamed at and told I was worth less than the dirt they walked on. All the broken bones I received here, the Cruciatus Curses at the hands of Voldemort and later that bitch Umbridge, all of it. The only reason why it made him react that way was I did it all at once, shoving it down the link and overloading his capacity to process it in separate occasions.”

“I’m surprised Albus, you haven’t yet mentioned the lack of my scar, nor my changed appearance,” Harry huffed, dismissing the shaking form on the floor.

Playing along, Kingsley shrewdly gave Harry the perfect opening. “I know it’s not the light playing with me now that you mentioned it. Your hair has a distinctly reddish sheen in places, not to mention the change in eye color.”

“Oh that’s right!” Harry said delightedly, grinning. “I took the Permanent Aging Potion back at the hotel, not there at the Ministry. Turns out that when I shot past my majority like that Magic decided to rip down the glamours that were put on me when I was young. What do you think of a Potter-Prewett blend?”

Sirius had been watching the Weasley’s faces as Harry spoke, particularly Molly’s. As her kids and Arthur inhaled breaths of surprise, her jaw locked and brown eyes darkened.

“Sadly,” the matriarch spoke, “you look just like I’d expected the son of my brother and that slut James Potter to look like. So you’re the baby my father tossed me over for,” she spat.

Sirius had kicked himself off the wall with a low growl at the insult to his friend, Remus’ eyes looked a little too golden to be normal. Several people made surprised exclamations and then there was a sharp crack! as if someone had set off a small firecracker in the room. Turning, ears still ringing with a mixture of the loud noise and anger at the words (towards a dead man no less), he spotted Harry, who had his wand out, twirling it slightly in his fingers now that he had their attention. Sirius felt his rage temporarily bank as he took in the cold, poised expression on Harry’s face. He put away his wand slowly and deliberately, showcasing the now revealed Prewett Lordship ring on the same finger as the Potter one.

“Nice to hear what you honestly think of me for once, Molly. I imagine it’s the first time you’ve really been able to voice it ever since Dumbledore told you I was the baby Fabian had before he died, the one my grandsire Septimus made heir over you. I wonder how much it must burn you to know you’ll never get your hands on the Prewett fortune, whether by inheritance or marriage? That would be the reason why you knowingly were pushing me at my own first cousin Ginerva, correct?”

Ginny went pale as she registered Harry’s words, the only color on her face in her freckles and lips. Then she stood up and whirled on her mother. “Is that true?” she demanded. “Did you know the entire time that he was our cousin, your nephew? The entire time I had a crush on him, the entire time the twins were telling you he was locked in a room with bars on his window?”

“I knew,” Molly spat. “I knew the entire time that he was my perfect younger brother’s son, the mere baby who’d been named heir of my family’s estate over me, the oldest child! A daughter, my own gender the only thing against me inheriting in the stupid, prejudiced old-fashioned pureblood families! I hoped when my brother and his twin went and got themselves murdered that I might finally inherit what was rightfully mine, then I find out my father replaced me with a mere infant, months old at best at that time.”

It was shocking to Sirius how similar Molly’s rant was this time around versus the memory of the incident. The faces on various members of the Order were entertaining to say the least. They seemed to range between agreeing with Molly and horrified at her words and behavior, which some of her family was part of. Interesting. The entire time she was spewing her vitriol Harry stood there, still and composed, a perfectly elegant foil to the red-headed raging mess that was Molly, now on her feet and screaming at him.

“Enough,” Harry said firmly, flicking his wand and silencing Molly, to her red-faced fury. Her brown eyes were scarily dark in her rage, focused with murderous intent on Harry.

“I am Lord Harrigan James Septimus Potter-Prewett, son of Fabian Prewett and James Potter. I do not fufill the necessary qualities of your savior as outlined in the Prophecy you all think you’ve been hiding from me. I am not your sacrificial lamb, so I say to you now, you are a bunch of cowards. Each of you are fully qualified witches and wizards, able to hold a wand and fight, yet you were willing to cower behind a child on this man’s word,” Harry nodded to a temporarily silenced Dumbledore. Sirius was rather amused that Harry had managed to get a silencing charm to stick on the old bastard.

“I am not joining the Order, nor will I work willingly with the man who has manipulated my entire life since I was fifteen-months-old if not younger. Or am I the only one who thinks it strange that so many people know about this supposed prophecy? Or that Dumbledore even thinks it valid considering it comes from a sherry-soaked charlatan named Sybil Trelawney?”

Sirius strolled over to stand next to Harry, wrapping an arm around his waist.

“I also am no longer part of this farce. As such, I am going to politely order you all to vacate the premises, considering 12 Grimmauld Place is a Black property, not an Order home. You’ve all taken advantage of my hospitality for far too long, this is me telling you to get out. Should you take anything that is not yours, I will press charges. The wards will kick you out in forty-eight hours if you haven’t left.”

“I shall see you next in the Wizengamot, Dumbledore. If you think I’ll be an easy push-over there, you will regret it,” Harry said softly.

“Adieu,” Sirius said mockingly, before showily apparating them both out of the living room. Dumbledore couldn’t apparate within private property, much to the old man’s ire Sirius had refused to give him the privilege exclusive to the head of household.

The two appeared in the alleyway behind the Leaky Cauldron, leading back into Diagon Alley. Looking at each other they laughed, before Sirius gathered Harry in his arms and kissed him deeply, reveling in how readily Harry responded to his advances. They broke apart, Harry smirking softly. Tracing Sirius’ jaw with his thumb he said, “That felt good. Hopefully we set a few minds to thinking.”

Sirius shrugged, “Hopefully. One can never be to sure if sheep have a mind once they become sheep.”

Harry swatted him, Sirius laughed and they apparated to Rosewood, Harry leading this time. Harry was right though.

It did feel good.

Chapter Text

The Burrow-

Ginevra Molly Weasley, youngest of seven, was a very bright girl. She was the much longed-for daughter and youngest child of the Weasley family, born into a line of mischief-makers, Ministry workers and hominess that much of the pureblood families envied. Her mother was a bit controlling, her father a bit absent and eccentric, but she loved her family. She adored and respected her brothers, Bill and Charlie a bit more than Percy because honestly, curse-breaking and dragon handling was far more exciting than pushing papers at the Ministry.

She loved the twins, for their pranks and their support of her when she’d began to rebel under her mother’s tight reins. Molly Weasley nee Prewett had an exact image of what she wanted her precious baby girl to be. She’d always worn dresses when she was little, colorful hand-woven sweaters over the top in the fall and winter. She’d ruined a few dresses to scolding from her mother, who disliked her roughhousing with the boys.

At about six or seven she’d grown tired of all the lessons in manners and being pretty, running out to the shed and throwing herself on one of her brother’s old Cleansweeps, rushing off into the air and finding herself at last. She’d nearly crashed, but Fred had stopped her from a disastrous fall and after a teary argument, realized she just wanted a bit of freedom and started teaching her how to fly.

In the air, Ginevra was Ginny, herself at last. She craved the freedom of flying with an intensity that had scared her until she realized. In the air, she could ignore all the lessons, all the dresses and maintenance her mother taught her to be a ‘good girl’. The only freedom she craved more was Hogwarts. To be out from under her mother’s thumb for most of the year and grow.

She’d been about four when her mother had begun reading her the child’s fairytales of princes and princesses, always modifying the story to have a dark-haired prince and a red-headed princess, ‘just like my Ginevra.’ At about five she’d introduced the children’s tales featuring the young boy hero Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived. Gradually over the years the two separate tales had intertwined until Ginny’s fanciful imaginations had Harry as her dashing prince, the mold to her fair princess.

It had been even worse after her disastrous, terrifying first year. Being controlled by a spirit form of the Dark Lord, being forced to petrify students and write messages in blood on the walls. Trying to tell her family, to tell anyone, only to be forced to write her own death message and come into the Chamber itself.

She had screamed, cried and raged. But an eleven-year-old girl with one scattered year of instruction was no match for even the memory of the greatest Dark wizard who had ever lived. When she had finally fallen into blackness, it was with the thought that it was surely her death. She had so much of her life to live, only to have it ripped away.

Fate it seemed had decided on a kinder end for her. She’d woken to her childhood prince’s dark emerald eyes looking at her in concern, telling her that her actions weren’t her fault. Her infatuation with him had swelled in proportion along with gratitude, he’d risked his life to save hers.

When she’d seen the tall, elegant man with red-tinted black hair and aqua eyes next to Sirius, she had no clue who he was. Sirius’ rudeness toward the Order had been unexpected, as had his confrontation with Dumbledore. His companions’ rude profanity had been unexpected as well. As had been the realization that Sirius liked guys in the first place, she’d always assumed he was straight.

When the name ‘Harry’ had left Dumbledore’s shocked lips, she had stared at him in stunned shock. Also some appreciation, he was very attractive and a fine example of his gender. The fact that he was older now was a surprise, but really the age difference wasn’t a big deal in the wizarding world.

But then the real surprise had been dropped on her with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer. He was her cousin, son of her mother’s murdered brother. And her mother had pushed her towards him, groomed her little ‘princess’ all the while knowing that he was her first cousin. The cruel words her mother had spat at him, her own nephew, were horrible.

Now they were here, at the Burrow, having been unceremoniously kicked out of Grimmauld by a very angry, contemptuous Sirius. The Order was down three members at least, Kingsley, Alastor and Severus having all resigned. And her mother was in the middle of a screaming argument with her father over the revelations dumped on them just hours before.

“—Can’t believe you would agree to this, Molly! Did you know he was your nephew the whole time? While we all strongly suspected he was being abused? Did you know while pushing our daughter, his own first cousin at him?”

“Of course I knew!” Molly spits, red in the face and with an ugly expression on her face. “Dumbledore came to me when he was just a baby and told me he was Fabian’s spawn, asked for my help. Do you really think I forgot where the train station was in his first year after all of our kids had gone?”

Arthur looks lost for words; his face is pale. He covers his mouth with a shaking hand, sitting down. “What were you planning, Molly?”

“The same thing I’ve been planning ever since my righteous father passed me up for a bloody baby just because it was a boy,” Molly snarled. “Ginny was going to marry him because he’d be infatuated with her, she’d be Lady Potter. Then I was making sure he never found out about his parents until after he turned 19 and the Prewett accounts defaulted over to me as they should have rightfully been the entire time!”

“So,” Arthur said, voice rising in anger, which made all of his kids pale a little. For once they were all there, Percy had been temporarily put on leave by the Ministry as they investigated Fudge. Bill and Charlie were part of the Order, though not for much longer by their faces.

“You pushed our daughter from a young age to be his girlfriend/wife, planned for him to never know he had a large family he could have been with, helped keep him ignorant and controlled. You pushed, pulled and manipulated your own daughter and nephew, all for money.”

Arthur’s face was exceptionally still in anger. “You disgust me, Molly Elizabeth. You absolutely disgust me and now I know why Harrigan is so angry at you. For now you are confined to the Burrow, you are not allowed to leave the property. I have never exercised my control over you as a wizard is allowed, but I’m doing it here and now. Be lucky I am not calling for an immediate divorce. However, I will be calling your Aunt.”

The collective Weasley children’s jaws dropped, including Ginny’s. Not only had Arthur just told her he was very close to leaving her, but he was contacting her, Great Aunt Muriel Prewett. She’d been used as a threat a few times in the family and it had claws. Nobody wanted to have to meet with her. To say she would be disappointed in her niece was an understatement, especially as she would have been notified about Harry being the lost Lord Prewett.

Molly had gone a little pale, her chest heaving with emotion. She would be lucky to not be disowned, if she was and Arthur divorced her, she would be Nameless, the ultimate shame for any wizard or witch. She had argued a few times with Arthur over the years (once over the number of children they had, he had never understood why she wanted a daughter so badly). He had never even started to threaten her the way he just had.

Ginny stood up abruptly, shocking herself with the action. Her chair scraped the floor, dragging the eyes of her family to her. She was surprised to find her hands were shaking in anger, her brown eyes wet with tears.

“Was that the only reason why you wanted a daughter, Mother? Was that the only reason why you kept having kids, so you could get your little pawn? All the little lessons on being a ‘good girl’, all the fairytales and stories of the boy hero… were they all just you grooming me? Well guess what, Mother,” she snarled, sarcastically emphasizing the word.

“I’m going to disappoint you. I hated those lessons, those dresses, the expectation of being a girly-girl who liked makeup and good-looking boys. I love Quidditch, running around the woods with my brothers, roughhousing and fighting with my friends. I’m my own person, not your little pawn. I’m going to live my life as I want, for all I care I may never get married or have kids, I don’t want the responsibility. I’m going to travel and play professional Quidditch, be everything you hate. You disgust me and I’m not your daughter! I am Ginevra Weasley, no middle name. I don’t want to honor you.”

She spun around and ran out of the room, out of the house. She reached the broomshed, yanked it open and grabbed one at random, launching herself into the sky in desperation. Normally she felt nothing once she was in the air, just a blessed emptiness and joy. Not this time. She hovered in the air, shoulders shaking with emotion, and cried.

She cried for herself, for the tainted memories of her mother, for all the subtle manipulation she’d been put through. She cried for her mother, what she had been and who she really was. For her father, her siblings, torn by the knowledge of what their mother had known and done. She cried for Harry, her cousin, who had grown up in a horrible family that wasn’t even his family when he could have run roughshod with all his cousins.

In the end, she just cried.

--

Remus Lupin had packed up his belongings and, at a bit of a loss on where to go, was sitting in the park across from Grimmauld, where they had brought Harry to when escorting him from Privet Drive. He hadn’t said a word since Sirius and Harry had left, just glaring angrily at the former Headmaster and leaving.

He knew that Harry and Sirius had been withholding something big from him, but he hadn’t complained. He knew if had then he would have been dumped on his arse by them both, never getting their trust again. He’d badly damaged it already, he wouldn’t ever risk losing it. So while he’d been incredibly curious as to what else they were hiding, why Harry was so mistrustful of Dumbledore, he hadn’t asked.

Even if they had told him, he thought ruefully, he doubted he would have believed this right away. It had been a shock to see Harry so much older, he thought his wolf’s sense of smell was off when it logged the tall stranger as Harry. But then it had all come out, Harry had taken a Permanent Aging Potion and tested out of school, revealing himself not only as being beyond Dumbledore’s influence but as the son of James Potter and Fabian Prewett. He had known that bit, watching people's faces had been entertaining.

Then had come his shocking confrontation with Molly and the scary one with Severus, Harry thoroughly beating down the other man over his bullying behavior over the last four plus years. While the confrontation with Severus had shocked Remus, it was the words and demeanor of Molly Weasley that had really taken him by surprise. Her nasty behavior towards Sirius in his own home paled in comparison to the vitriol she’d spewed at Harry, her own nephew.

Remus’ trust in two people he thought he’d known fairly well was badly rattled, this even after seeing him confront Molly in his memories of his now defunct future. He was starting to strongly suspect that it had been Harry that had alerted the Ministry to Albus’ manipulations of the wards, not that he blamed the teen-ugh, adult. He strongly suspected that some of those tracking wards had been on Harry.

He wondered why Albus had targeted Harry, when as he pointed out, he didn’t even qualify for the prophecy. What was the man thinking? Or was he thinking at all? Was he really just crazy, like so many people had said over the years?

Remus didn’t know any of the answers, and more than anything, that scared him.  

Chapter Text

After Harry had keyed him into the wards for Rosewood, Sirius Apparated again, back to London. They’d kicked everyone out of Grimmauld and now he was going to lock it down and locate Remus. While they had kicked out the Order, it didn’t mean that everyone in the home was unwelcome to them. Not by a long shot. While Sirius was locking down Grimmauld and looking for Remus, Harry was going after Hermione and meeting with Alastor and Kingsley.

There were some Weasleys he was going to contact as well, but he’d rather not go anywhere near the Burrow right now, which Sirius understood perfectly well. The confrontation with Molly had been all-around unpleasant and Sirius had a feeling she was angry enough to actually kill her nephew outright right now. Harry didn’t feel like dealing with her, nor listening to her scream at him anymore, so he was going to give the Weasleys some time and then go about approaching them.

Sirius had warned him that he was likely to get a message soon from Muriel Prewett, his late grandfather’s sister. Molly’s aunt was an incorrigible gossip but still a powerful witch, there was a reason why nobody wanted to mess with ‘Aunt Muriel’. Sirius had never met the woman himself, but he’d heard enough about her. After Septimus had died, she had held onto the Prewett regency with an iron fist, demanding decent behavior as outlined by pureblood etiquette from her family. Never married herself, she lived vicariously through Septimus’ three children and mostly Molly’s family. Gideon had died unmarried and until recently, it had been believed that Fabian had died unmarried and childless as well.

Once he had locked down the wards, Sirius barked, “Kreacher!”

The aged elf appeared, bowing low when he saw Sirius. Ever since he had watched Sirius destroy the locket that had been impossible for elf magic to harm, Kreacher had improved drastically towards him. There were no more caustic whispers, no more actions done in ways that could be considered harmful or malicious. He respected Sirius, almost as much as he had his late father. It was strange, Sirius was almost uncomfortable with it. He'd always been used to being the blight on his family tree and now he was respected.

“I have locked down Grimmauld Place, Kreacher. The Fidelius has also been removed by Gringotts. You may remain here, keeping it in current condition. Or, you can come with me to Rosewood Manor, an Unplottable home of the Potter family now run by my betrothed, Harrigan Potter-Prewett. He has two other elves you will need to work with. Dobby, formerly of Malfoy Manor and Winky, formerly of House Crouch.”

Sirius waited patiently as the aged elf debated. He’d been surprised when Harry had offered for him to bring Kreacher here, until the other had said he could remain behind the scenes, polishing the antiques and paintings and such. Dobby and Winky had both been at Hogwarts. The disgraced Crouch elf had been ecstatic when Harry had offered her a regular house-elf bond with the condition she remain in good, clean clothes and was unable to punish herself for disobeying orders. Dobby had accepted a bond as well, admitting that house-elf magic suffered without being bound to a wizard or witch. He’d accepted the same contract as Winky, with the additional from Harry that he was paid a Galleon a month.

 “Kreacher belongs to the House of Black,” the aged elf finally croaked. “Kreacher will follow Master to new location, as is Kreacher’s duty.”

“Very well,” Sirius said, surprised that Kreacher would leave his mother’s poisonous portrait behind. “Report to Dobby to get your new orders.”

The elf disappeared with a small pop.

Perhaps he wasn’t the only one who wanted to get away from bad memories, Sirius mused.

*

It had only been a couple of hours since the events that led to the Order getting kicked out of Grimmauld by Harry and Sirius. Remus was still sitting on a bench in the park across the street, the same one they’d brought Harry to when he first arrived at Grimmauld not even a year ago. So much had changed in such a short amount of time. Remus finally looked away from the bubbling fountain he’d been contemplating, noticing the darkening sky and setting sun.

He would need to find shelter for the night, at least renting a room at the Leaky. He stood up and prepared to Apparate until his wolf raised an alert, scenting someone familiar. He paused, watching with some surprise as Sirius strolled out of the darkening night under a weakly flickering streetlamp. The tawny quality of the light couldn’t hide how much his appearance had improved, his hair was once more glossy, eyes sparkling. His skin had finally lost the greyish tinge it had after Azkaban and he laughed easier, laugh no longer edged with a canine-like bark.

It couldn’t hide the quality of his clothing either, the silky material of his shirt nor the long duster that Remus strongly suspected was made of leather. Sirius had always had a penchant for the material, Remus easily remembered his motorcycle jacket before Azkaban. He’d been wearing it the day he was arrested actually; it had been in the photos splashed over the Daily Prophet.

Sirius smiled as he approached, cheerfully saying, “There you are! I was hoping I wouldn’t have to track you across magical England.”

“I was about to Apparate to the Leaky,” Remus said awkwardly.

“That would have been my next stop,” Sirius said, sounding amused. “Apparently I know you better than you think. Anyway, I’m here to bring you home with me, that is if you want to go.”

“And where is home?” Remus said cautiously.

“Certainly not Grimmauld, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Sirius snorted. “No, the place I’m talking about is Rosewood Manor, an old home of the Potter family. It’s Unplottable and locked under really strong wards as well as a Fidelius. I hold the Secret, Harry’s insistence. He trusts me to keep us safe.”

“Harry wants me there?” Remus asked quietly. “I know we’re still on shaky ground, not to mention us personally.”

“I would say so,” Sirius said evenly, “considering it was Harry who told me you’d still be sitting in the park. I would have thought you’d moved at least to the Leaky by now.”

At a loss for words, Remus finally nodded. He gathered his things and put his hand in his friend’s offered one, and they disappeared.

*

Hermione gazed around, speechless. Rosewood Manor was, in a word, stunning. The interior in front of her was made of light woods; birch, pine, oak, maple. The darkest color was a muted tan, acting as a stark contrast to the pale cream paint on the upper part of the walls and the vaulted ceiling. According to Harry it was a Potter property, one that had fallen into disuse after the construction of the main manor some miles south and east.

The furniture was all heavy and old, the Potter crest featured subtly but prominently carved into chair backs or the elaborate feet of the heavier furniture. It was all very well maintained however, glossy and clean, with a lingering scent of lemon and some other type of cleaner.

“Took a few air freshening charms to get the air in here breathable at first,” Harry said conversationally as he took off his robe, hanging it up on a convenient hook. “The goblins came through and set all the wards and did the basis of the Fidelius, for a fee of course. They also refinished some of these surfaces and ripped up the awful carpeting covering the floor. Any object with Dark Arts linked to it or potentially harmful effects was also removed and put into a vault at Gringotts.”

“It’s gorgeous,” Hermione said softly, trying to ignore the undercurrent of tension between her and her friend. When Harry had come and found her at the Leaky Cauldron he’d explained a lot to her, how he’d discovered his real parentage at Gringotts and plotted to remove himself from the Headmaster’s influence. After all, he’d pointed out to her, Dumbledore had known he wasn’t the child his Prophecy spoke of and still had set him up to face Voldemort.

When she’d asked him, hurt and angry, why he hadn’t clued her in on any of it earlier on, his answer had been hurtful. She always trusted authority; Harry had said bluntly, never believing anything the Headmaster did was worth questioning. He wasn’t sure if his friendship with her had been worth more than her trust in the Headmaster and the teachers. That and he hadn’t been sure she would believe him when he said he had a soul-mate bond with Sirius, he wasn’t willing to risk the other for anyone.

Remus knew, she’d learned, but he’d reacted badly at first and was on shaky ground with both Harry and Sirius as a result. The other had jumped into a hot-headed conclusion and assumed Sirius was forcing the relationship with an underage teen, basically accusing his friend of statutory rape. Hermione was shocked, Remus Lupin had always seemed so level-headed. The mere presence of the betrothal cuff on Harry’s wrist would stop any future accusations, the betrothal contract wouldn’t hold if one party was unwilling.

As for the fact that he’d tested out of Hogwarts entirely at fifteen, he’d been apologetic about that. “I’ve always been intelligent, Hermione. I just wanted you to shine, you always reacted so positively to the praise from our professors. And I was friends with Ron, who resented anyone better than him other than you. I was already close to losing him because I had money and he didn’t, I didn’t want that to be the thing that broke our friendship. I no longer care about Ron or his issues however, and my desire and desperation to get away from the Headmaster meant more than continuing to hide my intelligence.”

  But now he had left her behind. He would be twenty-five this July, she would be seventeen in September. It hurt, even if he understood the logical reasoning behind it. She’d always assumed their friendship meant more to him. But perhaps it did, she realized. By getting Dumbledore kicked out of Hogwarts and testing out himself, he’d taken all of Voldemort’s attention off of the school. Not only that, but according to what Madam Bones (now Minister) had said about what Dumbledore had done, the man had been putting them all at risk and messing with their education.

Harry had paved the way to a better couple of years for her and the others, at the cost of his own Hogwarts years and childhood, what little he had left of it. She looked at him, eyes catching the shine of dark red in his black hair, the edge of his aqua-colored eyes. A childhood robbed of him by not only Voldemort and Dumbledore, but Molly Weasley as well.

She wondered if they ever would have realized the extent of Molly’s plotting and resentment of her family pattern of inheritance if not for Harry’s discoveries. Not likely, and if they had it would have been too late. She’d always been slightly over-bearing and treated them like they were just small children still, but Hermione had liked the woman in her own way. She was certainly warmer than Hermione’s mother, a woman dedicated to her career in the perfectly ordinary and normal world of dentistry.

Actually, the longer she thought about Harry’s situation the more she understood why he’d taken the measures he had, the secrecy of his plans. It certainly explained a lot, even though she was certain there was something else she was missing. If it would matter, Harry would tell her. She worried about how much he put on his shoulders all the time, but he seemed used to it. She looked forward to the day those burdens were gone and he could just enjoy his life.

He'd certainly earned it.

Chapter Text

The peaceful clearing that Harry had just Apparated into was misleading in a way. Around him was abundant summer greenery, the small noises of woodland creatures magical and Muggle. Wildflowers bloomed in erratic yet beautiful bunches, as if nature had been painting in patches of bright color. It was ordinary, beautiful. There was no indication that just beyond this clearing was the home of a prominent magical family, one of vital importance to Harry.

He’d been invited, more like summoned, to speak with Muriel Prewett, the sister to his late grandsire, Septimus. Molly Weasley’s aunt and father, respectively. Muriel didn’t often enter the public eye these days, she’d been a regular in wizarding society in her youth. She’d caused a few ripples over the years by refusing to marry any of the young wizards that had approached her, many from good families.

A regular social butterfly, Muriel had enjoyed the rich gossip that the wizarding world offered more than anything else. Near the same age as Albus Dumbledore, she’d been to Hogwarts around the same time as the former Headmaster, though she’d never been more than an acquaintance of his. Instead she’d flitted around, gathering juicy tidbits of gossip to share with other ladies of society, ignoring her brother’s admonishments at her behavior.

All of that had changed during the first war against Voldemort. Above all else the Prewetts were devoted to their family and both the reputation and survival of the Prewett name. Muriel had doted on her brother’s twin sons, a gift since twins were fairly rare in the magical world. She’d doted on young Molly as well, though with a different eye. While she had avoided marriage like a plague, she knew young Molly Elizabeth would need to make a good match. She had been disappointed somewhat when her niece chose young Arthur Weasley for her spouse, going down in society rather than up as she'd felt her family deserved.

Muriel had been both proud and worried when her nephews had joined the Order. Proud they were taking a stand against the inequality and injustice Voldemort stood for. Worried that they were standing against others of good pureblood names who had been driven to kill by a madman.

Then her worst fears had come true, Fabian and Gideon had been murdered by Death Eaters. The fact that Fabian had a newborn son who was heir to the line was cherished news, but still a bitter pill to swallow after losing two boys she’d helped to raise.

Harry was unsure how she’d found out about him, but he’d been both surprised and anxious to get the letter. He’d heard a few tidbits about ‘Great-Aunt Muriel’ from the Weasley children and Arthur, she sounded like a formidable witch one didn’t want to cross. He swallowed, straightened his robes and set off with a determined pace. He hoped more than anything this conversation would go well.

*

Muriel Prewett had always been a shrewd, intelligent woman. Her brother had often tsked at her for wasting her talents as a gossip-monger. Not that Septimus hadn’t been something of a wild youth himself, but after the death of their father and his ascension to Lord Prewett at the young age of 20, he’d been forced to mature far more quickly than Muriel would have liked.

