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Chapter Text

Chapter One: I'm A What Now?

Hut on the Rock, England, The Sea

30 July 1991

The wind was howling through the cracks in the walls of the small, two room shack. Rain pounded heavily on the windows and lightning lit up the dark sky. The sound of waves crashing against the small island they were on -barely- drowned out the snores of his uncle and cousin.

In another time and another place, the eleven-year-old currently laying on the floor would be drawing a cake in the dirt with his finger, eyes glancing continuously at the watch wrapped around his cousin's fat wrist. But in this time and place, the eleven-year-old currently laying on the floor was just waiting. During their strange run from Number Four -and he doubted he would ever understand Vernon's thought process on that-Harry had spent a lot of time in the car with his aunt and cousin. And in that time Harry had tried to get much needed sleep. It was because of his continued determination to sleep that he caught the memories.

They flew by quickly, almost too quickly for him to understand, but what he did know was that nothing was right. He wasn't supposed to be here with these...these muggles, and he wasn't supposed to be running from the letters trying to reach him. By the time he'd managed to get his thoughts in order, Vernon had already rented the boat, the hut, and bought a gun.

So instead of bothering to try and talk sense into his uncle, Harry had simply let it go. He knew better -now- how to pick his battles and when to just let things go. In this case, things just needed to be allowed to flow as they wanted.

As the watch beeped midnight, Harry shoved himself to his feet in time to hear the loud BANG and see the door jerk. By the second BANG, Vernon -with gun in hand- and Petunia had shown up and Dudley had woken and was trying to hide behind his parents.

"I warn you! I'm armed!" Vernon declared loudly, which Harry thought was just a spectacular idea since whoever was trying to break into a tiny shack on a tiny island in the middle of the fucking ocean would be very worried about someone with a gun of all things.

A third BANG and the door fell to the ground with a THUD. Petunia cried out, Dudley squealed, and Vernon cocked the shotgun.

"I demand you leave at once," the overweight muggle yelled, gun aimed straight at Hagrid's chest, "you are breaking and entering!"

The half-giant ignored the demand and squeezed into the hut, pausing to fit the door back into the frame, before moving further inside. 

"Couldn' make a cup o' tea couldn' yeh, bit o' a long journey?"

Harry stayed where he was, far away from the couch and the half-giant, green eyes rolling at the absolute stupidity and rudeness of the situation. The half-giant had just literally busted his way into the building -house? shack? living quarters?- of the Dursley's and was asking for tea as if he'd been invited. Honestly, wixen were so...so...Harry didn't even know what word to use.

"I demand you leave at once," Vernon snapped, Petunia and Dudley hidden away behind him and shotgun still aimed at the half-giant.

"Ah, shut up, Dursley, yeh great prune," Hagrid grumbled, reaching out to take the shotgun and turn it into a pretzel before tossing it to the corner. Then all the attention of those beady black eyes were fixed on him.

"An' here's Harry," Hagrid announced like it was some great reveal before continuing, "I haven' seen yeh since yeh were a baby."

He began to dig around in his pockets, pulling out a wide assortment of items. "A very happy birthday to yeh. I got yeh a little summat. 'Fraid I might have sat on it at some point, but I imagine it'll taste fine all the same."

Harry took the giant pink box with the emerald green ribbon and set it to the side, not bothering to open it, much to Hagrid's chagrin.

"I'm sorry, but...who are you?"

The newly turned eleven-year-old knew who the man was, but Harry wasn't sure if he completely trusted the memories? thoughts? that were in his head involving the man in front of him. Everything in him was screaming that something was wrong, but at the same time this was Hagrid who couldn't hurt a fly...sort of...the man did love his dangerous creatures...

"Ah! Right. I haven't introduced meself," he boomed before puffing up proudly -reminding Harry of a peacock with the action...or Lockhart- "Rebeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts."

It was amusing to watch the man deflate at the blank look he got in return for his boasting. Harry had asked his name, not his position. Honestly, wixen were a bit too proud at times.

"How abou' tha' cup o' tea then? Though I'd not say no ter summat stronger."

What proceeded from there was a very similar conversation to his memories. There was food offered -wandlessly and wordlessly scanned for any potions first- and then eaten. Followed up with the giant explosion of yelling from Vernon about not going to Hogwarts and Hagrid about how great Dumbledore was. And it all finished up with Petunia screeching about her sister marrying a 'good for nothing man' and getting herself 'blown up.'

The green-eyed pre-teen played his part to perfection. Acting like he was confused and then disbelieving and then offended on behalf of his mother -okay, so maybe that part wasn't faked- and then agreeing that he might be a wizard and getting his letter. By the time they all settled down for the night, Harry was exhausted with the act and ready for it to just be over, but he knew he had to bide his time. There were plans to make and plans to put in place and actions that needed to be taken before anything else could be done.

"At least I won't have to deal with him for long," the pre-teen muttered to himself as he got comfortable on the ground, casting aside the half-giant's coat because it smelled, and it was moving.

Chapter Text

Chapter Two: Diagon Alley

Hut on the Rock, England, The Sea

31 July 1991

Harry woke to the tapping of an owl on the window. Grumbling about annoying birds, the pre-teen pushed himself to his feet and meandered over to let the bird inside and then -instead of bothering to wake Hagrid- he dug around in the half-giant's coat (ew) until he found the money. Dropping more than he should into the little pouch on the owl's leg, Harry then grabbed up the paper and sat down to start reading it. Last time he hadn't bothered to read the paper, but this time it was going to be different. He needed all the knowledge he could if he was going to fix things.

It was another couple of hours before Hagrid bothered to finally wake up and then offer cold sausages -no thank you- that Harry proceeded to heat up over the fire that he 'made' with what items he could find laying around. Once the two males had been fed and tea had been drank they departed with a simple 'bye' to the Dursleys who had locked themselves in the second room once they had settled for the night.

The Leaky Cauldron, Charing Cross Road, London, England, Great Britain

31 July 1991

Harry didn't remember the trip to Diagon being so...awkward. Honestly for all Harry didn't think wixen and muggles needed to interact they sure did need some sense knocked into them. It brought more attention than necessary when wixen were exclaiming about modern -and not so modern- items when they encountered them.

Long train ride later and they were stepping inside the Leaky Cauldron where the first incident happened that -now that he had memories of the events- he could see was obviously intentional. Declaring that he was here to get 'young Harry' his school things, which brought tons of attention. As the large number of strangers began to surround them Harry stepped back. Magic flared between the child and the large horde of adults coming towards him -accidental magic of course- and stopped them in their tracks.

"Ah Harry there's nothin to be worried about. They just want to talk to ye."

Green eyes glared balefully at the half-giant.

"A horde of strangers came rushing at me and you expect me to be okay with that?"

All of the strangers were just standing there, as if waiting for the shield to fall so they could congregate around him, but it wasn't going to happen.

"Harry they just want to talk, perbably thank ye for...well..."

"Does it look-like-I-care?"

There was a grumbling amongst the adults at his question and the crowd as a whole shifted, which gained a baleful look from Harry.

"Let me make this clear," the pre-teen said loudly, gaining the attention of everyone who'd been attempting to swarm him, "I have no idea why you people wanted to swarm me and make me highly uncomfortable, but it's not going to happen. This is the only warning I'm going to give any of you. If you approach me like this again I won't be held responsible for what my...accidental magic does."

When it looked like the adults weren't going to just disperse Harry grumbled about 'entitled arseholes who didn't care about anyone else' before summoning up a little bubble of protection around himself.

"Your only warning," he repeated before starting to walk towards the entrance to Diagon Alley, ignoring the squeaks and cries and shouts of people who hadn't heeded the warning and were now being shocked or burned by attempting to approach him.

Just before he entered the little courtyard Harry was sure he heard someone say something about powerful accidental magic.

'Idiots.'

Gringotts Wizarding Bank, North Diagon Alley, Charing Cross Road, London, England, Great Britain

31 July 1991

The large marble building loomed over the other buildings and was the first thing to catch Harry's eyes when he stepped into Diagon Alley for the first (maybe?) time. The rather putout half-giant and the small pre-teen walked side by side -unfortunately- into the building that was just as majestic looking on the inside as it had been on the outside. Hagrid was 'explaining' about goblins and the bank, but Harry had tuned him out as they walked up to one of the tellers.

"Greetings, Master Goblin," Harry said as they stopped at the counter.

His greeting had the goblin's eyes snapping up and then leaning over to look at the tiny wizard.

"Greetings, Apprentice Wizard," the goblin croaked out slowly, as if unsure on the procedure for this sort of thing.

"I think I'm in need of a conversation with my account manager," Harry explained, side-eyeing Hagrid who stood there looking completely confused.

"Harry, we really need ter be on our way. Lo's ter buy and everythin'."

"Mr.Potter is correct he does need to speak to the Potter account manager," the unnamed goblin informed the half-giant, having caught the look the young wizard was giving his companion.

Hagrid looked torn -'probably because Dumbledore told him he just needed to grab money and leave'- before sighing in resignation and nodding. "Very well then, yeh go talk ter your account manager an' I'll go make a run by, ah, I'll run an errand Professor Dumbledore wanted me ter run."

Harry was quickly taken down the winding corridors and into one of the largest, most elaborate offices he'd ever seen. The teen was gestured to a seat and snacks were placed on the small side table as a goblin sat behind a giant desk, scribbling away without looking up.

"Mr. Potter, how nice of you to finally join us," the goblin snarled, finally dropping the quill and turning glaring beady eyes on the child, "we've been trying to get in contact with you for ages."

Large green eyes blinked in confusion for a moment before a hint of realization crossed his face. "Owl ward," Harry explained with a nod, "and plus certain parties not wanting me to have any knowledge of my inheritance or anything of the sort."

For a moment the goblin continued to glare at him, as if weighing his truthfulness with what he knew, before giving one sharp nod and pulling out a giant stack of folders. "We have much to go over Mr. Potter," the goblin -who later introduced himself as Erknas- said, flipping open the first file.

"First, we're going to need to do an inheritance test," Erknas explained, pulling out a familiar black quill, "to ensure that you are Harry Potter and not someone pretending to be Harry Potter."

It made sense to Harry -he would actually be concerned if they just took his word for it- and so he took the quill and wrote out his name, ignoring the sting in his hand as the quill used his blood. Then he sat back and watched as -very slowly- words began to crawl across the page.

Inheritance Test for Harry James Potter

on 31 July 1991

at Gringotts Wizarding Bank, North Diagon Alley,Charing Cross Road, London, England, Great Britain

with Account Protection Goblin Erknas Witnessing

Birth Name: Castor Rigel Rabastan Lestrange Black

Date of Birth: 31 July 1980

Place of Birth: Lestrange Manor, Unplottable, France

Time of Birth: 23:59:59

Father: Rabastan Corvus Lestrange (incarcerated)

Bearer: Regulus Arcturus Black (deceased)

Grandmother: Walburga Camilie Black (deceased)

Grandfather: Orion Sirius Black (deceased)

Uncle: Sirius Orion Black (incarcerated)

Grandmother: Cispia Aurian Lestrange née Prewett

Grandfather: Citrio Aspasius Lestrange

Uncle: Rodolphus Corbin Lestrange (incarcerated)

Aunt: Bellatrix Rowanne Lestrange née Black (incarcerated)

Godfather: Severus Tobias Snape

Godmother: Pandora Cathe Lovegood née Silverberry (deceased)

Godfather: Lucius Abraxis Malfoy

Godmother: Narcissa Lyra Malfoy née Black

Adopted Name: Harry James Potter

Date of Adoption: 31 July 1981

Place of Adoption: Potter Cottage, Godric's Hollow, West Country, England, Great Britain

Time of Adoption: 23: 59: 59

Adopted Father: James Fleamont Potter (deceased)

Adopted Mother: Lily Julia Potter née Evans (deceased)

Adopted Paternal Grandmother: Euphemia Venus Potter née Everglade (deceased)

Adopted Paternal Grandfather: Fleamont Alabaster Potter (deceased)

Adopted Maternal Grandmother: Betty Shirley Evans née Smyth (deceased)

Adopted Maternal Grandfather: Edward Thomas Evans (deceased)

Adopted Maternal Aunt: Petunia Elaine Dursley née Evans

Adopted Maternal Uncle: Vernon Joseph Dursley

Godfather: Sirius Orion Black (incarcerated)

Godmother: Alice Seena Longbottom née Littletree (incapacitated)

Current Title(s):

        Favoured Childe of Magick, as denoted by Lady Hecate

        Master of Death, as denoted by Lord Thanatos

        Speaker of All, as denoted by Lord Hermes

        Harbinger of Change, as denoted by Lord Janus

        Ruler of Balance, as denoted by Lady Adrestia

Eligible Lordship(s):

        Black

        Emrys

        Fleamont

        Gryffindor

        Hufflepuff

        Le Fay

        Peverell

        Potter

        Ravenclaw

Eligible Heirship(s):

        Gaunt

        Lestrange

        Slytherin

"Everything seems to be in order," Erknas said with a nod as the words finally came to an end.

Harry felt like he should be surprised by these results, but at the same time he also felt like he should have expected something like this to happen. It was a weird mix of feelings. The top file was still open and Erknas jumped right into getting everything sorted out.

For the next Harry didn't even know how long, he had to read and fill out contracts and put on heirship and lordship rings and then he had to deal with the accounts themselves. He set up a large number of investments across the accounts, telling Erknas to buy out certain businesses (like the Daily Prophet) and to sell the shares they had in others (like the Sweeper Broom Company). Once the money area was dealt with Harry dived into the properties. He told Erknas to have the goblins go through the properties and empty them out (who knew what all had been left to rot and ruin in some of those places) and then send him everything. He would deal with it. He did the same with the vaults (who knew what had been stashed away to 'protect it').

Their business -for today- was finished, Harry was given copies of all of the accounts that he would have to sit down and go through, and he was getting Erknas to send someone down to his trust vault and get him a large amount of money (and a new key because he didn't want anyone to have access to his accounts but him).

When he finally joined Hagrid in the bank atrium, about three hours had passed and the half-giant was none to pleased.

"Merlin, Harry," the half-giant boomed -scaring some of the visitors- "sure did take yeh a long time. We're in a bit o' a hurry."

The birthday boy put on the most innocent expression he could manage, which was very convincing.

"Sorry Hagrid," Harry said softly, "I just...there was a lot of things to go over and then I had to go down to my vault."

Then to sell the whole act he perked up really fast and started talking about the ride down to his vault and the fun 'roller coaster ride' they had to take to get there.

"And I think I saw a dragon!"

By the time he'd finished talking, Hagrid had already led them out of the bank and to the first store on the list.

Chapter Text

Chapter Three: Return to Gringotts

Number Four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, England, Great Britain

31 July 1991 - 2 August 1991

Harry had bought the bare minimum when he was with Hagrid because he wanted to come back when he was alone and do a more thorough look through the shops. He also knew that there were things he was going to get that Hagrid wouldn't allow him to -'on Dumbles orders'- and it would be easier to just get it all at one time instead of trying to keep up with everything he had bought versus everything he wanted to buy. 

So a quick trip through Diagon Alley, getting only the things on his list and then he was being dropped off back at Number Four with his ticket handed over -why did Hagrid have his ticket anyway?- and then the half-giant was gone and Harry was left to drag his -useless little- trunk into the house. He'd been given the smallest bedroom -not that he minded it being small- and so he set up his trunk at the foot of his squeaky bed and dropped down on the lumpy mattress with a sigh.

It then occurred to him that he didn't have to settle for an uncomfortable, lumpy bed that squeaked when he moved. Nor did he have to deal with all of the useless broken items that filled what should have been his room. Nor deal with the broken furniture that was his closet and desk. Happy with this realization the boy wasted no time in using his -weirdly powerful- magic to go about fixing up his room.

The bed was transfigured into something softer, larger, and not squeaky. The furniture was fixed and now looked brand new. And all the broken toys and gadgets that filled the room were shrunken and then tossed in a couple of trash bags (and set in Dudley's room since they were his things). Happy with his new -magically modified- room the pre-teen dropped back down on the comfortable bed.

'I need to go back to Diagon Alley,' he thought to himself with a frown. He'd laid back on the bed, arms behind his head as he stared at the ceiling -that he might have also charmed to be interesting- as his mind turned over everything he needed to do. 'I should look over the paperwork first, get all of it in order so I can speak to the goblins while I'm there. I can also pick out a place that I want to live because like hell I'm staying here when I have tons of properties, and while I'm doing my shopping I'll have the goblins look into the wards and get them fixed up. The last thing I need it is to pick a property with shitty wards that anyone can get through if they notice I'm gone. And then I need to do some serious shopping.'

All these thoughts in mind, Harry dragged himself up and dug around in his trunk until he found the giant stack of folders that Erknas had given him. He sat down at the desk with them and settled in to -very slowly- begin looking them over. He had to stop and grab a highlighter from Dudley's room -'not like he's gonna notice it's missing!'- and then returning to highlight everything that he wasn't pleased about in the files and that would need to be brought up during the next meeting.

He stayed bent over the papers long into the night and late into the next morning, just highlighting and making notes with a pen -that he'd had to pause and go grab from Dudley- in a notebook -also taken from Dudley- and by the time he was finished Harry was exhausted and pissed off.

He placed the files, pen, highlighter, and notebook off to the desk and then collapsed onto his transfigured bed and fell fast asleep, only waking up early the second morning he'd been returned to the Dursleys. He crawled out of bed and left his room, pausing at the bathroom to do what he needed to do in there before going to the kitchen.

Ever since he'd returned the Dursleys had been ignoring his existence -'just like last time'- and Harry was going to make the most of it...sort of...

Harry would need a ride to London and decided that his demand request of said ride would go smoother if there was food. So even though he hadn't been forced to cook since he got back -which meant he'd had going on two weeks off from cooking!- he settled into the routine of every Friday morning.

It was no secret that his cooking was better than Petunia's could ever be and so it was no surprise that the scent of it -even at such an early morning- would bring the Dursleys down to stuff their faces. He waited until they were halfway through said face stuffing before he spoke up, "Vernon, you're going to take me to London today."

He'd gotten a grunt from his uncle when he called his name and a scandalized look from Petunia at daring to call her husband solely by his first name, but he ignored the look. His attention was solely focused on the walrus man who had paused in stuffing his face and shot a beady blue eyed stare at the pre-teen.

"No."

Harry smirked and leaned back against the counter, both hands gripping the edge as he stared at the muggle. "I figured you would sat that," Harry informed him with a nod, "but I wasn't asking you to do it. I was telling you. You're going to take me back to London and if you don't...well...who's to say what my accidental magic might-just-do..."

The dark haired pre-teen let his threat -promise- hand in the air between himself and the muggles. The adults shared a look before Vernon grunted -again- and put his fork down -a miracle- and turned to face the pre-teen as best he could.

"Listen here boy," the walrus snapped, "just because you know about you...you freaky powers doesn't mean you can go around threatening us good normal folks into doing your bidding."

Green eyes flashed with something none of the Dursleys could understand before the pre-teen was shoving himself away from the counter and straightening his back to glare down the Dursleys. He might not be very tall -shortest kid in his class- but his magic made him seem bigger as it flared around him.

"No. You listen," the pre-teen retorted with a sneer as he took a single step forward, "if you don't take me where I want to go then I will make you regret it. That's not a threat Vernon. It's a promise. I will make you regret every breath you take from now until you do what I say."

Petunia and Dudley had paled at the near hissing words the boy had spoken. Not screamed, not yelled, almost whispered. Vernon, however, simply turned a dark shade of red in anger as he struggled to push himself out of his chair. Harry waited until the man was on his feet to make a single gesture with his finger that had the man dropping right back down into his seat with a grunt of pain. Petunia gave a wordless cry and tried to jump up to check on her husband, only to find herself unable to get up either.

"Boy! Let us up. Now!"

"No."

There was a silent stare off between beady blue eyes and glowing green eyes. The blue eyes were the first to look away.

"Fine. I'll take you to London," Vernon ground up, "now let-us-up."

The pre-teen made no moves to release the trio of muggles from their chairs as he turned and walked out of the room, heading up to his little bedroom to get his trunk -quickly and easily shrunken down and shoved in the pocket of his oversized clothes- and fix the furniture because like hell he was going to leave the Dursleys with such nice things after everything they'd done to him. And if he maybe used a little wandless and wordless magic to mess up a few other bits and pieces...well...no one would blame him if the next time Vernon dropped down on the bed it broke.