He’d risen admirably to the occasion, taking care of their suddenly widowed and stricken Dowager mother. He’d made sure that before she died she knew their future was in good hands, marrying a beautiful pureblood witch of good bloodline and manners. Elizabeth and Muriel originally had a slightly contentious relationship, but it had developed over time into respect and admiration.

Molly Elizabeth had been born two years into their marriage, a beautiful and healthy little girl with the biggest brown eyes and her father’s rich red hair. While both Elizabeth and Septimus had doted on their daughter, they’d pragmatically planned to try for another. The Prewett title could only be passed on to a male heir. Both had also privately wanted a little boy.

Two miscarriages and one false hope later and Elizabeth had joyfully presented her husband with not just one but two sons when Molly was six. Their birth had taken a lot out of their mother and Septimus firmly told his family that they were the last children he would have. He wasn’t going to risk Elizabeth with another pregnancy when getting his boys had been so difficult in the first place.

Muriel had watched Septimus’ sons grow up with equal parts amusement, exasperation and pride. Fabian and Gideon had been strong, rowdy boys from their infancy, causing their parents no end of frustration and early greys with their antics. The boys had been fourteen and Molly on the verge of twenty and pregnant with her eldest when their mother had contracted an illness. It had taken only four months for Elizabeth to finally lose her fight and pass on, leaving Septimus a grief-stricken widower and his children without their mother.

From the moment of their mother’s funeral, Muriel had been able to watch her eldest grandson change. It was almost a tangible thing, his metamorphosis from a mischievous, clever young teenager to a somber, careful Heir. She had grieved for his lost childhood even as her pride in his behavior grew, watching him throw everything he had into learning from his father so that he could help Septimus as he aged.

Watching her brother as he slowly withered after the loss of Elizabeth had been a frightening thing. The only thing that seemed to perk him up was when Molly presented him with a new grandchild, though he’d frowned and cautioned her against too many pregnancies after the third. Not that she’d paid any attention to it, silly girl. Going on to have four more after her father’s initial worries.

The loss of Fabian and Gideon had near enough been the last straw for her brother. Always proud, always in control, he’d wept viciously and cursed at the Goddess he loved for taking so much from him. His only solace had been the news Fabian had given them earlier that year, that he was going to have a son of his own. He’d not given them his bonded’s name, promising to introduce them soon.

Septimus and Muriel had been hurt that Fabian had eloped, but he’d pointed out the rising tensions amongst purebloods who either supported or opposed the Dark Lord. He’d told them that he was keeping his beloved and unborn child safe, especially since they were both known to be fighting against the Dark Lord. The same Lord who had sworn to wipe out every single member of the families that opposed him down to the last unborn child.

Septimus had died before ever meeting his grandchild, his heir. He’d put it into his Will that the babe was Heir to the Prewett Lordship before Molly or any of her children. If the boy hadn’t presented himself by age nineteen, then it would pass to Molly as his eldest child. Muriel had been his witness to the signing and sealing of the Will.

As his witness, she’d been notified by the bank when the Prewett Lordship was legally claimed. The goblins hadn’t revealed who had taken the Lordship, but it was not for nothing that Muriel had once been the queen of gossip. A little bit of digging and a short chat with Amelia Bones had revealed the new Lord Prewett was also the new Lord Potter.

Which meant James Potter had been Fabian’s bonded. How fitting that pair would have been, Muriel reflected. She’d heard of the Potter heir’s hijinks at Hogwarts through the grapevine, he’d been every bit as clever and witty as her nephews. Along with his close friends he’d built himself quite the reputation over his Hogwarts education.

This also meant that her nephew’s son, the Prewett heir, was none other than the Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter. Muriel was not starstruck with the boy’s title nor his wonderous deed, she had her own doubts and questions around the night he’d ‘vanquished’ the Dark Lord, the same one who had mysteriously re-emerged at the end of the disastrous Triwizard Tournament. Fudge was such an idiot.

“Toppy,” she called, setting down her cup of tea.

There was a small pop and a small female house elf appeared, dressed in a demure blue cloth outfit with a small brown sash.

“Mistress calls for Toppy,” the elf said, her voice quiet and melodic. None of the Prewetts had been able to stand having squeaky, frightened servants that knew nothing, so all of the Prewett elves were taught proper speech, given some basic education and treated well, given five uniforms that they were to maintain.

“The new Lord Prewett should be here soon, please escort him here when he arrives.”

Toppy nodded her understanding and disappeared.

‘Here’ was her late brother’s study, one of the more formal rooms in this section of the Manor. One entire wall was taken up with bookshelves, a massive fireplace with a private Floo connection dominated the other wall. Behind Muriel was a massive floor to ceiling window nearly twelve feet high by the same width. It had a private balcony that looked out over the family property. Muriel currently sat behind the massive mahogany desk her brother and father and every Lord Prewett for generations had sat at.

About ten minutes later Toppy returned, leading a tall man into the study. Muriel had heard from Amelia about his decision to take the Permanent Aging Potion and test out of Hogwarts, wanting to get away from Dumbledore and out from under the Ministry’s thumb. With all she’d heard over the years about his life and school years, she didn’t blame him in the slightest.

He wore brown suede leather trousers tucked into tan knee-high boots, a crisp white shirt with a neatly tied cravat and a forest-green and bronze silk robe with three-quarter sleeves. His hair was a bit darker red than Fabian’s, with a bit of the dark brown-black from the Potters. His aquiline features were mostly Prewett, with a touch of Potter in the set of his chin and mobile mouth. His eyes were the same shape as Fabian’s however, with a stunning aqua color.

He studied Muriel as intently as she studied him, which pleased her. She knew she was an unknown entity to a great deal of magical society now, content to stay at home unless a family occasion or social need dictated. Her sharp eyes didn’t miss the pair of Lordship rings on his fingers, nor the ornate and very betrothal cuff on his wrist. It was obviously a pureblood, the Muggleborns in general didn’t follow their old ways, especially when it came to sex, love and bonding. An old family too, heir or Lord, that cuff was easily one of the most expensive things she’d seen in recent memory.

She gestured to the chair across from her and said, “Sit, please. Excuse me for not getting up to greet you, these old bones don’t move easily anymore.”

“No excuse necessary,” he reassured, his voice warm and melodic. He sat with relative ease, remaining in his easy, straight posture with his hands folded on his lap.

“I am Muriel Victoria Prewett, sister to your late grandsire, Septimus Cadmus Prewett. Aunt to Molly Elizabeth, Fabian Septimus and Gideon Cadmus. Of our storied family, only you, Molly Elizabeth and myself remain of the direct Prewett line.”

“While you may know me as Harry Potter,” he began quietly, “my true name is Harrigan James Septimus Potter-Prewett, son of Fabian Septimus Prewett and James Charlus Potter. I am the only remaining Potter and one of the trio of Prewetts you mentioned.”

“May I ask,” he hesitated, “how you found out that I had taken the Prewett Lordship? I am not denying you the right to know, I just want to make sure it was not something easily done, for safety reasons.”

Muriel arched an eyebrow. “You don’t need to worry about offending me, child. As for how I know, I was my brother’s witness when he signed and sealed his Will, so as a living witness the bank was obligated to tell me that my brother’s will had been upheld.”

“As for how I found out it was you specifically,” she smirked. “It’s not for nothing that I am still known as one of the foremost gossips of wizarding society.”

He snorted in amusement. “Now I’m starting to see where some of the Weasley children got their sense of mischief.”

“Oh it is absolutely a Prewett trait,” she agreed. “Though from what I heard of your bearer’s days in Hogwarts, it’s a Potter one as well.”

He laughed outright at her words, a rich, pleasant sound. “I would agree with you! So would Sirius, most empathetically.”

“Sirius,” she mused aloud. “The only family I know of that uses the stars to name their children is the Blacks. Would I be correct in saying you refer to Orion and Walburga’s eldest?”

“Partially,” Harry answered. “Sirius is Orion’s son from his first marriage, to Callista Lestrange.”

“Ahh,” Muriel mused aloud, “I had nearly forgotten about poor Callista. Such a proud woman, the pureblood families were devastated to read about her death, so soon after the birth of their son and heir as well.”

Eyeing the man across the desk, she smirked and said, “Would I be correct in guessing that betrothal cuff you wear was given to you by the new Lord Black we are discussing?”

She held back a laugh at the dusting of pink across his high cheekbones, a soft cough escaping as he recovered his composure. He shot her a small look, almost a glare at the surprising comment and insight.

“It was,” he finally said.

“An interesting match,” she said nonchalantly. “I don’t believe the Blacks and Prewetts have ever crossed direct lines before, not to mention the Potters added in. It shall be a treat to see what your future offspring are like.”

More color appeared on that warm skin, though the young Lord did an admirable job ignoring her small jibe.

“I take it you are not going to fight the fact that I have taken on the Prewett Lordship?” he asked, voice soft. He did well to control his tone, but she could hear the hesitant hope in his voice.

“I never planned on it in the first place. For you to be able to take the Lordship at Gringotts meant that you proved your worth in blood. There are many things wizards are able to do, but fooling the goblins is not one, at least not one easily done. Besides, I can see my family in your features and mannerisms.”

“I look forward to many more years of interactions with you, Aunt,” he said with a small smile.

“So do I, young Harrigan. So do I.”

And Muriel meant it. She may have built herself a fearsome reputation with her family out of necessity, taking the reins as temporary Regent for the Prewett title after her brother’s death. But first and foremost, she was a Prewett. And Prewett’s looked after family.

Usually.

Her grand-nephew hesitated, something clearly on his mind but unsure perhaps on how to voice it. She let him think about it for a long moment, patience was a virtue after all. She was an old woman, there was no sense being in a hurry.

“How aware are you of recent events?” He finally asked.

“Not very,” Muriel responded. Loathe as she was to admit it, she’d been rather out of the loop regarding wizarding society as of late. Unless it concerned Molly Elizabeth or her family she had settled into a sort of easy routine. It was now all too clear that it had been the wrong thing to do, she cursed to herself quietly.

“I went to Gringotts in August, which is when it was revealed to me that I was not only heir to the Potter estate but the Prewett one as well. My true heritage was revealed to me then. Unless I had gone to Gringotts, I never would have learned I had living family, or that I was in fact a pureblood Heir to two Houses.”

Muriel frowned, but continued to listen. The injustices her nephew had already been through were numerous, but she had the feeling it was only the tip of the matter.

“As you have obviously noticed, I am no longer a fifteen-year-old student. I intend to enter the Wizengamot and make a difference in our society, but I know many are going to question my choice to age permanently. I took a risk, testing out of Hogwarts completely and aging myself. The benefits outweighed the risks. But I know many will ask what was so detrimental I was willing to risk it in the first place.”

“When I aged myself up and passed my majority, a complicated glamour that had been on my body since infancy fell, revealing my current appearance. The one to put the glamour on me was Albus Dumbledore, up until recently the Headmaster of Hogwarts and my guardian through his own manipulations.”

Muriel could feel her anger rising at his words. That meddling fool had been messing with her family! She gritted her teeth, determined to let her nephew finish what he was saying. She had the disquieting feeling that he was leaving the worst of it for last.

“After aging myself and testing out of Hogwarts, I confronted Albus and the rest of his vigilante organization the Order of the Phoenix, including a large portion of your niece Molly’s family.”

“Molly knew I was her nephew the entire time, she’d been told by Albus. She wanted me to remain ignorant so that I would marry my own cousin, Ginevra Weasley and pass the age nineteen so she could take the Prewett title. She felt it was deserved of her as the eldest, she resented the fact that my grandsire passed her over because of family traditions.”

“I could have been raised with my cousins,” he said softly, “or even here at the Prewett Manor with you. I would have been safe from an old man’s manipulations and never had to fight against a Dark Lord. Instead I was raised by Muggles I have realized I’m not even related to, Muggles who wanted to ‘stamp the nonsense’ out of me.”

Muriel could feel the rage boiling in her system and it made it’s way into her expression despite her best efforts to regain control. It didn’t help her fragile efforts at control when she saw her nephew’s surprised expression, like he doubted someone he’d just met would care. She closed her eyes momentarily, breathing deeply.

Septimus would be enraged if he was here. His grandson had been neglected, possibly abused. He’d been left to an old coot’s manipulations and control, no doubt seen as expendable in a plan for the old fool’s ‘Greater Good’ he acted like no one knew about. And her niece, her beloved Molly Elizabeth, had not only known but helped.

She’d gone against family, her own family! Not just family but her own nephew, Septimus’ precious grandson and heir. She’d betrayed everything her family stood for, all for money and status. Muriel’s eyes snapped open and she leveled a firm gaze at her grand-nephew.

“It seems I have some re-organizing to do, young Harrigan. As Lord of the Prewett family, do you give me authorization to deal with my wayward niece and her family?”

He looked at her for a long moment. Then a feral grin crossed his features, rather similar to her brother’s when he’d come up with a particularly wicked plot.

“I do, Aunt.”

Chapter Text

Muriel had assured him that Molly would be properly dealt with as well as any children who followed her line of reasoning. Harry felt confident that he was now able to focus on the upcoming Wizengamot session. It would be the first one since he had been open about his titles as well as taking the Aging Potion, so he was understandably nervous. So much rode on what they did at the Ministry, so many innocent’s lives would be affected by the laws passed or dismissed by their governing body. Every decision they made needed to be gravely considered and duly weighed.

His conversation with Nimue in the Veil had only impressed upon him a greater sense of urgency to right the wrongs that had been committed against magic. He would rather die himself and see magic continue on for centuries than live to see the end of it all. He could well imagine the horror of the old Pureblood families if they knew what eventually would happen. Sirius’ reaction had been telling enough. The man was fully supportive of everything Harry did now, without question.

Sometimes Harry wondered if he was worth the devotion, or if it was misplaced solely because he had freed the man. These were weak moments, hammered in by years of abuse at the hands of the Dursley family. Moments where he doubted himself and his way forward, moments where ‘worthless freak’ rang in his ears as if Vernon had just screamed it at him. He knew that Sirius could see it in his face when he had these moments. The man’s jaw would tighten and his grey eyes would turn dark, his fists clenching in anger.

The subject of the Dursleys was still a point of contention between them. It was like a sore spot neither wanted to touch but couldn’t help the desire to prod. Sirius wanted Harry to press charges, to see the family put behind bars. It didn’t matter that it had been years ago, the man argued, nor that nobody had seemed to notice it before. It needed to be dealt with. Harry wanted it to simply be put away, like an unwanted gift stowed in a box somewhere in the attic.

It had come up again last night, on the eve of the two men’s appearance at the Wizengamot. Harry had gone to bed angry and frustrated, conflicting tears in his eyes as he was torn in two different directions. As much as he may want the closure from the Dursleys, he wasn’t convinced it was something he actually needed. He just wished he could make the other man understand.

He strode down the stairs of Rosewood from his quarters, shoulders tense and defensive. Breakfast had been an awkward affair to say the least, Remus and Hermione had quickly picked up on the atmosphere between the two and beat a hasty retreat. Harry had left the dining room without a word so that he could go up and get dressed for the session. Sirius hadn’t tried to say a word to him all morning, concentrating on his plate rather than look at anyone.

Harry paused in front of a mirror, studying his reflection. The colors for the Potter family were forest green and bronze, while those of the Prewetts were sapphire blue and white. He hadn’t worn the Prewett colors before talking to Muriel, not wanting to offend the oldest living Prewett by wearing the colors without being accepted into the family. While not really the Matriarch of House Prewett since she was his grandfather’s sister not his wife, Muriel was the closest thing to it.

It had taken some in depth discussion with a tailor and a bit of experimentation, but Harry had finally hit upon a style of robes that wove in all the colors of his two Lordship titles. He wore deep bronze-brown trousers that clung to his legs and were fitted to the ankle, flaring just a bit over the top of his smart brown ankle boots. His silk undershirt was snowy white, blinding in its brightness. The robe over the top was forest green with a sapphire pattern of Celtic knots outlined in black and then white to make them pop against the dark green fabric.

To emphasize the blue Harry had tied back his shoulder length hair with a gold chain that had a small sapphire the size of his pinky finger on the end of the chain. His fingers were bare aside from his Lordship rings, his wrists had an elegant wizarding watch and the betrothal cuff respectively. The watch had been James’, it was in one of the vaults he’d gone looking through a few weeks back.

He strode down the rest of the stairs, entering the smaller family living room. Sirius was waiting for him and he froze, taking in the sight with appreciation. The other man wore tight black trousers and a deep burgundy silk shirt under a black set of robes with off-center silver clasps and delicate silver traceries of the Black crest. The robes were saved from being too dark by another splash of burgundy on the inner lining, becoming visible as the man moved around.

Sirius was likewise frozen, taking in the sight of him with darkening grey eyes. Now that he was getting more used to the fact that they were soul mates and Sirius wanted it closer in age, Harry appreciated the way his appearance clearly affected the other. Even if it did make him blush furiously if he thought about it too long. Sirius gave a soft sigh finally and stepped forward, taking Harry’s hands in his.

“I want to apologize, Harry, for the argument last night. I know that it is difficult for you and you wish to put it behind and forget. My insistence must seem like something strange or offensive. I swear to you I am not ignoring what you say. Let me attempt to explain where my point of view is coming from. I will drop it afterwards if that’s still what you wish.”

“I know that in the Muggle world children seem to be a dime a dozen, with birth rates in the hundreds of thousands. I also know that in the Muggle world child abuse is a crime, dealt with severely when caught. But there are many, like yourself, that slide under without notice for years, if ever being noticed. In the magical world however, child abuse is almost unheard of.”

“The reason why is because magical children are far rarer and fewer in quantity than their Muggle counterpart. The largest recorded amount of children born was in the year I attended Hogwarts actually, we had 45 first years in our Sorting. It was considered a Blessed year, that so many magical children were born and survived infancy.”

“Since our birthrates are so low,” Sirius continued, “magical children are precious, prized highly by their families. Those who have many magical children, like the Weasley family, are envied by others. More than two children born in a match is a rarity. It is as a result almost unthinkable for wizarding families to consider abusing their children.”

“This is not to say that we are without fault, my own mother is a sterling example of that,” Sirius admitted wryly. “But for the most part abuse just doesn’t happen. It’s unthinkable to consider hurting a child, especially one that is so precious to you and your family line.”

“There are very few recorded instances of child abuse trials in the Wizengamot history, all of them were dealt with very harshly. There are those in the Wizengamot that may be the last of their name. They have gladly taken on the child another clearly seemed to not want, especially if they would abuse that child.”

“This is just another point as to why the abuse you suffered is so horrendous to me, Harry,” he said softly. “You are my soulmate; I love you more than anything in this world already. I am angry on your behalf solely because of that. But when you factor in how it never should have happened in the first place and Dumbledore’s meddling, that is why I want to see them brought to justice Harry. They do not deserve your protection. Not when they still affect you, thirty-plus years later.”

Harry swallowed, considering. He hadn’t understood why Sirius was so insistent on the matter, it had seemed like he was just ignoring Harry. With the other man’s explanation, much of his stubbornness on the matter made sense. He wanted to close his eyes, turn his head as he considered the matter. He couldn’t break away from the earnest sterling eyes locked with his own however. He could see them softening as they took in his expression, no doubt the conflicted swirl of emotion in his own eyes.

“Let me think about it, please.” He said softly.

Sirius nodded, clearly content to leave things as they were. He’d said his piece, now he was going to hold his tongue as he’d said he would.

They left Rosewood, Sirius offering an arm. Harry took it with a soft smile and a small flush, still not used to how proper Sirius was being about this whole thing. They left with a small pop!, headed to what promised to be an interesting first meeting.

*

Amelia Bones sat at the podium for the Minister of Magic. She was studying the Lords and Ladies of the Wizengamot as they gathered for this, the first session of the winter season. Seated to her left and at a lower height was a man she was determined to ignore, Albus Dumbledore having graced the Ministry for the session. Dressed in an eye-watering combination of tangerine orange and lime green swirls. It had given her a headache just to look at the man.

While there were no set sections for the Light, Dark and Grey aligned parties, there was an easily drawn line between all three sections. The Light sat to her left, nearest to Dumbledore’s station. The Grey took up the middle, causing a subtle invisible barrier between the two extremes. The Dark families sat to her right, closest to her court reporter’s station. Percy Weasley was not present, his presence during the whole Crouch and Fudge debacle’s mandated removing him from such a post. No, the court reporter was a sensible and unambitious young witch named Maribelle, from a Muggle family.

Murmurs began to rise in the courtroom from not only the Lords and Ladies but the sunken inner circle that was home to various reporters and pages. Raising her eyes to the Lord’s Entrance, she spotted the reason and a smirk almost crossed her lips. Almost. She’d been hoping this pair would show for the session.

Lord Sirius Orion Black III of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black looked fit and exceptionally clear-eyed, a nod to his constitution and force of will after 12 years in Azkaban prison’s maximum security. He was the sanest member of his family in recent memory. He drew comparisons from the elder members of the Wizengamot to his grandfather Arcturus, who had led House Black so well until handing it off to his son Orion. His appearance was garnering him some appreciative looks and a few fanciful sighs, the proud high cheekbones and alabaster skin paired well with sterling-silver eyes and ebon hair.

One glance at his hands cut off any further fantasies. The elegant ring with a sizeable chunk of mystic opal that only signified a wizarding betrothal. One didn’t have to look far to find the pair, only to the forearm of his companion.

Amelia wondered how many of the Lords and Ladies of the Wizengamot actually guessed who the handsome young man even was. He was wearing both of his family colors in a tastefully blended robe, but with the famous scar absent and his eyes a more aqua hue than their former emerald. It was the first time Amelia had seen him since authorizing his Aging, she admitted that it had done well for the young Lord Potter-Prewett. The betrothal cuff, while new, wasn’t unexpected.

Chancing a look at her companion revealed Albus Dumbledore giving the pair what could only be described as a scathing glare. She arched a brow, wondering at what had happened to garner such an expression. Perhaps some of it would be revealed today in the subtext of wizarding politics. They approached her podium and stopped, the Lord Black never removing his arm from where it was tucked through his companions’.

“I wish to claim my seat upon the Wizengamot today, Madame Bones,” Sirius’ voice was clear, ringing across the chamber with very little effort.

“And the seat you wish to claim?” Amelia asked, though the answer was obvious. Formality and all.

“The Most Noble and Ancient House of Black and the Most Noble and Ancient House of Lestrange, of which I am Lord, recognized by blood, birth and magic at Gringotts.”

Rising mutters greeted his words, the first expected, the second was definitely not. The majority of the Wizengamot had thought that the Lord Lestrange was currently in Azkaban prison, being Janus’ eldest Rodolphus.

“Through what means can you claim House Lestrange?” Albus Dumbledore scoffed.

Sirius gave what could only be considered a devilish smirk. “I’m so glad you asked, Supreme Mugwump,” he purred. “I submit to our stand-in Minister my blood rights chart from Gringotts, which states that I am in fact the son of Orion Arcturus Black and his first wife Calista Lestrange, not his second wife Walburga Black.”

Chatter spread through the Lords and Ladies of the Wizengamot, most of them had forgotten about the late Calista Black nee Lestrange and her tragic death.

Amelia scanned the papers, noting the official Gringotts seal in the top corner and said, “The claim is valid, Lord Black. Welcome to the Wizengamot.”

Scattered applause filled the room, absent mostly from the quarter of Light wizards and witches that were Dumbledore’s more fanatic backers. Sirius nodded his head in acknowledgement of her words and fell quiet, not attempting to move. Looking closely at his eyes she could see the spark of anticipation and amusement in them as he waited for Harry’s words.

“I also wish to claim my seats on the Wizengamot, Madame Bones,” Harry said, his warm tenor ringing as easily had Sirius deeper voice.

“What seats do you wish to claim?”

“The Noble House of Potter and the Most Noble House of Prewett, of which I am Lord by birth, blood and magic. My name is Harrigan James Septimus Potter-Prewett, first-born and only child of Fabian Septimus Prewett and James Charles Potter.”

The Wizengamot chambers exploded with a cacophony of noise. Several members that had been ignoring the situation so far snapped their heads around so fast Amelia was surprised they hadn’t given themselves whiplash. Some Lords and Ladies forgot their surrounds and status and stood up, attempting to get a closer look at the young man who claimed House Potter and Prewett.

A stately witch from the Light section called angrily, “As much as you wish you cannot claim House Potter, the only one who has that right is the Boy-Who-Lived and he is a mere teen!”

“I was known to the majority of the wizarding world and indeed myself as Harry James Potter for the past fifteen years,” Harrigan began agreeably. “However, it was a lie, a lie perpetuated by others for unknown reasons at my expense. As for my age, I have taken the Permanent Aging Potion and am no longer a Hogwarts student, as authorized by our stand-in Minister.”

“I indeed did authorize your use of the potion,” Amelia agreed, cutting off several no doubt snide responses. Instead several Lords and Ladies looked at her askance. “And your test results were exceptionally impressive, Examiner Tofty has yet to get over his surprise!”

Harrigan laughed. As a formality, he handed over his blood chart. She perused it minimally, already aware of what it said. He had no need to prove himself to her, they both knew it was for show.

“The claim is valid, Lord Potter-Prewett,” Amelia began the formal acceptance, ignoring a few dissenting mutters. “Welcome to the Wizengamot.”

The applause for Harrigan was even scantier than that for Sirius, most still discussing the matter among themselves. Amelia paid it no attention, instead watch with hawk eyes and no shortage of anticipation as the two men considered the room. Both clearly spotting the divide between the three factions. Eventually Harrigan’s aqua eyes danced with mischief and they turned in unison, making their way to sit in the exact dividing line between the Gray Houses and the Dark.

Amelia blinked at the implications, turning discreetly to look at Dumbledore, who looked about apoplectic with rage. The two had made a clear if subtle statement by putting themselves toward the Dark section. They were not part of Dumbledore’s little party. The same witch who had spoken before, the Lady Emmeline Vance if Amelia was correct, spoke again.

“You belong over here with us, Lord Potter-Prewett. The Potter family has always been Light, so have the Prewetts.”

“Actually,” Harrigan spoke up pleasantly, not having to stand to draw attention to himself, “the Potters were only considered ‘Light’ in the last couple of generations. We are descendants of the Peverells, who have always been Dark or Grey. The Prewetts have usually been more on the Grey side of magic, Molly Elizabeth’s generation notwithstanding. But I do thank you for attempting to explain to me my own family history, erroneous as it was.”

Emmaline flushed, while a couple Lords and Ladies gave discreet chuckles at the elegant verbal slap he’d offered. Served her right, trying to tell a Lord of the Wizengamot about his own families. Amelia snickered, already enjoying the shake-up the two were causing.

The first Bill proposed on the charter today was one authorizing and mandating the use of Veritaserum in all trials whether consented to or not. It was hotly debated on both sides, the Light witches and wizards concerned with the ethics of it, the Dark more concerned with it authorizing ‘witch hunts’ on families that had made mistakes, ergo, served a certain Lord. Once both parties had argued for and against the Bill Amelia went to call the vote, but Harrigan lazily stood from his spot and she stopped.

“Chair recognizes Lord Harrigan Potter-Prewett,” she said.

“Truly, Amelia? While you may have a soft spot for the new Lords of the Wizengamot, is his voice warranted?” Albus spoke up, eyes sparkling. A couple of his backers were nodding.

“Excuse me?” she said in a deadly sort of voice, one that had her most hardened Aurors scurrying for cover. Several members of the Wizengamot winced.

“Aside from being an attack on my person, I resent that you are making the attempt to undermine Lord Potter-Prewett’s voice before he even speaks. I do not show favoritism, Mister Dumbledore. You would do well to remember that.”

“I can firmly say that I am no friend of Lord Potter-Prewetts’, being so new to the Wizengamot,” Tiberius Ogden barked, not bothering to stand from his spot in the Grey section. “However I am interested in hearing what he has to say, he’s already shown a sharp mind.”

Dumbledore sat back, thoroughly stymied. His cheekbones reddened a little, both at Ogden’s words and her little jab at his lack of a family title.

Harrigan had been waiting patiently and stoically for them to decide, though his aqua eyes betrayed a bit of humor at the byplay over Dumbledore’s behavior.

“Lords and Ladies of the Wizengamot,” he began, voice carrying easily not only to the others around him but the reporters below. “We come here to make decisions that affect not only our own Noble families, but wizarding society as a whole. The populace outside our walls trusts that we here will make the hard choices. That we will keep them safe. They also trust that if they come before us having been accused of a crime the truth will out.”

“While the ethics and morals of using such a thing as Veritaserum can be debated amongst philosophers and collegiate bodies for the next fifty or even one hundred years, we are here in the now. We are in the middle of a war, of the most tempestuous times the Wizengamot has seen in the last twenty or so years. During such times there is only one choice. We must mandate the use of Veritaserum.”

“But the amount of paperwork involved in authorizing it every trial would cut us severely back on court hours,” protested a Lady from the Light section.

“Are you suggesting that we should instead forego Veritaserum because it saves you time?” Harrigan said icily, watching with a cold expression as her face reddened. “I would hope that your greater wish would be for the proper course of justice. I cannot believe this is even a debate! Or are the Lords and Ladies of the Wizengamot ignoring the presence of my betrothed, who spent 12 years in Azkaban without a trial because you wanted to save a bit of hassle?”

Several of the Lords and Ladies looked ashamed, unable to meet the expressionless gaze of the Lord Black. The miscarriage of justice that had been his imprisonment would remain a stain on the Wizengamot’s image and reputation for many a year. Eventually the Lord Black would forgive them for it, but it would be a long time coming. Even years into the future there would be the saying, we don’t want to repeat the Black fiasco.

Amelia called the vote after leaving a few moments of silence. It passed, 28:12. Dumbledore, for some reason, didn’t look happy at all. Amelia looked to the pair of new Lords, sitting quietly in their seats. She resisted a smile. They could only be a good thing for the Wizengamot, of that she was convinced. They had already made a very strong first impression, after all.

Chapter Text

Over the past several sessions, Harry and Sirius had been making slow but steady headway towards their ultimate goal. They’d passed several small, seemingly unconnected Bills since the one mandating Veritaserum. One that expanded the amount of individuals on the Board of Governors for Hogwarts, one that required expansive background checks on anyone petitioning for a job in the Ministry, one that required stronger oaths of service to the wizarding public from those in office.

And the last, but not least. One that required an in-depth analysis and study of the current laws on all creatures formerly labeled as ‘Dark’. Harry had pointed out Remus Lupin for the Wizengamot, who was a complete polar opposite to werewolves like the infamous Fenrir Greyback. He’d fiercely defended the opinion that there were more comprehensive rules necessary, that the current ‘Register’ was no better than what Voldemort wanted for Muggleborns.

He’d not made himself popular with some of the current Ministry officials on the Wizengamot. They disliked being compared to the zealots that followed a Dark Lord (though ironically many of them were). It had passed, barely. Sirius was sure he’d held his breath the entire time Amelia had been calling the vote. The sigh of relief he’d given as it passed was explosive. Harry had just laughed at him, amused.

The Wizengamot wasn’t in session today, so they were getting some other things done. Harry was off doing something of importance, though he’d waved off Sirius’ offer of assistance. Sirius frowned, Harry had been edgy the past few days, he hoped the other was being careful. The last time he’d seen Harry like this had been before he’d gotten Dumbledore kicked out of Hogwarts.

Meanwhile, Sirius was walking lazily up the marble steps and into the massive foyer at Gringotts. He was here for a couple of reasons, one a bit more precarious than the other. He strolled up to a free clerk and said, “Lord Black here to speak with Ironclaw about the Black and Lestrange estates.”

The clerk looked at him with narrowed dark eyes and then snapped his fingers. He almost appeared to be summoning another goblin, his appearance was so sudden. “This runner will escort you to Ironclaw.”

Sirius nodded, making sure his face didn’t reflect any offense at the abrupt, curt dismissal. The goblin’s time was very valuable, it literally meant money for the spendthrift creatures. The Goblin Nation was one of those that stood to profit from Harry’s newly passed review. He was sure they would show their appreciation in small, expedited ways. He certainly hadn’t had to wait in the lobby as long as some. To his left, another wizard who had been there when Sirius arrived was giving him an incredulous, somewhat miffed expression.

Sirius ignored the random wizard and followed the goblin runner to a by now familiar office. Ironclaw sat behind the massive desk, writing on an enormous piece of parchment. He looked up and gave a very sharp, toothy grin at the sight of Sirius.

“Lord Black, welcome back to Gringotts. I hadn’t thought to see you again so soon after we took care of the Lestrange estate.”

Sirius chuckled softly. “That was a coup indeed, wasn’t it? You should have seen the faces on the Wizengamot when I claimed it right out from under Rodolphus’ nose. His Death Eater buddies must not be pleased.”

“I can just imagine,” Ironclaw said dryly. “There are many who had made inquiries into the estate over the years, it’s one of the old accounts like the Blacks. To wizards like those on the Wizengamot and particularly the Ministry, old means money.”

Sirius snorted in agreement. Rather than voice that, he sat across from Ironclaw and leaned forward a little bit. “What I am about to ask you is of the utmost importance, Ironclaw. And the utmost of secrecy. In one of the Lestrange vaults should be an object belonging to a Hogwarts founder, Helga Hufflepuff in particular. It would have been placed in the vault by my cousin, Bellatrix, some years ago.”

“I believe I know the object you are talking about,” Ironclaw said, black eyes shrewd. “It’s in one of our deepest vaults, guarded by a dragon. But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

“I did,” Sirius said, not bothering to deny it. “It’s been cursed, hasn’t it? It refuses to stay in the same spot within the vault, moves around each time you open it. It also has a Gemino curse on it, so it duplicates itself with a worthless replicate each time it moves.”

Depthless eyes narrowed. “What is it, Lord Black?”

“A piece of magic that shouldn’t exist,” Sirius replied grimly. “It belongs to the Dark Lord Voldemort. He gave it to Bellatrix because he trusts her loyalty, less-than-stable behavior aside. This is the reason why I asked for your secrecy, Ironclaw. It’s a piece of Voldemort’s soul, split off from the whole by murder. It’s why he didn’t actually die on Halloween of 1981.”

Several no doubt inventive expletives in Gobbledygook escaped Ironclaw’s narrow lips before he regained control of himself. “There is a Horcrux in one of our vaults?!”

“Goblins know of them, then?” Sirius asked.

“Yes,” Ironclaw spat. “We of the Goblin Nation remember when they first came into being because of that foolish Necromancer. He lived to regret it when his arch-nemesis used the spell to create one of his own and defeated the Necromancer. Soul-magic, blegh! Wizard-kind arrogance never fails to repulse us. The sheer stupidity to take the property of the Goddess from her rightful control. Gnazhût!”

Sirius didn’t ask Ironclaw to translate the last word. It was Gobbledygook of some kind. By the tone that went with it he could well imagine what it meant. The door to Ironclaw’s office opened just moments after he pressed a rune engraved in his desk, revealing a runner. It wasn’t the one that had escorted Sirius earlier, that much he knew.

“Get Bogrod and go to the Lestrange vault in the depths! Retrieve that blasted cup and bring it back here. You know the one, it’s never in the same spot. Bring it here promptly!”

The goblin gave a quick nod and closed the door, likely wanting to get away from Ironclaw’s foul mood. Ironclaw looked at Sirius, visibly calming himself. “It will take a moment to retrieve it from the vault. Was there another thing you wished to discuss with the bank?”

“Yes,” Sirius said, barring his teeth in a vicious grin. “I need to edit my family tree, Ironclaw.”

Ironclaw smirked back. He summoned another runner and sent them to retrieve the official Black bloodline chart, the one that provided the names and information for the enchanted Family tapestry. It took far less time than the cup was taking. In no time at all the runner was back, carrying a massive scroll of parchment with faintly yellowed edges.

It was probably a meter and a half in width, secured with a dark blood-red ribbon and black wax imprinted with a massive copy of the Black family seal. Sirius had never actually seen their official bloodline chart; it was very rarely ever removed from the vault it was in or the special preservation casket in the vault itself.

Ironclaw removed an athame made of pure silver and carefully sliced through the ribbon, taking care not to damage the scroll itself. A click of his fingers widened his desk to accommodate the massive scroll. He removed the ribbon and old wax, tossing them in the fireplace in the corner. It crackled with little visible spark of magic as it dissolved, gaining a nod of approval from Ironclaw.

The goblin carefully laid it on the desk and unrolled it, putting small pure silver weights on each corner to hold it down. Sirius took a moment to stare at it in pure awe. In the center of the parchment in black and what appeared to be liquid silver ink was the Black crest and motto, Tojours Pur. Around the edges of the Crest were the earliest names of his family members once they had taken the surname ‘Black’ instead of ‘Noir’ from their country of origin, France. The Blacks had backed the correct party in the War of the Roses, being rewarded by the House of Tudor for their loyalty with a Lordship title and land in England.

At the bottom was his own name, Sirius Orion Black. Linked with a dotted line that represented their contract was Harrigan James Septimus Potter-Prewett.

“Are you restoring or removing individuals from the tree?” Ironclaw asked formally.

“Both, we shall start by restoring a few,” Sirius replied.

In response Ironclaw removed a box of ivy wood from a nearby case, flipping it open to reveal a shimmering ivory quill with a gold tip. The long, pure white feather of the quill was pristine and unmarked. It had an almost ethereal quality to it, sliding out of his vision unless he concentrated on it.

Ironclaw handed him the quill, waiting patiently. Sirius found his cousin Andromeda’s name easily; it had almost faded completely from the tree after being viciously scratched out by Walburga after she’d run away to marry Ted. Carefully putting the tip of the quill over the faded name, he traced over it, re-writing the name Andromeda Amalthea Black. It glowed briefly before turning the same dark silver as the rest of their names.

He then carefully linked Ted Tonks to her name and wrote in her daughter, Nymphadora Andromeda Black-Tonks. Their dates of birth filled in automatically, both names being framed in gold to represent a magical ability.

He handed the quill back to Ironclaw, who respectfully placed it back in the box and carefully closed the clasp, setting it back into the case. With equal care he removed the other box, carved out of a slab of ebony wood with dark silver hinges and clasps. He opened it slowly, revealing a pure black quill with a scarlet-red tip. There was no shine at all on the quill, it absorbed all light that fell on it.

“Unlike the Restoration quill, this quill is one that uses Blood. Only one of the direct bloodline of a family can remove members of the Line. These decisions are not easily undone, take care with your choices,” Ironclaw warned.

Sirius nodded, accepting Ironclaw’s grave words for the warning they were. He hadn’t intended on taking any hasty actions, he wasn’t Walburga. She had removed people from their family tree on a whim, ignoring the fact that each member she removed weakened the Line. There was only one name he was looking for today.

Next to Andromeda’s name on the tree he found it. Bellatrix Druella Black-Lestrange, linked by a double solid line indicating marriage to Rodolphus Altair Lestrange. Part of him pitied her for her circumstances. Never the most stable of individuals thanks to the inbreeding of their family, it had only be exacerbated by contact with her Aunt Walburga. But not all of her actions could be blamed on instability.

He placed the quill’s sharp tip just outside the first letter, making sure it was over the gold frame around her name. Then steadily, firmly, he began to draw his hand across her name. There was a sharp stinging feeling in the back of his hand as the dark crimson line made of his own blood struck through her name. The moment he’d struck through her entire name he lifted the quill, watching as the crimson line flashed before a sharp sizzling sound filled the air in the office.

Bellatrix’s name faded from the parchment until it could no longer be seen at all. The names of Narcissa and Andromeda resized and relocated themselves automatically, covering the place where Bellatrix’s name had previously existed. Walburga had not been in command of her Line when she’d slashed through Andromeda’s name, which was why it hadn’t faded completely from the parchment.

He handed the quill back to Ironclaw, who replaced it as he had the other. Sirius stretched out his hand and wriggled his fingers, seeking to remove the lingering sting from the quill. Meanwhile Ironclaw removed the weights from the scroll and reversed the process, wrapping a new piece of ribbon around the center with care and blobbing a large amount of black wax onto the center. He opened yet another box, revealing a platinum family seal large enough to cover the ribbon with an onyx handle.

Realizing that it was his job to seal the scroll, Sirius carefully picked up the massive thing and pressed it firmly into the black wax. With a small, obvious crackle of magic the ribbon flashed and the seal warmed under his hand. He lifted it away, revealing the Black crest once again imprinted into the wax.

Just after the runner left with the scroll, another goblin came in with a medium-sized box. “The goblet, Ironclaw,” the goblin said. “We had to put it into the box to stop it from replicating.”

Ironclaw nodded in curt understanding and the goblin retreated, closing the massive office door behind him. Ironclaw opened the lid, revealing an ornate, old goblet of solid gold with a badger imprinted into the front. It was a beautiful piece of workmanship, one that Sirius was going to hate destroying.

“Very few things can destroy a Horcrux, Lord Black. I certainly hope you don’t intend to use Fiendfyre within Gringotts.”

Sirius snorted out a small laugh. “Nothing so dramatic, I assure you.”

He removed a small vial from inside his robes. It was the same vial of venom he’d used to destroy the Locket. Wiggling it in front of Ironclaw, he explained. “My betrothed has a penchant for doing impossible things. At the age of twelve he discovered the Chamber of Secrets and killed the Basilisk living inside. This is Basilisk venom, one of the things we know for certain can destroy a Horcrux.”

Ironclaw arched an eyebrow, the only visible expression of his surprise. “It seems Lord Potter-Prewett enjoys breaking rules and preconceptions about magic.”

Instead of replying, Sirius carefully pulled on the pair of dragonhide gloves he’d brought with him, unstopping the small vial. He tipped it over the goblet, letting just three drops fall onto the gold.

 It took a moment, longer than it had for the Locket. Eventually though, an audible hissing noise filled the office as the venom began to burn through the gold, ripping a hole of warped metal through the badger crest. Once it struck the core of the goblet, a horrible shrieking noise filled the room, black and purple smoke curling up. They got the vaguest impression of a set of crimson eyes before with one last ear-shattering scream, the smoke was pulled back into the goblet and disappeared.

Sirius recovered easily, having seen something similar twice before. Ironclaw stared at the innocent-looking, ruined heirloom for a long moment. He looked up at Sirius, dark eyes shrew and calculating.

“I have a feeling, Lord Black, that the Bank’s relationship with yourself and your betrothed will never be dull.”

Sirius just smirked at him in reply.

*

Some miles from Gringotts, a woman fell to her knees. Her hair was black, matted and tangled. Her eyes, heavily-lidded and dark in color, were wide in anguished pain and rage. One of her hands was on her heart, the other on the ground to support herself. Bellatrix Druella Lestrange, no longer Black, felt her anger burn through her like it never had. She'd survived her Aunt, she'd survived Azkaban. She would survive...

“SIRIUS!” She screamed, her expression a moue of incandescent fury.

She would do more than make him pay for what he had done. He would suffer, he would regret his actions, likely his last. He would do like they had done to the heathens of old. He would burn.  

Chapter Text

While Sirius was at Gringotts taking care of the cup, Harry was making a trek back to Hogwarts. Or more precisely, Hogsmeade, the village near the school. The idea to just ask the goblins for the cup had been Sirius’, Harry hadn’t been sure how to handle that one this time around. As the older man had pointed out, they probably wanted to stay on the good side of the Goblin Nation, breaking into one of their top-security vaults was not the way to do so.

He hadn’t told Sirius what he was going to be doing in the meantime. He wasn’t entirely sure it was going to work. Also, if it went badly, he didn’t want Sirius to get mixed up in it. He wore simple, durable trousers and a plain shirt, tight to his no-longer malnourished frame. Sturdy boots and a simple hooded cloak completed his ensemble, nondescript except for the shining Lordship rings on his fingers and the betrothal cuff on his wrist.

Even if he could remove them, he wouldn’t have wanted to. They were signs of how different this time around was already. He’d never gotten the Prewett Lordship before, even though it was his right. Even though the Potter Lordship had been his, he’d never taken it for fear of alienating his fickle friend, Ron. As for the betrothal cuff, well… That hadn’t even been a possibility.

Harry raised the hood on his cloak and strolled toward the dingy looking pub on the corner of Hogsmeade. The Hog’s Head had never looked like much, it’s proprietor more concerned with the service of his patrons than the looks of his bar. Its seedy reputation was nothing more than a front, the bar had provided service, comfort and secrecy for its patrons for years. Harry hadn’t realized that the first time around, he’d always thought the bar was dingy and dark, never wanting to linger.

That had changed after the war, after he’d realized what was wrong. When he’d learned about his broken soul bond he’d come here more often than home, finding temporary peace from a broken bond in the bottom of a tumbler of Firewhiskey. He’d talked to Aberforth often in those days, listening and watching as the man interacted with his patrons. There were never more of a different pair of brothers than the Dumbledores. In the best of ways.

Aberforth was far more than the half-witted man with an unfortunate favor for goats that his brother had always painted him to be. He was very sharp, as intelligent as his brother in his own way. He just preferred to use it in more subtle ways. The wards on the Hog’s Head weren’t some of the best in Hogsmeade by coincidence. He was also far more compassionate than his brother, listening to his patrons talk or vent without an ulterior motive.

Wearing a hood was normal in the Hog’s Head, Harry didn’t get more than a few passing glances from the few patrons avoiding the fierce November wind. He made his way to a table close to the fire, enjoying the crackling flames for a few moments. When Aberforth made his appearance and asked what he would like to drink, he said, “Firewhiskey, please. I would like to speak with you as well if you have a moment. You may want a drink for yourself.”

Aberforth looked around the bar, noting how few and far between his patrons were this evening. Then he nodded, walking away. Harry steepled his fingers together, looking around the bar. His gaze was drawn back to the crackling flames after a few moments, a frown crinkling his brow. This was not going to be an easy conversation.

Far too soon, Aberforth was back, a couple tall tumblers of whiskey in his hands. He set one in front of Harry and sat down, taking a sip of the other. Harry took the whiskey in hand and took a long gulp of it, savoring the distinctive burn of the alcohol that gave it its name.

“So what can I do for the Lord Potter-Prewett?” Aberforth said, tone a bit dry. When Harry looked mildly surprised, he snorted, gesturing to the rings. “Anyone with a bit of training on pureblood families would recognize those two signets.”

“True,” Harry mused, staring at his fingers. “I wasn’t trying to hide my identity in the first place, but these are a bit of a giveaway.” Taking the opening presented, he said, “You must have learned about these in your childhood.”

Aberforth’s posture stiffened slightly. “A fair bit,” he conceded.

“I’m here about your brother, Aberforth. I’ll be frank, he’s become a danger to our society. He’s been trying to control our government and education for years; he needs to be removed. You have the memories that would help me prove my case in court.”

Aberforth glared at him and started to stand. “I want nothin’ to do with Albus or your politics,” he spat the word. “If that’s what you’ve come for you can leave after you finish your drink.”

Just loudly enough for Aberforth to hear, Harry spoke. “I know about Ariana, Aberforth. More than that, I know who killed her.”

Aberforth froze. Harry hadn’t been wanting to use that piece of information as bait, it was cruel to dangle his sister’s fate in front of him. But he had no alternative, he needed Aberforth’s cooperation.

“How could you of all people know who killed her?” Aberforth snarled harshly. “You weren’t even born, boy. There were only three people in the room when she died.”

“Albus is how, actually,” Harry said mildly, as the other sat back down, reluctance in every line of his body. “Your brother kept meticulous notes and records of all of his activities and projects, even a few journals. They’re all in Hogwarts, in the Headmaster’s Office in a small secret room behind the chair.”

“This all ties into the set of memories I wanted to get from you tonight, his dealings with Gellert specifically. I know all their plotting and planning was done in secret, but it wasn’t secret enough, was it? Your brother considered you so much lesser than he, didn’t he? He never bothered with worrying about whether you were in the house, listening. You heard them, didn’t you?”

Harry’s voice was soft, persuasive. “All of their plotting, all their dreams and desires. They wanted to take over Wizarding Britain, didn’t they? Force us out of hiding, expose us to the Muggles so that they had to acknowledge our ‘superiority’. I can only imagine what it sounded like, listening to them plan. Knowing they wanted to drag us into a violent civil war.”

“Yeah, I heard them,” Aberforth snorted, crossing his arms. “Pair of prejudiced, sneering bastards they were. Grindelwald was the worse of the two, wanted to subjugate those of lesser ‘purity’ as well. That was the one point they argued on the most, though I’m pretty sure my brother was coming around to the idea.”

Harry nodded, taking another long drink of the whiskey. “Which is where you and your sister come into the matter. Stuck at home, playing at being ‘head’ of the family even though he wasn’t much of one. He resented it, resented you both. Particularly your sister, it offended him to see an ‘addled’ member of his family, especially one that preferred your company over his own.”

“He never had the patience for her!” Aberforth exploded. “Always wanted her to sit and listen to his grand lectures on his ideas, got angry at her when she wanted to leave and do something else.”

“I know,” Harry said softly. “Which was why when his research stumbled on an old, dark curse that left no trace except for a specific type of recall spell, he filed it away. The day Ariana died, he and Gellert got into an argument, you remember? Gellert finally demanded that he submit to his ideas or he was going to leave. Of course, your brother wasn’t going to let anyone else take control besides himself.”

“They started screaming at each other and firing spells, it set off Ariana,” Aberforth said gruffly. “She’d been restless all mornin’, wondered later on if she knew something was going to happen.”

“She came into the room where they were fighting, you followed her and defended her,” Harry said. “Right then, in all that chaos, your brother made his move. He turned his wand on Ariana in the thickest of the fighting, when it was impossible to keep track of everything going on.”

“Albus killed her, his own sister.”

There was an edgy sort of silence between the two, finally Aberforth said, “I don’t believe you.”

Harry could hear the wavering note of unsurety in his voice. “Why not? You’ve played chess with your brother before. How does he treat his pawns?”

“He kept record of the spell? You can prove it was him?” Aberforth questioned after a long pause.

“Yes,” Harry said softly. “Sadly, I can believe it of him, I was after all one of his pawns. He was setting me up to die, to face a madman thrice my age on the basis of a prophecy he heard in this bar. One from a woman who had consumed a massive amount of sherry previously.”

“That Trelawney woman,” Aberforth snorted. “I was always doubting his intelligence for hiring her. I heard her before he got here, spouting off about death and omens and ill will.”

Aberforth paused and then blurted, “He blamed Ariana’s death on Grindelwald.”

“Of course he did, it was his goal in the fight. Drive you away from him, remove Ariana and blame it all on Grindelwald so that he could go about his plans in his own way,” Harry said. “His goals never changed over the years, just his methods.”

Aberforth gave him a sharp look. “You make sure he pays for Ariana’s murder.”

“I will,” Harry said solemnly. “Before I leave, I’m going to lock you under a Fidelius.”

“There’s not much of a point in keeping a bar if nobody can find it,” Aberforth said dryly.

“Not the bar,” Harry retorted, “you. It’s not well known, but you can lock a person’s identity under Fidelius. It’s how witness protection works in the wizarding world. Not forever, I promise, just until your brother is safely behind bars or likely, executed.”

“Couldn’t happen to a better man,” Aberforth replied evenly.

Some time later, memories in his pocket, Aberforth’s identity in his care, Harry left the bar. He walked to the edge of Hogsmeade, past the wards. He took an object from his pocket. It was a golden ring, just barely large enough to fit on his second finger. Seated on the ring was a dark stone with a strange emblem etched into the stone itself. He put the stone down on the ground and withdrew a vial of basilisk venom from his pocket, upending the nearly empty vial onto the ring.

Infusing the ring with his magic, he concentrated, willing it to do what he wanted. There was a burst of energy from deep within his reserves, his vision going momentarily white. With it came a sensation of weightless warmth, the kind he had associated with Nimue and the Veil.

When he opened his eyes, the ring and the stone on it had dissolved into nothingness. It was as if the Resurrection Stone had never existed to begin with. There would be no ‘Master of Death’ obsession this time. He would make sure the Elder Wand was destroyed as well and the Potter cloak would remain just an extraordinarily well-preserved Potter heirloom.

Harry straightened, flexing his aura a bit to test his magical reserves. They were fine, more than enough actually. Slipping his wand into his hand he rolled it in his fingers. He wouldn’t chance bringing anyone else, this would be difficult enough. Assuming he survived, he hoped Sirius would eventually forgive him.

He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and Apparated.

When word came to the Ministry of Magic that there was a ‘disturbance’ at Malfoy Manor and Unforgivables had been fired, Amelia took action. As interim Minister, she ordered a reluctant Rufus Scrimgeour to marshal his troops, insisting on accompanying them herself as she was acting Head still. The situation they came upon was more than a minor disturbance and she made a mental note to scold the Auror who had described this shitstorm as such.

A good portion of the back of the manor including the solar was completely destroyed, shards of glass ranging from tiny fragments to large plates littered around. A couple of trees were actually on fire from spellwork, threatening the rest of the grand manor home. The gory sight of a headless, monstrous snake was on the remains of the patio floor, surrounded by scorched wood and stone. The head was nearby, a sharp dagger stabbed through it.

There were spells being fired in the back garden, lighting up the surrounding trees in the growing twilight. A loud crack! echoed through the air as several more people showed up behind her. Amelia whirled around, only to find amongst several others the Lord Black and his friend Remus Lupin. There were a couple other familiar faces as well, but the first two caught her attention.

“How did you find out about this?” Amelia demanded.

“The Unforgivables set off the old war alarms at Gringotts,” Lord Black explained. “Once the goblins pinpointed where it was coming from I grabbed a few reinforcements and headed here.”

Amelia nodded in comprehension. She’d forgotten about the old war alarms at Gringotts and several other strategic places around Diagon Alley. They’d been put in place ages ago during the war with Grindelwald, when there was a fear he’d try to invade Britain. It had been a moot point and much of the Ministry involved at the time had complained about the cost of the alarms and the warding masters that had set them up.

“Ma’am,” a panting Auror said, running up to them. “We’ve identified the combatants, they’re this way, near the middle of the gardens.”

As they started briskly moving in that direction, Amelia demanded, “Who are they?”

“One is Lord Potter-Prewett,” the Auror said. On her opposite side, the Lord Black stumbled a bit, proving he had no clue his betrothed was here.

“And the other?” she said impatiently.

“The other… is You-Know-Who!” the Auror blurted. “He’s the one that set off the war wards.”

Around her everyone sucked in a deep breath in shock. Next to her, Sirius paled a few noticeable shades. For a moment she was worried he was going to pass out. However, he suddenly controlled himself and the grip on his wand tightened.

They moved forward, cautiously now. Around a hedge here, a tree there, a few rose bushes (or the remains of them) … The sight that showed before them suddenly was as unbelievable as Amelia could imagine. Two wizards fighting, both ferociously throwing spells and curses at each other. The ground and surrounding shrubbery lighting up with the colors of the spells they cast.