In the kitchen, Vernon was about to start screaming for the freak to come release them, but then he saw his poor traumatized son shift and then stand from his chair and run out of the room.  Slowly, the walrus-like man pushed himself to his feet and sighed when he wasn't shoved back down.

"At least the freak let us go," he grumbled to his still pale wife. Petunia said nothing as she gathered up the dishes and started taking them to the sink.

"Vernon," was called from the hall, "I'm ready to leave."

The man walked over to his wife, kissed her cheek, and headed out of the kitchen. He barely heard his wife's whispered "be careful" as the door swung shut.

The Leaky Cauldron

2 August 1991

The ride to London had been silent and full of tension, but Harry couldn't much say he cared. The only noises were their breathing and when they got to London the pre-teen's directions to the Leaky Cauldron. The man stopped outside a broken-down shop, but if the boy wanted to go there then he wasn't going to stop him.

"You should know," Harry said as he opened the door and went to step out, "that I won't be returning to Privet Drive."

It was the best news Vernon Dursley had heard in a very long time and it made this whole morning brighter. He couldn't wait to get home and tell his lovely wife that they wouldn't have to deal with the freak again. The man was sent on his way and it would be the last he ever saw of Harry James Potter.

Harry maneuvered his way through the pub. He kept his head down so no one could see the vivid scar on his forehead and quickly stepped into the only public bathroom the pub had to change out of his oversized muggle clothes and into part of his school uniform. Black slacks and the white button down shirt made him look more like he fit in than the oversized rags he'd been wearing. Satisfied that he was ready to deal with the magical world -minus robes but all he had were school robes and he didn't need to be drawing attention like that- he re-shrunk his trunk and stuck it back into his pocket before leaving the loo. 

In the short time it had taken him to change clothes the pub had gotten busier and it was more of a fight to get through to the courtyard in the back and hit the correct brick before he was stepping through the not completely open gateway and striding towards the bank.

Gringotts Wizarding Bank

2 August 1991

It didn't take Harry long to get to the bank and, after mentioning he was there to see Account Protection Goblin Erknas, he was immediately taken back to the same large office as his visit two days ago. The goblin looked up as the wizard entered and gestured for the child to take a seat.

"Lord Black, I didn't expect to see you again for a good week at least."

"Greetings Account Protector Erknas," Harry greeted as he pulled out his trunk and enlarged it with a wave of his hand.

"I managed to get through everything yesterday and when I got home the day before last," he explained as he dug around in the trunk and emerged with the stack of folders and his writing equipment that had been used during his reading.

He then took the offered seat and placed the relevant files on the desk between them, the others being sat to the side since they held nothing of importance for the time being. He was sure that would change as time went on, but for now he really didn't care.

"Now, I noticed that the Potter vaults have had a lot of activity, nearly from the moment Lily and James were killed and I was placed with the muggles," here Harry opened the file and pointed to the mentioned activity while Erknas pulled out the original file and flipped it to the correct place. "There are also activity for vaults that were opened in the Potter family name that have been receiving monthly deposits."

"I am aware that Albus Dumbledore is my magical guardian and therefore-"

He was cut off by the weird look he got from the goblin. "Lord Black, Albus Dumbledore is not your magical guardian. Technically, after accepting your lordships you don't have a magical guardian, but even before that your magical guardian wasn't Albus Dumbledore."

The pre-teen froze for a moment, fury flashing across his face before he got his emotions under control. "Who was my magical guardian?"

The goblin flipped through the paperwork and upon not seeing the answer -which was weird because it should be in the file somewhere- he began to go through other files until he -finally- found it buried in the middle of Dumbledore's file.

"It would seem that Sirius Black was your magical guardian since he never received a trial. Magic didn't find him guilty -since he never had a trial- so legally he's your magical guardian and Albus Dumbledore had no right to go playing around with your money. It is a good thing that you got a new key the last time you were in here because it barred him access, since the locks had to be changed."

"Oh, good, that means all of these accounts to can closed and my money can be returned," the pre-teen chirped as if learning all of this had no affect on him at all, which it really didn't except to give him a good case for kidnapping the heir to an old pure-blood family with the intent for him to never learn about his inheritance.

"Indeed, show me the vaults," Erknas demanded, as he flipped through the pages until he got to the right one. The child was right, there was a lot of activity for an account that should only have a single monthly payment for the care of the heir of the family. Harry pointed to the list of vaults that had been opened under the Potter name:

Albus Dumbledore

Arabella Figg

Arthur & Molly Weasley

Dedalus Diggle

Elphias Doge

Fredrick Weasley

George Weasley

Ginevra Weasley

Hermione Granger

Luna Lovegood

Neville Longbottom

Order of the Phoenix

Petunia Dursley

Remus Lupin

Ronald Weasley

Erknas was frowning, obviously very displeased at the long list of names. "I want them all shut down, immediately," Harry stated with a frown, "and I want every knut back."

"It will be done," the goblin assured him before asking, "are you sure you want to shut down the Longbottom, Lovegood, and Lupin accounts? They were opened upon the death or incarceration of the head or heir of one of your houses."

"Tell me who ordered the accounts to be opened, please." He hadn't seen any of that information during his readings, but maybe he'd overlooked it?

"Neville Longbottom was to have a trust opened upon the death of Lily Julia Potter née Evans. As his godmother she felt it necessary to leave her godson with something, though it wasn't to be a monthly deposited trust."

"Then shut down the monthly deposit and take back anything that she didn't expressly leave for him," Harry decided with a nod. "What about Lupin?"

"That would be James Fleamont Potter's wish. As one of his closest friends and a werewolf he wanted to ensure the man could purchase his wolvesbane potion every month."

Harry sat back in his seat and gave it a lot of thought. On the one hand, he was greatly upset that Lupin hadn't made any attempt to contact him over the years, but at the same time he didn't want the man to suffer if his vault was a deceased man's last gift.

"The amount given every month is far more than a week's worth of the potion cost," Harry finally said, drawing the words out as he thought about them, "exactly how much was to be left every month?"

Erknas flipped through the Potter file until he -finally- found the Will of James Potter. "From just a glance there should only be enough to cover a week's worth of the potion given each month, with a stipulation that it be raised if the price of the potion were to rise."

"Then cut back the amount to what is stipulated in the Will and take back anything that he got that he shouldn't have received. And Lovegood? Where does she fall into this?"

"Your father, Rabastan Lestrange, was incarcerated and the co-heir of the Lestrange family at the time. He was, excuse me is, the godfather of one Luna Lovegood and wanted to ensure that she was well cared for so he set up the trust vault to have a monthly deposit so she could live a good life."

"But that falls into the Lestrange accounts."

Erknas was still frowning at the location of the name and agreed that it made no sense for the Lovegood heir to be listed as someone receiving money from the Potter vaults...unless someone stupidly changed it around. He made a note off to the side to thoroughly check the mistake out. "While the girl does have an open vault and is receiving monthly payments, it isn't from the Potter vaults. It's from the Lestrange vaults, with Lord Lestrange's permission."

"Very well, we shan't touch Luna's vault and you can look into why she was on this file in the first place. But the other vaults, I want them done exactly as I said to do them."

The goblin simply nodded and made notes beside the vaults in question. Gringotts would get to the bottom off this giant mistake because it could have cost them a great deal of money if the client had been anyone else.

"There is also a list of things that have been taken from various vaults without permission and by Dumbledore," the pre-teen informed the goblin as he flipped to the relevant pages in each file, while Erknas did the same.

Potter Family Vault Withdrawals:

Potter Grimoire on 31 October 1981 by Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

Potter Lineage Book on 31 October 1981 by Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

Invisibility Cloak on 31 October 1981 by Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

Charms Journals on 31 October 1981 by Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

Peverell Family Vault Withdrawals:

Peverell Grimoire on 31 October 1981 by Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

Peverell Lineage Book on 31 October 1981 by Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

Pensive on 31 October 1981 by Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

Necromancy Journals on 31 October 1981 by Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

Black Family Vault Withdrawals:

Black Grimoire on 31 October 1981 by Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

Black Lineage Book on 31 October 1981 by Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

Dark Arts Books, First Edition on 31 October 1981 by Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

Hufflepuff Family Vault Withdrawals:

Hufflepuff Grimoire on 31 October 1981 by Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

Hufflepuff Lineage Book on 31 October 1981 by Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

Helga Hufflepuff's Secret Recipe Cookbook on 31 October 1981 by Molly Annett Weasley née Prewett

Numerous Plates containing the Hufflepuff seal on 31 October 1981 by Molly Annett Weasley née Prewett

Numerous Goblets containing the Hufflepuff seal on 31 October 1981 by Molly Annett Weasley née Prewett

Gryffindor Family Vault Withdrawals:

Gryffindor Grimoire on 31 October 1981 by Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

Gryffindor Lineage Book on 31 October 1981 by Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

Sword of Gryffindor on 31 October 1981 by Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

Ravenclaw Family Vault Withdrawals:

Ravenclaw Grimoire on 31 October 1981 by Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

Ravenclaw Lineage Book on 31 October 1981 by Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

Hogwarts Spell Log on 31 October 1981 by Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

 The list seemed endless, going on for more than five pages per account. Erknas finally gave up reading all of them in one sitting and instead set about trying to right this terrible wrong done to one of their richest clients.

"We will get them all back," the goblin assured the pre-teen, "free of charge."

Certain goblins in the bank would be unhappy with this, but considering that some goblin had allowed an unauthorized person into multiple vaults, it was the least the goblins could do and it seemed to be the right thing to offer as well. Erknas watched the eleven year old relax back into his seat with a thoughtful look on his young face.

"If possible I'd like to keep my name out of it," Harry told the goblin before offering, "maybe Gringotts noticed some discrepancies in some of their books and started going through accounts because they wanted to ensure the problem was fixed?"

The shark-like grin that spread over Erknas' face said that it was a fantastic idea and that Gringotts would be doing that to every account.

It took them a great deal of time to hash out things and fill out paperwork that had been missed last time -honest accident they were in a hurry- and finally they were finished. Well Erknas thought they were finished, but apparently he was wrong.

"Is there anything we can do about all these people selling things with 'Potter approved' and 'Potter recommended'? And perhaps something could be done about all these books claiming to be non-fiction about me? Or even the stupid kids books about me?"

"I believe you might want to speak to your grandfather, Citrio Lestrange," Erknas said slowly, "he runs a law firm and would probably be happy to help you out."

The child thought about it for a moment before nodding in acceptance."Very well, I shall contact him sometime this month to start working on it. One last thing before I leave," the pre-teen was already perched on the edge of his seat looking ready to leave, "I need the goblins to go over my properties, I know they're already doing that to clean them out, but I'd like the wards checked, updated and all of that."

Erknas nodded, jotting down a note to get it done. "And if possible I'd like them to check The Den first so that I can go there after I run a few more errands tonight."

"It will be done Lord Black."

"Thank you Account Protector Erknas," the pre-teen said as he got to his feet and dropped the giant stack of files back in his trunk before closing it and re-shrinking it with a wave of his hand, "until we meet again, may your enemies tremble at your feet."

The teen just barely heard the faint 'may your gold always flow' called after him.

Newt's Medical Magicks, Horizont Alley, Charing Cross Road, London, England, Great Britain

2 August 1991

Harry's first stop after leaving the bank was a medical clinic, Newt's Medical Magicks, run by Newt Fiddlesticks. He had wanted to stop and get a check up before he'd left earlier, but Hagrid had assured him there was no need for 'sometin' as silly as a check-up.'

This time, Harry had all the time in the world -well the month- to shop and explore and get his checkup. He was in luck that the place took walk-ins because Harry hadn't thought to send an owl about an appointment and he'd rather not have to wait until they could fit him in.

The woman, a middle-aged red haired woman who reminded Harry of a donkey, didn't even look up when he entered the room. Instead she just grabbed a clip board and permanent ink quill and slid it over the counter. "Fill this out and Healer Fiddlesticks will be with you shortly," she muttered, flipping the page in the copy of Witch Weekly laid out on the desk.

The pre-teen took the clipboard over to the far seat and began to fill out the paperwork, but sadly he didn't know most of the answers. No one had ever thought to sit down with him and give him a run-down of his family's health history. Plus the fact that he had technically never met his 'parents' made it even worse. So when he was called back by the healer, the majority of the form was left blank.

Healer Newt Fiddlesticks was an aging man with only a wisp of white hair covering his balding head. He had a friendly look on his face -that Harry didn't trust- and sparkling grey eyes. There was something about him that Harry recognized, but the child couldn't put his finger on it.

"Have a seat Mr...." the healer trailed off as he glanced down at the clipboard, "Black."

The eleven year old hopped up on the table and grimaced at the crinkly noise the paper made under him.

"What seems to be the problem today?" Healer Fiddlesticks asked as he put the clip board down -it wasn't like it was the most useful thing since it was mostly blank- and pulled out his wand, beginning to wave it around the child.

For a moment Harry was silent, looking at his feet before glancing around the room. "Are you held under the Healer's Oath that you can't speak of anything we talk about during our visits?"

It was obvious that he had caught the aging man by surprise if the widening of his eyes and slight indignant look was another to go by. 

"I don't ask for doubt in your skill," Harry offered, "I simply wish to ascertain if you took the oath that will ensure my privacy is kept."

Healer Fiddlesticks sighed and nodded. "I have indeed taken the oath. I renew it every month, as a precaution."

Now that was something Harry had never heard of before, but he wasn't going to complain. "Very well," Harry said with a nod before continuing, "I'm not here for anything particular. I've just recently found out some news and wish to know if there's anything concerning to be found."

"Are you here for a general check-up or for a medical history test?"

"What's the difference?"

Harry had never heard of a 'medical history test' but something told him that was what he was looking for in this case, still it was better to ask before agreeing to anything.

"A general check-up is just the usual diagnostic spell to ensure there's nothing you need dealt with for the moment. A medical history test is a ritual that will tell us if there's anything that has happened in the past that needs correcting and anything that's wrong now that needs correcting."

Hearing the -rather simple- explanations it was obvious which one he wanted.

"Medical History Test."

Healer Fiddlesticks stepped out of the room for a moment and when he returned it was with a tray containing a piece of starch white parchment, a bowl full of herbs, a sharp knife, and candles. The bowl was placed on the counter and the candles were placed around it before the healer handed the knife to Harry. Without needing to be told, Harry sliced open his palm and allowed the blood to fall into the bowl until Healer Fiddlesticks spelled a bandage around his injured hand.

The candles were lit, the blood and herbs mixed together with a copper stirring rod, and then the parchment was placed in it to soak. While that was happening the healer got Harry back on his seat and healed up his hand, muttering under his breath about 'dramatic little shits.'

Twenty minutes later, after the healer had left to see another patient and then returned, the parchment was removed from the bowl and laid out on the counter. A candle was picked up and used to -very slowly- dry the parchment. By the time everything had been done the parchment was an ugly, splotchy pink colour with blood red words scrawled across it. If Harry hadn't sat there and watched the whole thing write itself out, Harry would have thought that he'd written it because it was the same chicken scratch he always used.

Medical History Test for Harry James Potter

on  3 August 1991

at Newt's Medical Magicks, Horzont Alley, Charing Cross Road,London, England, Great Britain

with Healer Newt Fiddlesticks Witnessing

 

Birth Name: Castor Rigel Rabastan Lestrange Black

Date of Birth: 31 July 1980

Place of Birth: Lestrange Manor, Unplottable, France

Time of Birth: 23:59:59

Father: Rabastan Corvus Lestrange (incarcerated)

Bearer: Regulus Arcturus Black (deceased)

 

Adopted Name: Harry James Potter

Date of Adoption: 31 July 1981

Place of Adoption: Potter Cottage, Godric's Hollow, West Country, England, Great Britain

Time of Adoption: 23: 59: 59

Adopted Father: James Fleamont Potter (deceased)

Adopted Mother: Lily Julia Potter née Evans (deceased)

 

Potion(s):

Time Delayed Amortentia Potion (keyed to Ginevra Molly Weasley)

Gregory's Unctuous Unction (keyed to Ronald Billius Weasley)

Gregory's Unctuous Unction (keyed to Hermione Jean Granger)

 

Obedientia Ad Auctoritatem (keyed to Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore)

Obedientia Ad Auctoritatem (keyed to Molly Annett Weasley née Prewett)

Obedientia Ad Auctoritatem (keyed to Arthur Septimus Weasley)

 

Fidelem Usque Ad Mortem (keyed to Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore)

Fidelem Usque Ad Mortem (keyed to Molly Annett Weasley née Prewett)

Fidelem Usque Ad Mortem (keyed to Arthur Septimus Weasley)

 

Fidelem Usque Ad Mortem (keyed to Ronald Billius Weasley)

Fidelem Usque Ad Mortem (keyed to Ginevra Molly Weasley)

Fidelem Usque Ad Mortem (keyed to Hermione Jean Granger)

 

Sanguinis Ligatus (keyed to Lily Julia Potter née Evans)

Sanguinis Ligatus (keyed to James Fleamont Potter)

 

Spell(s):

The Killing Curse

Noctua Obstructionm

Magica Core Clausus

Magica Core Mutationem

 

Ritual(s):

Patrinus Acceptatio (keyed to Severus Tobias Snape)

Patrinus Acceptatio (keyed to Pandora Cathe Lovegood née Silverberry)

Patrinus Acceptatio (keyed to Lucius Abraxis Malfoy)

 

Patrinus Acceptatio (keyed to Narcissa Lyra Malfoy née Black)

Patrinus Acceptatio (keyed to Sirius Orion Black)

Patrinus Acceptatio (keyed to Alice Seena Longbottom née Littletree)

 

Sanguinis Ligatus (keyed to James Fleamont Potter)

Sanguinis Ligatus (keyed to Lily Julia Potter née Evans)

Animam Dilacerant (keyed to Thomas Marvolo Riddle)

 

Rescribo Tempus (keyed to Castor Rigel Rabastan Lestrange Black)

Puerum Magicae (keyed to Castor Rigel Rabastan Lestrange Black)

Dominus Mors (keyed to Castor Rigel Rabastan Lestrange Black)

 

Vox All (keyed to Castor Rigel Rabastan Lestrange Black)

Praenuntia Mutationis (keyed to Castor Rigel Rabastan Lestrange Black)

Princeps Libra (keyed to Castor Rigel Rabastan Lestrange Black)

 

Bond(s):

Matrina Vinculum (with Pandora Cathe Lovegood née Silverberry)

Matrina Vinculum (with Narcissa Lyra Malfoy née Black)

Matrina Vinculum (with Alice Seena Longbottom née Littletree)

 

Compater Vinculum (with Severus Tobias Snape)

Compater Vinculum (with Lucius Abraxis Malfoy)

Compater Vinculum (with Sirius Orion Black)

 

Familia Vinculi (with the Most Ancient & Noble House of Black)

Familia Vinculi (with the Most Ancient & Powerful House of Emrys)

Familia Vinculi (with the Noble House of Fleamont)

 

Familia Vinculi (with the Most Ancient & Courageous House of Gryffindor)

Familia Vinculi (with the Most Ancient & Loyal House of Hufflepuff)

Familia Vinculi (with the Most Ancient & Dark House of Le Fay)

 

Familia Vinculi (with the Most Ancient & Secret House of Peverell)

Familia Vinculi (with the Most Ancient & Brave House of Potter)

Familia Vinculi (with the Most Ancient & Intelligent House of Ravenclaw)

 

Familia Vinculi (with the Nobel House of Gaunt)

Familia Vinculi (with the Most Ancient & Creative House of Lestrange)

Familia Vinculi (with the Most Ancient & Cunning House of Slytherin)

 

Vita Debitum (with Severus Tobias Snape)

Mens Vinculum (with Thomas Marvolo Riddle)

Anima Vinculum (with Thomas Marvolo Riddle)

The rest of the list were the various physical injuries that Harry had received over the years, which was enough to have the healer looking at him seriously worried.

"This is going to take a great deal of time to fix," the healer informed him as he grabbed a self-inking quill and a fresh piece of parchment, "it will require months -maybe years- of potions to get everything fixed."

Harry just sat there, splitting his focus between watching the healer write out the plan to 'fix him' and reading over the Medical History Test. By the time the list of physical injuries had finished writing itself out, Healer Fiddlesticks had already moved from writing the health plan out to writing out prescriptions, which was a very long list.

"The first thing we're going to need to deal with it the soul tear," the healer said as he brought the plan -now on the clip board- over to Harry, "it's...very dark magic and will need to be removed first. Then you'll need a few purging potions. Three of them for the various potions in your system and another five for the spells."