Voldemort looked even more inhuman than ever in his rage. His scarlet eyes were narrowed into slits, lips parted in a harsh snarl. He cast spells with deadly intent, long, spidery fingers wrapped around his bone-white wand. His aura oozed sheer malevolence and fury.

Across from him, the man (once a boy), formerly called Harry James Potter looked as if he was dancing. Lightly poised on the balls of his feet, chains of ever-increasing difficult spells flicking lightly off the end of his wand as if he were composing music. If ever Amelia had doubted his story, doubted that he once had gone through Auror training and was slated to lead the department, it faded away now.

Aqua eyes spotted them and widened momentarily before he once again focused solely on his opponent, his light evasions only serving to madden the Dark Lord even further. “Are you ever going to fight, Potter?” he taunted. “Or are you going to let one of our observers die for you again, like the Diggory boy or your parents?”

Absolutely composed, Harry replied, throwing up a swift shield to counter the hex the Dark Lord had fired. “Just know tonight that one who partially brought about your defeat was Regulus Black. He grew a conscious, you see, and enabled us to defeat you permanently. All of your precious ‘pieces’ are gone, if you get my drift.”

From the way Sirius inhaled next to her, Amelia guessed he did. If he wasn’t just reacting to the mention of his dead brother.

Voldemort’s eyes widened. Unless she was distinctly missing the point, the expression on his face was fear. Amelia’s own eyes widened, wondering what could be so important that Voldemort would fear its loss. Then those eyes turned into slits and his aura darkened, radiating an incalculable fury.

Appearing to lose all of his motions of dignity and control, the Dark Lord launched himself into his spells, screaming in rage. He was firing hexes and curses harder and faster at Harry, who dodged the blind spells easily. The only one he had to evade a little more frantically was a Killing Curse, which blew by his left shoulder, rippling the black cloak the Lord Potter-Prewett wore.

A few newly arrived Death Eaters attempted to jump into the mix, but Amelia and the waiting Aurors launched themselves into the fracas, taking out as many opponents as possible in the fewest number of moves. Sirius was to her left, the vicious quality of his spells belying his worry about the still dueling pair of wizards in the center.

With a roar, the Dark Lord launched another Killing Curse at Potter-Prewett, who was head-on in the way and unable to dodge. Instead, he ducked, the spell rifling his hair. He threw his left arm outward, leaving it extended. Voldemort staggered backwards, hands going to his stomach.

A handle identical to the one that had killed the snake back at the manor protruded from between his fingers, along with a growing stain of crimson. The blood was coating the pale white hands, a grisly sight indeed. With a cry of pain, the Dark Lord ripped the dagger from his stomach, staring at Potter-Prewett.

“What—”

“Goblin-made,” Harry panted, staring back. “They only take in that which makes them better. I imbued these two with basilisk venom from your precious Chamber of Secrets.” As Voldemort’s eyes widened in horror, he continued, “It doesn’t matter that you pulled the blade out, the venom’s still there.”

He straightened, staring at the Dark Lord’s suddenly pain-filled crimson eyes. “I should just let you wither in agony a while longer; you’ve caused everyone in Britain and a few other countries a few decades of misery. But I’ve been told I’m merciful, that I don’t do things like that. Embrace the darkness, Lord Voldemort. Death has come for the price overdue.”

He flicked his wand, neatly decapitating the Dark Lord with a simple Cutting Hex. The body toppled to the ground, landing with a soft ‘flump’ on blood-soaked grass. The Lord Potter-Prewett stood motionless, staring at the body for a long moment. He startled visibly when the first Auror began cheering, practically dancing in place in glee.

Amelia stared for a long moment at the body on the ground, stunned. She’d been preparing to fight Voldemort for her entire term as Minister. Now, thanks to one time-travelling Lord Potter-Prewett and likely his betrothed, the Lord Black, they were free. Free from an evil despot, a psychotic megalomaniac bent on destruction.

Good riddance.

Chapter Text

Harry Apparated to Rosewood with Remus and Sirius after informing Amelia that he would explain everything to her this evening. He’d invited her to his home, giving her the Floo address and indicating that Kingsley and Alastor would find the information ‘interesting’ as well. They were exceptionally smart individuals and automatically took it to mean that what Harry was going to tell them had something to do with Albus’ behavior.

In the meantime, however, Harry could feel the tension radiating from his beloved and winced. He was in for it now, omitting to Sirius what he had planned was perhaps not his best decision. But he’d made it for a reason, he refused to go through the pain of losing the man again. Remembering how it had felt after losing Sirius in his previous timeline… he shuddered. He would take any tension, silence or shouting from the other man without protest. Nothing compared to the pain and anguish he had suffered through before.

When they appeared at Rosewood, Remus took one look at Sirius’ face and winced. Instead he turned to Harry and said quietly, “I’m glad you’re okay, Harry. That scared me more than I would like to admit as a grown individual to see you fighting him.”

Harry smiled back, hoping it wasn’t as much of a grimace as it felt like. The Floo was attached to a private parlor, Remus took the easy road and left, shutting the door behind him. Taking his first look at Sirius’ face with his locked jaw and flashing eyes, Harry flicked his hand in the direction of the door, locking it and putting up a strong Silencing Charm. They did not need to advertise this conversation to the other inhabitants.

He shrugged out of his traveling cloak with a wince as he jarred a bruised shoulder, Voldemort had thrown a heavy metal tray at him with a spell early in the fight and it clipped his shoulder. He walked over to the cabinet in the corner and opened it, getting out two short, heavy glass tumblers and a bottle of well-aged Firewhiskey. Popping it open, he poured a generous amount into each glass and took a steadying sip of his own, savoring the warm sensation.

He walked back over to Sirius and offered the other glass to him, choosing to remain silent instead of offering empty platitudes. Sirius drained the glass in a few quick swallows and Harry winced, he was definitely not calming down. Studying the heavy tumbler instead of looking at Harry, Sirius began to speak.

“When the war wards went off at Gringotts,” he began, his voice quiet, “initially there was a lot of confusion. They were never used during the war with Grindelwald, he never ended up coming to Britain. Once the sound was identified, most of the wizards there panicked, Apparating home.”

“I stayed long enough for the goblins to pinpoint Malfoy Manor as the source and then went to get Remus, wanting reinforcement,” Sirius continued, his voice still worryingly level. “We met Amelia on the grounds and passed through all of the destruction on the patio. And then a junior Auror runs up to Amelia and says, “It’s Voldemort.”

“We were already worried enough. Then he adds, ‘he’s fighting Lord Potter-Prewett’ with all this young excitement in his voice. And my blood ran cold. The last time you didn’t want to tell me what you were doing, you ended up in St. Mungo’s from that bitch’s Cruciatus Curse. I’d been naively hoping that it wasn’t something in that vein.”

Sirius locked eye-contact with him finally. The fear, worry, confusion and anger in his eyes were all too evident now, turning dark silver-grey eyes almost black. “This was infinitely worse,” he whispered harshly.

He flung his arm out suddenly, the heavy glass tumbler flying from his hand and shattering against the fireplace. “Do you even vaguely understand how worried I was, Harry?! How hopeless and helpless I felt watching you fight that monster on your own? How angry I was that you couldn’t fucking tell me what you were going to DO!?”

He stood there, chest heaving with emotion and hands clenched into angry fists. Shimmering tears appeared in the corner of his eyes as he said sharply, “What do I have to do to get you to trust me finally, Harry? I’m supposedly your soul bond, the one you risked coming back for and changing everything for in the first place. Were you thinking at all about what it would do to me if you died, after everything you’ve done for me?”

  Harry put down his glass of whiskey, staring into the amber-gold liquid as he let Sirius’ words wash over him. He was rightfully angry and scared after what he’d seen. But Harry was beyond startled that he ever doubted that Harry trusted him. There was no one he trusted more, especially now. He also had to admit, he was surprised that Sirius was as scared of losing him as he was of losing Sirius. A part of him, (the Dursley part, his brain pointed out) was surprised that anyone would care that much, even his soul bond.

So he did the only thing he could. He got up, walked over to the rigidly-angry man and leaned against Sirius’ chest, putting his hands on the other’s tense shoulders. At first Sirius didn’t react and he wanted to pull away, the move feeling awkward. But then he felt the tension bleed out of those broad shoulders and the other wrapped his arms tightly around Harry’s waist and back, holding him there.

Listening to the man’s rapid heartrate belied how nervous and anxious Sirius really was and had been. Harry could feel the guilt creeping up now that the adrenaline was wearing off, he hadn’t realized how worried Sirius actually would be. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, “I didn’t realize how worried you would get about me. I didn’t want to tell you where I was going because I was afraid that you would want to come with me. I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you again, when we’re so close to being free of all of this.”

“I would have wanted to go with you,” Sirius muttered, “because I love you and would have wanted to support you.”

“I won’t keep anything secret from you again,” Harry said softly. “I never, ever wanted you to think that I didn’t trust you. I just couldn’t stand even the thought of losing you again.”

“I know,” Sirius said honestly, the anger bleeding from his voice, “but you need to understand that it goes both ways, love. I couldn’t stand the idea of losing you either. You’re the most important thing in my life, Harry. I couldn’t imagine what I would do if I lost you.”

They stayed where they were for a long moment, savoring each other’s presence. Eventually they parted and Harry waved his wand to clear the broken glass, getting Sirius another tumbler of whiskey. The other smiled sheepishly at him and said, “I’m sorry about the glass.”

Harry snorted and said, “Don’t worry about it. I deserve far more than one shattered glass after the heart attack I put you through.”

The other glowered at him. “You certainly do,” he said sharply. “Don’t think I’m going to forgive you that easily. You’ll find it hard to get rid of me for a while.”

Harry smirked at him impishly and just a bit suggestively said, “Promise?”

He was delighted and amused to see a bit of color appear in the other’s high cheekbones as his words registered. Before he could call the infamous Sirius Black out on blushing of all things, the fireplace flared and turned a familiar emerald green. In short order it spat out Amelia Bones, Kingsley Shacklebolt and Alastor Moody. The trio brushed the soot off their robes and Harry moved forward with a smile, greeting them warmly.

“Don’t think I’ve forgiven you just yet for the shock you gave us today, Potter-Prewett,” Amelia said sternly, a bit of a sparkle in her eyes. “You took a few years off everyone’s lives this afternoon I think.”

Sirius snorted in clear agreement as they moved to sit, earning a commiserating grin from Kingsley. Harry looked at his betrothed and said, “Sirius, I think you should fetch Remus. He has a right to know what actually led to this afternoon’s victory, especially since he had a part in it.”

Sirius looked surprised. “Are you sure?” Referencing of course Harry’s falling out with the other, which their companions knew nothing about.

“I’m sure,” Harry said firmly.

The other got up and approached the door, attempting to open it. He looked at Harry a bit wryly and said, “You may need to remove the locking spell on the door first.”

“Oops,” Harry murmured, flicking his fingers at the door. There was an audible ‘click’ as the door unlocked.

As Sirius exited the room Alastor said shrewdly, “Wandless, nonverbal magic. You have been hiding a few things, haven’t you?”

“As I told Snape the day Sirius and I left the Order,” Harry said evenly, “people have seen what they wanted to see of me. I am far more than what I appear to be.”

Alastor snorted as Kingsley remarked, “I have a feeling that’s not a lesson you’ll have to teach him twice.”

Amelia looked immensely curious, but Sirius had just walked back into the parlor, Remus following him with cautious surprise. He was looking a bit warily at Harry, wondering if the other really wanted him here.

“You deserve to know what led to the death of Voldemort this afternoon,” Harry said calmly, inwardly pleased that none of his companions flinched at the name. “You had a part in it after all, and it will put many of your unanswered questions to rest.”

Amelia took out a small white stone, perfectly smooth and oval shaped. It was entirely unremarkable aside from the fact that it appeared uncut and yet was unblemished in any fashion. Harry recognized it immediately of course. It was a recording stone, used by officials for longer conversations or confessions that they wished to record later, wanting to pay attention to the words spoken at the time.

“You wish to record this conversation?” He asked Amelia. The woman looked surprised and then snorted.

“I keep forgetting you’re from the future,” she remarked, “and already know what this is. Yes I would like to record this, if that is okay with you.”

“Of course,” Harry replied. “I trust that this will remain in your hands until the conversation is recorded and the stone erased?” he questioned.

“It will never leave my possession,” Amelia nodded, not offended by his precaution in the slightest.

She tapped the small stone and murmured a spell under her breath, making the stone briefly glow a bright red. It settled to a pinkish-red color as they watched, with little streaks of red that danced over the surface in reaction to the ambient noise in the room.

“Begin as you wish,” Amelia said quietly.

Harry took a deep breath, considering his words carefully. “In the heart of the Ministry is the home of the Department of Mysteries. Within this department are areas set aside for every unknown type of magic that we have studied from the beginning, encompassing time, mortality and other mystical realms. There is an entire section devoted to Fate, in the form of Prophecies.”

At the last word, every person in the room tensed. As former members of the Order; Sirius, Kingsley, Alastor and Remus knew about the Prophecy that Albus spoke of so frequently. Until recently, they believed Harry to be ignorant of it. None of them knew the wording, only that Albus was firm in it implying Harry Potter as the child of prophecy to defeat Voldemort.

“In this Hall of Prophecies,” Harry continued, “is an orb that has the following inscription. To A.P.W.B.D regarding D.L. and H.P. Or, to decipher the group of initials and code, To Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore regarding the Dark Lord and Harry Potter. It was given to Dumbledore during an interview by Sybil Trelawney, the current Divinations Professor at Hogwarts and the great-great granddaughter of the great Seer Cassandra Trelawney. Albus was convinced that Sybil was nothing more than a fraud and began to leave, which was when Sybil spoke these words.”

“The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies… And the Dark Lord shall mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not… and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives… The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord shall be born as the seventh month dies…”

Harry could recite that bloody thing by heart now, it had dominated not one but two lifetimes for him now. He remained quiet for a long moment, letting his companions absorb the words and their possible meanings. “If you go into the Department now, the Orb will be fulfilled, of that I have no doubt. Voldemort is gone for good this time. And here is where it gets interesting, because I actually do not meet this prophecy.”

“James Potter thwarted three of Voldemort’s most important plans in two years,” Alastor said shrewdly, “but Fabian Prewett never directly faced Voldemort at all. He was killed by Antonin Dolohov specifically, attacked along with his brother by a large group of Death Eaters.”

Dolohov. The one who’s dangerous curse almost killed Hermione in Harry’s previous fifth year. He filed away the name, another Death Eater he specifically owed a bit of payback. Bellatrix Lestrange still dominated the list, along with this timeline’s Fenrir Greyback.

“Exactly,” Harry said quietly. “I only met the prophecy’s terms under Dumbledore’s manipulations, where he had everyone convinced that I was Lily Evans’ son. Lily Evans, who faced Voldemort head-on twice and lived to tell the tale, a Muggleborn, who helped James on several of those attempts to thwart Voldemort’s plans.”

“But why would Dumbledore want you targeted specifically?” Amelia frowned.

“There is another that would have qualified for the prophecy,” Harry replied, instead of directly answering her question. “One born naturally under the correct circumstances and at the right time.”

“Neville,” Remus breathed in comprehension, surprised.

“Neville Longbottom,” Harry agreed. “The son of two Aurors whose official stance was always against Voldemort’s policies. A pureblood from a Noble house, no less.”

“But Dumbledore had seen Neville shortly after his birth,” Harry said bitterly. “Whether he used some sort of spell or just visually inspected him, he found Neville to be lacking. So, he set his sights on me, a more powerful half-blood, the same as Voldemort himself, who’s background could be carefully tweaked with a lot of manipulation and misdirection.”

“He knew Peter Pettigrew was disenchanted with his friends, that he resented their abilities and his substantial lack. He twisted, pulled and turned Peter directly on the Dark Lord’s path, heavily influencing him to take the Mark. Whether he hoped Peter would come to him and become another spy like Severus Snape or something else, I don’t know. All I know is that he knew, the entire time, that Peter was a Death Eater, waiting for his chance to be great.”

Remus growled low under his breath and Sirius’ eyes were visibly flashing in anger. Kingsley and Alastor looked angry as well. Amelia though. Her eyes were cold, calculating. They flashed with fire and conviction and Harry knew that she was the emblem of an angry member of Hufflepuff. There was a reason the animal representative of Hufflepuff was a badger.

“James was a single father relying on the help of Lily Evans to keep his son safe,” Harry said quietly. He couldn’t imagine how difficult his father’s life had been, the amount of courage and dedication to a single child that he had possessed. “To a man like Dumbledore, who moves pawns on a chessboard as if they are disposable, he was vulnerable.”

“Through Peter, Voldemort heard only that I was the son of James and Lily, not that I was the son of two purebloods. I met the terms that Snape had told him, ‘born as the seventh month dies… to parents that have thrice defied the Dark Lord’. For whatever reason, Voldemort perceived the seeming half-blood as the greater threat.”

“But James Potter had two exceptionally loyal friends,” Harry said, looking to Sirius and Remus. “Dumbledore needed to get them out of the way. Remus was the easier of the two,” Harry looked apologetically at the other. “It was easy for Dumbledore to sow seeds of doubt into the Ministry, to make them ostracize those that are not fully human.”

Remus looked upset and betrayed as he realized that Dumbledore was partially the reason why he had such a hard life after graduation. Harry knew this would be hard on him, he had always fiercely supported Dumbledore. Grateful for the scraps he threw his way, when he was the reason Remus only got the scraps in the first place.

“Sirius Black would prove a tougher challenge,” Harry said softly, reaching out to take his betrothed’s hand in his. “He was dedicated to his best friend, saw him as family. He was a pureblood and a talented wizard from a family practically seen as royalty amongst the Wizengamot. More than that, though his family was Dark-aligned, Sirius never faltered in his conviction that they were wrong, never grew tempted by the power Voldemort offered.”

He sighed, taking a sip of his whiskey. Raising his hand, he floated the decanter over as well as a few more glasses, filling them for his companions. They would all need a stiff drink before this conversation was over. Fortified, he took a deep breath. Sirius knew or had guessed most of this, but Harry still hated laying it out in such detailed terms.

“James unfortunately gave Dumbledore the opportunity he needed,” Harry started. “He was growing worried about the attacks that the Order was suffering and the rumors that his son was being targeted. So, he asked his best friend if he would become his Secret-Keeper, locking himself, his son and a willing friend in Lily under the Fidelius Charm. Of course, Sirius agreed without hesitation. James was relieved, he knew his best friend would never betray him.”

“The Fidelius Charm is an obscure branch of magic,” Kingsley observed. “It’s not used very often in the modern age; most magical families are fine with others knowing their location. During feudal times it was far more common to hide branches of the family under the spell, particularly heirs and spares.”

“It requires a very complicated oath,” Harry said, “and a Binder. The binder can be a witch or wizard of any age with a sufficient magical core. It was commonly and mistakenly believed for many years the that the more powerful the Binder was, the better the spell responded. James asked Albus Dumbledore to be the Binder.”

“It was the in he needed to control the situation,” Harry continued, anger creeping into his voice. “After the Fidelius was performed, he made sure that during any fight the Order participated in, it seemed as though Sirius specifically was being targeted. It took longer than he anticipated, Sirius is an accomplished duelist and an Auror taught by Alastor himself. Eventually though, Sirius was badly injured in one of their attacks and severely rattled.”

The fact that Sirius and Remus were just quietly listening to him and not offering corrections was enough of a sign to the others. Harry had this entire section of their past correct, from various sources.

“Sirius approached James and offered the idea of switching Secret-Keepers. They were going to approach Remus but he was out of correspondence in the thick of werewolf territory, organized of course by Dumbledore under the pretense of convincing some of the packs to work with the Order. So, Sirius suggested Peter, who was seen by most of the Order to be a coward, skulking in the shadows and preferring to observe the enemy rather than face them head-on.”

“In the writings about the Fidelius Charm there are many references to obscure magics, to things we have lost our understanding of. In these writings is one piece of information that nobody knew at the time. James and Sirius used Lily Evans as the Binder for the transfer of the Secret to Peter Pettigrew, this much is true. However, as the original Binder, Albus Dumbledore was informed of the switch by the magic involved. Which means,” he paused for effect, “that he knew Sirius was not the Secret-Keeper when James and Lily died.”

A sudden burst of angry errant magic from Harry’s left was his only indicator that Sirius realized what that meant. The others absorbed it in a sort of stunned silence. “You are indicating,” Kingsley said slowly, anger creeping into his voice, “that Dumbledore knew Sirius was innocent when he was arrested after the events of the 31^st October, 1981.”

“He did,” Harry said quietly. “It was part of the evidence I showed Amelia that convinced her to interview Sirius. He was the one that convinced Minister Bagnold and Bartimus Crouch, Sr. to put Sirius in Azkaban without a trial. I believe in the paperwork he lists ‘emotional trauma from survivors and the community’ as a reason that was considered legal to throw a man in prison without a proper trial.”

He looked at Sirius. His betrothed and soul-bond was very quiet, anger radiating off his frame. He’d improved so much over the past several months, it was hard to recognize him as the skeletally-thin man Harry had first met at thirteen, or even the still emaciated and harrowed one from several months prior. Sirius had been through absolute hell for no reason at all other than he was in the way.

“Putting Sirius in Azkaban without a trial removed his last obstacle to complete control over me,” Harry said quietly. “Twisting the opinion of the wizarding public so that Sirius was a dangerous lunatic with substantial Dark Arts training just added a cherry on top. He hoped that even if Sirius eventually escaped, public opinion would never improve for him and he would be Kissed by a Dementor or killed by Aurors.”

Amelia took a steadying breath. “You’ve told us a lot so far behind the scenes, things that we need to process and use in the future, I’m certain. But you have yet to explain, other than a prophecy, how you managed to defeat the one people have said is the most powerful Dark Wizard since Grindelwald.”

“I’m aware,” Harry stated. “I wanted to give you that background for in the future. If Dumbledore were to be arrested, I’m sure now you have a better chance of writing the correct questions to uncover all of his misdeeds.”

Alastor shot him a sharp look. The craggy warrior likely realized that when Harry said if he really meant when. While the other was very curious about what Harry may be bringing against the former Headmaster, he held his tongue.

“The reason why Voldemort survived our first encounter, the reason why Dumbledore believed he wouldn’t be easily killed, is because of a truly nasty piece of Dark Arts that borders on Necromancy. He found a book in Hogwarts, called Secrets of the Darkest Art. It mentioned a form of immortality, after a sort, that he was able to gain more information on. They are called Horcruxes.”

Amelia frowned. “The term is familiar, but I don’t think I’ve seen more than a passing sentence or two on them.”

“There is good reason for that,” Harry said grimly. “Horcruxes are some of the foulest things that exist through magic. A Dark Wizard or Witch uses a special ritual and then goes out and commits a murder. The murder fractures off a piece of their soul, their very existence. This piece is then placed into a container prepared by the ritual. As long as the piece exists, the Dark magic user can’t be truly killed.”

Remus looked ill. “That’s what happened in the graveyard at the conclusion of the Tournament,” he whispered, horrified.

Harry nodded. “He’d been reduced to a shell, a spirit of himself able to only possess animals or the very weak-minded. Pettigrew killed a newborn Muggle child so that Voldemort could possess it, which he inhabited with the help of a solution made from the venom of his snake, Nagini. It lasted, just barely, until Barty Crouch Jr. managed to send me to him for a special ritual that would restore his body.”

“How do you know all of this?” Amelia said, clearly shaken. “How would Dumbledore have even begun to guess such a thing?”

“Because I destroyed one of them in my second year, a diary that attempted to possess Ginevra Weasley. He’d been studying the diary for two years and finally connected the dots when he interrogated me on Voldemort’s return just after I managed to escape.”

“Voldemort made more than one of those things?” Kingsley said, looking repulsed.

“It’s the reason he looked the way he did,” Harry replied. “The more times you split your soul, the more of your humanity is lost. He went further than any Dark user before him ever dared, however.”

“How many?” Amelia asked in trepidation.

“Seven,” Harry answered flatly.

The woman gagged, looking for a moment as though she was going to faint. Harry didn’t blame her, the thought was almost too horrific to contemplate.

“Seven? How did you find and destroy all of them? For that matter, what would?” Alastor frowned.

“Very few things can destroy a Horcrux container,” Harry explained. “It has to cause irreversible damage. A hundred people could cast Bombarda simultaneously and it wouldn’t do a thing. Luckily, we discovered two things that will do it. One is Fiendfyre, the other is Basilisk venom.”

Remus made a sudden startled noise of comprehension. “So when you and Sirius took me on a tour of the Chamber of Secrets and collected the venom from the Basilisk you killed, that was why?”

Before Harry could respond, Amelia butted in. “You mean to tell me that when you were twelve you killed a Basilisk?”

“With the help of a phoenix and the Sword of Gryffindor, but yes,” Harry responded.

She snorted out a laugh. “I’m glad you weren’t under my care, I’d have been white from your antics!”

They all chuckled. It was a brief moment of levity in an all-too-serious conversation.

“So what were the Horcruxes?” Remus asked.

“One was the diary I mentioned. The others, well they were a bit more complicated to figure out until Dumbledore explained a bit more in my previous timeline. Voldemort was a bit of a magpie, but he liked items of historical significance. Specifically Founder’s items,” Harry extrapolated.

“The others were Salazar Slytherin’s locket, Helga Hufflepuff’s cup, Rowena Ravenclaw’s diadem (which actually did exist), his snake Nagini and a ring belonging to his ancestor Marvolo Gaunt.”

“That’s six,” Alastor pointed out. He looked shrewdly at Harry. “You’ve not mentioned the last on purpose. We’re not going to like it, are we laddie?”

“No,” Harry said flatly. “The last one is a bit trickier. When Voldemort came after James and Lily he’d performed the ritual to split his soul a seventh and last time. He planned to use my death to make another Horcrux. It was poetic I guess, use the death of the enemy prophesized to defeat him to ensure his immortality. However, when the Killing Curse backfired from me and struck him, it destroyed his body and left the piece of his soul floating in the ether. It latched onto the only open ‘container’ it could find. My open scar.”

Everyone in the room aside from Sirius inhaled sharply in shock. Sirius merely reached out and took Harry’s hand in his. He was calmer since he knew this bit, but he’d been severely rattled and worried at first when Harry had explained it.

“Dumbledore planned for me to sacrifice myself to defeat Voldemort, which was why he made the moves he did with me. I was left with Muggles that didn’t give a damn about me, that made me feel lower than dirt. Then I found out about magic and he expected me to have a self-sacrificing tendency that would lead me to surrender without a fight.”

“Except he miscalculated. I was lucky that I survived the second head-on Killing Curse because I shouldn’t have. Dumbledore thought that it would just kill the piece of Voldemort’s soul inside me as long as my sacrifice was ‘willing’. However, when I faced off against the Basilisk in my second year, it bit me. I was dying in the Chamber of Secrets until Fawkes cried on my arm. The Basilisk venom killed the Horcrux that was in me but spared me.”

“So that’s what you and Lord Black have been doing,” Amelia said, “going around and finding these Horcruxes in their current place and time and destroying them. You must have taken care of all of them besides the snake when you went to Malfoy Manor to confront Voldemort.”

“That is exactly it,” Harry nodded. “I killed the snake and then stabbed him with the remaining dagger I’d immersed in Basilisk venom, poisoning him. He was already dying when I decapitated him, anyone could have shot a spell at that point in time and killed him. He was mortal, which is why I had to wait until I did. We wanted to make sure that there was no doubt that he would be able to come back.”

“One last question. You mentioned Regulus Black when you were facing Voldemort. Why did you bring him up and why did Voldemort look so angry when you did so?”

Sirius tensed besides Harry. He looked over at his beloved, into his dark silver eyes. The other contemplated for a moment and then nodded. He was proud of his younger brother and saw no reason to hide it.

“Regulus found out about the Horcruxes,” Harry explained. “He’d become a Death Eater and then Voldemort asked to borrow their family house elf, Kreacher. Regulus realized that Voldemort was testing defenses on something and researched, finding out about the Horcruxes. He went to the place Voldemort took Kreacher and stole the real one, but was drowned by Inferius before he could escape himself.”

Amelia tapped the Recording Stone, which turned back to a plain white as it went inert. She picked it up and put it into a pocket of her robes, looking at Harry and Sirius. “To say I am flabbergasted and stunned at what you have managed to accomplish today gentlemen would be an understatement. I shall leave you to your deserving rest and head to my own, after attempting to process this incredible information. Know this, both of you, I am glad you are on our side and not theirs.”

The trio of visitors left, leaving only Sirius, Harry and Remus. Remus looked at the two of them, shaking his head in incredulous disbelief. “You two are crazy,” he finally muttered, to tired laughs from Sirius and Harry.

“That we are,” Sirius murmured, “that we are.”

Chapter Text

About the same time that the young Lord of her House was working on ridding them of the evil that was Lord Voldemort, Muriel Prewett had just appeared on the outskirts of the property her niece called a home. She stared at the Burrow in quiet contemplation for a moment. It always amazed her that the building still stood, it was so heavily reinforced with magic that if anyone cast a simple ‘finite’ on the outside walls she feared the whole thing would collapse. It was certainly not anything that would behoove a genteel member of society to remain in. She was beginning to wonder why Arthur, a proud man as she remembered, would remain in such poverty and subject his children to it.

With the knowledge of how Molly Elizabeth had treated her own nephew over money of all things it was clear that she, at least, did not easily tolerate her settings. Not that it made her behavior in any way excusable. She shuddered a little as she imagined how her brother Septimus would respond to Molly’s actions. The girl would have been lucky to not be disowned and tossed out on the streets, branded a traitor to family as well as blood. Her nephew had given her free reign on how she was to handle Molly and any of her like-minded children, she wondered if he knew how unforgiving their family really was.

Perhaps he did. He struck her as an old soul, but a kind one at heart. Mayhaps he’d given her the permission and authority to punish her wayward niece out of this. He understood that she would have to be punished for her actions, and severely, but he didn’t or couldn’t take those steps himself out of his once-deep respect for the woman. Muriel did not begrudge him for passing off the less-than-savory task if that were the case, she had no problems with being the villain in the family. She had been raised to respect the family, all of the family. Even the flawed individuals, like their mother’s brother who’s less than savory behavior had threatened to shame the family name on more than one occasion.

She strode forward with a deliberation and speed that would have surprised many given her advanced age, picking her way through the weeds and scattered lawn ornaments towards the front door of the domicile. While Muriel would have preferred to confront her wayward niece from the comfort of the manor, she realized that to truly catch them on the wrong foot she would need to come unannounced. If she had summoned her niece to their family home, Molly Elizabeth would have come with the appropriate behavior in place. Invading her territory, by contrast, put her off-guard to begin with.

One couldn’t play fair with family after all.

Seated in the most comfortable chair, a cup of tea in hand, Muriel surveyed her surroundings. To say that her visit had come by surprise was a bit of an understatement. She had timed it well, correctly remembering Arthur’s days off and her nephew’s information that the elder two boys were home and had been part of Dumbledore’s precious Order. The one that had cost her the precious elder twins.

Their namesakes were sitting together on a couch, watching her with amused curiosity. They were respectful of course, as children most often were towards their elders. But Muriel recognized the glint of humor and mischief in their eyes, they would be plotting something no doubt. She had been the victim of a couple of their pranks already during her rare visits.

She took a moment to survey Molly’s brood and her niece, absorbing the differences time had wrought. While she had always enjoyed making it seem like she was in her dotage, Muriel was still as sharp a witch as she had been in her youth. Her memory was keen for gossip and even keener when it came to family, absorbing and remembering what made each and every one of the Prewetts distinct from each other. She was disappointed that the shrewd observation skills hadn’t passed down to her niece. Molly couldn’t even tell her twins apart.

The two eldest took up another couch along with the only girl, Ginevra. Muriel was surprised to note the distance, physical and ethereal, between Molly Elizabeth and her precious, coveted girl child. It had not been that way the last time she visited. Perhaps she would find the reasoning for it in her visit today.

Molly Elizabeth and her husband Arthur took up another couch, the youngest boy Ronald sitting sulkily on the floor in front of them. He was staring at the floor, or perhaps his fingers, still dirty despite a hasty scrubbing when she had first entered the home. The last, the middle boy Percy, sat quietly and respectfully on the bricks in front of the fireplace. He had always been the most serious of Molly’s children, the one who disliked their circumstances more than any other. The most ambitious as well, from what Muriel remembered.

“I received the most extraordinary visit about a month ago,” Muriel began, setting her cup down on the (mostly) empty side table. It had been hastily cleared of both yarn and dust when she had indicated a desire to stay a moment, a few threads of bright wool visible from the basket nearby. Molly was already likely knitting her yearly Yule sweaters.

“It was from the young Lord of our family, Harrigan. He was visiting me both to notify me that he even existed, and to make sure I would not stand against him taking the Lordship of the Prewett family.”

Molly’s jaw set in the way that meant she was getting ready to argue. Muriel recognized the expression easily; it had been common during the girl’s adolescence. Muriel was not about to give her the opening she needed, continuing on.

“He’s an extraordinarily polite young man, got a good head on his shoulders. I believe he will excel at bringing the Prewett family forward into the future of Magical Britain, whatever that shall look like. I certainly saw no reason to deny his claims, pretty manners aside. He looks extraordinarily like his sire, Fabian.”

 Muriel could easily feel the heightened tension in the room, now that they knew where her visit was coming from. Several of the children exchanged uneasy glances, the girl Ginevra shooting an outright glare at her mother. Hmm. So that was part of the tension between them, the young lass didn’t approve of what her mother had done. Muriel felt she could safely rule the girl out.

Muriel had realized, upon hearing her nephew’s tale, that there was more than the surface story going on. With careful digging she had found out a great deal more, such as the fact that he hadn’t even known about the Potter family name until his emancipation at fifteen. Molly’s assistance would have been invaluable to Dumbledore’s attempt at keeping her nephew blindfolded. That level of deception, however, required careful, constant monitoring. Which meant that likely one of Molly’s children had been in on the scheme as well.

She wasn’t here to just prune the family tree. No, she would rip the sickness out, root, branch and stem. There would be no more of this underhanded treachery. No more inter-family maneuvering; no restless, ambitious greed. Despite her advanced age, or perhaps because of it, Muriel wanted to see the Prewett family stable and prosperous before she finally passed on.

The best plants grew with a little bit of thinning, after all.

“Imagine my reaction, if you please, when he goes on to tell me that he knew nothing of his bearers’ family until he was fifteen. He didn’t even realize he was a Prewett at all until that same age and his emancipation! Then add on the surprise and disbelief when it turns out that he’s been known for most of his life as Harry Potter, the famous Boy-Who-Lived!”

Muriel shook her head, her surprise not entirely feigned. She was mightily impressed at her nephew’s courage and determination. It took a lot of fortitude and sheer dumb luck to do everything that he’d been rumored to accomplish by merely fifteen years of age. She was glad in a way that she hadn’t had the rearing of him, otherwise her steel-colored hair would be entirely white!

“By and far the most unpleasant surprise, however, was the last of it. You see, this boy, your nephew, Molly Elizabeth, goes on to tell me that you knew who he was the whole time. He tells me that you were keeping him ignorant of his heritage on purpose so that you could claim the family title on Septimus’ clause. You, my dear niece, who were raised knowing that the Prewett title passed first and foremost in the male line.”

Fixing her niece with an unwavering stare, Muriel said softly, dangerously, “Would you like to deny that, niece?”

The tension was now so high in the room that it was almost a tangible thing, hovering in the air between Muriel and the Weasley family, primarily her errant niece. Molly knew she had a chance here, she could deny everything, call her nephew a liar. But she likely also knew that Muriel would be less than likely to believe her.

“Why couldn’t it have passed to me?” Molly exploded instead, voice not quite a whine but close. “I was the eldest, I had proved my loyalty to the family over and over again. But just because of an old tradition that a great deal of pureblood families no longer even follow, I’m passed up on my suitability because of my gender of all things!”

“I deserved it,” Molly continued to rant. “I told Father I deserved it, that I had already secured the line by birthing five boys that could take the family title when I died. That there would be plenty to carry on the name Prewett! But no, instead he passes it off to his dead son’s offspring, a mere babe at breast, over me!”

Molly’s children all looked at her with new understanding, new comprehension. It was like wool had been removed from their eyes, revealing to them the truth that had always been simmering beneath the calm surface their mother projected. Her two eldest looked at her with disgust, angry and upset that she would do such a thing to a mere child over money of all things. They had all been raised with the truth that there were things money couldn’t buy. How many times had their mother pushed that on them while salivating after an inheritance that was not rightfully hers?

There was more than one victim involved in Molly’s crimes against her family. Before Muriel could respond, Ginevra spoke up, voice wavering in anger. “That’s not all she did. She was grooming me to fall in love with him from the day I met him. All my childhood I was told tales of a red-haired girl and a dark-haired boy, how they met and fell in love. I was put in dresses and skirts and taught proper manners, never allowed to just run wild with my brothers like I wanted to. She wanted me to marry him and set her up for an easy dotage, my own cousin!”

“I deserve it,” Molly hissed, glaring at her daughter. “I deserve an easy life for once, raising all of your brothers like this. Getting pregnant over and over again so that I could get a girl to get what should have been mine! You owe me that much!”

“I owe you NOTHING!” Ginny screamed back, tears in her eyes. She looked down, shoulders shaking. The eldest boy, William, put a hand on her back and murmured in her ear, soothing her. After a moment she looked up at her mother, tears in her eyes. “I owe you nothing,” she repeated. “You gave me life and I am grateful for that, but that is not how a mother should regard her daughters.”

“No it is not,” Muriel interrupted coolly, making a portion of the family jump. They’d managed to almost forget she was there; it seems. “That is not how your mother treated and regarded you for the time she lived, Molly Elizabeth. I know you remember that much of your mother, bless her memory.”

Looking at Arthur, the matriarch of the Prewett family said, “You know now your spouse’s actions, my niece’s actions and behavior towards a member of her family. So, Arthur, what do you say?”

Arthur took a deep breath. He looked tired, worn-down and beaten. His thinning hair had more grey in it than it had at her last visit, his blue eyes were tired. Yet there was still a faint ember in them, a spark. Muriel remembered it well, he had always possessed it, even when he was a young man appealing to Septimus that he loved his eldest and only daughter. Septimus had not been impressed by the young man’s prospects, but his sincerity had worn her brother over.

“I say that I sit here next to a woman I loved and wanted more than any other, yet I feel as though there is a chasm between us. Molly knew when we were dating and wed that life would be tough, she even told me she preferred it to the comfort of being a daughter of the Prewett line.”

“But now I’ve learned that she’s resented it the whole time, that she’s been clinging to a title that would never rightfully have been hers. That she manipulated her own nephew, who was raised alone amongst Muggles that didn’t treat him well. That she was manipulating our own children as well, all to get what she wants.”

“I may be married to her, but I don’t know this woman.”

Anger flared in Molly’s brown eyes, but she said nothing. Holding her tongue for once, more than she had ever since her adolescence. Rightfully realizing that screaming at her aged Aunt wasn’t going to get her anywhere but in more hot water than she was already in. But, Muriel mused, perhaps not realizing how far she was about to fall for her schemes. She had seen the spark of pure hate in her niece’s eyes when she mentioned the new young Lord and it disturbed her.

“The young Lord of our family has left dealing with you up to me, Molly Elizabeth. He did not give his reasons for it, but I think it is easy enough to say that he respected you, trusted you. He doesn’t wish to deal with your transgressions himself out of the respect he once held for you, respect you dishonored with every word, every action. As you should well know, I have no such compunctions on dealing with the wayward souls in my family.”

Muriel’s gaze became fierce. “Which of your children helped you keep him ignorant, niece? I know it was not just yourself. Who stood to gain the most besides you from keeping a young Lord ignorant of his heritage and true family?”

The children all stirred in surprise, eyes in shades of blue and brown going wide. They had clearly not realized that Molly would have had to have help in this. Dumbledore may have given her the spark, but she had fanned the flames and kept this bonfire of a lie going.

Molly kept her mouth shut. “Realizing that you are not going to get out of this easily, are you my dear? Should I find that old coot who set you on this trail in the first place and ask him?” Muriel snorted. “I would save myself the hassle and just wait, if that were the case. From what Septimus’ grandson told me, that old man is running out of time. He’s already been drummed out of the school and I’m certain our young Lord has more planned for him.”

Molly had opened her mouth to angrily say something, likely in support of the former Headmaster, but closed it. There was an almost murderous anger in her eyes as she looked at her Aunt, a flicker of true loathing for her family and her current problems.

“You were after the family title denied to you, what would your child have gained? Money? Status? The title of your Heir? Perhaps all of it, the chance to rise from the doldrums of life and become something bigger.”

Muriel knew exactly which of her niece’s offspring was to blame, she just wanted to hear them speak for themselves. She chose her words carefully, inciting the lingering resentment and anger.

“I earned it!” Ronald, the sixth son, suddenly bellowed.

His siblings and father all looked at him with crumpling faces, realization and guilt creeping into their eyes. Of course, who better to help their mother?

“I was always going to be in the shadows,” Ron continued angrily, nose and ears reddening in his rage. “I’m the sixth son, there’s nothing I could do that my siblings hadn’t done before me. I thought I had my chance as the Boy-Who-Lived’s best friend, but it turns out that I wasn’t going to be noticed even then! But then Mum came to me and said that he was gonna be Lord Potter and Lord Prewett, that he was her dead brother’s son. She said Dumbledore came to her for help in keeping him ignorant, that he wanted a soldier and not a Lordling.”

“I wanted to give up in fourth year when he entered that stupid Tournament, but Mum wheedled me back into it, said that if we kept him ignorant long enough, she would get the title her da had passed her up on and I would be named her Heir over any of my brothers as a reward.”

“How dare you, Ron!” Ginny shrieked at him. “How dare you?! You were his best friend; you could have told him ages ago! But instead you let your insecurities and jealousy over his money of all things win!”

 Muriel nodded, convinced. These two were the only ones that were to blame for her young Lord’s abysmal rearing. For the neglect and sub context of abuse she was certain he had suffered at the hands of Muggles. Now it was time to render judgement.

“Molly Elizabeth Prewett, I, Muriel Prewett as acting Matriarch of the Prewett line, hereby declare you a daughter of the Prewetts no longer. I declare you an embarrassment to the line, to the meaning of family.”

There was a flash of light and a loud snap. Molly let out a scream of rage and grief, going limp in her seat as Magic reacted, breaking the bond of family between her and her Aunt. Closing her eyes to the sight as Molly began to wail her grief, Muriel said quietly but clearly, “I do not punish the children of Molly Elizabeth. The only child I include in this is Ronald Bilius Weasley for his part in this crime against family.”

There was a second flash of light and another snap. Ronald’s reaction was less severe than Molly’s as he was not as closely connected to the Prewett family magic. Eventually the sobbing lessened. Molly went to make as dramatic an exit as possible, but was stopped by a glare from Muriel. She had had enough of slamming doors and screaming fits from her niece for a lifetime.

Their children looked to be caught between grief and relief. Grief at losing their mother, at her actions. Relief was predominant, they had not been punished for her actions. Relief also from the removal of an increasingly poisonous presence in their family.

“Do you wish to annul your marriage to Molly Elizabeth, Arthur?”

Grief and anger flared in Arthur’s eyes as he looked at his wife. There was genuine fear in her eyes, if he said yes than she would have no name. Her only course of action would be to find a job or someone willing to take Molly no name as a wife. It was a prospect that she had never thought she would have to face. All because of her blasted nephew.

“Yes.”

Muriel looked at her former niece, taking in her hardened, angry expression. “You have only yourself to blame for this, Molly Elizabeth. Your nephew was the most innocent of all of your children, he didn’t even realize he was part of your family until earlier this year. You have had plenty of warnings that something like this may happen. Or do you not find it strange that all of your children have left the home as quickly as possible and as soon as they are able?”

Looking specifically at Ronald she said sternly, “Your actions in particular are detestable, young man. My nephew is many things, but a spoiled brat who lords his position over others he is not. I think you are projecting your own insecurities onto others. Perhaps it is you who would have done those things if you had been raised in his circumstances. I would look inward and fix your own problems before blaming others.”

Ron glared at the floor, chest heaving as he struggled to process the removal of half his family line and the appropriate family magics. He didn’t speak to Muriel, nor look at her as she spoke to him. Molly’s eyes hardened in anger. Arthur was kicking her to the curb after over twenty years. Twenty years of poverty, of child-rearing and care. So be it. She would not remain this way for long. The gears were already turning in her clever, conniving mind. She had a plan.

Chapter Text

Christmas, or rather Yule had passed quietly for Harry and his friends. The Wizengamot was suspended until after the New Year, giving the Lords and Ladies time to spend with their loved ones and friends. All of the students in their fifth year at Hogwarts had received their schedules for O.W.L.s, offered complimentary at the Ministry this year since the school had to be shut down to repair the damage that Dumbledore had done by circumventing the wards. All of them were for decent hours, even Astronomy, the Ministry would employ a room similar to the one that had been used to test Harry through his OWLs and NEWTs. Hermione was busily occupied studying for her exams, focused on the task at hand.

Harry had offered to help her apply for the same Aging Potion he had used, but after some thought Hermione had declined. As much as Harry was her friend, she would only be a teenager once and she wanted to experience it all for herself. Harry understood, even if he grieved for the loss. He still considered Hermione to be a friend, but with the age difference their experiences and outlook on life would naturally be different than if they had been the same age.

Harry and Remus were working on repairing their relationship. It was slow going, Harry was not the most open individual to trusting people anymore. Remus’ mood and outlook on life were no doubt helped along by his budding romance with Bill, the eldest of the Weasley children. Bill had visited Remus at Rosewood just a few days prior, the initial meeting between him and Harry had been very strained. That was until Harry had reassured his cousin that he didn’t hold him or his siblings responsible for what had happened with Molly no-name and their youngest brother.

When Harry had received word of what his grand-aunt had done, he was relieved. She had been able to do what he worried he would not, even with how badly Molly and Ron had hurt him, not to mention the trust they had betrayed. He had hoped that she would deal with them, the stern woman seemed not to mind having the thankless burden heaped upon her shoulders. The pain of how Molly had planned to destroy his life and how Ron had helped her was a sharp ache in his chest even now, with her plans cut off at a crucial point.

Harry was slowly and surely gathering the evidence he needed to deal with Dumbledore once and for all. True to his word, he was not hiding a single bit of it from Sirius, the man was perhaps the only one who knew the complete details aside from himself. Sirius had been sickened and disgusted by the information Harry had gathered, not to mention the memories from Aberforth. What that man had done, what he had planned further along the road would reverberate through generations of their history. Along the way, thanks to his impartial character and level-headed rationalizing, Harry had unintentionally become a strong leader for the gray wizards, those who felt that there needed to be a middle ground between Dark and Light ideals.

It put him directly in the path of an increasingly dangerous, desperate Albus Dumbledore. It exhausted Harry, trying to stay a few steps ahead of the old man and his elaborate games. He wanted it to be over already so that he could try and enjoy a peaceful life for once in two lifetimes. He knew Sirius was worried about him, he wasn’t sleeping well at the moment, nor did he eat enough by anyone’s standards. He was stressed and strung too tightly, like a wind-up clock with gears bound too tight.

He let out a shaky breath and ran his fingers through his hair, trying to calm his racing thoughts. Not that it was working, he was just getting more stressed thinking about it. Stepping away from his desk he stood at the window of his office, staring out onto the grounds. This needed to end, soon.

*

When Sirius stepped into Harry’s office, he did so without a whisper of sound, carefully shutting the door behind him. Harry’s back was to him, so he took a moment just to study his betrothed. His sharp eyes easily noted and filed away the tense shoulders, stiff posture and clenched hands crossed defensively in front of his chest. His hearing, sharper than normal thanks to years of blending with his Animagus form, caught the sharp, short breaths and rattling, world-weary sigh.

Concern lit soft silvery-gray eyes. Harry had been running himself into the ground with this, trying to gather all of this information into a fool-proof case against Albus Dumbledore to get the dangerous old wizard removed from wizarding society. It was the most important thing now, the main priority for both Harry and Sirius, who was realizing more and more with each thing uncovered how vital to the survival of the wizarding world it was. He remembered all too well from Harry’s pensieve what seemed like a lifetime ago how Magic had said that there were only twelve wizarding children born and they would be the last.

So many changes had been made already, it seemed incomprehensible that just this one thing could dictate how the future of their society went. If Dumbledore remained free, they would fail, Magic would fade and her precious ones would remain oppressed. If Dumbledore were imprisoned or executed, then Magic would thrive. If he was out of the way, they would be able to make the changes necessary to the creature laws and magical culture to restore the balance that had been so catastrophically upset.

But at the moment, Sirius was more concerned for the individual in front of him. It would not be worth it even if Magic thrived if his soulmate, the other half of him, was lost in the process. Making a decision, he strode forward, making his footsteps obvious so that Harry wouldn’t accidentally hex him. Stepping up to stand directly behind his beloved, Sirius wrapped his arms around Harry’s waist and gently kissed the other man’s cheek.

Harry let out a soft sigh, leaning back into his hold. He could feel a little bit of the tension draining from his shoulders, but not enough. “I think you need to let this go for today,” he said firmly.

Wide aqua eyes stared into his own, startled. “I can’t possibly stop, Sirius. This is too impor-“

Sirius placed a finger against his beloved’s lips, stopping his reply mid-word. They stood there for a few breaths, simply staring into each other’s eyes. Then Sirius said softly, with an undercurrent of arrogant demand befitting his House and blood, “Enough. I am well aware of how important all of this is, but you are more important to me. You are running yourself into the ground with this, Harrigan.”

Harry was still staring at him, unable to formulate a response. He looked surprised to have his full name used against him, eyes narrowing. Now that Sirius was this close to him, he was even more convinced that Harry needed a break. His warm skin had a pale tinge underneath and there were shadows under his eyes. Nodding, Sirius made a quick decision and said firmly, “I want you to be done for today. Leave your office, take a relaxing bath or shower and put on something nice, it doesn’t have to be fancy. I’m taking you out for dinner tonight.”

“Do you even intend on asking me if I would like to?” Harry said archly.

“No,” Sirius replied. “You need a break from this, so I’m demanding, not asking. Do not test me on this Harry, I will make you go if I have to.”

Harry blew out a frustrated breath, eyes flashing momentarily in annoyance. Sirius pulled him closer and tilted up Harry’s chin, bringing their lips together in a brush of a kiss, barely lingering. “Be downstairs by six,” he said finally, before letting Harry go and leaving his office. He ignored the huffed sigh at the demand.

Harry would thank him for this, eventually.

*

Harry had to admit, sulkily, that he had needed the bath Sirius had ordered him to take. The moment he had sunk into the hot water with a few oils added in, he had sunk against the back wall of the massive claw-footed tub and sighed. The water was easing tension out of his muscles that he hadn’t even realized he was holding, while the herbal oils clarified and soothed his senses, easing the headache he’d kept at bay with potions.

The whole interaction with Sirius had surprised him. The man had never really demanded anything of him before, certainly never in that arrogant ‘Lord’ tone he usually saved for the Wizengamot and people he didn’t particularly like. It was one of a few times that Harry had ever seen him where the man had truly acted like a Black. He normally showed a heavy disdain for it all, preferring to live his life very informally and with a sense of modernity that had no doubt given his mother fits.

He stayed in the bath for longer than he had originally intended, the warm water had almost sent him off to sleep. Eventually he stood up, wrapping himself in a warm, soft cotton towel laid on a heating stone next to the bath for that purpose. He dried his skin off thoroughly before wrapping the towel around his hips and using another smaller one for his hair. Harry was thankful for the easily-managed hair that had come with breaking the glamour, he had hated fighting with the notorious Potter curls.

Looking up he caught sight of himself in the mirror and froze, staring in surprise. He hadn’t had time to look in the mirror this morning when he had hastily donned his clothes and headed to his office. Taking in the pale tone under his normally warm skin and the exhausted shadows under his eyes, he began to realize why Sirius had been so firm on his demands for Harry to stop. He had not realized how much his concentration and pressure on the case for Dumbledore had been wearing on him.

Considering his wardrobe, Harry contemplated what would be considered ‘nice, nothing fancy’. Eventually he settled on black starched cotton trousers, a plain belt, a soft bronze silk shirt with a mandarin collar and an open warm tan set of robes, cotton like his trousers instead of silk. Contemplating his shoulder length hair, he snagged a bronze cord and tied it back loosely at his nape. Contemplating his appearance, finished off with a pair of ankle-high brown boots, he nodded. Good enough.

He left his quarters, heading downstairs to the front parlor. Sirius was already there waiting for him, looking very handsome as was his norm in a sapphire blue shirt, light gray trousers and matching sleeveless open robe. Paired with a watch that had a titanium band and his family ring, he managed to make the relaxed outfit look far more elegant than it would be otherwise.

Harry rolled his eyes and said, “You know, it’s really unfair how you do that. You could wear denim trousers and an old, stained shirt and make it look sharp.”

Sirius just smirked, taking his arm and tucking it under his own. “We’re Apparating,” the other warned him.

Harry took a breath and closed his eyes, Wizarding travel still made him dizzy even if he no longer landed on his arse all the time. He had no reason not to trust Sirius to let the other transport them, Sirius would rather hurt himself than let any harm come to Harry.

Once the discomfort of Apparition faded, Harry opened his eyes and gave a soft gasp in surprise. They were not in England anymore, that much he was certain of. Looking around in wide-eyed delight, his eyes took in a busy wizarding district with beautiful old oil lantern streetlights and a mosaic brickwork street. Around them people were laughing and smiling, greeting old friends with a hug and lovers with a passionate kiss. A few children were out in the street playing with a toy Quaffle, laughing and squealing in joy as they enjoyed the last of a quickly fading sunset.

“Where are we?” he asked Sirius.

“Barcelona,” the other replied, smiling at his surprise. “This is their main wizarding district; the other is in the southern part of the city. We are near the heart of the city here. I spent some time here under disguise when I was on the run, the people here are very friendly and welcoming. There was one older witch in particular that I think wanted to take in Snuffles as a pet, she was very attached to my Animagus form. Sadly, she passed away a few weeks later, she was very decent woman.”

They started walking, Harry smiling as he took in the sights and sounds of life here. “They’re so very similar to Diagon Alley and yet different in small, intrinsic ways. Even in my past life I never got overseas very much, despite being an Auror. Most of my cases stayed within our borders. I did get to visit Lisbon and Paris, however.”

“Most wizarding districts are very similar, but the local cultures and their own influences make them very unique,” Sirius agreed. “I found while I was on the run that how a government treats its citizens bleeds down to the lowest levels, even in just basic everyday behavior. Sadly, that’s very true with Diagon and wizarding England. Our strict adherence to very old, outdated laws and traditions has made us very closed-off and cold. There is a reason why most of the wizarding world says we’ve gone backwards.”