"Why are so many purging potions needed for the spells? There's only four of them? And one of them isn't going to be useful to take a purging potion for."

"There is a magical block and a core changing spell," the healer explained, pointing out the two things in question, "and you can't just immediately change either of them. You have to do it slowly to keep from overwhelming your body. In this case, the core changing spell moved you from what looks to be a neutral gray to a very white core, which will take five purging potions made especially for spell removal to strip it back down to where it needs to be. The same with the magical block. It will take multiple purges to strip it away without over loading your body with your magic."

"Oh."

"Once we've purged your body of all of these problems, we'll work on the skele-gro for your various breaks that were never fixed and then you'll be on nutrient potions for the foreseeable future."

The face Harry made had the healer smiling at him. "I know it sounds like a lot, but don't worry. We'll get it done."

"I start school in September. How exactly am I supposed to do half of this when it's going to take more time than we have?"

The healer thought about it for a minute, looking over everything before nodding. "I'll simply contact the school, Madam Pomfrey I believe, and inform her of everything that needs to be done."

"No. You do not have my permission to tell her anything," Harry cried out with wide eyes. He couldn't imagine what would happen if someone who was so far in Dumbledore's pocket found out about all the steps Harry was going through to get himself fixed.

"Someone there is going to need to know so that you can have your daily potions," Healer Fiddlesticks told him with a frown.

"I'll...I don't know! I'll tell...Snape or something. He's my godfather...apparently."

Healer Fiddlesticks sighed in exasperation, hands thrown up in annoyance and defeat, but he didn't argue with his patient. After all, he'd taken an oath that would only allow him to tell people with permission and it was obvious that Harry Potter -or was it Castor Black?- wasn't giving him permission to contact anyone about his needs.

"What about my eyes?"

The healer frowned and looked at the boy, taking a moment to understand the question. "Ah, right, your eyes should heal themselves once we've gotten rid of the soul tear."

"Great! Let's do that now."

Something told Newt that this was going to backfire on him.

Three hours later and Newt was correct. The plan to fix the soul tear had blown up in his face. The small piece of soul had fought with him and completely destroyed his ritual room. It was amazing any of them had made it out of the room alive, but they had managed to remove it.

"Was it supposed to hurt that much?" Harry asked softly, laid out on the crinkly paper covered bed and wincing at the blisters currently covering his hands and face.

"No, it wasn't supposed to do any of that," Healer Fiddlesticks said as he moved over to the cabinet and brought out burn cream that was then rubbed into Harry's hands and face.

"Then why-"

"I don't know and it doesn't much matter because hopefully we'll never have to deal with it again."

Instead of trying to argue more, Harry simply nodded and pushed himself up. "Are we going to do the purging potions now?"

"Don't be ridiculous. Your body wouldn't be able to handle a purging potion after this. Return tomorrow and you can take the first one to help with the potions."

For a moment it looked like Harry was going to complain, but instead he simply sighed and nodded. Knowing that the healer probably had a very good reason for refusing to continue healing today.

"I'll see you tomorrow then," the child said as he hopped up, still a bit sore but refusing to let it stop him.

Everglade's Trunk Emporium, South Diagon Alley, Charing Cross Road, London, England, Great Britain

2 August 1991

Leaving the healer's place, Harry checked the time and saw that it was just past lunch, which meant he had time for maybe one or two stops in his shopping before he needed to head to the Den -or you know find somewhere to stay- and decided he'd deal with what he could now and then call it a day. He figured the best place to start would be the trunk shop because he wanted a better one that what he'd gotten the other day.

When he entered the shop the sales girl was right there. Almost in his face actually and it had him jumping back and aiming his wand at her nose before he realized what he was doing. "Oh. Sorry," he said sheepishly as he slid it back into its holster.

"No probs!" the girl, who couldn't be older than sixteen with her big green eyes and long silvery blonde hair, chirped as she moved to the side. "So what can I do for ya? Or I guess you need a trunk, huh? For Hogwarts, yeah? Oh goodie!"

She was talking so fast Harry could hardly keep up. "Is there any kind of trunk in particular that you might want? We have a single compartment trunk, standard for Hogwarts students really. Then there's the two compartment trunk, also fairly standard for Hogwarts students. Oh! Then there's the three, four, or five compartment trunks for those who travel often. But I suppose you're probably not interested in those. There's also the six, seven, and eight compartment trunks, though we rarely sell any of them."

Harry could tell this was going to be a long trip because the girl wouldn't just shut up.

"I want a multi-compartment trunk," the eleven year old cut in loudly, stopping the girl who was now informing him of the fifty compartment trunks, which were huge and not very useful unless you had about fifty houses worth of things to store in them. "Seven or nine compartments."

The girl led him to the section with the trunks he wanted and launched into a whole thing about trunk woods. For a moment Harry could only stare at her in horror as she listed every single type of wood they offered the trunks in, which was basically all of them.

"And then there's the super rare ones like elder, which is unlucky as a wand wood, but people seem to think is also unlucky as a wood to make trunks? I don't know I've never really worried about it. I mean...they make really pretty trunks so what does it matter?"

"Birch. Let's just...let's go with birch."

After they'd narrowed down the seven and nine compartment trunks made of birch the woman found more things to talk about, which were then narrowed down to the seven compartment ones because seven was a nice number, it came time to make decisions about the compartments themselves.

"We can add an apartment, a library, a closet, a potions lab, a greenhouse, a training room, a cave, a forest, some people even ask to have a lake put in, which I feel is a little excessive because what would you do with a lake? But then again what would you do with a forest? Some people do like to use their trunks to hold their animals. Like that Newt fellow, you know the one that wrote that book," she waved a hand as if it didn't matter before turning large eyes back on Harry, "so we can also just leave them as empty compartments and you can toss whatever you want inside or-"

"I'm going to need a closet in one and a library in another," Harry cut her off, "a place to store potions items, and a place to store herbology items, a place for my stationary to be organized, and the other three compartments can remain empty for the time being."

The trunk was picked out and taken back to be charmed by the expert they keep on staff and Harry thought that would be the end of it but no! The woman came up with more things to ask! Colours of all things. "Most Hogwarts students go with their Hogwarts house colours," she explained as she pulled out a catalog with the array of colours in it, "or for first years they pick something simple and then come back over the summer to get the colours changed."

Harry knew he was not going to use Hogwarts colours because he didn't know what house he would be in this time and plus he didn't want something so stereotypical. "Let's go with a...what do you call it? Fading colour? You know where it starts as one colour and then slowly fades away to something different?"

The girl perked up at that and nodded, flipping the pages quickly until she reached a section. "We don't get request like that very often! Let's see...there's a black to white, black to grey, black to blue-"

"Black, blue, purple," Harry cut her off, not wanting to listen to the long list of options, "just...black to blue to purple."

"Excellent choice," she agreed with a serious nod, writing it down before looking at him and asking, "what about your name? Do you want it on there? The entire thing? Or just your initials? Or your first and surname or-"

"C.R.R.B. in white. On the side."

She nodded and that bit of information to the sheet before sending it back.

'Now it's done,' Harry thought to himself as they moved towards the checkout counter, only to stop because the woman decided there was more to be decided!

"Alright, the last thing is, do you want any sort of charms placed on it? We can add an anti-theft? Or a spell to have the trunk return to you if you lose it? Waterproof? Fire proof? Shrinking? Enlarging? Oh! And let's not forget the protection spells you can add onto it! Oh! and feather light spells because a lot of people would rather not have to carry a couple hundred pound trunk around."

"Yes. To all of those. Just...full protection on it, yeah? Anti-theft, return if lost, shrinking and enlarging, water and fire proof, protection that zaps a person if they try to get into it. Each compartment set with a different password and a magical signature requirement so only I can get into it."

The woman nodded in understanding, writing everything he was saying down and then sending that back to their expert as well.

"Will there be anything else, sir?" she asked, seemingly satisfied by his order...and then he realized that he didn't have a school bag.

"Fuck. This is going to be a long day," he grumbled to himself, "and I'm about to regret my life choices."

Then, looking at the girl who seemed like she was expecting him to say 'yes that's everything' he said something that made him regret life. "I need a couple of bags for school."

The look the girl gave him at those words made him want to take them back, but it was already too late.

By the time he left, he wanted to cry because that was more effort than he'd put into anything yet. His hunt for school bags was almost as long as his hunt for a new trunk. There were questions about what type of bag -school bags why was that hard?- that led to the fact that you could apparently get a bag with pockets that were sort of like compartments on trunks (which was nice because he got two bags with five different pockets).

Then there was colour and fabric (standard gray leather) and then spells (the same ones as his trunk) and if any of the pockets needed special spells (of course). When he finally had everything and his things had been spells and ready, Harry paid and nearly ran out the door. "Ugh. I never want to do that again," he said to himself, checking the time and seeing that he'd been there for almost two hours.

"Enough time to manage one more shop then," he decided with a nod, glancing around the alley before deciding that he might as well get the other highly annoying trip out of the way.

Wonderful Wizarding Wears, South Diagon Alley, Charing Cross Road, London, England, Great Britain

2 August 1991

If Harry had thought that the trunk store was horrible; it was nothing compared to shopping for clothes. He'd picked the only clothes store in Diagon that sold everyday wizarding wear, formal wizarding wear, and very muggle-like clothing. He just hadn't thought about the fact that when he told them he needed a new wardrobe that they would ask him about every single piece.

"Onto the stool, love," the plump, middle-aged woman ordered, shooing him along until he stood on the stool, "clothes off now, got to make sure the measurements are correct."

Feeling very self-conscious of his body, Harry did as ordered because he did want his clothes to fit correctly and was well aware that they wouldn't if they had to measure over the too big clothes he currently wore. From there is was a matter of measuring everything from the length of his arms and legs to the width between his big and little toes. Once he got the go ahead to put his clothes back on he nearly magicked them back on his person...and then the questions started.

"What sort of things are you looking for today?"

"I need a whole new wardrobe. So everything."

"Very do-able," the woman nodded, parchment and quill in hand, "let's start with shirts. Any particular colours you want? Don't want? What about styles? Any particular ones you don't want? Fabrics? Silk? Cotton?"

He would never consider himself 'clothes savvy' or whatever so the questions left him greatly confused because he didn't know, but he somehow managed to muddle his way through the questions about his shirts without making too big a fool of himself. The process was then repeated with pants, cloaks, socks, underwear, and shoes.

"Are there any charms you might want on it? A lot of people your age tend to like having growth spells put in for any growth spurts. Parents are also fond of using the self-grooming spells, the ones that clean and press the clothes, keep the wrinkles out? Oh! And on shoes they love to use the cleaning spells, keeps any mud or whatever else might be stepped in from getting tracked into the house."

Those sounded like marvelous ideas to him and so he was quick to get them added to all of his clothes.

"Even your underwear and socks?"

"Yes. All of my clothes."

As he left the clothing store, Harry felt very proud of himself because he'd managed to get the biggest bit of shopping done and his clothes would be delivered to him -no matter where he was- by the end of the week. Whistling happily to himself, the eleven year old headed back to the bank because he needed to know if they'd managed to check and update the wards on the Den or if he would be renting a room for the night because like hell he was going back to the Dursleys.

Chapter Text

Chapter Four: Purging

The Den, Caerleon, Newport, Wales, Great Britain

2 August 1991

Harry was pleased to note that his desired place of residence had been in fantastic shape and the wards -old, old, old magicks- were still going strong, but the goblins had done as he requested and added the more updated wards to help better protect the place. His first order of business had been to cast the fidelius charm with himself as secret keeper and his second order of business was the bond the two house-elves, Dobpey and Nompey, to himself tightly enough that they couldn't pull a Dobby and go running off to other wixen about whatever he did.

It only occurred to him after the fact that he would be unable to receive mail with these particular wards, until Dobpey saw his annoyance and informed his 'great master Harry Castor sir' that important owls -such as Gringotts owls but not Ministry owls?- could find the place even if their senders had no clue where the owl was going to. Also any owls that he had would be able to find the place no matter what, which was good because he had plans.

The Den was rather small in comparison to other pure-blood homes and Harry was fairly sure that it was actually meant as a vacation home instead of a full-time place. A two story home with five bedrooms and attached bathrooms took up the entire second floor and a half bath on the first floor meant that no one uninvited would have to go upstairs -if he set up a ward to ensure privacy for anyone living here then no one needed to know.

The living room and dining room were a giant open space with only a small door leading off into the half-bath and another leading off to a small study. The kitchen was a nice size and Harry couldn't wait to get in there and cook -sometimes he knew how house elves got if you encroached on their turf. Outside of a general look around Harry didn't take much note of anything because it was late and he needed to be at the clinic first thing in the morning.

Keeping that in mind, the eleven year old read the chapter in a potions book, he found in the study, about purging potions so he would know what to expect and then had a light supper before retiring to his room -the master bedroom obviously- where he was annoyed to note the goblins had already cleaned the place out so there was no bed. Grumbling in complaint, he pulled his single compartment trunk from his pocket and enlarged it before taking out some of the oversized clothes he hadn't thought he'd ever need again and his basic bathroom supplies and heading into the bathroom for his nightly ritual of shower, teeth, and toilet.

When he returned he found one of the hole filled socks that he never wore and transfigured it into a small cot -he would deal with a bed later- and fell asleep quickly.

Newt's Medical Magicks

3 August 1991

Harry arrived at the Healer's office bright and early the next morning. He had forgone breakfast since, according the the chapter in the book he'd read, the potion would probably make him sick if he had anything in his stomach. He'd re-read the chapter before he came up here and so was well aware that after today, he would have another week of pain and sadness and an inability to actually do anything except sleep and nibble on light stuff like toast. Not his idea of fun, but at least when it was over he would know that he was clear of anything that might affect his mind, emotions, or magic.

When he entered the office, the lady at the desk glanced up long enough to see who it was before sending him back with a 'Healer Fiddlesticks is expecting you.'

The lady was right about that because Healer Fiddlesticks was right there and quickly led him to a different room than yesterday. He had Harry change into some stupid hospital gown -fairly sure this wasn't what they usually used- and then get comfortable on the crinkly paper.

"You should be warned that the first one is always the most unpleasant one," Healer Fiddlesticks told him, bustling around the room, placing a pitcher of water and a glass on the table next to Harry, "I can't give you anything for any of the symptoms because the potion will just get rid of it. Expect a lot of sweating, maybe some vomiting, possibly...other bodily releases. No reason to be embarrassed, it's expected. I would be more worried if things didn't happen."

The eleven year old wasn't so sure he was alright with the idea of 'bodily releases' but if this is what he had to endure than endure it he would.

"There's water here, make sure you drink plenty of it. Most people aren't able to do more than lay or sit there while the potion works, but if you do decide to try and do something I've left some books, parchment, and self-inking quill there on the counter that you're welcome to."

After getting a nod of understanding from Harry, the healer handed over a vial of thick greenish white goo and a glass of water. "It will start almost immediately, so don't be surprised."

The child took a deep breath, uncorked the vial and threw back the potion, gagging at the taste of raw sewage. He chugged the water, slapping a hand to his mouth to keep from losing the potion he'd just taken. Healer Fiddlesticks conjured a bowl of cool water and a cloth, that he then dipped in and handed over to Harry.

Sweat was already beading up on his forehead and his neck was starting to grow warm. His stomach was rolling and he groaned, laying back and clutching at it. He vaguely heard the healer say something about coming back in a bit before the door closed and Harry was alone.

The next Hecate only knows how long was torture for him. He sweated more than he could drink, he had many 'bodily releases' that had him blushing in embarrassment even though he'd been warned it would probably happen. By the time the healer returned, Harry was a disgusting mess and didn't even want to be seen by a cockroach, much less a healer.

"I do believe, Mr. Black, that the potion has finished for today," Healer Fiddlesticks told him, casting a few diagnostic spells and nodding as he read over the results, "yes, everything has went well today. The worst of it is over. I suggest you return home now and have a nice long bath. Then a light meal -soup and salad or something similar- and lots of water. Get a good night's sleep and then come back first thing tomorrow and we'll do the second one."

Harry had no energy to argue and could only nod before staggering to his feet and stumbling to the floo that Healer Fiddlesticks led him to. A pinch of floo powder and a mumbled address later and the child was gone in a flash of green flames.

4 August 1991 - 5 August 1991

The next two days were spent in the same manner as day one. Harry arrived early in the morning and left late in the afternoon, exhausted and hungry and disgusting.

Newt's Medical Magicks

6 August 1991

After three purging potions, Harry felt that he knew exactly what to expect. Granted, yesterday wasn't nearly as bad. He entered the healer's building and was -just like the past three days- sent straight back to the room where Healer Fiddlesticks was waiting for him. A quick spell later and he was getting a wide grin from the man.

"Well, I'm pleased to tell you that all the potions that were in your system are now gone," Healer Fiddlesticks informed him as the parchment was placed in the folder on the counter, "now the next round of purging potions is for the spells currently on you. They're going to be worse because they're being used to purge your magic, not your body."

Harry wrinkled his nose at the words. "Define 'worse.'"

For a moment Harry didn't think the healer was going to answer before the man sighed. "The potions are meant to stripe the tainted magic from your own magic. It has to peel it off, layer by layer, and that's going to hurt. Whereas the potions to get rid of the potions in your body just made you exhausted and..."

"Gross. They made me tired and gross."

"Yes, well, these are going to do the same thing...only they're also going to hurt. It will be worse as the course goes on because the closer to your magic it gets the harder the potion is going to have to work to pull it away without touching your magic."

Harry was pale at the idea of being hurt as well as exhausted and covered in bodily fluids, but he knew that it was something he was going to have to do if he wanted to be clean and only influenced by himself and not others. "Very well, let's get on with it."

He threw back the potion with a grimace and drank the glass of water. Just like the first round of potions, sweat began to almost immediately bead up on his forehead and his stomach began to churn. Groaning, Harry slowly laid back, clutching at his stomach, and settled in for a worse time than the past three days.

By the time he left that afternoon Harry was so sore that he almost couldn't make it to the floo. "I'm not sure I'll be able to make it through another four days of this," he muttered to the healer who was looking at him worriedly.

"You're welcome to stay here for the duration of the potions course," Healer Fiddlesticks told him, only to be ignored by the exhausted and sore child who disappeared in a flash of green flames.

"Stubborn child."

7 August 1991 - 10 August 1991

The next four days steadily got worse. And by the last day Harry was actually thinking of crying at the pain he knew was coming, but he was used to pain. So he sucked it up, threw back the potion and glass of water and settled in to ride out the pain as best he could. By the time it was done, he could hardly breathe through the pain, but somehow he managed to push himself to his feet and stumble to the floo before disappearing in a flash of green flames.

Newt's Medical Magicks

11 August 1991

Harry arrived at the medical office bright and early the next day, feeling better than he could ever remember feeling. It felt like the wool had been removed from his eyes. His magic felt stronger, happier than ever. He had more control over it than he'd ever had. He was nearly skipping as he entered the building. This time he wasn't ushered straight through, informed that he had to wait for Healer Fiddlesticks to be ready for him, which took nearly two hours.

Finally, he was called back and placed in a normal room and then forced to wait another thirty minutes before the healer finally entered. "Good morning, Mr. Black," the healer greeted, wand already out and running diagnostics to make sure Harry hadn't suffered any problems.

"Well, the good news is that the potions worked. You are now spell and potion free."

The child let out a small cheer at the news before pausing and frowning.

"I thought my sight was supposed to fix itself after the soul tear was fixed or maybe after the purging potions were finished. Why is it still bad?"

The healer frowned, going back and reading over the file again. It was silent for maybe ten minutes before the reason was finally found. "Ah, yes, I overlooked this part here," the file was turned so Harry could see where the healer was pointing.

"Sanguinis Ligatus," Harry said softly, "Blood Bound?"

"That's correct. It's the blood adoption ritual. It gives you traits of the ones who adopt you, which means that you must have inherited the bad eyesight from James Potter."

"And there's no way to fix it?"

The healer was silent for a moment, thinking it over before sighing and rubbing the bridge of his nose. "There is a potion," he began hesitantly, "that would remove the traits you gained from the blood adoption."

"You mean...no one would be able to tell that I'm Harry Potter?"

"Indeed. If you take it Harry Potter will seemingly...disappear. He will be marked dead by basically everyone because the things that connect you to being Harry Potter would be washed away."

"Would I be able to keep the Potter lordship?"