“But enough of that,” Sirius said firmly. “I brought you here to get your mind off of politics and maneuvering, not to remind you of it more. We are here to relax and enjoy some local cuisine at a nice little restaurant that I discovered back just after graduation. After dinner if you like we can take a little stroll through the district, after dark they light up those oil lanterns and there’s usually some talented locals playing music in the main square.”

Harry smiled at him and teased, “Being a bit bossy tonight, are we?”

“No,” Sirius replied, “just taking charge. You looked like you were going to pass out earlier, it worries me.”

Harry fell silent for a bit, listening as Sirius (with the help of a translation charm), asked for a table for two and a bit of privacy from the hostess of the restaurant he’d mentioned. It was spacious and elegant, but with earthy colors and a warm atmosphere that kept it from becoming too stuffy. There were large plants in the open front windows and a few more twining through the wooden frame of the building, draping greenery and fragrant flowers above their heads. Each table had a rune-activated silencing ward if the patrons sitting there wanted to talk without being overheard.

They were directed to a table along the front edge and in a corner, away from others with a view of the street outside. Sirius pulled out a chair for Harry, who sat, attempting to hide his blush at the elegant action. Sirius seated himself with his back to the windows, giving Harry the view to outside. He couldn’t help but watch the simple domestic scenes outside for a long moment, feeling a growing longing for the peaceful joy in everyday life they exhibited.

He heard the soft catch of breath from his companion and tore his eyes away, meeting Sirius’ silver ones that watched him with such understanding and compassion he had to break their gaze, looking momentarily to the tiled surface of their table. He could feel his cheeks flushing and was momentarily confused at his embarrassment.

“Why didn’t you just leave?” Sirius asked softly. When Harry looked at him confused, he continued. “When you came back, why didn’t you just go to Gringotts and then leave? I don’t think anyone would have faulted you for wanting to avoid the whole mess altogether. You could have taken the Prewett and Potter Lordships and just left the country, retired somewhere as a rich recluse.”

Harry’s breath hitched. He tried to speak, only to find his throat and tongue dry and closed off. Vibrant silver eyes stared into his and Sirius continued, his voice soft, almost hypnotic. His words made Harry’s hands shake, it was as if the other was reading his thoughts, his very soul.

“I can see how you look at these people, Harry. The longing and need in your eyes are bare for all to see. You want what they have desperately, you crave the peace and simplicity of a normal life with a ferocity that would shock most. So why put yourself through all of the pain again and again love? Why keep sacrificing your own peace and happiness for that of others?”

“I-,” Harry’s breath hitched again, his fingers trembling. Sirius extended his own hands, taking Harry’s into his and ignoring the way Harry gripped at them like they were a lifeline. “I couldn’t,” he said finally, brokenly. “Even if I had come back and gotten you freed and we just left, I couldn’t have stayed away. Perhaps the Dumbledore of my time did his job a little too well, or maybe it’s just a fault of my personality. I just couldn’t stay away and let it all fall apart again.”

Sirius shifted his grip on Harry’s hands and squeezed, the strength and steadiness in them drawing Harry’s attention away from his own thoughts. He looked up, meeting solid silver eyes with a hidden steel in them and at the same time a rich warmth few ever saw. After a moment, Sirius’ thumbs began rubbing soothing circles on his skin and the man said, “Don’t ever feel like your compassion and empathy are flaws in your personality, Harry. They are an essential part in who you are, the man who has survived two lifetimes of war and come through emotionally scarred but with your generous heart and soul unscathed.”

 Harry closed his eyes, pained. The words were so truthful it hurt, but he was even more in love with this man, if possible. It didn’t make sense, that the truths Sirius offered would make him love the man more, but he loved that he finally truly felt as if there was someone who saw him for just himself, just Harry. He had longed for someone to see past the masks he wore and the charade he put up as the brave Savior of the wizarding world. Having it now felt as though he was breaking free of chains at the same time that his heart ached. He hadn’t realized how much he needed to hear those words from someone.

His breath caught in surprise when his lips were captured in a soft, deep kiss. Unlike the one from earlier that was softer than a butterfly wing, this one had a strength that rocked him to his core. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything more than feel. And what he was feeling stunned him. Love, passion, desire, protectiveness, compassion and strength burned between himself and Sirius. Their lips finally parted and he drew in a trembling breath, feeling Sirius’ warm calloused palms as the other framed his face with his hands.

“I knew that was what you were going to say,” Sirius admitted, his own breathing a little ragged. “I just wanted to hear it, to get both of us realize that you were so compassionate and empathetic that you would run yourself into the ground for others. It’s not a bad thing in moderation. But you needed to be made aware of it, so that others will not take you for granted or take more than you can give. There is something else as well.”

Sirius paused, his gaze becoming fierce. Their eyes locked and Harry couldn’t have pulled away from the man now if he tried. “I am going to do my very best to make sure that you get that peace and simplicity you crave, Harry. We will do this, together.”

Sirius let him go, gently. He sat back in his chair, Harry sinking back into his, grateful for the privacy ward. He stared at the man in front of him with a little bit of wonder, awe and a not insignificant amount of gratitude. He believed Sirius when he said they would get the life Harry had craved for so long. They were in this together and he could not be more grateful.

Later, after their meal, they exited the restaurant, Sirius’ arm wrapped around his waist, Harry’s head on his shoulder. They wandered through the district, enjoying the gentle lighting, the splash of a fountain or two and, eventually, the group of people dancing in the square to an impromptu band. The music slowed and Sirius tugged him out onto the square, laughing at Harry’s protests.

Exceptionally nervous at first, Harry relaxed, following Sirius’ more than capable lead. It appeared, amongst other things, that Sirius was a very good dancer. The man cracked a couple of cheerful jokes as they cut their way through the dancers, Harry laughing. It was a lightheartedness that he hadn’t felt in years. He smiled up at the other and said softly, “Thank you. I needed this, more than I realized.”

Sirius smiled, gray eyes sparkling. “Any time, Harry.”

Chapter Text

The break Harry had taken on Sirius’ insistence had been invigorating. When they had returned, both men had dived in and put together what they determined to be an airtight case against Dumbledore. The time had finally come for the old man to experience the justice and judgement he had been so eager to give to others. Harry touched the sleek document folder with reverent fingers, uneasy at having it out of his sight. So much rested on the outcome of this case. The very stability and existence of magic, amongst other things.

Harry wanted the man to pay for all of the suffering he had caused. He wanted him to know that there were those who could and would oppose his ‘Greater Good’. He would look into those blue eyes as the man finally realized just how far out of his control his little pawn was. Harry had been expendable to the old man, raising a child up like a lamb for slaughter. Perhaps it wouldn’t have hurt so badly if he’d been expecting it all along, but he had been blind, so blind. Not blind, he amended, trusting. He’d trusted the man too easily, all part of his machinations thanks to the Dursley family.

But he was not the only one who had suffered at the hands of someone he had trusted. So many had died or been put through hell all because of one old man’s grand game. His parents, Lily Evans, Remus, Sirius. They were lucky, him and the last two of the Marauders. They had each other and were making roads to recovery, as hard and painful as it was.

The Weasley family had been torn asunder because of Dumbledore. Harry couldn’t imagine Arthur’s humiliated anger as he had gotten word that the ‘fees’ he had paid for his younger children to go to Hogwarts had been funneled into Dumbledore’s pockets, with a little price for Molly as well. Both Ron and Ginny’s schooling costs had been nothing more than an elaborate case of fraud. Dumbledore had waived the costs for the two to go to Hogwarts, already having plans for his ‘savior’s’ best friend and future wife.

With that knowledge, both Ron and Ginny were no longer covered, tuition-wise. Harry had not yet gone to visit the Burrow himself, but he had communicated through Muriel that he would pay the costs of Ginny’s final three years. He would not make her suffer for the actions of her mother and older brother. Ron however, was still not paid for. No longer a Prewett and something of a pariah in his family, Arthur had refused to pay for him to take his O.W.L.s or complete his schooling. It wasn’t a matter of teaching him a lesson, he couldn’t cover the costs. None of his older brothers would cover it either.

The Board of Education had snapped his wand since he was underage and informed him that he could get a job at a shop in Diagon that would hire an underage non-qualified wizard. Or he could have his tongue bound with an oath of silence and get a job in the Muggle world. Hermione had recommended he start with clerking, it was a basic job that didn’t require many skills or anything other than showing up on time, when scheduled and doing your job. Arthur wasn’t kicking him out, but he had given one firm rule, Ron would pay his way and move out as soon as he was in a stable job and over the age of eighteen.

It was a far cry for the teen would had plotted to make his mother the Lady Prewett and himself her Heir above all his siblings. Harry would not help him either way, that bridge had been well and truly burned to the ground. The pain at what his supposed best friend would have done was an ache in his chest that lessened every day, most of his fondest school memories now tinged with an edge of bitterness. Harry picked up the folder, slipped into his winter cloak (a gift from Sirius), and stepped outside for a breath of fresh, bitingly cold air.

It was a particularly cold early February afternoon, little speckles of frost hung to the ends of bare tree limbs. The grass had long since turned brown and the sky was full of heavy gray clouds. He heard the slightest creak of metal and turned, watching Sirius step out the front door and close it behind him. The man’s expression was very composed and solemn, outside the usual that his friends and family would see. Harry knew that he was both nervous and excited about this as well.

Looking around Sirius crinkled his nose and grumbled, “Why is winter always so dreary in the last bit?”

Harry snorted. “We can’t have snow all the time, you know.”

“Well at least the snow looks prettier, until it gets all churned up and turns into mud.”

Harry just shook his head, giving up on the argument before it devolved into a childish fight. Sirius grinned at him and stepped forward, wrapping an arm around his waist. He preferred to Apparate with Harry this way, if only for the fun of seeing the disapproving stares from a few stuck up old-timers at the intimacy of the pose when they appeared in the Ministry atrium. Harry rolled his eyes, it seemed sometimes that Sirius lived just for those moments when he could rattle the cages of the more senior of their peers.

They strolled easily through the atrium, many witches and wizards parting to the sides and watching them pass. They made an elegant sight in their sumptuous attire and regal bearing. It was easy to see just at a passing glance that they had old blood in their lines with their aristocratic features and the subtle power in their auras. Harry’s two families had a decent history between them, but the Blacks were practically wizarding royalty due to their bloodline’s sheer age. Members of the Black family could be singled out from a crowd on looks and mannerisms alone.

They descended into the depths of the Ministry and the Wizengamot chambers, taking their customary seats with little fanfare. Amelia, now Minister in name and office, looked surprised to see them there. This was considered a meeting of little importance, merely going over a few new laws mandated by their investigation into old and outdated policies.

In direct contrast to Amelia’s welcoming smile was the hostility radiating from one Albus Dumbledore. His stare was direct and unblinking, focusing with ferocious intensity on where Harry was sitting. Next to him Sirius growled lowly, not liking the old man’s gaze on Harry. Harry put a reassuring hand on the man’s wrist, wrapping his fingers around and rubbing his thumb on the man’s pulse point.

“Ignore him, Sirius. He’s losing control and he doesn’t like it. He’ll get what’s coming to him, remember?”

He ran a finger along the edge of the folder, drawing Sirius’ gaze. The other nodded, raising the wrist Harry had his hand wrapped around and pressing his lips gently to the back of Harry’s hand. “I know, I just don’t like the way he’s looking at you.”

Harry flushed at the gentle, intimate action, earning a chuckle from Sirius. The man seemed to take great amusement out of Harry’s shy reactions to his affections. It also seemed to please him that Harry never stopped blushing at them, no matter how often Sirius made these little gestures. They sat quietly, enjoying each other’s presence as they waited for the session to start.

It seemed to take an age, but finally Amelia called for the entrance to be shut and locked, performing the opening oath of transparency, honesty and integrity. It was also a magical vow upon each and every member of the Wizengamot to act with those characteristics. Considering the decisions they made here affected the entirety of magical Britain, it was a wise precaution.

Neither Harry nor Sirius drew attention to themselves for the session, merely discussing an issue between themselves and then voting as they saw fit. Sometimes they even voted the same as Dumbledore, much to the old man’s visible consternation. It was clear that he didn’t like voting similarly to two men who had declared themselves on the darker side of gray. Harry resisted the urge to shake his head at the childish action, just because they had different ideals didn’t mean they always had to vote against each other.

Once the last issue had been voted on, Harry took a steadying breath and lit his wand gold, signifying he wished to speak. Next to him, Sirius tensed in anticipation. Amelia did not look surprised, clearly she had anticipated he would have something to say. This was a small inconsequential session of the Wizengamot otherwise, it had taken only a few hours to proceed through voting for the four bills on the table.

“Ministry recognizes Lord Potter-Prewett.”

Harry stood, took a deep breath and began. “Here in the Wizengamot we take oaths of office. They cover such things as integrity, transparency and honesty, all important ethical things for a government office.”

He paused, looking around the room to meet the eyes of various Lords and Ladies. “But, my fellow members of the Wizengamot, we also have a code that is not written down. We each represent our own family in our actions here, whether that be of blood or Departments in this honored Ministry. I would say our personal code is even more stringent than the oath we take, for what is not more exacting than blood?”

“We also represent the trust that the public has placed in us, which is why this Wizengamot stands as the governing body for the people of magical Britain. If our elected officials did not keep the trust of those who voted for them, what is to say about how we run our country? If we do not protect the least of our citizens, are we truly qualified to protect the greatest, or magic itself?”

Around the chamber a hundred or so pair of eyes were locked on Harry, absorbing his words. The silence was so complete one could hear a pin drop. As he said certain things individuals would frown, murmur or nod vigorously. Their attention to him was so complete it was as if he had enchanted them.

“Which is why,” Harry began softly, a note of steel in his voice, “when we bring any sort of evidence into this chamber, it needs to be the truth. It needs to be absolute, irrevocable evidence. It needs to support any claim made.”

Looking directly at Amelia Bones, he raised his voice just the slightest and said, “Madame Minister, I have a case to present to you today. A case against one of our own, charging them with perjury, dereliction of duty, murder, obstruction of justice and treason, as well as anything else you may find.”

So many people inhaled at exactly the same moment that there was a momentary drop in air pressure as they held their breaths, waiting for the name.

“Against whom do you bring these charges?”

“Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore,” Harry said steadily, before the chamber exploded with noise.

“After everything I have done for you, this is your thanks?!” Dumbledore snarled, shooting to his feet.

“You have done nothing for me,” Harry said coldly. “Many things to me on your orders or by your hand, but nothing you have ever done was for my benefit!”

“Throw this out Amelia!” Dumbledore commanded. “Clearly you can see this man has a vendetta against me for some perceived slight!”

One upon a time Dumbledore may have had influence or status with the Minister. At that time, he would have been listened to, perhaps even obeyed. But the new Minister was Amelia Bones, who had already seen what he had done to Hogwarts. Above all, Amelia Adele Bones had no love or respect whatsoever for a manipulative old bastard.

“Curb your tongue,” she answered sharply. “I am not a child at Hogwarts, I am the Minister of Magic! This case has been properly brought before the Wizengamot by the Lord Potter-Prewett; it will be heard. That is final,” she added curtly, cutting off whatever Dumbledore had been about to say.

A dangerous glitter filled Dumbledore’s eyes and he said softly, “Very well.”

He looked directly at Harry, who flicked his wrist subtly to release his wand. Harry resisted the urge to tense his shoulders, unnerved by the expression in Dumbledore’s eyes. “We are not done,” Albus promised, his voice full of rage.

Then, he disappeared.

The volume from before was nothing compared to now, as several women screamed and fainted outright, various wizards yelling in shock or outrage. It took several minutes to restore order and for a pair of Aurors to realize that Dumbledore had exited so dramatically via Portkey. There were no remnants of the coordinates, not that Harry had expected as such. He sat next to Sirius, unsurprised in the slightest that Dumbledore had done something of the sort.

A few rows down from Sirius and Harry, the Lord Ogden stood. “Madame Minister, I move to try Albus in absentia. Clearly there is truth in the case Lord Potter-Prewett sought against him, otherwise he would not have chosen to leave in such a fashion, nor so hastily.”

Lady Vance stood up from the ‘Light’ section, crying out in protest, “You heard the Supreme Mugwump, the Lord Potter-Prewett clearly has a vendetta against him! This trial should be thrown out, it tars the reputation of an honorable man by even considering it!”

Next to Harry, Sirius snorted at Emmaline’s clearly biased plea. “Obviously she never stopped being a sheep,” he commented.

Harry resisted the urge to laugh, barely. To his relief, Amelia looked less than convinced by Emmaline Vance’s words. “We shall vote on the move to try Albus Dumbledore in absentia,” she stated, noticeably leaving out his many middle names and his title, which he would lose if even one of Harry’s charges held true.

“Those in favor,” Amelia stated, to which Harry and Sirius both held up lit wands. Harry’s heart was hammering in his throat as he did so, resisting the urge to count the raised wands himself.

“Those against,” Harry did snort out a small laugh at the wand Lady Vance held high in the air, staring proudly and defiantly around the chamber. Next to her was Elphias Dodge, who looked at Harry through watery eyes with an expression of betrayal. Harry resisted the urge to roll his own, he owed the man nothing. Indeed, him and Dedalus Diggle, on Vance’s other side, had gotten him into trouble with the Dursleys more than a few times by their actions.

“64 for, 38 against. The trial shall move forward in absentia.” Amelia announced.

Harry stood. “Along with moving the trial forward in absentia, I also move for the Wizengamot to receive the evidence from the school wards and the investigation into the school finances that happened afterward, as these are important things to consider when hearing this case.”

There was another quick vote, which passed by yet a greater margin than that to move the trial forward without Dumbledore being present. Many of the Lords and Ladies present had students in Hogwarts, they were no doubt curious by the evidence that had been given only to the Board of Governors. The school had shut down so quickly, even before the release for the winter holidays. Harry did not envy them the shocks that just those documents would provide.

 He handed the precious folder to a runner, who brought it to Amelia’s podium. “Let it be known to each and every member of the Wizengamot present that these are all irrefutable facts about the defendant. I have willingly-given memories and witnesses ready to give Veritaserum testimony if necessary. I readily understand how severe the charges I am bringing against the defendant are; I would not waste your time needlessly.”

Amelia nodded and began the process of copying the meticulously composed documents, a single page at a time, so that the Wizengamot could absorb the shocking information and details at their own pace. Once each of them had a copy, they began to browse the folder, absorbing the evidence and grim details.

Within the folder was the evidence that Albus had been lovers with Grindelwald, plotting world domination until he had gotten cold feet. It covered what really happened to his sister Ariana, with evidence of the spell he’d used to murder his sister. Then it moved to meeting a young Tom Riddle, the orphaned half-blood descendant of Salazar Slytherin. It covered how he had made sure Tom was ostracized at the school and past his education, how no one would listen to him. It detailed how Albus’ distaste for the young man had helped the spiral into madness that had created Lord Voldemort. Then his careful manipulation of the school wards to become Headmaster and the blatant favoritism for Gryffindor.

The documents from the school’s wards and the investigation into Hogwarts’ financial status supported these pages, giving proof to how he had manipulated events and tracked certain students. Even more damningly, the evidence clearly showed that he’d been drawing on the power of the wards to increase his own abilities, giving himself the ability to Apparate inside the wards for showy appearance. He’d been scraping funds off of the Professor’s salaries and retirement funds as well, which was why the Library’s books were badly out of date and the school brooms were in such hideous condition.

It also proved that he’d known about the incidents in the school involving the troll, basilisk and had knowingly hired mostly incompetent Defense professors. There was details about each of the Professors there, including the fact about Snape’s Dark Mark letting in other Death Eaters and the fact that Madam Poppy Pomphrey was not a fully-qualified mediwitch, which was how she had missed the blatant signs of abuse many students presented with, Harry included.

The last section included all of the laws and regulations he’d gotten passed over the years, which had the very chilling sum effect of limiting the effectiveness of magic in general. It also showed, rather blatantly once gathered, how very prejudiced the man was towards several magical creatures and magics that he did not deem ‘Light’. There was also the evidence about the horrible miscarriage of justice on Sirius’ behalf and the spells and restrictions he had tried to place on Harry.

  It was a massive blow to the reputation and control Dumbledore had held on their government. It also listed every single member of the Order of the Phoenix, current or former. Sirius, Remus, Kingsley and Moody would be fine, they had outed themselves to Amelia already. Those like Emmaline Vance, who was now getting shocked, suspicious glances from her peers, would not fare so well. The woman sat in her seat, her formerly regal posture now slumped in defeat, staring at the mountains of evidence about how blind she had been over the past twenty or more years.

Harry blew out a relieved breath. Dumbledore had escaped and would need to be found. But this had gone so much better than he’d been thinking it would. Now everyone would know what the man had done and was capable of. Now they would eject him from their government and make sure that he would never be able to do so much damage again, nor anyone that would follow in his footsteps.

Finally, he could see the light at the end of the proverbial tunnel, and he was racing for it with every fiber of his being.

Chapter Text

Albus Dumbledore had been found guilty on all charges, stripped of his titles and his Order of Merlin, with an order out for his arrest. While many Lords and Ladies of the Wizengamot had called for his death, either by firing squad or a Dementor’s Kiss, he was instead sentenced to a fate worse than death, if he survived it. His magic would be stripped with special cuffs and he would spend the rest of his lifetime in a maximum-security cell in Azkaban prison. Even if a guard were to set him free, the cuffs would reduce him to the power level of a Squib and could never be removed by magical or muggle means.

It was a harsh sentence, one that many would not wish on their worst enemy. But with all of the crimes Dumbledore had committed over the past thirty or more years, the sentence was considered just by both the Wizengamot and the wizarding public, when the trial hit the papers. The Daily Prophet had to reprint the article of the trial for an evening edition, the morning one having sold out at record times. By fleeing the Ministry and his trial, Dumbledore had committed social and political suicide.

If he had stayed and protested his innocence, there would have been more of a chance (non-existent as it was) that he would have been able to get some of the charges thrown out. By fleeing the Ministry in the dramatic manner he had taken, his guilt and shattered reputation were both a given. An innocent man wouldn’t run away when confronted with false charges. A reputable man, one that had represented their society for so long, wouldn’t have taken the craven way out.

All of this was on Remus Lupin’s mind as he stood in his bedroom at Rosewood, eyeballing the expensive robes he wore. He quietly grumbled at his best friend’s extravagant spending on his account, still at time uncertain that he deserved it. He ran his hands through his tawny blonde-brown hair, glowering at the few strands of silver he spotted. He was still young by wizarding standards, not even middle-aged. But thanks to strenuous, painful monthly transformations from the age of nine, his body aged more. He was doing a lot better now, he had to admit. Harry had been right to convince him to stop taking the Wolfsbane potion, he felt better than he had in years thanks to the lack of literal poison in his system.

He was wearing an open outer robe in gold-brown crushed velvet over a silk long-sleeved shirt in snowy white and deep brown suede-leather trousers tucked into a pair of leather knee-high boots. The whole outfit probably had cost more than what he made in a year, especially considering the cufflinks set with real topaz and the diamond cravat at his throat. It did wonders for one’s self-image when wearing several hundred galleons worth of clothes.

 Walking downstairs, he was not surprised to see that everyone in Rosewood currently was decked out in a similar fashion. Hermione was wearing a soft rose-colored gown with a small pink diamond and pearl rose clip in her hair, tamed into long wavy locks for the occasion. Andromeda looked elegant and refined in a deep navy gown with sharp lines that only accented her aristocratic features and ebon black hair.

Tonks wore a far more revealing gown than her mother, with cuts in the midriff and sides that exposed her pale skin, her hair turned to match the deep violet color of the silk. Bill, Remus noted with a flush of color, wore deep sapphire blue silk over black leather trousers like it was something he did every day, his rich auburn hair held back with a matching velvet tie.

His evolving relationship with the curse-breaker was something that Remus marveled at every day. Bill was handsome, financially well off and had a respected position in his chosen career. He could have had anyone; the werewolf was reasonably sure. But for some reason he had set his sights and his stubborn Weasley-Prewett resolve on Remus. After a bit of initial protest, Remus had given in, not wanting to push the other away no matter how much he felt Bill deserved more than him.

For the first time since Sirius and Harry had dramatically left Grimmauld, there was more than a single Weasley at Rosewood. Arthur, Charlie, the twins and Ginny were all present as well. They had arrived yesterday, along with Muriel Prewett. The initial meeting between Harry and the Weasleys had been tense and awkward, years of bitter guilt and broken trust between them. Then, very suddenly, Harry had told them that he didn’t blame them in the slightest, and the dam had broken. There had been tears, shaky explanations and apologies and hugs on all sides.

The reason for all these people being here? Harry and Sirius had decided their betrothal had gone on long enough and today they were holding their bonding ritual. Since the pair knew they were soul-bound, they were using a very old, traditional boding ceremony that would link the pair permanently. There would be no option or consideration of annulment or divorce once complete, not that either man would even contemplate the matter.

Remus knew that Harry wasn’t going to tell anyone else that he was from the future, including Hermione. The only people that would know were Sirius, Remus, Amelia, Kingsley and Alastor Moody. All of whom were present here today. The new madame Minister had arrived about an hour ago with the two mentioned Aurors as her escort. From what Remus knew, Amelia had been asked to officiate the bonding ritual, a major honor. She had easily accepted, honored with being asked to do this for two men she was rapidly considering to be friends as well as allies.

Sirius strolled into the room, already wearing his robes for the ritual. His and Harry’s were the exact same, with just a few differences. Made of heavy ivory taffeta silk with a stiff mandarin collar and long bell sleeves, the entire surface was covered with tiny embroidered runes. These types of robes were closed, running to past the wearer’s feet so that the material just touched the floor. They were also exceptionally expensive, the tiny embroidered runes had to be done by hand. Along the edge was trim of real-gold thread with larger, more prominent runes that were part of the ritual.

Remus envied his friend for managing to pull off the heavy, stiff fabric with his normal grace and elegance, the ivory color still not able to match the paleness of his Black heritage. The color did make his blue-black hair pop though, held back with a simple silver chain. “That looks like it’s exceptionally warm,” he commented to Sirius.

“I am glad this is in the winter,” Sirius replied with a grimace. “If it were summer we would have looked into a lighter fabric, but still. Just the idea of wearing this stuff in summer is making me want to sweat.”

Remus sniggered. “Did you ever think you’d be standing here, about to do this type of thing?”

“No,” Sirius said honestly, surprising Remus. “I always figured I’d be dead before I found someone that I wanted to be with all the time. Most people didn’t seem to really want to put up with me for that long.”

Remus winced at his friend’s blunt honesty. Sirius had always been the player of the group, seemingly content with one-night stands and the occasional longer relationship. But time and mostly Azkaban had matured the man forcibly, making him change his outlook on various matters. He still hadn’t realized that his friend had such a grim perspective on his personal life.

“Why did you never mention it?” Remus frowned.

Sirius smiled, the expression a bit bitter. “Why would I drop that on you? There’s nothing you could have done to help me. The direct Black line would have ended with me and it would have been my own damn fault. I just thank Magic with everything I am that that’s no longer the case.”

He strolled away before Remus could respond, going over to talk to his cousin Andromeda, who was his representative for the ceremony. Remus, to his stunned shock, had been asked to represent Harry. When he pointed out that the younger man had Muriel and his Weasley cousins, Harry had arched a brow and said, “I want someone who represents my father James, and I trust you. We’ve repaired our differences, or so I thought. Was I wrong?”

Remus had been quick to reassure Harry that their differences were, thankfully, behind them. It honored him beyond words that Harry had forgiven him enough to ask him to perform a major part in the ceremony, one traditionally handled by parents. It was another strange, unique thing that bound Sirius and Harry, neither one had a living parent. Not that Sirius minded having both of his six feet under, his relationship with his mother had been non-existent, his father mercurial.

The time having finally arrived, they walked down to the ritual room in the basement of Rosewood Manor, all of them looking around in awe at the massive chamber with a plain stone floor and a ceiling held up by dark polished granite pillars. A permanent runic circle was etched into the floor, a pedestal rising from the middle. Amelia took a deep steadying breath, striding into the center and placing a large, heavy tome on the pedestal.

Remus and Andromeda took opposite places on the circle, Andromeda to the left. Sirius had faded out of sight, while a quick glance over his shoulder told Remus that Harry was standing in the shadows, far enough back that even his enhanced sight caught only the barest glimpse. The rest of their guests and witnesses took their places around the circle, leaving a spot wide enough for Sirius and Harry’s entrances when prompted. Amelia laid out a ritual athame in plain silver as well as several ribbons each in gold and silver.

Many of the people here began to murmur as they realized what ceremony was being used. Most of their friends and family didn’t know that what Sirius and Harry had was an actual soul-bond, which would confirm itself in the ritual. They were understandably surprised at which ceremony the pair had chosen, binding together blood, body and magic was considered an ultimate declaration of devotion in the wizarding world, one that fewer and fewer couples took because of the permanence of it. Once Magic bound two individuals, there was no undoing it.

“Witches and wizards,” Amelia began, her firm voice drowning out the small conversations. “We have come here today to celebrate the binding of two individuals, two families, as one in the eyes of Magic. We celebrate two souls that have come together, united in their love and devotion to each other. Should any member of this circle have ill intentions or reservations towards the couple today, please feel free to leave the circle.”

None did of course, the ceremony composed only of the friends and family of both participants. Amelia still gave it a few moments, bound by the tradition of the matter. Then she continued, looking each of them in the eye. “By remaining within the circle you have affirmed that there is no matter under the eyes of Magic that should stop the pair from being bound today. This ceremony involves magic, blood and body. Are you willing to hold witness to it?”

In unison, everyone around the circle stated, “We are willing, so mote it be.”

There was a tiny flare of magic, just a small spark compared to what would happen in the ceremony. Satisfied, Amelia turned to Andromeda and spoke, “Who do you represent, and how do you represent them?”

“I represent Sirius Orion Black,” Andromeda’s voice rang out clearly, her family’s training in elocution making her voice fill the room without a spell. “I represent him as his cousin, blood of blood.”

Amelia nodded in satisfaction and called out, “Sirius Orion Black!”

Sirius’ pace was steady and even, drawing him into the empty space between Andromeda and Tonks, where he stopped. Flanked by his grinning family members, his own gaze was composed and solemn, listening carefully to Amelia.

“Sirius Orion Black, you attest today that you are entering this circle willingly, that it is your desire to bind blood, body and magic with your partner? Do not agree to this lightly, a bond made with Magic cannot be undone.”

Sirius paused for a couple of heartbeats and said firmly, “I am willing and that is my desire.”

A small smile curled Amelia’s lip. “Step forward, Sirius Orion, and join me here.”

He stepped through the circle, Andromeda and Tonks adjusting their positions to close that side and symbolically close his way out. When he reached the center, standing on the left of the pedestal Amelia stood behind, she said, “Lend your magic to the circle, so that it may complete its purpose.”

Even controlled, the presence of Sirius’ magic caused the group to inhale a short breath as it washed over them. Sirius was considered one of the most powerful members of his family magically, if not the most. It was not for nothing that his family had survived from the Middle Age onward. It was rich in history and steeped in blood, soaking into the circle’s runes, which lit a pale purple color.

Amelia turned to lock eyes with Remus, who blew out a deep breath. His lines were easy, a mimicry of Andromeda’s, but the last thing he wanted to do was mess up.

“Who do you represent, and how do you represent them?”

Controlling a grin with effort, Remus spoke firmly, “I represent Harrigan James Septimus Potter-Prewett. I represent him as family of heart, his bearer’s friend.”

He gave a quiet sigh of relief. His part was over. Amelia gave a small smile and called, “Harrigan James Septimus Potter-Prewett!”

What a mouthful, Remus mused in amusement.

He felt more than heard Harry walk up and stop between himself and Muriel Prewett. He gazed in some awe at Harry. His robes were the mirror of Sirius’, but the thread edging and runes were in real-silver instead of gold. His skin shimmered in the pale lighting; aqua eyes strangely vibrant. His red-tinted hair was loose, falling in gentle waves to his shoulders.

 “Harrigan James Septimus Potter-Prewett, you attest today that you are entering this circle willingly, that it is your desire to bind blood, body and magic with your partner? Do not agree to this lightly, a bond made with Magic cannot be undone.”

Harry paused for less than half a heartbeat before saying proudly, “I am willing and that is my desire.”

A grin crossed the faces of many of their witnesses. “Step forward, Harrigan James, and join me here.”

He stepped through the circle, Remus and Muriel stepping sideways a pace to fully close the circle. When he reached the center, standing across from Sirius with the pedestal in the center, Amelia said, “Lend your magic to the circle, to give it the power necessary.”

Harry’s expression didn’t change, but when his magic washed out and hit those present, Remus nearly staggered. The sheer power and weight of it almost brought him to his knees. He was rendered breathless for a few moments, fingers trembling. The runes powered up fully, turning a rich dark violet color.

Harry gave Amelia a slightly apologetic expression, Remus resisting a laugh with effort. He’d clearly tried to contain his magic for the most part, but he was just so damn powerful that even a little bit was overwhelming.

Taking a breath, Amelia continued, picking up the athame from the pedestal. “Sirius Orion, if it is your desire to bond with Harrigan James by blood, hold out your hand.”

Sirius extended his left hand in front of the pedestal without hesitation, palm up. Carefully, not cutting too deeply, Amelia cut horizontally across his palm. A tiny purple spark emanated from the tip of the blade when she stopped. It both cleaned the blade and affirmed that the process was going properly.

Turning to Harry, she repeated the question. Harry also easily held out his left hand, which she carefully cut across. The blade sparked again, prompting a relieved look in the woman’s eyes. It would be difficult to get this far into the process and have a sign from Magic that it couldn’t continue.

She set the blade down, took Sirius hand in hers by the wrist and placed his hand on top of Harry’s, palm down. The small horizontal cuts would meet, especially as both very lightly clasped each other’s wrist in their hands. Taking the gold ribbons in her hand, Amelia turned to Sirius and said, “You swear love, loyalty and fidelity to this man in the eyes of Magic?”

“Yes.”

She bound their wrists with one of the ribbons, which gave a tiny spark and turned into one endless ribbon without end.

“You swear that no matter how difficult life may get, the hardships you may face, the challenges that are a normal part of marriage, that you will never give up nor forsake the one you bond with today?”

“Yes,” Sirius’ voice was firm, but Remus could hear the quiver of emotion underneath.

The other ribbon followed suit. Picking up the silver ribbons, she repeated the questions to Harry, who answered them as easily as Sirius had, eyes shining with emotion. Hands bound by shining silver and gold ribbons, Amelia stepped back and said, “When you are ready, extend your magic outward to each other in order to complete the magical bond.”

Remus realized he was holding his breath in anticipation. First the gold and then the silver ribbons glowed as Sirius and Harry extended out their magical auras to blanket the other. There was a loud snap and an echo of something seemingly clicking into place and both were surrounded in a gold and purple band of pure magic, the sign of a magical soul-bond. Remus heard the shocked noises from the others present as they took in the rare sight, eyes caught on the warm smiles on both Harry and Sirius’ faces as they stared at the shining band of magic.

The band slowly disappeared, the runes crackling as the magic powering them dissipated, no longer necessary. The ribbons had disappeared as well, leaving deep gold and purple runic bracelets tattooed on Sirius and Harry’s left wrists, a sign that the ceremony was complete and successful. Amelia stepped forward, presenting a small box to the pair with the rings they had picked out for each other. They slid them carefully onto the fourth finger of the same hand as the tattoo.

“Under the eyes of Magic, this ceremony has been successfully completed. The circle has served its purpose. You are now an eternally bonded pair of soul-bound wizards. I present to the witnesses, Sirius Orion and Harrigan James Black.”

Someone, (probably Tonks), let out a relieved whoop of excitement as Sirius gently but firmly drew Harry to him, giving a chaste but emotional kiss. They parted reluctantly, likely remembering that they were amongst friends. Remus smiled, pleased for his friends. Whatever would follow, they were together forever.

Finally.

Chapter Text

Sirius had vowed to Harry that once everything had settled a little the pair would go on an extended honeymoon, but for now they were back in London after a long weekend at a Prewett property in Ireland. Muriel had told Harry where it was, offering it as a weekend away for the newly bonded couple. They had enjoyed their time away, eventually leaving the property to go exploring the nearby town. Their last night they’d even gone out to dinner at a nice little Muggle restaurant, gaining nothing more than curious looks for the handsome pair of men with matching tattoos on their left wrists.

They had temporarily glamoured their wedding bands and family rings for the occasion, not wanting to attract attention. It had been a nice evening, enjoying the good food and company, the topics of conversation light and only generally magical since they couldn’t risk a privacy ward in a Muggle restaurant. They had tipped the young waitress generously, gaining a look of shocked surprise due to their nice but not exceptionally expensive appearances and the large amount of money left for the young woman.

They returned to Rosewood on Monday night, joining their friends for breakfast the next morning. Harry basked in the bond he shared with Sirius, reveling in the feeling of a completed soul-bond. He would never cease to thank magic for the opportunity to come back, for this feeling alone. He leaned his head against Sirius’ shoulder, looking up at the man’s handsome features and marveling at how much younger the man looked, almost the same as he did in the pictures of Harry’s parents’ wedding.

They needed to go into London today, making a stop at Gringotts to confirm that the goblins were not having any issues linking the four family accounts. The wizarding world in general were buzzing about the marriage, announced in the papers over the weekend. The combination of Black, Lestrange, Potter and Prewett was one never seen before. Two powerful families that were almost always Dark inclined and two that were Neutral/Light, the sheer power in the four lines had many curious and full of anticipation wondering what future generations would look like.

Harry himself was mildly curious about what his future children would be like, but content to wait and let things happen as Nimue intended. She had not steered him wrong yet, he doubted that she would now. Everything he had done since coming back to the turn point year in his life had been done to help Her, as well as right the many wrongs that had been done in his life and Sirius’. Still, he mused in amusement, he was putting a large amount of trust in Nimue for wanting things done a certain way. After all, he and his new husband had most certainly enjoyed each other over the weekend and neither had used a contraceptive spell.

They entered the Leaky Cauldron, Harry’s arm looped through Sirius’. A silence fell over the busy pub at the sight of them, before Tom called out a greeting.

“Greetings to you as well,” Sirius responded, smiling. “We’re not stopping on our way into the Alley, unfortunately. Perhaps on our way out?”

“Enjoy your business then, sirs!” Tom called cheerfully as they walked out the back door. The few patrons that had started to stand and come greet the pair froze in their spots at the slightly fierce stare from Sirius.

As the door shut behind them, Harry let out a small laugh. “Did you really have to glare at them so fiercely?”

“They’re always so pushy,” Sirius grumbled. “They don’t seem to have any sort of decency when it comes to forcing their attentions on you. I just want them to back off a little bit.”

Harry stood on his toes a bit and pressed a kiss to Sirius’ high cheekbone, smiling. “I’m sure they will, at least for a bit. I appreciate the gesture, maybe just tone down the sharpness of it a little?”

Sirius let out a small noise and grumbled, “I’ll see what I can do,” before reaching out and tapping the correct brick in order to open the Alley entrance.

They were gaining a few looks as they walked down the Alley, but none of the witches and wizards that bustled about seemed to have the courage to approach them. Aside from rumors about Sirius being betrothed to an attractive young man, the wizarding public hadn’t really realized who the Black Lord was marrying, the announcement of their bonding in the papers had been a source of rich gossip Harry was sure.

Harry’s shoulders slowly tensed, magic tingling in unease. They were approaching a narrow section of the Alley that branched off in three different directions. The main road led to Gringotts, their destination. The left branch led towards the more upper-class stores such as Twilfit and Tattings Robes. The right led down a few steps and around some narrow corners into Knockturn Alley. Discreetly, he flicked his wrist, releasing his wand. Sirius looked at him, concerned.

Unable to shake his sense of unease, Harry remained on high alert as they approached the branched path. As they reached almost the exact point where the three paths branched, Harry saw a glow of spell fire out of the corner of his right eye, pulling Sirius down and forward by the man’s shoulder. The spell flew overhead, the light red color reflecting in the other man’s eyes as it ruffled his hair, striking the glass window of a shop, which exploded.

Harry’s next instinctive move was to cast a strong shield and whirl around, putting his back to Sirius, who he trusted. Dimly he heard some of the patrons around him screaming, registering nearby shop owners hastily pulling down the panels that covered their windows when closed. His eyes however, were narrowed and focused on the area across from them, dimly lit, where the spell had come from.

Striding out of the dark, an insane light in her eyes and knuckles turned white from the force of her grip, was Molly No-name. Harry straightened, cancelling his shield spell as Sirius growled angrily behind him, also drawing his wand. “That was a stupid move, Molly,” Harry said calmly, maintaining a firm grip on his wand. “Attacking us in full daylight in the middle of Diagon Alley? I’m sure one of the patrons who left the vicinity is notifying the authorities even now.”

“Do you think I care?” Molly spat, glaring at him. “You ruined my life, you insignificant brat! You were supposed to die after marrying my Ginny, leaving me my family title and my daughter a wealthy widow. Now thanks to you Dumbledore has lost his position in the Ministry and the world will fall to darkness!”

“From who?” Harry retorted smoothly. “Voldemort? He’s already dead, in case you missed the memo. Us? The only one who thinks I’m Dark is your vaunted ex-Headmaster, who awaits nulling bracelets and life in prison for his crimes! As for your family title, change the fucking record Molly! You may have been the eldest, but your family traditions dictated that you couldn’t be heir, not your father himself. You remind me of Severus, neither one of you can give up old grudges and perceived hurts.”

“So really,” Harry continued, as her brown eyes narrowed in fury, “all you’ve done is ensure that you spend the rest of your life in prison, if not warranting a kiss from a Dementor. Is it worth it?”

“You won’t leave this Alley alive, so yes!” Molly snarled.

“Really Molly?” Sirius arched a brow at the woman. “I knew you prided your non-existent abilities, but two on one is pretty long odds, even for you.”

Another spell, purple this time, shot from the Knockturn Alley entrance, Sirius bringing up a quick shield with an easy snap of his wand. Molly smiled, the expression cold and calculating on her normally warm features. “Have you ever heard the phrase, ‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend’? Hate tends to bring people together, more than love even. Of course, I knew I wouldn’t stand a chance against you both on my own. That’s why I enlisted some help.”

A soft, cackling laugh filled their ears, making the hairs on Harry’s neck stand on end. Keeping an eye on Molly, he watched in fury as none other than Bellatrix slinked out of the shadows, crazed eyes locked on his bonded.

“What do you know,” she cooed, “the white sheep of the family still has decent reflexes. Hello, traitor.”

Sirius smirked; his wand focused on Bellatrix. “Tell me, Baby bell, how does it feel to be kicked out of not just your birth family but the one you married into as well?”

Bella hissed at him angrily, sounding like an enraged cat. She snapped off another spell, sickly yellow in color. Sirius dodged it easily, grinning. Despite the fact that Harry wanted nothing more than to focus on the pair, Harry forced his attention to focus on Molly. The eerie similarity to how Sirius had died in his past life had his fingers trembling on his wand for a long moment, before he coldly shoved it out of his mind, focusing on the woman in front of him.

He threw a spell of his own, a Binding hex. She dodged, anger exploding in her eyes and countenance. And so, the intricate dance began, an old pace of dodge, parry and attacks as he weaved backwards and forwards lightly on his feet. Where able to, he threw hexes in Bella’s general direction as well, hoping to distract the dangerous witch. He made a mistake, focusing too much on the other pair for a split second too long.

Molly’s Bone-breaking hex hit his wrist, pain exploding through it. Luckily it was his left and not his right, but the pain still caused bile to rise in his throat and angry stars to burst in front of his eyes. Instinctively he shielded, ducking behind it and muttering, “Ferula.” With his wrist wrapped and immobile, he forced back the pain and straightened again, glaring at the witch.

“You got lucky,” he panted, “but I took down Voldemort in single combat. How do you really think this is going to go?”

He went on the offensive, launching complicated spell combinations at Molly. A cutting hex landed on her face, slicing under her right eye and she shrieked in pain, staggering back. Realizing too late that he was within distance of a physical hit, Harry pulled back, not in time to avoid the woman punching his left shoulder, slamming his broken wrist into the cobblestone wall. His vision momentarily whited out, ears ringing as nausea threatened to put him on his knees.

He forced it back with effort, flicking his wrist through muscle memory and using a complicated spell chain from his days as an Auror. To his stunned relief, it worked. Molly, bound head to foot by an Incarcerous and rigid as a board from a body-bind hex, teetered on her feet for a long moment before falling backward, hitting the ground with a dull flump.

Harry forced down his roiling gut and rising pain with effort, turning in the direction of the still dueling pair of Sirius and Bellatrix. Bellatrix was visibly frustrated, while Sirius seemed to be enjoying himself, sporting only a minor cut on his left shoulder and a forming bruise on his lower left jaw. At least, until Bella threw her next spell, the sickly green color of the Killing Curse flying through the air as Harry’s face paled dramatically. Sirius ducked, looking a little shaken at how close the spell had come.

Harry focused his wand on her and snarled, “Bombarda maxima!”

Bellatrix tried to dodge, looking at him in surprised shock. But the spell caught her full on in the ribcage, flinging her into the air. She hit the wall in front of the Knockturn Alley entrance, her head catching on the low underpass. With a wet crack! her neck snapped, an expression of surprised fear still on her face. Her body hit the ground with a dull thud.

Both Harry and Sirius stood there, panting in shock at the suddenness of the fight. The silence in the Alley was echoing, Harry’s ears still ringing from his anger and the spells. Abruptly though, Harry lost control of his body’s ability to ignore pain and fell to his knees, vomiting up pure bile as the pain in his wrist grew past tolerable levels. Sirius’ warm hand was on the back of his neck, soothing him. The other pulled him to his feet, holding him close as around them, the crack! of Apparition signified the arrival of the Aurors… finally.

He closed his eyes, leaning into Sirius’ chest gingerly, making sure to avoid aggravating his wrist. Inhaling the man’s distinctive scent and listening to the steady thud of his heartbeat, he calmed slowly. It was over and they’d been triumphant. It could always have been worse. He sent up a grateful thanks to Nimue, relieved beyond words that he hadn’t lost Sirius a second time.

He wouldn’t have been able to stand it.

Chapter Text

The trial for Molly no-name would go down as one of the most brutally short criminal justice trials in Ministry of Magic history. Her court-appointed barrister, well aware that he did not have a leg to stand on, protested fiercely the use of Veritaserum. He argued that there was no point in using it as they already knew what crimes the woman was guilty of as well as her motivation. The Minister for Magic, Amelia Bones, shot down his defense herself, saying that they were warranted the use of Veritaserum due to the severity of her crimes. It was also law to use it on all criminal trials now, Amelia pointing out that it was the victims of her crime that had been the ones to argue for the passing of that law.

Defeat crossed the man’s features and he sat, no slumped, into his chair. He knew as soon as the woman was under Veritaserum she would seal the noose around her neck. He had done what he could, despite knowing that the woman was guilty. It would have to be enough.

Amelia only briefly looked in the direction of the newly-bonded Lords Black and Prewett-Black, which was how Harrigan had chosen to hyphenate his name for official proceedings. Sirius still sported a vicious cut on his cheekbone, Bellatrix no-name’s work had always been slow to heal. Harrigan was rigidly composed at his side, showing no sign of his own slowly fading bruises on his ribs and shoulder, nor did he visibly favor his injured left wrist. Both had coldly composed expressions on their faces, only the eyes giving away how much they loathed the woman now being forced into taking Veritaserum, struggling all the way.

She turned her attention to the plump witch, heart sinking. She had gone to school with Arthur Weasley and his former wife, as well as her late brothers, Harrigan’s sire Fabian and his twin Gideon. She was not looking forward to hearing how far the woman had fallen.

Steeling herself, she asked the first questions, designed to test the potion was working properly.

“What is your name?”

“Molly Elizabeth.”

“What was your surname?”

“Weasley nee Prewett.”

The monotonous tone and pacing of her words proved that the Veritaserum had taken full effect and was working properly. Amelia avoided looking directly into her eyes, it was always unnerving to see the glazed over look in people’s eyes under the potion. It reminded her all too vividly of those under compulsion curses such as the Imperius.

“Did you attack Harrigan Prewett-Black and his husband Sirius Black in Diagon Alley two days ago?”

“Yes,” Molly responded.

“What was your intentions?”

“To kill them both.”

Despite being the expected response, Molly’s words still garnered angry hisses throughout the chamber as the Wizengamot stared at the bound woman with unforgiving, judging eyes.

“Why did you want to kill Sirius Black?”

“Because he was someone the brat loved, and killing him would help the Headmaster’s cause to come back into the Wizarding World.”

The first response Amelia had guessed, the second made her blink in surprise. She considered the woman, wondering what other secrets she held. She continued with her list of questions, making a note to ask about Dumbledore.

“Why did you want to kill Harrigan Prewett-Black?”

“Because he has been an obstacle to me getting my family money since his birth. Fabian never revealed his heir before he died, so the brat was protected from me until he was older. It would have been far easier to kill a child and blame it on illness or weak blood. Dumbledore was also convinced he was going Dark, apparently it has something to do with how he survived You-Know-Who’s attack in 1981.”

The Wizengamot stared at the woman, the entire chamber silent for once. Hardly any of them were processing the second part of her statement. No, their minds were screeching to a halt at the horror of the first. Not even the official court reporter moved, his quill poised in the air. The woman in front of them had just admitted that she would have committed infanticide if given the opportunity, one of the greatest crimes in the wizarding world. Children were precious, murdering one just because of family money was incomprehensible.

A deep snarling noise filled the air, barely audible under normal circumstances. Knowing the source of the sound, Amelia looked up in front of her under lowered, cautious lashes. As she had thought, the sound was coming from Sirius, who had his silver eyes locked on Molly with a raging fury in them turning normally dark silver eyes almost black. His magic curled around him, his aura nearly a tangible thing.

Harry reached out a slender hand to wrap around his bonded’s wrist, keeping the man in his seat. Very slowly, the magic retreated, though the look Sirius shot the bound woman was still venomous in the extreme. None of the other members of the Wizengamot commented on his loss of control, all realizing that his reaction was more than warranted.

Sensing that Sirius was as calm as he was going to get, Amelia continued with her line of questioning.

“Did you enlist the help of Bellatrix no-name in order to achieve your goals?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“The woman wanted Sirius Black dead for ousting her from both her birth and legal families. The viciousness of the rivalry between the Black cousins was well known to the Order and magical society as a whole. She sees me and my kin as blood-traitors, but was willing to work with me toward a common goal.”

“You have mentioned Albus Dumbledore, the former Headmaster, several times now. How much of his plans and goals did you know about or were part of?”

“Several,” the woman responded. “After the death of James Potter and Lily Evans, Dumbledore came to me and told me that the boy known as ‘Harry Potter’ was in fact Fabian’s son. He reassured me that if I worked with him, I would get what I deserved.”

“What did you do to assist Dumbledore?”

“I made sure that we were the first family he ran into at King’s Cross. We normally didn’t use the Muggleborn entrance through the platform, but I insisted on it. I also made sure we were a bit earlier than normal and spoke loudly, asking my daughter what the platform number was. My youngest son had been enlisted to help as well, between the two of us we made sure that he never learned about his family titles or actual family. It was important to Dumbledore that he stay ignorant about magical culture and that he return every year to the Dursley family, despite them not being blood relatives.”

Amelia was sickened. The woman had betrayed the trust of her own nephew for money and a family title. She’d helped a manipulative old man shape events to his own desire, uncaring that her own blood family suffered as a result of her crimes.

“Why did Dumbledore want Harrigan to return to the Dursley family if they were not related?”

Only after she’d asked the question did she look up, seeing Harrigan’s face pale and the man shake his head in the negative. By then it was too late, Molly had already begun to answer.

“Dumbledore was paying them out of the Potter accounts to keep the boy. He needed him malleable and pliable when he came to the wizarding world, grateful for a gentle hand and clear guidance. The Dursley family knew that and their own hatred of anything they considered abnormal, such as magic, ensured their behavior would be as he desired. They kept him beaten, neglected and downtrodden for years. His life was probably worse than that of a house elf in an abusive household.”

Amelia froze, nausea curling in her stomach at the implications. Feeling ill, she discreetly looked in the direction of Sirius and Harry. Harry’s face was almost ashen, but set with resolve. His aqua eyes flickered rapidly between several different emotions even as he sat there, rigidly poised as the whispers began to rise. Next to him, Sirius looked angry and unhappy on his husband’s behalf. His gray eyes flicked to Amelia and he nodded shortly in confirmation.

 Taking a deep breath, Amelia looked at Molly. It was time to wrap this up. This had been an unpleasant experience for everyone involved.

“What was your end goal for you and your son in assisting with all of this?”

“Harrigan would pass the age when he could take his family title, releasing it to me. I would make Ronald my heir as reward for his help. Harrigan was to marry my daughter and make her the Lady Potter, despite her being his first cousin. Alternately, Harrigan would die facing You-Know-Who and Dumbledore would still be his guardian, giving Ginny money from his accounts and I would get my title anyway.”

Amelia nodded curtly to the Aurors who moved to administer the antidote. She hardly trusted herself to speak, making sure that she didn’t have her wand at hand. She wasn’t sure that she would be able to control the urge to squash this woman like the locust she was. Turning to the members of the Wizengamot chosen to judge the trial, she said, “You have heard the events that occurred and the words of the accused in this trial. Take your time for deliberations and make the correct choice.”

A pair of wards activated at her ritual words, for silence, anti-eavesdropping and to cause a small delay in the passage of time. She doubted they would deliberate long. But it would be long enough for her to address a matter of no small importance. She stood from the podium and descended the stairs, crossing over to where Sirius and Harry sat.

Casting a quick spell to keep their conversation private, she addressed Harry directly. “Harrigan, I feel I must apologize. I did not realize where questioning Molly about Albus’ dealings would lead to. By the time I realized that the Dursleys were a topic you wished to avoid, she was already responding as forced by the serum.”

“Apology accepted,” Harrigan replied instantly. His eyes were still troubled, his complexion still not back to its normal color.

“Now that I am aware of some of what happened at that family’s hands,” Amelia continued, “I must ask if you want us to press charges against them? I’m sure Sirius has explained to you how precious children are in the magical world. Causing them harm, or death as the accused insinuated, is a major crime.”

Harry locked eyes with her, but she got the impression that he was looking through her, at something none of them could see. He lightly bit his lower lip, a nervous habit she’d noticed he had. Letting go of a long, shaky sigh he finally said, “Yes. It’s time that I dealt with those old wounds, before they keep popping up. I would rather you kept their trial private and that their terms are served in Muggle prisons. The damage to their reputations with the knowledge becoming public will be greater in the Muggle world.”