Healer Fiddlesticks sighed and leaned back in his seat. "Considering that even if you lose the Potter traits, James Potter still marked you as his heir? Yes, you'll still be Lord Potter. Though...depending on how the potion works...well...I said that Harry Potter would cease to exist, but...I mean...it...might not happen that way. The potion has only been used maybe twice since it's creation."

The green eyed child thought about it for a long time, long enough that the healer began to move around the room and get the next set of potions Harry was going to need. "I want to take it. The potion that will remove the traits. I...I want to be myself. Not whoever the potion decided I was going to be."

Newt nodded and laid the potions he'd already gathered down before stepping out of the room. "Take one of those," the man ordered before disappearing to...wherever he was going. Grumbling about terrible potions, Harry grabbed one and threw it back, grimacing at the taste.

The healer returned with a strange bottle in hand. It was small, maybe the size of the healer's palm, and almost perfectly circular. It almost looked like a wooden bottle and had a thin orange ribbon tied around the top and holding the stopper in it.

"This potion has been in my family for...centuries," the man explained, gently setting the bottle on the table with the other potions, "I've been waiting for when I should use it. There were...instructions. Instructions that said I would know when to use it."

Green eyes were locked on the strange bottle.

"And now is the time to use it?"

The grey eyes glanced from the child to the bottle before nodding. "Yes, I think now is the time to use it," he agreed, "this is the moment my ancestors were waiting for."

Harry's instructions were to take the various vials on the table -and the bottle- home and over the course of the next three days take all of them, which he would do because they were supposed to help. Once he left the clinic for the day, Harry was able to get back to his previous shopping that had been on hold for a week.

Scribbulus Writing Instruments, Diagon Alley, Charing Cross Road, London, England, Great Britain

11 August 1991

His first stop was for writing items. He'd bought maybe three quills and a bottle of ink when he'd come with Hagrid. The fact that the half-giant seemed to think that was too much was a little suspicious to Harry. Instead the pre-teen grabbed one of the spelled baskets and began his shopping.

There were numerous rolls of parchment in all different lengths, multiple cheap quills and three of the more expensive and 'good' quills, more bottles of black ink than he would probably need, a few bottles of different colours of ink, a bottle of colour changing ink. He added some sticks of wax and envelopes as well. As he was getting ready to head to checkout he grabbed a planner -he was going to need it- and a notebook -journal or diary or whatever- as a precaution. And then thinking better of it, grabbed a few more notebooks for his note taking. Better to have it all in one place then written in multiple rolls of parchment and trying to keep it together.

After having gotten the notebooks he went back and got the weird highlighter looking items to use when taking notes or reading. Then he was ready to check out. As he was having his things rung up he inquired about parchment with family crests on them and then wound up ordering some with the Black, Potter, and Lestrange crests. Along with a specially made wax stamp for each house.

He was informed that his specially made items would be mailed to him once they were ready. And after paying for all of it he left the shop, bags dangling from his arm.

Slug & Jiggers Apothecary, Diagon Alley, Charing Cross Road, London, England, Great Britain

11 August 1991

He'd actually managed to skip the potions store when he came with Hagrid -which really did show how much the half-giant didn't much care if he got his supplies or not- and so headed straight there after getting the necessary stationary items. Potions wasn't his favorite subject, never had been, and Snape didn't make it better.

'He's my godfather. I wonder how that might change things...or will it?'

Shaking the thought from his mind, Harry headed straight for the counter to get the standard student pack and then, on a whim, asked about any 'extra material' that might be offered for students.

"Are you telling me that Snape has a special 'extra material' set for Slytherins?"

"Nah, fer any studen' wit da brains ter as' fer it," the shop keep said with a gap toothed grin.

"Right. Whatever. I want one."

The 'extra material' set was added to his standard set and after another inquiry -'just to check'- he wound up with a second different 'extra material' set. "Are there any more extra material additions that Snape has set aside?"

The shop keep seemed to think about it for a moment, studied Harry silently with narrowed eyes, before giving a single sharp nod. The man shuffled through a door with an 'employees only' sign and the sounds of things falling and banging around echoed out before the man reappeared, a large book in hand.

"The onl' o'her ting lef'," the man explained as he set the book on the counter, "Snape said onl' someone wit a brain coul' 'ave it."

"Great! I'll take all of this," Harry exclaimed, pulling out his pouch and counting out the money before taking the bags of his new items and adding them to the stationary bags. Then he was off to the next store.

Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment, Diagon Alley, Charing Cross Road, London, England, Great Britain

11 August 1991

He'd already stopped by the wizarding equipment shop for his telescope, scales, and vials, but he stopped back by because they had plenty of things that were useful for Astronomy. He also wanted extra vials because the small number that came in the set weren't nearly enough to last the entire year; he knew it, though he didn't know why he knew it.

So he entered, once more amazed by what he was seeing and couldn't stop himself from grabbing a basket and taking his sweet time moving through the store. He bought things he thought would help him in Astronomy, such as an armillary sphere (it probably wouldn't actually help but it was cool to look at), a moon chart (might be more helpful), a star chart (definitely helpful), a globe of the moon (unlikely to be helpful), and a mappa mundi (not very helpful for Astronomy but interesting).

There were also various other items that he added though none were very useful in the long run; they were very interesting to the child.

Sadly, his look through the equipment shop took up more of his day than he expected and by the time he finished looking and paid it was time for him to return home.

The Den

11 August 1991

That night, Harry pulled out the vials of potions that Healer Fiddlesticks had told him to take over the course of the next three days and tossed two of them back before eating his dinner and climbing into bed.

Flourish & Blotts, Diagon Alley, Charing Cross Road, London, England, Great Britain

12 August 1991

The next morning, Harry woke bright and early like always. He did his morning ritual, took another two potions, ate breakfast and then headed out. His first stop was the book store. He hadn't been given time to do more than grab his required books before Hagrid had shooed him out. As he'd done the day before he grabbed a basket as he entered and then took his time. He went down every aisle and looked at every shelf. Any book that caught his attention he placed in his basket.

By the time he was half-way through the store, even the feather-light charm was being tested. Grumbling at the fact that his desire to read was outdoing magic, Harry continued on until the basket started getting too heavy for him to keep carrying. Then he changed to using his wandless, wordless magic to float the rest of the books behind him.

Once he was finally finished going through the shop, Harry returned to check out, levitating the books onto the counter -much to the shock of the teen working the till- and then struggled to get the basket up as well.

The teen behind the till was staring wide eyed as he worked ring up all the books. "Erm...that's going to be...oh...wow...I don't...are you sure you're going to be able to pay this?"

Harry gave him the stink eye and pulled out his pouch of money. "Just tell me how much it is," he snapped, not appreciating the teen's question. Hearing the number (somewhere in the hundreds) Harry grumbled about it 'not even making a dent' as he counted out the coins. And then just to be an arse because he disliked being questioned, he counted out the majority of it in knuts and sickles.

Giving the teen an angelic smile as he was forced to count all of it because 'store policy.' Harry didn't stick around to watch, just the knowledge that the teen was stuck having to do it was enough for the pre-teen. He did grab one of the owl catalogs next to the door on the way out, just in case.

Quality Quidditch Supplies, Diagon Alley, Charing Cross Road, London, England, Great Britain

12 August 1991

His love of flying meant that he couldn't not stop by the quidditch shop. It also meant that he couldn't not get a Nimbus 2000, which was going to be useless to him because first years couldn't have a broom.

He might have also splurged a little and bought some of the little animated action figures...or all of them. He had tons of money! He couldn't help it! Granted he wasn't sure what he was going to do with a giant collection of animated quidditch action figures, but he would figure it out. Maybe display them at home? And it's not like he asked if there was a way to get ones that were no longer available...really he didn't...

He also grabbed a few posters to hang up of some of the better players -mostly seekers- and a few other little bits and bobs that would make nice decorations.

Harry was at a bit of a loss on what exactly he could do about the broom since he didn't want to walk around Diagon Alley with a brand new Nimbus 2000. Who knew what kind of nutjobs might do something stupid and then Harry would have to use accidental magic in defense of himself and it would just be a huge thing that he didn't want to deal with. In the end he wound up just asking the woman behind the counter if she could just owl it to him, which go figure they did that kind of thing. So with the broom on its way to his new place of residence, Harry was free to go back to exploring Diagon Alley and getting himself things.

Eeylops Owl Emporium, Diagon Alley, Charing Cross Road, London, England, Great Britain

12 August 1991

The next stop was a place that he had been looking forward to ever since he got to Diagon back on the thirty-first. He entered the dimly lit shop and almost as if he knew exactly where to go, his feet led him to the back of the shop where wide golden eyes shone brightly. "Hey girl," the pre-teen whispered softly as he got closer, getting a questioning hoot in response, "aren't you a pretty girl."

The owl preened at the praise, puffing up a little and letting out a little chirp. "Such a pretty girl, do you want to come with me?"

She gave another hoot and the barest nod, which caused a grin to spread over Harry's face. "Let's get you out of that cage, yeah?"

That got him a louder, more excited hoot. The green eyed pre-teen unlatched the cage and the owl -"I'm naming you Hedwig"- gave a good flap of her wings before landing on his shoulder. "Wha're ya doin' lettin' that thin' outta it's cage?" a sudden shrill voice screamed from behind him, causing Harry and Hedwig to nearly jump out of their skin.

Spinning around, Hedwig clutching tightly to his shoulder, Harry came face to chest with a tall woman. "She's not a thing or an it," Harry snapped, upset on behalf of his beloved Hedwig, "she's a she. And her name is Hedwig. I'm letting her out because she doesn't like to be caged and because she's mine."

"Ain't yer's til ya pay for it," the woman retorted, gesturing towards the white owl on his shoulder, "pu' it back."

Not saying a word, Harry pulled out his coin pouch and grabbed the required galleons and then threw them at the woman. "There's your fucking money. Now she's mine."

Then without looking back he stormed out of the store.

Magical Menagerie, Diagon Alley, Charing Cross Road, London, England, Great Britain

12 August 1991

He had planned to stock up on all things Hedwig related at the owl emporium -you know where everything there is for owls- but after the woman who worked there, Harry decided he could get the same stuff from the menagerie. So he stormed down Diagon, magic flaring at random intervals -not intentionally- and then stomped his way into the menagerie.

"Oi! You cain't just come stormin' in here like that," the guy behind the counter cried, rushing out from his post and coming to stop Harry going forward, "you'll scare the animals!"

Harry had been getting ready to go on a tirade about how he could come in here however he wanted, but stopped short at the man's words. Instead the pre-teen took a few deep breaths, reined in his magic, and then relaxed as best he could.

Satisfied that the green eyed boy wasn't about to cause distress to the animals, the man turned and went back to the counter, while Harry went on a happy little hunt for owl supplies. He found a nice perch, a couple of fluffy little owl beds -mostly for the winter and for rainy days- along with a good sized bowl of forever cold and fresh water (apparently you added the water and activated the rune and it kept the water fresh and cool until it was all consumed) and a food bowl that was the same.

He also ensured that he grabbed a lot of owl treats because Hedwig could go through the things. It was as he was finishing up the purchases that he was met with the worst dilemma. Right there in front of him were two things that had his magic reaching out. One was a kitten -'a kneazle'- and the other was a snake of some sort. Harry had never seen one like it before.

"~And just what kind of snake are you?~"

The snake in question perked up, turning to look at the green eyed boy.

"~A speaker, I haven't seen one of your kind in a very long time.~"

"~You've met a speaker?~"

"~Once, long, long ago. I wonder...do you know if Salazar still lives?~"

For a moment, Harry's mind was blank at the question before he hesitantly asked, "~Slytherin?~"

"~YOU DO KNOW HIM!~"

Harry winced at the words and looked towards the kneazle kitten for a moment.

"~I don't know him, but I know of him~," the boy corrected, reaching up to stroke Hedwig for a moment, "~he's been dead for almost a thousand years.~"

The snake hissed angrily at the words and glared off to the side.

"~Humans live such short lives. I should have known he was gone. Now I will be stuck here for the rest of my days.~"

"~Are you going to answer my first question? What kind of snake are you?~"

"~I am a Nocret.~"

"~I've never heard of a Nocret,~"

The snake rolled his eyes at the child.

"~Considering I am one of the last of my kind, I cannot say I am surprised.~"

For a moment the two were silent before the 'Nocret' spoke again.

"~You will take me out of this place. I have no reason to stay when there is a perfectly good speaker who can take care of me.~"

Harry was torn because he really wanted the kneazle kitten, but at the same time he didn't want to leave the poor snake here either. "What do you think Hedwig?" Harry asked his owl softly.

The snowy bird gave a sort of 'I don't know' hoot with a look accompanying it and began to fix his hair. "Right. Both it is I guess," Harry muttered with a sigh.

He approached the cage with the nocret in it and let the snake slither up his arm before scooping the kitten out of her cage and stroking her head. "Alright you two, let's get what you'll need and get out of here. I'll finish my shopping tomorrow."

He already had everything he needed to take care of Hedwig, but he now had to go back and get everything he needed for the nocret and the kneazle.

"Heating rock, tank with a heating lamp, food and water bowl...maybe not the food bowl. Toys. Let's see food and water bowls, toys, climbing posts, scratching pots, beds, pillows, toys, food..."

As he listed everything off he walked to the front of the store where the clerk was now staring at Harry wide eyed. "I think I've gotten everything," he told the clerk with a grin.

Instead of responding, the man simply rang everything up as quickly as he could and then shooed Harry out of the store. "Well that was rude," the child muttered before tightening his grip on his new pets and with a word of warning, disappeared from right in front of the menagerie.

Chapter Text

Chapter Five: Summer's End

The Den

14 August 1991

Harry hadn't expected the potions regiment that Healer Fiddlesticks gave him to make him as tired as it did. He'd taken two of them on the eleventh -the day he'd returned home from the clinic- and then taken them before breakfast and before bed on the twelfth. He hadn't been expecting the potions to take so much out of him though, but Healer Fiddlesticks had told him he had to take the potions over the course of three days and that was exactly what Harry was going to do. He wasn't exactly sure what the potions were for -later he would learn they were small doses of skele-gro to repair his badly healed broken bones- but they were using his magic to do their job.

So all he'd done on the thirteenth was sleep, waking up around noon to take another two potions before falling back asleep. Luckily the night of the thirteenth marked the last night of having to take the unknown potions, which meant that when he woke on the morning of the fourteenth he was free to take the potion that should remove the affects of the blood adoption.

After a light breakfast -he'd learned light meals during potion regiments- he made himself comfortable on his bed and tossed back the potion. It was the last thing he truly remembered before the pain hit him.

His very blood was on fire. His eyeballs were melting in their sockets. His hair was being pulled from his scalp by the handful. His very skin carved from his skeleton. He screamed, back arching and hands scrambling at the sheets trying to get away from the pain, but it gave no relief. His magic whirled and flared around him causing everything in his room to move as if caught in a whirlwind.

His heart beat in time with the pounding in his head. He was going to die. He knew it. Whatever Healer Fiddlesticks had given him was going to kill him.

15 August 1991

When Harry woke the next morning it was to aches and pains he hadn't felt since before Hagrid arrived. His head pounded in time with his heart beat and every breath felt heavy, as if there was a painful weight on his chest. The rest of his body hurt and all he really wanted to do was roll over and try to get more sleep, but he had things that needed to be done.

Gritting his teeth, he rolled out of bed and managed to shuffle his way to the bathroom where he did his morning routine: toilet, teeth, shower.

The warm water helped sooth some of his pain, but he knew that short of a pain reliever of some sort, his head wasn't going to get better. He tied his towel around his waist as he finished drying off and moved over to the mirror, one hand using another towel and scrub his hair dry.

At first he didn't notice anything amiss, until he looked into the mirror.

"Who the fuck is that?!"

The question took him by surprise -even if he was the one who asked it- and for a moment he couldn't pull his gaze away. The child in the mirror -and he was a child even if he didn't act like it- was small and thin, which wasn't any different than before the potion. It was...everything else that looked different.

His black bird's nest hair was longer, falling nearly to his shoulders in a mess of curls and waves, still as jet black as always. His face was a bit softer, less angular than it had been with the same high cheekbones and small button nose. His lips were a little fuller with a little more colour to them. His skin was a bit paler than it had been and it took him a minute of looking but he finally figured out what was bothering him.

"I look like fucking Snow White," he grouched as he straightened up. The silky black hair, red full lips, pale skin. It didn't help that his appearance was more androgynous than masculine either. "I'm not a fucking girl. Why do I look like one?"

He wasn't going to let it go anytime soon.

It was his eyes that really caught his attention though. They were the same almond-shaped eyes that he'd seen everyday for eleven years now, but their colour was different. Whereas before the potion they had been the spitting image of Lily Potter's eyes, now they were a deep shade of green that could almost be mistaken for black in the correct light.

Later he would be informed that when he had intense feelings of anger or irritation his eyes glowed killing curse green, while intense feelings of sadness or happiness caused them to flare a stunning purple.

Borgin & Burkes, 13B, Knockturn Alley, Diagon Alley, London, England, Great Britain

15 August 1991

He'd managed to get all of his 'legal' shopping done before the potions had taken him out of commission for three days. So now he had about two weeks to get his...less legal shopping done. First stop was Borgin and Burkes. He'd been there before -or at least...he thought he had?- and knew that they would have some useful items, such as books. He needed books.

Before he entered Knockturn Alley the eleven year old pulled the hood of his cloak up, hiding his face from anyone who might -somehow- recognize him. In doing so it also got him a suspicious look from the man behind the counter -'Burke or Borgin?'- but it was easily ignored in favor of things he could spend money on.

He paused to look at the various objects -'oh, I should get that vanishing cabinet'- before finally coming to a halt at the back wall, which was filled with all sorts of books. And those shelves were where Harry spent the next two hours, slowly checking each book. When he finally finished, he moved to the counter with the giant stack of them floating behind him.

The man behind the counter continued to look at him suspiciously, which got worse when he told him that he also wanted the cabinet. The guy didn't argue though, maybe he realized that Harry wasn't someone to mess with? Or perhaps it was something else? Either way, the eleven year old made his purchases and left, bags dangling from his arm and cabinet scheduled to be delivered to 'Castor Lestrange' later that night.

Giving his birth name reminded him that he really needed to contact his grandfather about the whole 'boy-who-lived' thing because Harry wasn't going to continue to let people claim that they were carrying 'Potter approved' and 'Potter recommended' things when Harry had never even been in the store.

Cobb & Webb's, Knockturn Alley, London, England, Great Britain

15 August 1991

His next stop was just down the street, a place that had once refused to sell to him because he was a child -'twelve isn't that young'- and now he was going to ensure that the lady behind the counter didn't realize he wasn't a short adult. He stepped in confidently and began to look around. There were tons of interesting items here. Things that he knew were heirlooms to families connect to him. Those were the things that he got, making a comment here and there about how this family or that family would be 'oh so very angry to hear you have something that belongs to them.'

Which meant that most of the stuff he walked out the door with was free or sold at such a discounted price it might as well have been free. His last parting remark as he left the building, weighed down by even more bags, was to think about informing families that someone had tried to sell their heirlooms instead of keeping them to herself.

Ye Olde Curiosity Shop, Knockturn Alley, London, England, Great Britain

15 August 1991

He stepped right next door to continue his book search, spending more time here than any other store. The place had a large section of nothing but books about all branches of magic, dark and light. Just as he'd done at every other store, Harry took his sweet time looking around at everything the shop had to offer and buying things that caught his fancy (he was rich and liked spoiling himself, okay?). Just like at Cobb & Webb's he found a large number of stole heirlooms connected to families he was lord or heir of and he made sure to get them because they were his and he didn't like people having his things.

By the time he finally finished looking at all the books on offer it was past lunch and his stomach was grumbling in anger at the lack of food. His items floated themselves to the counter, which got him a look of suspicion and fear -which why?- but the woman behind the counter didn't say a thing as his purchases were rung up and he paid.

Worldly Wands, Knockturn Alley, London, England, Great Britain

15 August 1991

Harry was on his way back to Diagon to grab a bite to eat before heading home when his eye was caught by a strange little store. It was a tiny little store, shoved between two larger buildings. And for a moment Harry contemplated it. Did he really want to go investigate this new store? He already had a wand; he really didn't need a second one. In the end, curiosity got the better of him and the pre-teen entered the store.

It was just as small inside as it was outside. Dimly lit with only a couple of candles and floor to ceiling shelves filled with narrow boxes. The cleanest part of the whole place was the counter. He was just deciding that it wasn't worth it -he already had a wand- and was going to leave when an almost silent shuffling caught his attention. Spinning on the spot he was in time to see a woman, probably in her early to mid-twenties come out of the 'employees only' room.

Her floor length blonde hair was speckled with gray and her skin so pale that Harry was sure she'd never seen the sun. Her eyes were a milky blue and she was just as thin as him. "It has been a long time since I have seen one of your kind," she said in a quiet, raspy voice, "Childe of Magick, Bringer of Change and Balance, an honor only one has ever truly had."

The eleven year old took a step back, not so sure he wanted to stick around to hear all of this, but the woman gave him no chance to leave or speak before she was turning on her heel and shuffling into the back room. "Come along, little master."

Slowly, Harry followed the woman into the back, which was just as dimly lit as the front room had been. The brightest area was off in the corner, around a large wooden table. There were shelves filled with all manner of items in the same corner and the woman was grabbing all sorts of things off those shelves and tossing them on the table. There were blocks of wood, handfuls of feathers, bundles of hair, jars of unknown liquids, bowls of scales and teeth, bags of jewels, and so much other stuff that Harry had a hard time keeping up with all of it.

The last thing put on the table was a large bowl filled with water and a cloth hanging off the side of it. "Wash your face boy," the woman snapped.

Confused by what was happening, Harry did as ordered. He dipped the cloth into the warm water and scrubbed at his face, rinsed the cloth, and scrubbed again. As he went to do it a fourth time the woman made a weird noise.

"Do not be ridiculous, you have cleaned it. Now, tell me what you see."

Feeling unsure of what the woman was talking about Harry glanced down into the bowl, not sure what he was expecting, but then he saw...something. "I see...a...uh...a horse?"

"Nyet! Do not tell me," the woman screeched, hands over her ears, "tell me, show me."

When it was obvious that he had no idea what she was talking about the woman grunted in annoyance and gestured to the table filled with objects. "Show. Me."

Green eyes looked back down into the bowl and slowly his hand reached out to touch one of the bundles. Unknown to him, his eyes were glowing as he fell into a trance, one glowing killing curse green and the other flaring purple.

Harry was unsure how long he stayed in the trance, touching various items on the table without realizing what he was touching, until he finally came out of it with a gasping breath. His breathing was fast, as if he'd been running for ages, and his legs felt shaky.

"Good, good," the woman was saying as she moved around, putting everything else back on the shelves or in the drawers, "now leave. Come back in exactly one hour."

Before he had a chance to argue or complain or ask questions Harry found himself standing outside the little shop.

He spent the hour grabbing a bite to eat and by the time he stepped back into the store exactly one hour had passed. The woman was standing at the counter with a long narrow box sitting in front of her.

"Right on time."

She turned the box towards him and gently folded back the green cloth to show him the wand inside.

"Ten and three quarter inches, slightly yielding," the woman explained as she eased the wand from the box, "made of elder, yew, and cherry wood that has been sealed together with phoenix fire. A multi-core of thestral tail hair wrapped around the feather of a snow phoenix and dipped in basilisk venom. And all of it sealed together with a garnet stone."

Slowly, Harry reached out and took the wand, frowning when nothing happened.

"Oh, right. I forgot," she muttered to herself as she pulled out a knife and held out a hand for the wand. When Harry handed it over the woman placed it back in the box and before Harry could drop his hand, she grabbed it with a speed he didn't think her capable and slashed the knife across the palm of his hand.

"Hey! What're you-"

His voice died down as the woman took the wand and coated the garnet in his blood. There was a bright flash of gray light and when it died down the slash on his hand was healed and the woman was holding the wand out again. More hesitant than before, Harry took the wand and this time actually felt something.

Whereas getting his holly wand left him feeling warm, taking this new wand left him feeling...he wasn't even sure how to describe it. It felt like every good thing he'd ever imagined had combined and filled him at once. The rainbow of sparks took a few minutes to die down and by the time they did, the woman was gone.

Harry was unsure on what had happened. The sparks finally stopped and the light they caused went with them, leaving him in a tiny broken down shop with empty broken shelves and boarded up windows. There was no 'employee's only' door and the counter was cracked down the middle. The door had been smashed in and everything was covered in a layer of dust and filth. There was no evidence of someone else having been here.

"Hello?" he called, feeling greatly confused.

"Oi! Wha're ya doin' in there?" a voice shouted from the street, followed by a pale man with bright brown eyes, "'s place is off limi's."

"But...but there was a- I mean-"

"Bu' no ting! Ge't outta 'ere!"

Not wanting to stick around and argue, Harry hightailed it out of the building, casting a single glance over his shoulder to see that the store was no longer even there.

"Maybe I've finally lost it," he mumbled to himself as he finally headed home.

The Den

15 August 1991

Harry arrived home still greatly confused by the encounter he'd just had because "what the fuck just happened?"

Grumbling to himself about weird magic, the pre-teen left his purchases sitting next to the door for Dobpey and Nompey to put up, while he retreated to the study to finally write that letter to his grandfather.

Chapter Text

Chapter Five: Family Meeting

Lestrange Manor, Unplottable, France

15 August 1991

Citrio was enjoying a nice meal with his darling wife, Cispia, when the snowy owl appeared. The couple shared a look because they didn't know anyone with an owl like that, but nonetheless Citrio relieved the owl of her burden and ran the usual spells to ensure it wasn't cursed, hexed, jinxed, or otherwise dangerous to open.

Lord Lestrange wasn't sure what he was expecting when he started reading the missive, but it certainly wasn't what he saw.

Lord Citrio Lestrange,

I will admit that I'm not exactly sure how to begin this letter seeing as I've never had to write one like this before, but I'm going to give it my best shot. Please excuse any faux pas I may make.

To make a long story short, earlier this summer I had an inheritance test done at Gringotts and the results say that I am -apparently- adopted. I'm sure you're wondering why this would matter to you, but the test stated that my birth name was Castor Lestrange Black and my parents were Regulus Black and Rabastan Lestrange.

I am unsure on exactly why I was sent to the Potters, but it doesn't matter. This letter isn't to upset you or make you think I'm expecting anything. I'm writing it because I am in need of a lawyer or at least someone who would be able to help me with issues involving my name and picture being used without permission (and as a minor at the time). My account manager at Gringotts suggested yourself and your firm? I believe he said it was a firm?

So I am hoping that you will be willing to help me (or I guess work for me? with me?). I begin schooling on September first and if possible I wish to meet up before then. Just send the response back with Hedwig (that's the snowy owl).

Thanks again,

Harry Potter

Citrio shared a look with his wife, whose eyes were a little watery, and the man felt anger blaze through him. The loss of Castor had broken their family. The babe had went missing a day before his first birthday and been found months later in a ditch. Just remembering his little grandson made the man's hand clench in a fist tight enough for his nails to bite into his palm. Castor hadn't deserved the end he'd gotten.

After he'd been found everything seemed to fall apart. Regulus went missing, Rabastan withdrew into himself, Cispia couldn't stop crying, Bellatrix seemingly went off the deep end. And then to top all of it off, the Dark Lord disappeared and suddenly his sons and daughter-in-law were in Azkaban for attacking the Longbottoms.

Shaking his head to rid his mind of these memories, he glanced over at Cispia. "What do you think, darling?" he asked her softly, gently taking one of her hands in his and rubbing his thumb over her knuckles, "should I meet with him?"

His beautiful wife took a shaky breath, hand clutching his tightly. "It wouldn't hurt. If nothing else you can ensure that he is well aware that we don't appreciate such a...a prank or...or joke or...or whatever it is he meant to accomplish by doing this."

"Of course, my love."

The Den

16 August 1991

Harry was rather surprised at how fast his grandfather managed to get back to him. He'd expected the man to take at least a few days, but nope. The man had written back within the day. Harry had sent the letter off last night with the expectation of it arriving at breakfast and then him getting back to him maybe before he went off to school. Yet the reply arrived with Harry's breakfast.

"Well he works fast," Harry told Hedwig as he relieved her of the letter and allowed her to have some of his bacon. The letter was put to the side while Harry finished breakfast and then he retired to his study to read it.

Mr. Potter,

Your letter comes as something of a surprise to me and I'm sure you can understand why I'm rather skeptical of it's truth. We have mourned the loss of Heir Lestrange for over a decade and the idea that he has been living a life as Harry Potter is rather peculiar.

That is not to say that I do not sympathize with you and am not willing to set up a contract to work with those who have been using your name without permission, but I do not believe that I can accept you are my grandson without more proof.

Do note that if this is a prank then my wife and I will bring the entirety of Lestrange & Brown Law down on your head.

If you are free this afternoon we can meet at Gringotts to discuss this more.

Sincerely,

Citrio Lestrange

Lord of the Most Ancient & Creative House of Lestrange

Gringotts Wizarding Bank

16 August 1991

Harry had dressed in some of what he dubbed 'fancy' wizarding attire before he apparated to the front steps of Gringotts. His reply to Lord Lestrange had been simply and rather informal -he was eleven, cut him a break!- that basically equated to 'sounds good, see you this afternoon.'

He wasn't very sure whereabouts in Gringotts he was supposed to meet the man nor did he have a time, but the man's letter had said 'afternoon' and Harry's had basically said 'sure' so that must mean it was some point after lunch. Right? The child stepped into the large marble atrium and off to the side so he didn't block the doors, eyes scanning the people already there and those arriving.

None of the people he saw really struck him as 'Lord Lestrange' material though. He rocked back on his heels for a moment, contemplating if he should just approach one of the tellers and ask when he was approached by an unknown couple.

The wizard looked to stand about six feet or so -he didn't have a measuring tape so he couldn't truly say- and was a bit large around the waist. Not nearly as much as Vernon or Dudley, but still rather wide. He had a head full of salt and pepper coloured hair that was slicked back with enough hair gel to build a mountain. And his eyes were dark enough that Harry wasn't sure they had colour at all. He was dressed in what Harry dubbed 'super fancy' and 'ridiculously expensive' wizarding clothes.

While the witch at his side was about half his height -maybe?- and rather plump. She had thin, black hair that was showing signs of going grey and was pulled back into a tight bun on the back of her head. It was her eyes that caught his attention though. They were a stunning purple. He'd never seen someone with eyes like that before. She was also dressed in the Harry dubbed 'super fancy' and 'ridiculously expensive' wizarding clothes.

"Lord Lestrange?"

Harry had meant for it to come out as a statement, but there was a bit of hesitance to his words and the slightest inquiry at the end of it so that it came out as a question instead of a statement.

"Mr.Potter," the man greeted, giving a single nod of acknowledgement.

Harry didn't offer his hand to shake and neither did Lord Lestrange. It was a thing Harry had read about over the course of the summer when he wasn't incapacitated by potions or out running errands. Wixen didn't shake hands unless they were sealing a vow or deal, or they were greeting friends or family. He wasn't exactly sure why just yet, but he knew it had to do with mixing magic...or something.

"And this is my wife, Lady Cispia Lestrange," the man introduced the woman on his arm.

"Mr. Potter," the woman said softly, giving a nod just like Harry and her husband had done.

"Harry, please," the child offered, which got him the barest hint of a smile from the couple.

"Then we insist on you calling us Citrio and Cispia," Lord Lestrange returned.

The trio stepped in line for one of the tellers and soon enough they were being led back to the office for 'Karnok,' who turned out to be the Lestrange Account Manager.

"If we're going to be talking to account managers then I think I'd prefer to have Erknas here," Harry admitted with a small frown before adding, "he's the Potter and Black account manager."

"If you wish for your account manager to be here then go ahead," Citrio said with the slightest shrug of broad shoulders.

Green eyes turned to look at the goblin who had led them to Karnok's office. "Will you please have Account Protection Goblin Erknas join us?"

For a moment the goblin just stared at him before nodding, sneering at the child, and then leaving. "So rude," he muttered under his breath before joining the wixen and goblin in the office.

"Lord and Lady Lestrange, what can I do for you today?"

The goblin who spoke looked rather young -for a goblin- with dark hair -'goblin's can have hair'- and beady eyes.

"I'm in need of writing up a business contract with young Mr. Potter here," the man said as he sat -without being offered- in one of the chairs in front of the desk, while Cispia took the seat next to him.

"Ah, yes, Erknas speaks a great deal about you Lord Potter," Karnok said, barely giving a glance towards Harry, "he also says that you're the reason we're having to audit every account."

There was no hiding the amusement on Lord and Lady Lestrange's faces at that bit of information.

"In my defense," the eleven year old said, perching on the edge of the remaining seat, "I only made a suggestion. Account Protection Goblin Erknas was the one who ran with the idea."

At that moment the door opened and a familiar goblin entered.

"Account Protection Goblin Erknas!" Harry cried in greeting, a giant smile on his face as he waved at the goblin currently laden down with files.

"Apprentice Wizard Lord Harry Potter," the goblin returned with a smirk, "or should I be calling you Apprentice Wizard Lord Castor Lestrange Black Potter?"

"You could just call me Harry," the child pouted, glancing at the Lestrange couple out of the corner of his eye. He'd noticed the slight movements from both of them at the mention of 'Castor Lestrange' and was well aware that neither of them believed he was who he said he was.

"Then do call me Erknas. Titles get rather annoying at times."

Once every wixen and goblin had gotten situated in their seats they got down to business.

"As always," Karnok said as he started pulling familiar items out of a drawer, "before we can truly get into anything we must ensure that everyone here is who they say they are."

Three pieces of parchment and three black quills were placed on the edge of the desk nearest the wixen. "I absolutely hate these things," Cispia hissed as she picked up her own quill and scrawled her name. The two wizards followed suit. Then they waited and slowly the words began to scrawl across the page.

Inheritance Test for Cispia Aurian Lestrange née Prewett

On 16 August 1991

At Gringotts Wizarding Bank, North Diagon Alley, Charing Cross Road, London, England, Great Britain

With Account Protection Goblin Erknas, Account Protection Goblin Karnok, Lord Citrio Aspasius Lestrange, and Lord Castor Rigel Rabastan Lestrange Black Witnessing

Birth Name: Cispia Aurian Prewett

Date of Birth: 9 February 1927

Place of Birth: St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, London, England, Great Britain

Time of Birth: 10: 29: 43

Father: Leif Pembroke Prewett

Mother: Sara Rosemary Prewett née Rosewood

 

Paternal Grandmother: Berdie Golda Prewett née Silverling

Paternal Grandfather: Gustav Antone Prewett (deceased)

 

Maternal Grandmother: Rosemary Elizabeth Rosewood née Firewheel

Maternal Grandfather:Edmond Denis Rosewood (deceased)

 

Married Name: Cispia Aurian Lestrange née Prewett

Date of Marriage: 13 April 1944

Place of Marriage: Stonehenge, Salisbury Plain, Wiltshire, England, Great Britain

Time of Marriage: 00:00:00

 

Partner: Citrio Aspasius Lestrange

Child One: Rodolphus Corbin Lestrange (incarcerated)

Child Two: Rabastan Corvus Lestrange (incarcerated)

 

Daughter/Son-in-law: Bellatrix Rowanne Lestrange née Black (incarcerated)

Daughter/Son-in-law: Regulus Arcturus Black (deceased)

 

Grandchild One: Castor Rigel Rabastan Lestrange Black

Inheritance Test for Citrio Aspasius Lestrange

On 16 August 1991

At Gringotts Wizarding Bank, North Diagon Alley, Charing Cross Road, London, England, Great Britain

With Account Protection Goblin Erknas, Account Protection Goblin Karnok, Lady Cispia Aurian Lestrange née Prewett, and Lord Castor Rigel Rabastan Lestrange Black Witnessing

Birth Name: Citrio Aspasius Lestrange

Date of Birth: 19 October 1922

Place of Birth: Lestrange Manor, Unplottable, France

Time of Birth: 18: 29: 59

Father: Corvus Zeb Lestrange

Mother: Sapphire Belladonna Lestrange née Malfoy

 

Paternal Grandmother: Marigold Queenie Lestrange née Greengrass (deceased)

Paternal Grandfather: Salvatore Phoenix Lestrange (deceased)

 

Maternal Grandmother: Danica Marabel Malfoy née Black

Maternal Grandfather:Jupiter Aster Malfoy

 

Married Name: Citrio Aspasius Lestrange

Date of Marriage: 13 April 1944

Place of Marriage: Stonehenge, Salisbury Plain, Wiltshire, England, Great Britain

Time of Marriage: 00:00:00

 

Partner: Cispia Aurian Lestrange née Prewett

Child One: Rodolphus Corbin Lestrange (incarcerated)

Child Two: Rabastan Corvus Lestrange (incarcerated)

 

Daughter/Son-in-law: Bellatrix Rowanne Lestrange née Black (incarcerated)

Daughter/Son-in-law: Regulus Arcturus Black (deceased)

 

Grandchild One: Castor Rigel Rabastan Lestrange Black

Inheritance Test for Castor Rigel Rabastan Lestrange Black

On 16 August 1991

At Gringotts Wizarding Bank, North Diagon Alley, Charing Cross Road, London, England, Great Britain

With Account Protection Goblin Erknas, Account Protection Goblin Karnok, Lady Cispia Aurian Lestrange née Prewett, and Lord Citrio Aspasius Lestrange Witnessing

 

Birth Name: Castor Rigel Rabastan Lestrange Black

Date of Birth: 31 July 1980

Place of Birth: Lestrange Manor, Unplottable, France

Time of Birth: 23:59:59

Father: Rabastan Corvus Lestrange (incarcerated)

Bearer: Regulus Arcturus Black (deceased)

 

Grandmother: Walburga Camilie Black (deceased)

Grandfather: Orion Sirius Black (deceased)

 

Grandmother: Cispia Aurian Lestrange née Prewett

Grandfather: Citrio Aspasius Lestrange

 

Godfather: Severus Tobias Snape

Godmother: Pandora Cathe Lovegood née Silverberry (deceased)

 

Godfather: Lucius Abraxis Malfoy

Godmother: Narcissa Lyra Malfoy née Black

 

Adopted Name: Harry James Potter (Void)

Date of Adoption: 31 July 1981

Place of Adoption: Potter Cottage, Godric's Hollow, West Country, England, Great Britain

Time of Adoption: 23: 59: 59

Adopted Father: James Fleamont Potter (deceased)

Adopted Mother: Lily Julia Potter née Evans (deceased)

 

Adopted Paternal Grandmother: Euphemia Venus Potter née Everglade (deceased)

Adopted Paternal Grandfather: Fleamont Alabaster Potter (deceased)

 

Adopted Maternal Grandmother: Betty Shirley Evans née Smyth (deceased)

Adopted Maternal Grandfather: Edward Thomas Evans (deceased)

 

Godfather: Sirius Orion Black (incarcerated)

Godmother: Alice Seena Longbottom née Littletree (incapacitated)

"Well everything seems to be in or-"

Karnok was cut off by Cispia's sudden cry of grief or relief -Harry wasn't sure which- as she read over his document.

"It's...it's true," she managed to choke out, purple eyes now focused solely on Harry, "it's...you're really my little Cassie."

The eleven year old felt a bit put on the spot because what?

"I...uh..."

He apparently didn't have to say anything because there were suddenly arms around him and he was being pulled into the woman's bosom as she hugged him tight enough to cut off his oxygen supply.

"My little Cassie is alive!" she cried, tears flowing down her cheeks though she didn't care.

On any other day, for any other situation, Cispia would have managed to get herself together and calm down. She'd been raised a pure-blood woman and that meant poise and grace and decorum. But right this second? Learning that her thought deceased grandson was alive and well and right here? There was no way she could control herself.

"We thought you were dead! We...we..."

Her words were broken by the sobs that caught in her throat. She never wanted to let the boy go. They had missed out on so much of his life. There was so much to make up for! So much to teach him!

"Darling, I don't think he can breathe," Citrio's voice pulled her out of her overwhelming emotions and she quickly let go, stepping back enough for the boy to pull back and take large gasping breaths.

There was a loud throat clearing that brought all three wixen back to the reason they were there. "Lord Lestrange, do you still wish to make out the contract?" Karnok asked, looking like he already knew the answer.

The man looked between the child sitting next to him and his wife who had yet to do more than stand back enough for the child to breathe. This was his grandson. This was family. And Lestranges took care of family without contracts getting in the way.

"No Karnok," Lord Lestrange said as he continued to stare at the miracle in front of him, "I don't think we're going to need that contract after all."