“Of course,” Amelia reassured. “Cases like that are always kept closed due to the age of the victims, yours would be no different even though you are pressing charges as an adult. I will get a hold of you by owl another day to set up a meeting so that we may gather evidence and decide on charges.”

She walked back to the podium, noticing that the members of the Wizengamot were dispersing behind the shield. Their deliberations hadn’t even taken twenty minutes, not that she was surprised. What would have surprised her would be if they had taken any longer than an hour or so.

The chosen speaker for the jury, Lord Charles Ogden of Ogden’s Firewhiskey fame, stood. The Aurors prodded a bound Molly no-name to stand as well, cuffed at the wrists and ankles. The rest of the Wizengamot stood as well, Sirius and Harry included.

“You have come to a consensus. How does the jury find the accused in this case?”

Giving Molly a fierce glare, Charles spoke, his rich baritone booming across the chamber. “We the jury, in the case against Molly no-name, find the accused guilty of all charges. We sentence her to permanent magical binding cuffs. She will spend ten years in Azkaban prison maximum security and thereafter be given the Dementor’s Kiss.”

Molly no-name’s face was ashen and she wobbled in place, somehow having not suspected the severity of her sentencing despite her crimes. The cuffs were placed on her wrists, activated with a drop of her own blood on each. She shrieked at the pain of being cut off from her magic, degrading into small sobs.

The Wizengamot watched, without an ounce of pity, as the woman was escorted out of the chambers through another set of doors. She would be escorted to Azkaban prison by the Aurors and given over to the Dementor’s ‘care’. Dumbledore had told her that she would get what she deserved in the end, clearly this possibility had never crossed her delusional mind.

In the end however, it was the only possibility that remained for one Molly Elizabeth once Harrigan Prewett had come back in time.

Chapter Text

Three weeks after the sentencing of Molly no-name, Harry found himself back at the Ministry of Magic. Off one of the side hallways from the Atrium was a massive room, one that saw hardly any use. The only time it ever saw anything more than those entrusted to its maintenance was on an occasion such as this. The Ministry had chosen to hold a Gala to celebrate the end of the winter session of the Wizengamot, by invitation only of course. Normally both Harry and Sirius would have received an invitation, but Harry had gotten to Amelia before official invitations were sent out.

Seeing as they were married, it was natural that Harry would be Sirius’ ‘guest’ for the evening. So he had asked Amelia if she would extend the invitation to someone else. That was how Harry found himself standing next to an awestruck, somewhat nervous Remus Lupin and Bill Weasley. Sirius had been delighted to see his friend, of course he’d taken the occasion of the invitation to take both men into Diagon Alley for fitting of proper robes. Remus tended to stubbornly turn down any offer of monetary aid from his friend, but giving them both the tailored robes necessary for such an occasion was something he could work with.

Harry had waved his hand and shooed them off, resisting a laugh with effort at Remus’ wasted efforts to stall his friend. Once Sirius had his momentum, he was nigh impossible to contain. Harry himself already had a set suitable for the Gala, so he stayed at Rosewood and puttered around, working on a couple of projects that he had put on a back burner in order to put Dumbledore’s case together.

Now here they were, wearing opulent robes and smiling genially to passing witches and wizards. Harry had been attracting appreciative glances all night, not just from his bonded. Sirius shot pointed looks at those who got a little too close, but otherwise remained charming and affable, not remiss to turn on his own considerable charisma and charms for a few unwitting members of society.

Harry was wearing a fitted deep blue silk shirt and black dragonhide trousers tucked into knee-high dragonhide boots with a half-inch heel. The heel was just enough to add to the general length of his legs and give his pace a swaying, predatory manner. Over the shirt and trousers, he wore a black, open-fronted robe made of satin without sleeves, held to his body by a heavy platinum chain with his family crests over his shoulders. The fabric was chased through with sapphire and real-silver thread in small, delicate swirls.

His red-tinted hair was held back by a braid above each ear, tied behind his head in an elaborate knot with a small sapphire pin. The dark colors suited him, perhaps not as well as his husband, Sirius being resplendent in deep violet and black with an even darker purple outer robe. They were both attracting a lot of attention tonight, both had been on the dance floor numerous times as allies and even those who opposed their policies came up and requested a turn on the dance floor.

Harry sipped at a glass of champagne, finished up his conversation with the Lady Abbott and made his way across the dance floor to where Amelia was holding court, Kingsley and Alastor at her side as always. Kingsley had been promoted to Head of the Magical Department of Law Enforcement, much to Scrimgeour’s ire. As Amelia’s Head Auror, he had clearly expected himself to be her direct successor. Harry could neither confirm nor deny it, but his suspicion was that Amelia had passed the man over based on what Harry’s memories of his now defunct future had shown of Rufus’ policies.

Not exactly fair to base such a decision on a man’s probable actions, but it was Amelia’s ultimate prerogative to appoint her successor as she pleased, office politics aside. Harry had breathed a heavy sigh of relief at the news of Kingsley’s promotion, he had not looked forward to ever having to deal with Scrimgeour on a professional basis. Not that he intended to go into the Auror Department, but as an unofficial confidant and advisor to the new Minister.

Harry’s political sway in this timeline startled and worried him at times. It was power like this that had corrupted Dumbledore and Fudge after all, amongst many others. He was wary and hesitant to use his new standing in any shape or form. When he had said as much to Sirius, his husband had surprised him. Sirius had pointed out, quite logically, that it was that very hesitance that would keep him from becoming like them. Being cautious and even afraid of his new power within their society was a good thing, it would keep him aware of the probable consequences of any of his decisions.

Reaching Amelia, Harry took her hand and kissed the back of it, smiling at her. “Good evening, Madame Minister. Thank you for the invitation to the Gala.”

She gave him a queer look and said, “Don’t do that again!”

Laughing, Harry straightened up and replied, “I’m offended, Amelia! Here I am trying to be polite and you tell me not to!”

“You’re a friend!” She remarked. “That kind of behavior is what I expect from the smarmy politicians who are trying to curry favor with the current power, not you.”

Harry sniggered in agreement. He looked around at the party and commented, “Looks like this was a success then? This is a stunning room; I’m amazed it’s not used more often!”

Truly the room they were in was a sight to behold. It was massive, easily able to hold the couple hundred or so guests currently milling around. It had a high, cavernous ceiling and massive marble pillars around the edge of the room, some of which concealed various doorways. A glittering crystal chandelier hovered in mid-air, throwing tiny prisms throughout the room as it shattered the light of the one hundred candles required to light it. Randomly throughout the room, elegant sconces sprouted from the walls to provide a little more illumination.

“It does seem a shame,” Amelia agreed. “Perhaps we should make this a yearly thing, the Gala? Or even bi-annual, to close out the Winter and Summer sessions? Something to ponder, I think.”

“It would be a nice, controlled environment to foster relations with different Noble families,” Harry agreed. “Encourage the Wizengamot to bring their families, perhaps to the summer one when Hogwarts is out of session?”

“The idea has merit,” Amelia agreed, “I will have to think about it. The expense could be easily covered, I’m sure a couple Noble families would be willing to help foot the bill since it would excuse them from holding an occasion at their homes.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “If that is a not-so-subtle prod at Sirius and I, we would be more than willing to help out. You know that there is no property either of us own that would be suitable for a gather of any sort, at least not for a long time.”

The Prewett estate had been fairly well maintained, but Harrigan was loathe to throw Muriel from her home, or impose on her to host such a draining occasion. The Potter, Black and Lestrange estates in the meantime had suffered from lack of oversight. Not to mention that the latter two would need their estates purged of any suspicious Dark artifacts and curses before being able to open to even others of the Noble Houses.

Amelia snorted. “No need to be so prickly, Harry. That was not a remark towards the two of you. I’m simply thinking of families like the Malfoys, who host galas every season for members of the Wizengamot. It’s a taxing thing to put on, you know. I’ve heard Narcissa say that she starts the initial planning for the one they hold in December the previous June.”

Harry blinked. “Good Merlin, I can’t imagine planning something that far ahead,” he shuddered, earning a laugh from Amelia.

“Have a good evening, Harry. It looks like one of the other members of the Wizengamot is not so subtly trying to get my attention,” Amelia said with a sigh.

Harry caught Sirius’ eye and nodded toward the doorway. He was going to step out into the Atrium for a quick breather. The other nodded, turning back to his conversation with the Lord Ogden.

Harry strolled out of the chamber, breathing a sigh of relief as he entered the hallway, which was considerably cooler. The press of bodies and constant low hum of conversation was wearing on him after a while. Still, things were going well, even better than he could have hoped for. With Dumbledore’s crimes out in the open, many of his policies had come under review by the Ministry. Most had been thrown out completely, while others were being heavily redone by a bi-partisan panel of witches, wizards and representatives from various magical beings.

The oppression Nimue had told him about was lifting day by day, law by law. The Hogwarts curriculum had been entirely redone, the point system done away with entirely. The House Cup was still awarded, based on the average academic performance of each House with a small percentage based on how the House performed in Quidditch.

Speaking of Quidditch, it was now possible for students that caused excessive amounts of fouls to be put on probation or removed from the team entirely. It was also possible to ban a student from playing for their house team, but the circumstances had to back the necessity of the extreme punishment. Students on the team were also expected to maintain an ‘Acceptable’ grade average or risk losing their position on the team.

Classes were now arranged with mixed students from each House, with members of different Houses working together. The Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry was being soundly beat into the dust, where it belonged. Class outlines were being reworked, the Library updated and restocked. The awful, out-of-date beginners’ brooms had been replaced for flying class and each teacher now had a stipend from the Board of Education for the cost of materials for their classes, with more approved on a case-by-case basis.

It was a far cry from the Hogwarts of Harry’s time, either current or in his past life. Students, parents and faculty were genuinely excited for the beginning of next term and the improvement to student life and learning. Hogwarts would once again become a respected member of the magical education community. Dangerous favoritism for one House or one student would be nipped in the bud, with contingency plans in place in case a member of the staff ever tried to circumvent the rules.

The Board was also taking a stricter role in the oversight of the school, appointing a permanent member of the Board onto the staff at Hogwarts as a mediator. Their role was observation only, they couldn’t punish or reward students. Their job was to make sure the school ran smoothly according to the new rules and the Charter, ensuring that the lives of the students and staff were never put at risk again.

Harry’s musing had brough him to the Fountain of Fair Fortune, which he gazed at with unseeing eyes. So much had changed in such a short amount of time. About this time in his original timeline had been when Dumbledore was kicked out of Hogwarts and the desperate flight to the Ministry had occurred, resulting in the death of Sirius and the revelation of the prophecy. Armed with the knowledge of a lifetime, Harry had completely changed the course of history in only a few months.

Reflecting on it later, after the fact, Harry wasn’t sure what he had noticed first. The Atrium had been deserted and quiet, perhaps it was the lack of other noise that alerted him to the whisper of footsteps coming up behind him. Or perhaps the shiny marble in front of him had given a brief glimpse of cold, hard blue eyes. Or perhaps it was merely years of ingrained instinct that had the hairs of the back of his neck tingling. Whatever it was, he turned his head to the side and jerked his body in the same direction, a spell of poisonous green whipping by his head in slow motion to splash harmlessly against the fountain.

Harry whirled around, wand already moving to land in his palm, a shield on his lips. He caught the expression of unstable fury on Albus Dumbledore’s face as his Killing Curse failed to strike Harry. Time resumed its normal pace, his pulse roaring in his ears as his adrenaline spiked, realizing that the old man had tried to kill him while his back was turned.

“You ruined everything,” Albus snarled, knuckles tightening around his wand. “You were supposed to be the malleable little orphan, the Savior I would shape, but something changed. You changed.”

“Perhaps I did,” Harry replied calmly, heart thudding. “Or perhaps I’m just finally allowing you to see what was always hiding underneath the surface. Did you really think you would get away with any of it, Albus?”

“I was getting away with it,” Dumbledore spat, flinging a curse at him. “Until a snot-nosed brat somehow screwed up everything!”

“Tell me, Dumbledore, did you ever plan on telling me about the Horcrux in my head? Or did you fail to realize that the basilisk venom destroyed it when I was twelve?”

Dumbledore visibly faltered, eyes widening in shock. “-How do you know about the Horcruxes?”

“What, have you been deluding yourself into thinking that Voldemort isn’t actually gone? His body remained after death, Dumbledore. I did the thing properly, I just didn’t wait on you to guide me through the whole thing,” Harry spat.

Dumbledore screamed in fury, launching a series of deadly hexes and curses in Harry’s direction, which he was able to dodge. Bursting in through a doorway to the left, Amelia, Sirius and Kingsley skidded to halt, staring at Dumbledore in shock.

Sneering, Dumbledore focused solely on Harry, throwing another series of spells at him. He was managing to also simultaneously hold off Amelia and Kingsley, while Sirius rushed to his side.

Too late, Harry saw Dumbledore change the angle of his wand ever so slightly. Eyes wide in sheer terror, he watched, unable to move, as a deep purple spell hit Sirius, throwing him off the ground. He slammed into the base of the fountain, unconscious. Blood poured onto the marble floor at a sluggish, steady pace from the deep cut that ran along his throat from collarbone to the base of his ear.

“NO!” Harry roared in fury, launching himself into motion. He raced to Sirius’ side, falling onto his knees, uncaring of the blood staining his robes. He cast a powerful shielding spell over the pair of them, covering them both in a shimmery dome. He put his hand to Sirius’ neck, weeping in relief as he felt the pulse there.

Shaking in anger, he stood, removing his shield with a flick of his fingers. With a wave of his wand Amelia and Kingsley were pulled back, out of the firing line.

“He is mine,” Harry thundered, his voice full of magic.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the two of them freeze in surprise, staring at him with a sort of reverent awe. He was unaware that his aura had become visible, swirling around him in colors of acid green, gold and purple. His aqua eyes glowed with an unearthly radiance.

Nimue, sensing that the penultimate moment had come, melded with her champion. Harry felt his magic unleashing in a way it never had before, building up under his skin with a nearly painful amount of pressure and heat. His reddish-black hair swirled around his face in an invisible breeze, his skin shone with a brightness that emanated from within.

Albus Dumbledore stood across from him, hands shaking, genuine terror in his eyes. Desperation filled his gaze a moment later and he threw a spell at Harry. As if watching his own body from third-person, Harry reached out and swatted the spell aside with his bare hand. All refinement left his opponent, the old man fighting like a cornered wild animal, full of fear and impotent rage.

Swatting aside every single of Albus’ spells, Nimue-Harry advanced with slow, unstoppable force. The end was inevitable, they knew that the old man saw his end arriving. Yet he still fought their advance, skin reaching a new pallor against their luminescence. Finally, they reached Albus, who stood still, shaking in a combination of defiant rage and terror.

They reached out and took the wand from Albus’ hand, a mere though crumbling it to dust. They reached out with both hands, seizing the old man’s head between them with his temples under their thumbs. Albus quivered, but was unable to move, rooted to the spot. His watery blue eyes were wide, his wrinkled skin pasty with fear and age.

Their eyes turning pure white, Nimue-Harry reached out and ripped through the old man’s mind, judging his every action, choice and word against the scales of balance. The man screamed in pain, writhing under their fingers. They didn’t care, almost any mortal would react to her/his touch that way. Only their champion was special, worthy.

Coming to a conclusion, Nimue-Harry released their captive from the unwilling mind-meld. There was only one possible Judgement in this case and they felt satisfaction fill them. Balance would be fulfilled, Fate appeased, Time rewarded, Chaos subdued. Yes, this was the only way.

Nimue-Harry opened their mouth and spoke, the sound terrible and beautiful at the same time, as if multiple male and female voices were speaking at the same time. The voice made both Amelia and Kingsley tremble as well where they were tending to Sirius. Both were infinitely glad to not be the focus of the pissed off being in front of them.

“Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, we charge you Unworthy. You have perverted Magic with your deeds, isolated the Children and caused unrest and prejudiced amongst the Favored. For these crimes against Magic, we have come to cast Judgement. I, Nimue, Goddess of Magic, join forces with my brothers and sisters Balance, Fate, Time and Chaos and find you to be Unworthy. From this moment henceforth, you will be without magic. Not even a Squib, but one without gifts at all, a mere Muggle.”

“But all of your crimes were not dealt against only us. For that reason, and that reason only, we spare you the gift of Time that is Death. Your preserved lifetime will be retained, so that you may face judgement of our chosen people as well as us.”

“Know this, Albus Dumbledore. The one in front of you is our Champion, our most precious childe. You may have avoided this Fate if you had not messed with his life. If there has ever been any favored child of Magic, it is our Champion and not you. Never you, who split our Children into ‘Light’ and ‘Dark’.”

Albus Dumbledore screamed, the sound high-pitched and echoing. His shrieks bounced throughout the cavernous Atrium, magnified thousands of times upon itself by the stone halls. Having one's magical core ripped out was a pain unequaled, one that most luckily would never experience. Finally, the sound ceased. The old man collapsed to the floor in a heap of crumpled robes, tears of pain and loss still streaking down his crooked nose.

Amelia and Kingsley watched cautiously as Nimue-Harry turned around, still glowing in the faint lighting of the room. Slowly, the glow faded from Harry’s body and he was left standing there, unharmed. His hands trembled as shock set in, the adrenaline fading away. He looked at them both and then turned to look at the old man crumpled on the floor. Turning back, he came over and knelt at Sirius’ side, placing a shaking hand to his unconscious husband’s chest, feeling the reassuringly steady heartbeat below.

“It’s over,” he said, hoarsely.

And so it was.

Chapter Text

Time had a funny way of sliding out from under one’s feet. One moment you’re standing looking at yourself in a mirror and seeing youthful beauty, the next time you’re seeing the faint lines of age. School tests seemed to last ages, while summer slips away in the blink of an eye. The nine-to-five crowd are constantly grumbling about the drudge of work, yet when a day off comes, it’s gone before you know it.

The children in front of him illustrated the passage of time more poignantly than anything else. It seemed just yesterday that his eldest had been laid in his arms for the first time, squalling their discomfort at their new cold, bright world. Now their daughter was ten, set to get her Hogwarts letter soon. It was as if he had blinked and his baby girl had gone from fitting in one of his arms to a tall, slender girl who promised to be a radiantly-beautiful woman once she was grown.

Sirius Orion Black, the third Black to carry his given name, stared out at the sight in their back gardens with warm, loving eyes. It was spring, their trees were finally beginning to flower and the grass was already turning a lush, soft green under their feet. Jumpers were shed in favor of jackets as the world seemed to shake off the lingering chill of winter. His family was outside, enjoying the warm rays of evening sun.

His eldest, their precious daughter, raced around the back with a joyous, bell-like laugh, long ebon hair flowing in the breeze. Her brother, two and a half years younger, chased after her with his own laugh, hair glinting deeply reddish-brown in the setting sun. Both children kept Sirius and Harry on their toes with their antics, their godfathers Remus and Bill egging them on with shit-eating grins. At the moment they were a bit more discreet in their shenanigans. Harry was almost six months gone with their third child, another boy. His temper while carrying was a bit more volatile, neither man wanted it turned on them.

It was, Muriel had remarked more than once, a Prewett trait. For the most part those of the bloodline endured pregnancy with relative ease, but their tempers were a bit sharper. She always seemed to enjoy watching their antics during Harry’s times gravid with some evil pleasure. There had been a sharp learning curve with his princess, but Sirius was proud to say he learned quickly. That and he knew how to dodge hexes. They were all ensconced at the Prewett estate now, Harry had offered for Remus and Bill to stay at Rosewood. After some initial protests and a bit of flared tempers from stung pride (there were two of Prewett blood involved after all) the pair had accepted it gladly. With the war over, Hermione had moved out just after graduating from Hogwarts. Her and Harry had grown apart. It was inevitable really; Harry was eight years older than her and had different priorities.

Sirius’ fingers left the doorframe and reached up, tracing his neck unconsciously as his thoughts drifted back over the years. There was a long, thin silver scar running down his throat vertically from ear to his collarbone on the left side. A remnant that had stayed with him permanently despite the best attempts from the Healers. It didn’t worry Sirius, the scar. He knew he was still an attractive man; the scar was hardly noticeable unless under the right lighting. The only thing that he hadn’t liked about it was the guilt and lingering pain that would creep into Harry’s eyes for months afterward. Dumbledore had done a good job trying to kill him all those years ago.

The man had been sentenced to Azkaban prison, maximum security, for thirty years. After that he would be given the Dementor’s Kiss. His sentencing would have been harsher, but the Wizengamot had been shown the bit of that night with Harry’s ‘possession’ of sorts by Nimue, and her Judgement upon him. Assured that the man wouldn’t die (couldn’t, actually), they had leveled that sentence upon him. Ten years had been tacked on just for the attempted murder of a Lord of a Most Noble and Ancient House.

There had been some members of the Wizengamot who doubted what happened that night, supporters of Dumbledore to the bitter end. Their protests had died upon their lips when Harry had removed the glamour he had been wearing. The Goddess of Magic was an ethereal being, one of immense power. Though she had been gentle with him, her presence had left a physical mark on him. Directly above where his ‘curse’ scar had been, Harry’s hair had gone pure white, almost pale enough for the individual strands to be transparent. By itself it would seem a strange coincidence, if not for the mark on his throat. Where his collar bones met, at the base of his throat, was a tiny iridescent rune, one that Runic Masters had never been able to interpret before. It’s appearance on Harry’s body, after his joining with Nimue, had excited them immensely, for clearly it meant ‘magic’ itself, or ‘Nimue’.

 He had seen, upon his release from the hospital, what had happened after Dumbledore had shot that Dark cutting hex at him. He was perhaps one of the only individuals that had seen so many important events via Pensieve. Harry’s past, his evidence about the Ministry, and then what had happened that fateful night of the Gala. The Gala was a bi-annual event, as Amelia had been pondering, it was a very successful gather too. They had opened it up to some members of the public and added silent auctions of rarities for Saint Mungo’s and the new orphanage’s fundraising.

The orphanage had been Harry’s idea. Not only for those of wizarding descent with no living relative, it also housed Muggleborn children with active magic whose parents had rejected them or, sadly, attempted to either abandon or kill the child. Magic wasn’t widely accepted after all, there were those that often suffered at the hands of adults. It had been something positive for Harry to do, after having his own childhood exposed during the Dursley trial.

 Almost all of the laws passed under Dumbledore’s time as Supreme Mugwump had ended up being thrown out entirely, or reworked to the point where they no longer resembled the original laws at all. The Wizengamot had voted to remove his Order of Merlin, First Class and burn his portrait that had been painted for Hogwarts (they hadn’t even done that to Sirius’ ancestor, regarded as the most unpopular Headmaster ever).

Furthermore, his name had been struck from the register of service in the Ministry, including the ICW. To future members of the Wizengamot, it would be as if he hadn’t been in the halls of government at all. A new ruling had gone into effect after the debacle; the person who represented Wizarding Great Britain in the ICW and Supreme Mugwump could not be the same person, nor would a Headmaster or Headmistress of Hogwarts be allowed to simultaneously serve in the government.

Hogwarts had undergone complex restructuring and thorough cleansing. Gringotts had, for a fee, hired a team of curse-breakers and Master Warders to go through the school stone by stone and remove any Dark artifacts or curses they found. Under a floorboard in the Defense professor’s office, hidden by a rug, they had found an ornate golden mirror, shattered, with several layers of curses and preservations wards. The irony of its location had not been lost on Harry, who had hidden his school things from the Dursleys for years under a loose floorboard.

None of them had been surprised to find out, once the curse was lifted, that it was the one on the Defense position. Nor had it been a huge surprise to find that the signature on it was that of Albus too-many-names Dumbledore rather than Voldemort as perpetuated through rumor. Filius had immediately contacted Remus and offered him a permanent post in Defense. Remus had been floored, pointing out his ‘furry little problem’. Filius had told him that safety precautions were in place and the Board of Governors had been only too eager to hire him after they had gone through test results. Apparently, the year Remus had taught had yielded the highest overall scores in Defense in over ten years.

Sirius stepped outside, taking a deep breath of fresh air and shaking his head to clear his thoughts. While both he and Harry remained very active in their government and the Wizengamot, both had also been taking a well-deserved break over the last few years. For now, aside from a few sessions a year, raising their family was gladly given priority over political maneuvering.

He made his way over to the comfortable outdoor lounging area where Harry sat on a wicker loveseat, watching their children with an amused, loving smile. Deftly, Sirius slipped in behind him on the chair, cradling Harry’s frame between his legs and wrapping his arms around his beloved’s swollen waist to rest his hands gently on the swell of their unborn child. Their daughter and son ran over to him with happy yells, enthusiastically hugging him before running off again.

Amaryllis Lyra Black, ‘Amy’ to her family and friends, was their eldest child, born in early May. Quick and clever, she shared Sirius’ own rich grey eyes, which shifted towards blue when her emotions got the better of her. She was absolutely Sirius’ princess; he hadn’t been able to resist a single thing about her from the moment she was born. He was thinking Gryffindor for his girl, she was bold and adventurous, always up to try something new.

Their son, on the other hand, was likely either Ravenclaw or Slytherin bound. Clever like his sister, but a bit more cautious and he always seemed to have a plan if something didn’t work out. Emrys Regulus Black reminded Sirius much of his namesake. Prone to quiet, introspective behaviors and activities, he would have random bursts of excited activity or mischievous behavior. Remus was his favorite godparent, he would often gift the young boy a book and then on the next visit Sirius would find them, sitting on a couch, heads practically touching as they enthusiastically discussed subtle foreshadowing or important plot points. Harry had wanted to follow his family tradition of naming children for the stars, but Sirius had been less convinced. They had compromised, choosing to honor his younger brother instead.

The unborn baby boy in Harry’s womb already had a name. James Sirius Black, their third and last child. Harry was reaching the age where pregnancies were getting harder on him. Sirius was more than content enough with his three precious gifts and the potential grandchildren throughout the years. It was a far better future than he could have ever imagined as a bitter, rebellious child growing up in a less than stable family.

Introspectively, his thoughts had led him back to an earlier realization. He’d seen the date today and thought it had been familiar for some reason. Gently he reached up, grasped Harry’s chin and turned his head, so deep silver met aqua. “Do you know what today is?” he asked, musing out loud.

“The 8^th of June, 2019,” Harry responded automatically. “Why, did time get away from you again? I’m not forgetting something am I?”

“No,” Sirius reassured him. “It’s just a funny little realization I had. Today’s been bugging me; the date has been stuck in my head all day. I kept thinking it was familiar, that something important was today.”

He smiled at Harry, whose breath hitched in response to the emotion in deep silver eyes. With a loving smile and awe in his voice Sirius continued, “Then it finally hit me, as I was watching you and the kids from the doorway. It was today, Harry. Today was the day you entered the Department of Mysteries and walked into the veil. Today was the day you completely changed my life as well as everyone else’s, whether they know it or not.”

Harry’s eyes widened in startled realization, a far away expression on his face. Mildly stunned he breathed quietly, almost to himself, “I didn’t remember.”

Slowly, Sirius brought Harry’s lips to his own, kissing him deeply. It was passionate and lingering, absorbing the taste of each other. Their children were distracted with their game and thus weren’t interrupting their parents as they shared a rare peaceful moment. Eventually they parted, Harry’s cheeks flushed with color, eyes sparkling. There was only one thing Sirius could think to say in that moment.

“Thank you,” he breathed softly, heart full of gratitude and love. “Thank you for everything.”