Chapter Text

Chapter Seven: Firs' Year

The Den

1 September 1991

The last two weeks had been the weirdest of his life, which was saying something all things considered. After the whole 'inheritance test to prove I'm me' thing with Lord and Lady Lestrange, then everything had just gotten...weird.

First Lady Lestrange -"call me grandma or Cispia"- had insisted (demanded) that he live with them, which no. Then Lord Lestrange -"call me grandpa or Citrio"- had tried to insist that he stay over often (which again no) so that he would be nearby so they could plan the 'best form of attack.'

Then there was the arguing that 'he was too young to be living alone' and 'house-elves aren't the same as having adults to look after you' which were all countered by "I'm the secret keeper and I'm not going to tell you where I live, do I look like an idiot."

He might have also tossed in a few 'you thought they were good enough to raise your sons' too, but that was beside the point.

The only concession he'd made to the whole thing was to meet up with them every day for a couple of hours to 'catch up' with Cispia -it was going to take a while to call her 'grandma'- and make plans with Citrio -it was going to take a while to call him 'grandpa'- before he went home to do some reading or packing or go through some of the boxes that Gringotts had finally got around to beginning to send.

Which was another thing that was taking up a lot of his time. When he'd went to Gringotts back in July (or was it only August?) and made plans to have his accounts checked, all the items that weren't money (galleons, sickles, knuts) were boxes up and sent to him to go through. In his mind he'd had all these plans and ways to go about getting them situated, but then the boxes had started arriving and there were so many of them.

It made him glad that he had extra, unused compartments in his trunk because all of those boxes went in there and he was slowly working his way through them. One box at a time.

All of which brought him to now. The day he was set to leave for Hogwarts. He'd made plans with the Lestrange couple to meet them at the platform to see him off -he still wasn't going to tell them where he lived- and so he needed to tie up any loose ends before he left.

"How are we on that whole 'save the owls from the asshole' plan?"

"We is almost done," Dobpey -his male house-elf- piped up excitedly, bat like ears twitching a little.

"Nompey is making owl place comfy," his female house-elf added, just as excited.

After his unpleasant visit to the owl emporium Harry had gotten home and demanded that they find a way to 'rescue' the owls because if the owner was like that with a customer there was no telling how she was with the poor owls. The fact that his 'rescue' meant buying all the owls in the store and then buying out the business and firing the woman didn't come into play at all. Nope.

"Good, good. And if any more packages come?"

"Dobpey and Nompey sends them to great Master Cassie," the elves repeated together.

"Very good. So the Den is under the fidelius charm, which means that no one should be getting in here without my permission. If you need anything you know where to find me. Keep working on the owl thing, I'm sure we can come up with good uses for them that will keep them happy."

The two elves nodded and Harry checked he had his trunk one last time, along with his dear familiars, Jormungandr (Jor for short) the Nocret (very venomous magical snake that had powers similar to some of the most dangerous serpents in the world -probably a good thing there was only two left in the world- and that lived seemingly forever if the fact that Jor had met Salazar Slytherin was anything to go by) and Bastet the Kneazle. His lovely Hedwig had been sent on ahead (no reason to lock her in a cage when she was capable to flying there faster than they could ride the train).

"Right, okay," he muttered to himself, the elves having disappeared when it became obvious he had nothing more to say to them right now, "you can do this Harry. Wait, no, Castor. You have to remember that your name is Castor. The potion got rid of Harry Potter...or at least the name. Stupid thing left the blood from Potter and Evans, but whatever. It doesn't matter. Okay. Let's go Har-Castor. We got this. There's no reason to be nervous."

Another deep breath and then between one blink and the next he disappeared from the entry hall.

Platform Nine & Three-Quarters, King's Cross Station, London, England, Great Britain

1 September 1991

Harry appeared off to the sides of the fireplaces on the platform. It was still early enough that not many people had arrived yet, but not so late that no one was there. His first step upon arriving was to find a compartment about half-way down the train that was currently empty -not very hard- and set his trunk, bag, and familiars (no reason to keep them locked up) up inside. Once he was satisfied that everything was good he left the compartment, tossing up a couple of privacy and locking spells to keep people out, before stepping back out on the platform.

Green eyes glanced around before landing on the couple he was looking for and quickly making his way over. "Citrio, Cispia," he greeted with a nod towards each of them, only to be taken by surprise as Cispia pulled him into a tight hug. She had a bad habit of doing that.

"My precious Cassie is all grown up and going to school," Lady Lestrange whined, clutching Harry Castor to her tightly.

"Yes dear, but you're holding him a little too tightly again," Citrio agreed, reaching out and extracting the pre-teen from his wife's grasp.

The child had forgone the robes for the moment and was just in a casual button-up green shirt and black slacks with trainers (the only part that didn't fit in with his outfit), but it seemingly passed the inspection his grandfather was doing.

"I'm sorry that we didn't get more time to get to know each other," the man said with a nod, "but we'll have plenty of time over breaks and summers, plus the years ahead."

Castor nodded once in agreement, not so sure what he was supposed to say in this situation.

"Make sure to write," his grandmother said, stepping in when it became obvious that neither Castor nor Citrio was going to say another word, "at least once a week. We want to know everything. If you have any questions don't be afraid to ask. Do you homework, study, make good grades, stay out of trouble."

This was the first time Castor had ever gotten such a speech so he wasn't sure whether he enjoyed it or hated it.

"Try to come home for Yule."

When he opened his mouth to point out that 'home' wasn't with them the woman cut him off before he managed to get a sound out. "You know very well what I mean Castor," she scolded, reaching out to 'fix' his hair and brush invisible dirt from his shoulders, "come visit us for Yule. Spend time with family."

The eleven year old made no promises to her, but it was obvious that she understood -at least somewhat- his thought process in this situation. By this point, more people were starting to show up and the platform was beginning to get crowded. "Alright then, go ahead and get on the train," Cispia said, gripping his shoulders tightly for a moment before pulling him into another hug -she really liked doing that.

"Remember to write, do you hear me?"

He nodded, a little scared of what she might do if he declined to do so, and instead pulled away from her only making a face when she pressed a kiss to his cheek and then his forehead. "We'll see you at Yule," Citrio said, clapping him on the shoulder before stepping back, taking his wife with him.

Giving a small wave Castor hurried onto the train and back to his compartment, happy to note that no one had broken through his spells. A wave of his hand later and he was inside and making himself comfortable with Jor around his neck and Bastet in his lap, while he read one of the charms books he'd found stuffed away in the box he'd went through last night.

Castor -he was getting better at remembering that- was broken from his thoughts by the door of his compartment banging open and a familiar red head sticking inside. "Do you mind? Everywhere else is full," then without giving him a chance to agree or disagree -which is what he would have done- the taller boy shoved his trunk into the overhead and took a seat.

"I do mind," Castor grumbled, but went back to his book completely prepared to ignore the other boy for the rest of the ride.

"I'm Ron, by the way," the red head suddenly said -as if Castor had asked- leaning forward and offering his hand, "Ron Weasley."

The dark haired boy stared from the hand to the boy across from him, never putting down his book or stopping his gentle stroking of Bastet. "You are aware that wixen don't shake hands for a reason, right?"

A sneer crossed the freckled boy's face as he dropped his hand and leaned back in his seat. "Only stuck up pure-bloods don't shake hands," the boy snapped, no longer looking overly happy to be sitting with him.

The younger boy couldn't stop himself from rolling his eyes. "No, only idiots believe that. Wixen don't shake hands because it fucks with their magic," he explained, putting his book down for a moment, "you are aware that when you meet someone new your magic reaches out to basically scent them or something, right?"

The blank look he got in return for his explanation had him sighing and shaking his head. "Whatever, go around handing out your magic to everyone you meet."

They fell back into silence for a long time, until about two hours or so into the ride when the trolley witch came around.

"No thanks, I'm all set," Ron muttered, holding up a blob of...something -'corn beef sandwiches' his mind said- before turning his gaze back out the window, trying to make himself look all sad and depressed (probably).

Castor hopped up from his place and went out to the trolley, looking at everything on offer as he tried to decide what he wanted. He didn't have a big sweet tooth after living with the Dursleys for a decade and so didn't want to overindulge in the variety of sweets on offer.

He returned to his seat with an arm load of various sweets. 'So much for not wanting to indulge,' he thought to himself as he dumped the sweets into the seat next to him, along with a couple of bottles of tea (because apparently they couldn't just give him a good cup of tea since it might spill). He wasn't so sure he was going to like bottled tea, but it was better than nothing and for reasons unknown to him the trolley didn't have water.

"Hungry?" the red head across from him teased, an awkward smile on his lips.

"Starving."

As Castor ate his snacks -not very many though because so much sugar- he watched Weasley out of the corner of his eye. The blue eyed boy was watching Castor enviously as he played with his cornbeef -"she always forgets I don't like cornbeef"- sandwiches.

Once he'd eaten his fill -a cauldron cake, a small box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, a handful of jelly slugs, and half a bottle of tea- he tossed the rest of it into one of the empty pockets of his bag and sat back with his book as he sucked on one of the Mice Pops that he'd gotten. Bastet had climbed back into his lap and they rode in silence for another hour or two before they were interrupted -again- by a familiar overweight blond.

"Has either of you seen a toad?"

Twin 'no's had the blue eyed boy's eyes filling with tears as he walked away wailing "I've lost him! I've lost Trevor!"

"Maybe you should put him in a cage or something," Castor muttered around his mice pop as he flipped the page in his book.

"If I had a toad I'd want to lose it," Ron offered before he seemed to realize something and his grin slipped, "though I have Scabbers so I guess I can't really talk."

Green eyes glanced over the top of his book to focus on the sleeping rat. 'Thaaaat's what I forgot,' he thought to himself with a mental sigh, 'the fucking rat animagus.'

He made a mental note to figure out how to get the damned rat because while he might not care much about Sirius -the man had made his choice- he still couldn't just leave an innocent man in prison.

Half an hour later their compartment door slammed open -'bloody hell I need to lock the fucking thing'- and the familiar bushy haired, buck toothed know-it-all stepped inside with the overweight blond right behind her. "Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost his."

Breathing out his nose harshly, Castor placed his book down and locked green eyes with brown. "We already told -Neville was it?- that we haven't seen the bloody toad. Now, I don't know about Weasel there," he ignored the 'it's Weasley', "but I wouldn't lie about something as stupid as seeing a useless toad. So how about you go learn how to fucking knock," he glared at her as he said this and then turned his -now glowing killing curse green- eyes to glare at Neville, "and you learn how to understand the word no."

Hermione puffed up in offense, whether it was offense at the idea of being told to learn something or at the way Castor was talking to her he didn't know or rightly care, and opened her mouth to spout some nonsense, but Neville stopped her.

"I...I know wh...what no means," the boy stammered out, "b...but H...Hermione was...was help...ping m...me an....and she j...just started where I...I left off...ff."

"I. Don't. Care. Leave."

Peace once more restored to the compartment, Castor went back to his book, content to read in silence all the way to the school. Neither boy spoke for the rest of the ride and when night began to fall and the announcement came over that they were five minutes out from Hogsmeade Station, Castor cursed as he eased Bastet off his lap and jumped from his seat. He quickly flicked open his trunk and dug out his uniform, internally cursing himself for forgetting to change.

It only took him a few moments to get his shirt switched out for the uniform -having been wearing the correct pants- and slipped his robes on, wand in the holster on his left arm. He made sure all of his sweets were safely in his bag and then tossed the bag in his trunk as well -didn't want that to get left laying around- before gently shooing Bastet into her carrier and letting Jor join her -since he didn't have a carrier.

A second check ensured that all of his things were accounted for just as the train came to a complete halt at the station. He waited until Weasley had left the compartment -he didn't trust him not to try to get into his trunk- before falling into the rush of students trying to get off the train.

"Firs' years! Firs' years this way," a familiar booming voice called. Hovering over the other students' heads Castor could see the lantern that the stupid half-giant held as the oaf continued to scream for 'firs' years.'

Castor slipped into the back of the first year crowd, not bothering to speak to anyone just yet. He was well aware of how things went when it came to houses and he wasn't sure which house he was going to get tossed into this time...well he knew it wouldn't be Gryffindor but that still left three.

They slipped and slid down the steps -why they didn't make them safer Castor didn't understand- and came to a stop at the lakeside.

"No more 'n four ter a boa'," was ordered before the half-giant climbed into his own boat.

Castor stood back and watched as the students split into groups of four and climbed into boats, until there was only a single boat left with space and it was with the stupid fuckers from the train. Muttering curses under his breath he climbed into the boat with Longbottom, Granger, and Weasley. 'I refuse to be stuck with these three for the next seven years,' he complained to himself.

When they finally reached the school and were handed off to McGonagall, Castor could admit that he was fed up with all of it, which was sad because it hadn't even truly started yet. "Where is he then?" a voice called out as a pointy faced blond shoved his way to the front of the group.

"Word on the train is that Harry Potter is supposed to be starting school this year, but no one's seen him. So where is he?"

The blond was now standing in front of the group, on the bottom step so that he could see better. "Well, which one of you is Harry Potter?"

No one spoke up, but he now had everyone whispering to each other as they looked around as if 'Harry Potter' were just going to pop out of thin air going 'surprise!'

Before any of them could get too into searching for 'the chosen one' McGonagall was back and tapping Malfoy on the shoulder and leading them into the Great Hall.

"It's enchanted," he could hear Granger explaining, "to lo-"

"Shut up," he hissed, chancing a glare over his shoulder at her, "we don't need a lesson about it. It's written in Hogwarts: A History so anyone who wants to know can just read the fucking book."

The girl puffed up just like her hair, but before she could go on a rant about...whatever she was about to complain about they were at the bottom of the two steps leading up to the professors' table. They were forced to listen to the Sorting Hat and its terrible singing voice before McGonagall stepped up with her scroll in hand.

"Now when I call your name you will come up, sit on the stool, and be sorted into your houses."

Castor really wanted to say something sarcastic about the orders, but managed to keep his mouth shut as the first person on the list was called.

"Abbott, Hannah" to Hufflepuff

"Bones, Susan" to Hufflepuff

"Boot, Terry" to Ravenclaw

"Brocklehurst, Mandy" to Ravenclaw

"Brown, Lavender" to Gryffindor

"Bulstrode, Millicent" to Slytherin

"Crabbe, Vincent" to Slytherin

"Corner, Michael" to Ravenclaw

"Davis, Tracy" to Slytherin

"Dunbar, Fay" to Gryffindor

"Finch-Fletchley, Justin" to Hufflepuff

"Finnigan, Seamus" to Gryffindor

"Goldstein, Anthony" to Ravenclaw

"Goyle, Gregory" to Slytherin

"Granger, Hermione" to Gryffindor (even if she should be in Ravenclaw)

"Greengrass, Daphne" to Slytherin (wasn't one of his great grandparents a Greengrass?)

"Jones, Megan" to Hufflepuff

And then it was his turn.

"Lestrange-Black, Castor," McGonagall called, making it seem louder than the previous ones somehow.

For some reason he thought he'd manage to get away without having whispers following him when it was his turn because he wasn't famous, not as Castor Lestrange Black, but he was wrong.

"Did she say Black?"

"Forget that, did she say Lestrange?"

"Lestrange Black? What a nightmare!"

Ignoring all of the whispers, Castor easily approached the stool and hopped up on it -he was too fucking short to just sit down- and allowed the hall to disappear behind the rim of the sorting hat.

"Well what do we have here?"

The voice was low and deep, seemingly drawling as it spoke. Castor could feel the hat digging through his thoughts, feeling slimy and gross and making him wish he could take his mind out just to scrub it.

"Interesting, very interesting and difficult! Oh how very difficult. The heir to all the houses, which is enough to get you into any house you want. And you have the traits of each in equal measure. My, my, my. However will I decide?"

"I'll make it easier,' Castor offered blandly, "not Gryffindor."

The hat laughed out loud, causing those nearby to jump at the unexpectedness of it.

"Very well, not Gryffindor. You aren't reckless enough for the house of the lions anyway. No, no. I think you would do well in Ravenclaw or Slytherin. While you are loyal, it is a different loyalty to those in the house of the badger. So choose, Harry Potter. Choose your house. What will it be Castor Rigel Rabastan Lestrange Black? Ravenclaw or Slytherin?"

The hall was watching with baited breath as the hat seemed to take its sweet time in deciding where to put the boy. At the five minute mark McGonagall started casting glances at Dumbledore, who was leaning forward with a frown. At the six minute mark everyone began to fidget, wondering what was taking so long. As the seventh minute rolled around the entire hall was restless and most were starting to murmur about 'is he going to get sorted.'

Eight minutes in students were starting to doubt that the boy was going to be sorted at all since it was taking an unusual amount of time, but it was obvious that the hat and the boy were talking. Nine minutes in and everyone was getting fed up, some of the students even calling for the professors to 'hurry up' because 'we're starving out here!'

At exactly ten minutes to the second that it was placed on his head, the hat spoke, "Better be...RAVENCLAW!!!"

Chapter Text

Chapter Eight: Yer a Ravenclaw

Great Hall

1 September 1991

The silence after the Sorting Hat's declaration was music to Castor's ears. He removed the hat, gently set it back on the stool and then walked right to his new house table. His mind was running over everything he knew about his fellow Ravenclaws since all his memories -were they memories?- were of Gryffindor and Slytherin students.

So far there was Terry, Anthony, Mandy, Michael, Stephen, and Kevin who had been sorted into Ravenclaw. And sadly, Castor couldn't think of a single thing that he knew about them outside of most of them had been in the D.A. and fought at the Battle of Hogwarts. 'Seems I've got my work cut out for me,' he thought to himself as Sue Li joined him at the Ravenclaw table and Longbottom ran off to the Gryffindor table with the hat still on his head.

As he was trying to come up with the best plan on making friends -he wasn't good at it!- Morag MacDougal joined Ravenclaw, while Macmillan went to Hufflepuff and Malfoy went to Slytherin -'wait wasn't one of my grandparents a Malfoy too?'- there was a long list of people that followed that Castor couldn't remember (which wasn't surprising because Granger and Weasley had kept him fairly isolated in terms of getting to know fellow schoolmates). Some guy named Roger and a girl named Lily joined him at the Ravenclaw table, along with Padma Patel and Lisa Turpin.

After a while, the pre-teen just tuned out the rest of the sorting because there were too many people to keep up with who's who and who went where. He couldn't say that he remembered there being this many people, but he wasn't going to complain because the wizarding world was in serious need of more people. 'Probably a lot of muggle-born,' he decided as he watched some of those who'd been sorted look around with wide eyes filled with awe. Finally though, the sorting came to an end and Dumbles stood for just long enough to toss out "Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweek!" before food began to appear.

Unable to help himself, Castor leaned over to an older student to ask, "do those words actually mean anything? Or is he just a nutjob?"

It would never not be amusing to watch people get offended on Dumbledore's behalf. The student -really needed to get a name- puffed up with a look of indignation on his face and proceeded to go into a full blown rant about how great a wizard Dumbledore was, which had no bearing on Castor's question. 

As he settled in to eat his plate of food -lots of veggies because he was still on a strict diet plan with nutrition potions- he thought about the words that Dumbles had said. The last time he had only randomly remembered them as the man died, but this time he wanted to try and figure out what they meant.

'Let's see...nitwit tends to refer to an idiot. So...was he calling Ravenclaws idiots? Or was he calling the other three houses idiots? I can't see him calling his precious Gryffindors idiots, so probably calling us idiots. Then there's blubber, which unless I'm remembering wrong is swollen or protruding...or fat. Was he calling us fat? Or was he referring to a particular house as fat? Either way he was calling someone fat. Hmm...then there's oddment...which...isn't that a left over? Who on Gaia's green earth could be be referring to as leftover? Ugh. The man makes no sense. And what was that last word? Tweak? To improve something. Is he saying that we need to make improvements? Or a certain house needs to make improvements?'

"Well that's just rude!"

His non sequitur had a number of the surrounding students pausing in their meals to look over at him, making him realize he had said it out loud. Clearing his throat he gave a sheepish apology and went back to his meal. Now that he was no longer lost in his thoughts he began to hear some of the whispers around him. Most of them were about a Black or a Lestrange in Ravenclaw instead of Slytherin.

"But remember? Sirius Black was in Gryffindor. So not all Blacks go to Slytherin," one student further down the table tried to argue.

"Except for the part where he's in prison for life because he was a Death Eater," another injected.

"Exactly! He must have managed to trick the hat into putting him in Gryffindor. Maybe to throw people off his trail? And then when the time came he struck and no one would believe him because he was a Gryffindor and they never do anything wrong."

The longer he listened to it the more amused Castor became by all the rumors -"he must have been using dark magic to get the hat to put him in Ravenclaw"- now floating around about him. People were so stuck on the fact a Lestrange-Black was at Hogwarts that no one thought about the fact that Harry Potter had never been called to be sorted.

The meal slowly disappeared to be replaced with pudding. Castor watched -just a little disgusted- as the other students dug into the cakes, pies, and ice cream. Watching them shove forkfuls of the sweets into their mouths -and then talking- was enough to put him off wanting to eat anything more, but he needed to make sure he had his correct amount of fruits and veggies. So he picked out a bowl filled with fruits -'I don't think some of these are in season here'- and a small dish of cream on the side and dug in, ignoring the looks he was getting at his more healthy choice of foods.

Finally all the food was finished and disappeared, leaving the empty tables (if you excluded the mess some people *cough Gryffindors cough* made of their food) behind with the students tired and ready for bed.

"Just a few quick start of term announcements," Dumbledore said as he moved from his throne like chair to stand at the podium, "first years should be warned that the Forbidden Forest is forbidden to all students, and some of our returning students should remember this as well."

Castor wasn't imagining it when the twinkling blue gaze landed on the Gryffindor table.

"Also our caretaker, Mr. Filch, has asked me to remind you to read over the list of banned items that can be found on his office door."

Castor was now wondering why they had a squib doing a job like caretaker in a magical school where there were plenty of house-elves that needed jobs to do instead of waiting around in the kitchen and doing laundry.

"And finally, the third floor corridor on the right hand side is out of bounds," Dumbledore told them grimly, "to all who do not wish to die a most painful death."

There was a scattering of laughter that died off quickly when it became obvious that the headmaster was not joking about this, which brought up a question that Castor wanted answers to (a good thing he was in Ravenclaw where his questions wouldn't seem all that strange then). It was obvious that the headmaster was about to finish up his announcements so Castor raised his hand, standing slightly to ensure that the professors knew that he was doing it to get their attention.

"Mr. Lestrange-Black," the headmaster called, gesturing a hand towards him, "is there something you wish to ask?"

Standing from his seat and standing in the middle of the aisle between the Ravenclaw and Slytherin tables, Castor smoothed the invisible wrinkles from his clothes before folding his hands behind his back and standing as tall as a malnourished eleven year old who had only just started the potions needed to help him heal could. "As a matter of fact headmaster, I do have a question," he said, green eyes beginning to glow killing curse green without his knowledge.

"And what might that question be?"

"You just said that the corridor was out of bounds with the implication that it was highly dangerous to a school full of children," Castor began, though it was less implication since the man had said they would die a most painful death, before he asked his question, "what measures have you taken to ensure we do not accidentally find ourselves there?"

The displeased look on Dumbledore's face told the pre-teen that the man hadn't been expecting anyone to expect precautions were taken and the blank looks he was getting from the professors at the table told him that none of them had thought to do anything either. 'Typical.'

"I have warned the school of the possibility of danger if they go to the-"

"Yes, yes, we all heard you give us the warning," Castor cut in, waving away the old man's words as if they meant nothing, "but that doesn't tell us that there have been precautions taken to ensure we don't stumble over there. There are plenty of spells and charms that could be used to deter students from going there, to prevent them from 'dying a most painful death.' For example a first year," the unspoken 'me' was obvious, "that gets lost could stumble upon it by accident if they get turned around and with a school this size I imagine it wouldn't be very hard for first years to get lost."

When it looked like the man was going to interrupt, Castor added, "I personally do not wish to die a most painful death if I accidentally get confused and turned around in the school. So again, I ask, what precautions have you taken?"

The Great Hall was silent after the question had been asked, hundreds of eyes focused on the headmaster who looked greatly displeased to be questioned. "We have locked the door," the headmaster began slowly, obviously not sure what else to offer, "but rest assured first years do not tend to get so turned around that they won't realize they've gone to an off-limits area."

"So you're telling me that there's only a locked door between students and something dangerous enough to kill them? Is the locked door at least spelled in a way that a simple first year spell won't unlock it?"

The silence that question got said all he needed to know.

"I expect, headmaster," a head nod towards the old man, "professors," another nod towards the adults still sitting at the head table, "to be reassured that proper precautions have been made so that first years like myself do not accidentally die a most painful death. The last thing my grandfather, Lord Lestrange, needs is a letter telling him that his grandson died because he got lost in a school."

Whispers were starting up the longer this conversation was dragged out and it was obvious to the headmaster and the professors that this one first year wasn't going to rest until he was sure he wouldn't be injured because of something they had put in the school. Professor Flitwick was the one to stand -on his chair- and speak up.

"Mr. Lestrange-Black, rest assure that as soon as everyone is dismissed to their common rooms for the night the professors will go and place up wards and such to help keep students from stumbling into the area on accident."

Satisfied that his head of house at least had a brain and would use it, the first year nodded and gave a soft 'thank you professor' before sitting back down.

"That was a stupid thing to do," one of the older students hissed angrily, "questioning the headmaster and then demanding that the professors take precautions like that. The headmaster wouldn't just risk the safety of the students."

Dark eyes flashed purple for a moment in amusement before the first year shrugged. "I just got here. I've known about the wixen world for a little over a month. Do excuse me if I worry about my safety in a giant castle where it is probably easy to get lost for people who've never been here before."

"I think it was a smart move," Padma Patel said, leaning across the table so Castor knew she was talking to him, "if they're going to have a problem that could get us killed then they should also ensure that precautions are taken to keep us from stumbling into the danger zone."

"Do keep in mind though," Castor pointed out a little bored now, "that Professor Flitwick said 'on accident' which means that nothing will be done to keep students intentionally looking for the danger away."

His fellow Ravenclaws were sharing glances that said they hadn't picked up on that piece of the conversation, but he could hear murmurs of agreement from the Slytherin table behind him who had picked up on the wording.

"Well, now that we've gotten that out of the way," Dumbledore said, trying to shove the memory of being questioned by a child in front of the entire school to the back of his mind, "let us end the night with the School Song."

A flick of the man's wand -'that's my wand' Castor thought with a frown- had the lyrics floating in fiery letters that were large enough to be seen around the room. "Everyone pick your favorite tune."

And then the chaos began...

Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,

Teach us something please,

Whether we be old and bald,

Or young with scabby knees,

Our heads could do with filling,

With some interesting stuff,

For now they're bare and full of air,

Dead flies and bits of fluff,

So teach us things worth knowing,

Bring back what we've forgot,

Just do your best, we'll do the rest,

And learn until our brains all rot.

The hall was filled with a mixture various tunes and clashing voices that made Castor's eye twitch. He sat there, wanting to cover his ears from the noise as it seemingly got louder until everyone finished. It was dragged out by the Weasley twins -'thieves'- and their slow death march tune. "Fucking finally," he muttered under his breath as the boys finally finished and they were released to their common rooms.

Ravenclaw Common Room, Ravenclaw Tower, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry, Hogwarts Castle, Highlands, Scotland, Great Britain

1 September 1991

The Ravenclaw prefects, Robert Hillard and Penelope Clearwater, led the first years up to Ravenclaw Tower and paused outside a large wooden door with no keyhole or doorknob. The only thing on the door was a large bronze knocker in the middle with an eagle's face.

"This is the entrance to the common room," Robert told them, turning to face the first years, "we do not use passwords, instead the knocker will ask you a riddle and the only way inside is if you answer it correctly or someone else comes along and answers it so you can get in."

Once again, Castor took it upon himself to ask the important -in his mind- questions. "Are there wards or spells up that keep uninvited members from other houses out in the event they answer the riddle correctly?"

The prefects shared a look that said 'how do we answer this' and 'are other houses kept out unless invited?'

"That...is an excellent question," Penelope finally said, frown still in place, "we'll ask Professor Flitwick when he comes to give his start of term speech."

Satisfied with the answer -at least they admitted they didn't know- Castor kept his mouth shut as Robert used the knocker and the eagle came to life.

"I speak without a mouth and hear without ears. I have no body, but I come alive with wind. What am I?"

"An echo," Castor answered, tone once more as bored as it had been after his q&a with the headmaster.

"Correct. You may enter."

Robert and Penelope shared another look -they wouldn't have solved that so quickly- as the door swung open to reveal the Ravenclaw common room.

"The deserted Ravenclaw common room was a wide, circular room, airier than any Harry had ever seen at Hogwarts. Graceful arched windows punctuated the walls, which were hung with blue- and-bronze silks: By day, the Ravenclaws would have a spectacular view of the surrounding mountains. The ceiling was domed and painted with stars, which were echoed in the midnight-blue carpet. There were tables, chairs, and bookcases, and in a niche opposite the door stood a tall statue of white marble."

There was also a large spiral staircase in the middle of the room that according to the prefects "leads down to the dormitories."

"Alright first years, find a place to sit and get comfortable for the time being," Robert said, as the last of the first years stepped into the room, "Professor Flitwick is the head of Ravenclaw House and will be here shortly to introduce himself and lay down some rules for the house."

At first the first years stayed huddled together, but when Castor stepped away from them to go drop down on one of the comfy chairs and fall into conversation with a couple of the older students the rest of his year followed. Some of the first years broke off to have their own conversations and others copied Castor and found a group of older students to sit and speak to, but a handful of them walked over to join Castor.

Terry Boot, Michael Corner, Anthony Goldstein, Padma Patel, Lisa Turpin, and Lily Moon had followed Castor and managed to find two empty couches to settle into as they listened to his conversation with the older years.

"And that's how I know," Castor finished with a smug smirk, eyes flaring purple for a moment before settling back into his usual dark green.

The older students shared a look before glaring at the first year.

"Bullshit. There's no way-"

She was cut off by another of the girls asking, "why do your eyes keep doing that? The whole flashing colours thing?"

The eleven year old gave her a blank, questioning look because he had no idea what she was talking about.

"You know! How your eyes keep flaring purple or like in the great hall when they started glowing the same green as the killing curse? How are you doing it?"

"I...have no idea what you're talking about," Castor admitted with a frown, "it might have something to do with my magic or maybe my emotions?"

They all shrugged and were just about to get back to their conversation when the entry opened to admit a tiny half-goblin with a shock of white hair on his head and a white beard to watch with glasses sitting on the edge of his nose (probably so he could look over the tops of them and give students a look that called them out on their bullshit).

"Gather 'round everyone," the professor ordered in his squeaky voice, "yes, come on, that's it, make sure everyone can at least hear me."

There was scattered laughter at his joke.

Castor was the shortest in his year so he understood the issues of being too short for people to properly see you. So when Professor Flitwick entered and hardly any of them could see him the first year decided to help out. A pale finger twitched just a little and suddenly the floor under the professor seemed to grow, lifting him up enough that everyone was able to see him. The half-goblin didn't let it phase him though.

"Right, well, I suppose everyone can see me now," he teased, getting more laughter this time.

"So, in case you haven't been informed, I am Professor Flitwick the head of Ravenclaw House and Charms professor," he introduced with a nod towards the students, "if at any point you need me my door is always open. Prefects if you could please stand?"

Around the room three males and three females stood from their various seats.

"Robert Hilliard and Penelope Clearwater are the fifth year prefects," Flitwick introduced, to the male and female pair who waved at everyone.

Robert was a tall, thin teen with long limbs and dark skin. His hair fell around his head in a mess of brown curls and he kept brushing them out of light brown eyes. Penelope was like his opposite, short and plump with pale skin, long curly blonde hair and dull blue eyes.

"Blair Fern and Elsie McLaggen are the sixth year prefects," was introduced next.

If they hadn't been introduced with their last names Castor would have mistaken them for twins, both tall and average with sun bleached blonde hair and green eyes.

"And Milo Prewett and Chandra Farley are the seventh year prefects."

Milo looked like a Weasley in Castor's opinion, except his clothes weren't worn thin hand-me-downs. Chandra was short and thin, almost delicate in Castor's opinion -annoyingly like himself just taller- with dark skin and black hair (that was dyed pink of all colours) and stunning golden eyes.

"If you have any questions that you don't want to bring to me or another professor then go to one of them. They will help you to the best of their abilities or they will bring the matter to us. There are also the headboy this year, Alabaster Bagman, and headgirl, Reva Silverling, that you can go to if you need anything. Alabaster is a Gryffindor and Reva is a Slytherin, but their main priority is to help students no matter the house."

Once the prefects had retaken their seats Flitwick moved on.

"Now, Ravenclaws are expected to keep their grades up. Homework is expected to be done before any 'play time' will be allowed. Our prefects will check to ensure your homework is done and for lower years they will proofread your essays in order to give you feedback and help make sure that your work is the best that it can be. If you are having issues in a class a tutor will be assigned to you. Keep an eye on the notice board," a gesture towards the board in question, "for study group schedules. Each Ravenclaw is expected to attend at least three study groups a week. Yes there will be a sign in sheet and yes I will check it. If you are found not attending the study groups then you will receive detention with me and will be assigned to groups."

The tiny professor gave it a moment for everyone to understand what he was telling them before he made the last few announcements.

"Quidditch try-outs will be held in about two weeks, second years and up are allowed to try out. First years will be allowed if they have Madam Hooch and Madam Pomfrey sign off on it, so don't expect much neither woman has agreed to sign off on a first year since they've been here."

There were a couple people who laughed at the news, probably having been one of the first years denied the chance.

"There is a curfew, first to third years are expected to be in the common room and accounted for -do not make me or a prefect come looking for you- by eight thirty in the evening. Fourth and fifth years are expected to be in the common room and accounted for by nine thirty in the evening. And sixth and seventh years are expected to be in the common room and accounted for by ten in the evening. Curfew lifts at six in the morning. Note that there is a spell on the door that will alert me to anyone leaving the common room between the hours of eight thirty in the evening and six in the morning. So anyone who thinks about sneaking out should be warned they will get detention with me and a loss of twenty house points."

This got grumbles from all of the students because curfew.

"And the last thing to mention tonight before I shoo all of you off to bed because it is late and you have classes in the morning, schedules will be given out in the common room at six tomorrow morning. So if you plan to have your schedule you should be down here in time. Third years will have two weeks to drop their extra classes and pick another if they find they do like like the ones they've picked. Sixth years stay behind now so that we can go over your O.W.L. results to see what you qualify to take and what you want to take."

A number of students -sixth years apparently- grumbled at being forced to stay behind, but did as they were told though some (most) of them headed down to their dormitories to get their results.

"Now, everyone else, off to bed with you. Remember six in the morning for schedules."

Castor and the other first years were led down the stairs by the six prefects, splitting off about halfway down with girls and boys, though they all stopped for a moment to look at the first years.

"You should know," Robert told them, gaining all of their attention, "that the girls dorms have a ward to keep boys out so if any of you boys try to go into the girls dorms you will find yourself unable to get through and probably zapped pretty hard. The same for the girls. The boys dorms have a ward to keep girls out. So if you girls try to go into the boys dorms you will find your way blocked and probably also zapped."

Then the boys were led to the left and the girls to the right, down corridors and steps that shouldn't exist based on the layout of the tower and yet here they were.

"Right so, this is the first year dorms, there are three to a room, which means that one of you is going to be luck and have a room to himself. Names are on the doors so you don't get confused. Your things have been moved to your rooms and trunks should be at the foot of your bed. Feel free to swap beds."

Robert and Milo had walked off at this point leaving Blair to deal with the first years.

"Thanks a lot guys!" the sixth year called after his fellow prefects with a huff. Then the teen turned to them. "Alright, well remember what Professor Flitwick said. Also be warned that while the house-elves do clean up your garbage and do your laundry they do not keep your area tidy of your possessions. So make sure that you put your things in your designated area. There are room checks to ensure that you're keeping things tidy outside of trash and dirty clothes. Prefects do bed checks around midnight to make sure first to fourth years have turned in for the night."

He clapped loudly as if the first years had been falling asleep.

"With all of that said, remember six in the morning, set your alarms. Now all of you shoo, into your dorms. Get some sleep."

Castor watched as all of the boys began hurrying to check which room was theirs. It was a little ridiculous. "Hey!" he called, quickly gaining the attention of all the first year boys who were nearly climbing each other to find their names.

"Everyone step back from the doors. There's a much easier way to do this."

Amazingly enough the boys listened -Castor didn't think it was going to last- and stepped back from the doors, allowing Castor to walk to the nearest door. "Goldstein, Corner, Boot," he read off and the three boys in question stepped forwards, "this is your room."

What followed was a neat and orderly split. Castor would read the names off the plate on the door and the boys in question would break from the crowd with muttered good nights. A few of the boys had the brains to step away from the crowd and check doors, calling out names to help the process along. In all there were twenty-two first year boys. And Castor was happy to note that he was the lucky one to get his own room, but the others didn't seem to mind.

The room was just as tasteful as the common room with the standard brick walls, midnight blue carpet, and star painted ceiling. A four poster bed with blue silk curtains was off to the side and a window overlooking the sprawling green fields was right next to it. He had his own bathroom (apparently each room came with a bathroom) and a dresser and wardrobe with a desk.

Happy that everything seemed to be the same as Gryffindor, except in less painful on the eyes colours, Castor quickly unpacked the necessities. Clothes were put where they belonged. Bastet and Jor were let out of the carrier. Bastet's toys, scratching post, cat (kneazle) tree, and comfy bed were set out and Jor's tank and heating rock were settled as well.

His school books were organized on the desk for easy access, as were his notebooks, stationary, and other supplies. Toiletries were placed in the bathroom (he had it to himself why should he have to carry it back and forth?) and his school bags were hung on the back of his desk chair, emptied of everything he'd had in it for the train ride.

His extra sweets and the book he'd been reading were tossed on the nightstand and when he next looked in his trunk to find things that needed to be put up it was empty. "Huh. That didn't take long," he told Bastet, who was sleeping soundly in her bed, and Jor, who was sleeping peacefully on his heating rock that was close to the lit fireplace. "At least you two have the right idea."

The pre-teen grabbed his pajamas out of the drawer -"why did I put them up in the first place?"- and some clean underpants before heading to the bathroom. He took his time in the shower and once he was out and dried, he brushed his teeth, set his alarm for six the next morning, and was out like a light as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Chapter Text

Chapter Nine: Schedules & Death

First Year Ravenclaw Dormitories

2 September 1991

Castor awoke thirty minutes before his alarm was set to go off, which was sad because he would have enjoyed getting more sleep, but he supposed a decade of waking up around the same time every morning would ensure that his internal clock was set to keep him waking early as fuck.

Grumbling to himself and trying to scrub sleep from his eyes, Castor stumbled to his feet and into the bathroom. He did his morning routine (toilet, teeth, shower) and then ambled back into his room to get ready. It didn't take very long and then he was in front of the body mirror fighting with his tie and then his hair.

"I would have thought without the fucking Potter curse my hair would be easier to manage," he complained to his reflection, which just fucking shrugged at him before laughing at the mess he called hair. "I fucking hate magical mirrors."

He finally got his hair to cooperate with him and used a simple band to pull it back out of his face. "You know," he informed the mirror with a small pout frown, "I am mildly disturbed at how much I look like pictures of Sirius Black, though I suppose it is to be expected since I'm his nephew."

A quick "tempus" showed him that he still had half an hour before he was supposed to be in the common room, which meant that he had to figure out what to do with his time between now and then. Good thing he had a compartment full of books...and boxes...there were still a lot of boxes to go through. Fuck.

He managed to get through a box of stuff -there were a lot of boxes he needed to make sure to add going through them to his schedule- before it was time for him to be down in the common room. He set the box of things he was going to be sending back to the bank off to the side so that he wouldn't forget it when he went down to breakfast and slipped off upstairs. He was pleased -and a little disgusted- at being the first of his year to arrive...well the first Ravenclaw in general to arrive. Shrugging it off, he approached Professor Flitwick, who was currently going over the schedules in his hand.

The tiny man looked up, squeaked (though why Castor had no idea) at seeing him, and then flipped through the stack of parchments in his hand.

"Here you are Mr. Lestrange-Black," the half-goblin said, handing over the neatly cut piece of parchment that was filled from top to bottom with words.

"Professor, you do know that you don't have to call me Lestrange-Black, right? You can just call me Black."

The professor actually seemed to relax at hearing that, which Castor didn't want to look to deeply into, and gave him a wide smile. "Very well Mr. Black, I look forward to seeing you in class."

Upon returning to his dorm, Castor took a moment to look over the schedule before beginning to pack his bag for the day.

Monday:

6:30 a.m. to 7:50 a.m.: Breakfast in the Great Hall

8:00 a.m. to 9:30 a.m.: Transfiguration with Professor Minerva McGonagall in classroom 1B, Ground Floor, around the Middle Courtyard

9:40 a.m. to 10:50 a.m.: Potions with Professor Severus Snape in the Dungeons, Left Viaduct Tower

11:00 a.m. to 12:00 p.m.: Lunch in the Great Hall

12:30 p.m. to 2:00 p.m.: Charms with Professor Filius Flitwick in classroom 2E, third-floor, Charms Corridor, Training Grounds tower

2:10 p.m. to 6:00 p.m.: Free Time

6:10 p.m. to 7:50 p.m.: Dinner in the Great Hall

8:30 p.m.: Curfew

"Transfiguration, Potions, and Charms. Three of the hardest classes all on the same day. How great."

Tuesday:

6:30 a.m. to 7:50 a.m.: Breakfast

8:00 a.m. to 9:30 a.m.: Free Time

9:40 a.m. to 10:40 a.m.: History of Magic with Professor Curthbert Binns in classroom 4F, first-floor

10:40 a.m. to 12:00 p.m.: Free Time & Lunch

12:30 p.m. to 2:00 p.m.: Herbology with Professor Pomona Sprout in Green House Three

2:30 p.m. to 3:30 p.m.: Defense Against the Dark Arts with Professor Quirinus Quirrell in classroom 3C, Serpentine Corridor, third-floor, Hogwarts Turris Magnus

3:40 p.m. to 6:00 p.m.: Free Time

6:10 p.m. to 7:50 p.m.: Dinner

8:30 p.m.: Curfew

"You have got to be kidding me! Free period followed by Binns followed by another free period? That's four hours of doing nothing. Or...maybe I could get one of those note taking quills. Not like Skeeter uses because that would be useless, but the actual note taking ones. Then I would be free to do whatever I wanted during the class...like read actual history books...hmm...something to think about..."

Wednesday:

6:30 a.m. to 7:50 a.m.: Breakfast in the Great Hall

8:00 a.m. to 9:30 a.m.: Transfiguration

9:40 a.m. to 10:50 a.m.: Potions

11:00 a.m. to 12:00 p.m.: Lunch in the Great Hall

12:30 p.m. to 2:00 p.m.: Charms

2:10 p.m. to 6:00 p.m.: Free Time

6:10 p.m. to 7:50 p.m.: Dinner in the Great Hall

8:30 p.m.: Curfew

 

Thursday:

6:30 a.m. to 7:50 a.m.: Breakfast

8:00 a.m. to 9:30 a.m.: Free Time

9:40 a.m. to 10:40 a.m.: Magical Theory with Professor Rain Salamander in classroom 67, fifth-floor

10:40 a.m. to 12:00 p.m.: Free Time & Lunch

12:30 p.m. to 2:00 p.m.: Herbology

2:30 p.m. to 3:30 p.m.: Defense Against the Dark Arts

3:40 p.m. to 6:00 p.m.: Free Time

6:10 p.m. to 7:50 p.m.: Dinner

8:30 p.m.: Curfew

"Oh good, they're breaking up the horror of four hours of nothing. I don't remember taking Magical Theory last time though. It was an elective...maybe Ravenclaws are just required to take it?"

Friday:

6:30 a.m. to 7:50 a.m.: Breakfast in the Great Hall

8:00 a.m. to 9:30 a.m.: Transfiguration

9:40 a.m. to 10:50 a.m.: Potions

11:00 a.m. to 12:00 p.m.: Lunch in the Great Hall

12:30 p.m. to 2:00 p.m.: Charms

2:10 p.m. to 6:00 p.m.: Free Time

6:10 p.m. to 7:50 p.m.: Dinner in the Great Hall

8:30 p.m.: Curfew

11:50 p.m. to 1:00 a.m.: Astronomy with Professor Aurora Sinistra in the topmost floor of the Astronomy Tower

*Note that students are expected to be back in their common rooms by 1:20 a.m. after Astronomy is over.

 

Saturday:

Study sessions are offered all day. Homework must be done. Free Time.

 

Sunday:

Study sessions are offered all day. Free Time.

"I can just tell this is going to be a fun year," he mumbled to himself as he began to pack his bag. "Let's see," he opened the pocket for books and stuck The Standard Book of Spells Grade 1, A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration, Magical Drafts & Potions, and Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them in before opening the pocket made just for potions items and stuffed all his potions supplies inside such as his cauldron, vials, and scales.

The third pocket was flipped open to be stuffed with three of the page adding notebooks, a couple rolls of parchment, some quills and ink pots, and his planner. He closed his bag and looked around to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything. It would be just his luck to forget something.

Seeing he had everything he might need, Castor threw his bag over his shoulder and headed out of his dorm. He made it as far as the entrance to the common room -where more of his fellow Ravenclaws were beginning to arrive- only to suddenly curse (loudly). The Ravenclaws jumped at the seemingly random amount of cursing coming from the first year blocking the entrance and patting at his pockets and digging around in his bag.

"Fuck!"

Milo, the prefect, was about to scold the boy and demand to know what was wrong when said boy spun on his heel and ran back down the stairs. "Okay people, let's move along. Obviously the firstie forgot something."

The older students just shrugged and continued on, heading out towards the Great Hall since breakfast was set to start in five minutes.

The Great Hall

2 September 1991

Castor joined his fellow Ravenclaws five minutes after they'd left the common room. He was clutching a box in one hand and a letter in the other.

"What's in the box, Castor?"

The eleven year old glanced over at Lisa Turpin before glancing at the box. "Something I need to send to Gringotts. Things they took out of my vault for me."

It was obvious his explanation didn't make her happy -it wasn't very informative- but she said nothing more as they entered and took their seats, the other first years gathering around Castor for reasons he didn't understand.

The food arrived and about half-way through the mail began to arrive. It started with one owl suddenly landing in front of one of the Slytherins and almost like a switch was flipped the hall was full of them. Hedwig glided down and landed with a little skip right next to Castor's plate, leg held out to take the package. "Hey girl," he said softly, stroking a finger down her chest, "you ready for a trip to London?"

The snowy owl chirped and shook her leg as if to say 'get on with it' and Castor laughed as he shrunk the box and cast a feather-light charm on it before tying it to her leg. "You know where to go love," he whispered, giving her a piece of bacon before she took flight once more.

"Oh my gods!"

The shout got everyone's attention because it was loud enough that Castor was fairly sure someone had amplified their voice to be heard.

"Harry Potter is dead!"

Chapter Text

Chapter Ten: Harry Potter is Dead

Great Hall

2 September 1991

The Great Hall broke into chaos at the words. Everyone was talking rapidly, some screaming and some crying, others claiming it was a lie and the rest fighting for any copy of the Daily Prophet they could get their hands on.

Castor took great pleasure in taking his sweet time getting his own copy of the paper and opening it. Some of the older Ravenclaws tried to demand he hand it over, but Castor wasn't one to bow down to anyone.

Harry Potter Missing, Presumed Dead

Harry Potter, the babe who defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, the Boy-Who-Lived, is missing and has been presumed dead.

You're probably wondering why our missing saviour is presumed dead when he is also missing. Harry Potter was supposed to start at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry on September first, but he never showed up.

Visits to the boy's home showed that he had left on the morning of August second 1991 and never returned. He was last seen leaving the Magical Menagerie in Diagon Alley on August thirteenth 1991.

With all of this information, many of you are probably still wondering how the missing Boy-Who-Lived makes him presumed dead. When he didn't show up on September first, Headmaster Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore began to look into the matter.

The Book of Admittance was checked and the name Harry Potter was faded grey and had been struck through. For those of you who do not know, this means that the student in question has died. Which means that the Boy-Who-Lived is no longer with us.

When questioned about it, Headmaster Dumbledore and the rest of the staff at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry were unavailable for comment.

"Well? What does it say Black," one of the older Ravenclaws demanded, trying to grab the paper that was being kept just out of reach.

"It says the Book of Admittance has him marked as deceased and no one knows anything about it," Terry said as he read his own copy.

"So it's true then? Harry Potter is dead?!"

That started up a whole new round of hysteria for the students in the Great Hall and most of the staff looked just as distraught. Until one of the Ravenclaws suddenly rounded on Castor with a look of anger.

"You!"

Green eyes blinked, the only sign of his confusion. "Me?"

"Yes, did you not see the next article? The bottom half of the page? You're Harry Potter!"

"Pardon? I'm who now?"

Not waiting for the girl to answer, the pre-teen flipped the paper to look at the bottom half of the front page where there was a giant picture of him.

Castor Lestrange Black, the Missing Boy-Who-Lived

We here at the Daily Prophet are happy to announce that the missing Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter, has been found! After the horrifying discovery in the Book of Admittance just yesterday (September first), this reporter managed to speak to Headmaster Dumbledore.

The headmaster confided in me that while Harry Potter's name was struck through and faded grey (the sign of a deceased student), Castor Lestrange Black's name had been unmarked from it's previous deceased state and marked with the magic star that denotes a student's name change.

Now many of you are probably wondering why this would lead us to believe that Castor Lestrange Black is Harry Potter. It is simple my dear readers. The name Castor Lestrange Black was marked by the magic star the exact same day that Harry Potter's name was marked deceased.

A coincidence? I think not!

Which now begs the question of 'why would our saviour want to take on the name of two of You-Know-Who's followers?

This reporter plans to find out.

"Well then," Castor said with a frown, "that's just stupid. Skeeter is a gossip columnist and making up stupid shit."

"Don't try to lie to us!" the Ravenclaw who'd read the article first screeched, now out of her seat and standing behind Castor. She looked ready to burst or maybe punch him.

"I'm not. Rita Skeeter is a gossip columnist writer. And she is making up stupid shit."

"You're Harry Potter! If you aren't then explain why the Book of Admittance gave you a 'magic star that denotes a student's name change' on the same day Harry Potter died!"

By this point the entire Great Hall was silent and watching the two students. They weren't sure what to believe at this point because it was in the Daily Prophet and written by Rita Skeeter that the boy was Harry Potter, but at the same time no self-respecting light wizard would take on the name of two Death Eaters.

Grumbling about the fact that he would have to deal with this before he could eat his breakfast, Castor stood from his seat to face the girl.

"The 'magic star' as you stupidly call it," Castor drawled with a roll of his eyes at the words, "isn't there to denote a name change. It is there to denote when either A) the student's 'fake' name has been removed for a variety of reasons not excluding an adopted child who has went back to using their birth name or B) when Lady Hecate or any of our other gods or goddesses want people to know their champion."

There were whispers around the hall at the words, but the girl wasn't going to let it go.

"And I suppose the star on your name means you've been marked as a champion for people who don't exist?"

The eleven year old froze at the question and his eyes narrowed. "You would do well to remember that those 'people who don't exist' are the reason you have the gift of magic. If you don't want to pay them proper respect then you can just give your gift back and run along to the muggle world where you apparently belong."

Gasps echoed around from the students who could hear his words, but most of the half-bloods and none of the pure-bloods argued the suggestion because they were well aware that respects needed to be paid to Lady Hecate for her gift of magic.

"We're getting off track," the girl said, trying to back pedal because she knew she'd made an error in judgement with her words, "which is it? You're either a champion or your 'fake name had been removed'."

For a moment everything was once more silent, the Great Hall waiting for the boy to deny both of the options. It almost felt like everyone was holding their breaths.

"Both."

And then the room was once more exploding with whispers, cries, screams, and denials.

Not wanting to deal with any of the idiots currently in the hall, Castor retook his seat and began to serve himself breakfast. Many of his fellow Ravenclaws were trying to force him to 'explain how Harry Potter was a fake name' while Sytherins were behind him jeering at the idea that the son of two dark wizards could possibly have been such a light wizard. The Hufflepuffs were just talking quietly to each other and the Gryffindors were screaming across the room that 'Harry Potter should be in Gryffindor!'

It didn't take the first year long to finish his meal and with a flick of his wrist the time was floating in large red letters in the air next to him.

'7:30 a.m.'

He was content to completely ignore everyone trying to talk to him and people calling him 'Harry Potter' as he pulled out his planner and flipped it open to the pages his schedule was bookmarking. Noting which class he had next -'transfiguration'- he flipped his planner closed once more and shoved it back in his bag before standing. His fellow first year Ravenclaws stood with him, even the ones who hadn't finished eating, and followed him from the Great Hall.

They got half-way to class before Castor couldn't take it anymore and he spun around to face those following him. "Okay. I want to know why all of you are following me around like little ducklings."

The group shared a look before all eyes went to Anthony Goldstein. The typical blonde haired, blue eyed, 'surfer boy' gave the other first years a look that spoke of revenge later before facing Castor.

"You seem like the best person to follow. I mean...you stood up to Dumbledore last night and then you were asking the real questions to the prefects even if they did forget to ask Flitwick to be on the safe side."

The eleven year old -the youngest and smallest of the whole house- rolled his eyes and muttered a quiet 'whatever' towards them as he turned to go to the transfiguration classroom. But he paused suddenly and turned to look at the other first years. He knew where everything was and how to get there, but these first years had never been to Hogwarts before and it was only fair that he help them out at least for the first week.

"Does everyone know where the nearest bathrooms to the transfiguration classroom are? If not, I'll show you them before we have to be in class."

Lisa and Sue shook their heads that they didn't know -and apparently they needed the loo anyways- and Terry and Michael were in the same boat.

"Right then, follow me."

Potions Classroom, Dungeons, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry, Hogwarts Castle, Highlands, Scotland, Great Britain

2 September 1991

Castor was so very done with everything and it wasn't even lunchtime yet. Transfiguration had been a complete mess. Professor McGonagall kept trying to call him 'Mr.Potter' and then trying to dock him points when he corrected her that it was 'Mr. Black or Mr. Lestrange or even Mr. Lestrange-Black, you can pick.'

The lesson itself was interesting and he got great joy each time she asked him a question expecting him not to know the answer and then having to return the points she'd just taken. She had also -for reasons he didn't understand- had issues with him using his notebook to take notes in, but he'd given her a solid argument that would have made her look dumb and petty if she refused and so the matter was dropped.

'I don't remember her being such a bitch,' he thought to himself as he took a seat near the back of the potions classroom.

Terry sat next to him with Michael and Lisa behind him and Padma and Anthony in front of him. All of them pulled out their books, ink, parchment (notebook in Castor's case), and a couple of quills while they chatted amongst themselves while waiting for class to start.

"Put your wands away," Snape said as he stalked into the room, robes billowing behind him and wand flicking to make the door slam shut. He spun to face them once he was at the front of the room. "There will be no foolish wand waving in this class. As such I don't expect most of you to understand the art that is potions making."

The speech was just the same as Castor remembered it with the 'bottle fame and brew glory' bullshit. Honestly, it was like the man was trying to convince them that Potions was a useful skill.

"Mr. Lestrange Black," Snape suddenly called because of course he was going to call on him.

The pre-teen looked up at the professor with boredom. "Yes professor?"

"Tell me, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

"That depends professor," the Ravenclaw couldn't help but say.

"Explain."

"Well if you're just sticking powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood you aren't going to get much of anything," when it looked like Snape was about to make a cutting comment he expanded, "if you add them then stir twice clockwise then add sloth brain and sopophorous bean juice and stir it seven times counter-clockwise you'll get the Draught of Living Death, which is a potion that causes the drinker to fall into a powerful sleep that without the antidote can last indefinitely. Very dangerous potion."

Snape looked like he'd sucked on a lemon by the time Castor was done.

"Correct. Five points to Ravenclaw. Where would you look if I asked to you find me a bezoar?"

"The stomach of a goat. Personally I hope you already have the antidote to whatever poison you've ingested because I'd rather not have to go digging around in a goat's stomach."

"Five points from Ravenclaw for such cheek!"

There was a grumble from his fellow first years -that weren't sitting near him- but Castor wasn't overly concerned. Points were stupid and professors very unfair about the way they took and gave them.

"What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

"Trick question," Castor retorted, writing down everything that had been said up to this point and not even noticing Snape getting upset at being ignored, "they're the same thing. Also known as aconite."

The ground out 'five points to Ravenclaw' was music to his ears.

"Well? Why aren't you writing this down?" the man snapped, eyes glaring around the room at the students just sitting there watching.

After that class went about the same with them taking notes about...well everything that Snape said to them because you never knew what the man would deem important come test time. They didn't get around to making any potions, but there was a promise of it next class period, along with a homework assignment for an essay on the cure for boils.

As they were leaving, Castor couldn't stop himself from pausing at the door and looking back at the angry professor. "Oh, Professor Snape," he called as if just remembering something, "I'm fairly sure a lot of people bitterly regret Lily's death."

Then he was gone before Snape could come up with a suitable response.

Great Hall

2 September 1991

Lunch was an interesting affair.

People were still trying to get over the fact that Harry Potter the Boy-Who-Lived was the same person as Castor Lestrange Black the Ravenclaw with an attitude problem.

Castor was content to ignore all of them because he had better things to do, like updating his planner for tonight's plans. "Transfiguration essay and potions essay, both due Wednesday," he muttered to himself as he scribbled them in, "and probably a charms essay but we'll wait and see. I need to make sure to read up on tomorrow's chapters as well and try to fit sorting a box in before bed."

"Hey uh...Castor," Michael said, pulling Castor out of his thoughts, "I think you've got a...uh...a bit of mail."

Dark green eyes looked up and sure enough the afternoon mail was being delivered and a number of owls were heading straight for him.

"Oh joy, it looks like the wizarding world has finally decided how to react to the paper this morning," he said sarcastically, gaining some laughs from those around him.

The proceeding few minutes were a flurry of owls landing with regular envelopes, red envelopes -three guesses what those were and the first two don't count- and random packages. Some of his fellow first years were reaching out with the intent to help him unburden the owls, but he snapped out a "don't."

And at first it was obvious that the first years were upset at being denied the right to help him, which what the fuck, but when he waved his wand at one of the packages Padma had been about to remove and it glowed a familiar orange colour they seemed to suddenly understand.

"I thought Hogwarts had wards to keep crazy shit like this from getting through," Lisa said softly, looking a little fearful at the owls gathered around her.

Castor couldn't stop his snort. "Please, the wards haven't been worth shit since Dumbledore took over. If they were Snape wouldn't be here."

He got curious looks that demanded explanations at his statement, but he ignored it in favour of checking each letter and package before he took it from the owl and then casting a stasis charm on the howlers.

"I hope none of these are overly important," he commented lightly as he shoved all of the not cursed ones into the empty pocket of his bag and pulled out a piece of scrap parchment kept solely for situations like this. The scrap parchment was transfigured into a boring box with a flick of his wrist and he levitated the cursed packages and letters into it before sealing it tightly and adding a note to the top, addressed Madam Bones in the DMLE.

Just as he finished his letter Hedwig showed up with mail for him, which he happily took, gave her some of the meat from his lunch, and then lightly ruffled her feathers.

"Hey girl, I know you're probably tired, but do you think you could run this to Madam Bones for me?"

The look he got from his familiar had him grinning even if it was a look that seemingly asked 'are you truly questioning if I can do my job?'

"Right, how silly of me," he joked as he tied the shrunken and feather light charmed package to her leg. "Wait to see if she sends a reply, yeah?"

A hoot, light nip to his fingers, and she was gone once more.

Library, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry, Hogwarts Castle, Highlands, Scotland, Great Britain

2 September 1991

The rest of Monday had been better than the first half. Charms had gone easily with note taking and lectures on magic casting. When class had been over -complete with homework essay- Castor (and his merry band of Ravenclaw first years) headed to the library where one of the older Ravenclaws was holding one of the 'study groups' that they were required to attend. Sure Professor Flitwick had said they needed to attend three a week and so they didn't have to go to this one, but Castor figured the sooner he got the required three out of the way the better.

For the the next hour he sat there working on his transfiguration essay, which Chandra showed up to read as soon as he finished writing it.

"Are you sure you're a first year?" The seventh year was looking at him suspiciously. "Because I've been proofreading firstie essays for almost three years now and this doesn't read like a firstie essay."

His eyes flared purple in amusement as he leaned back in his seat and stretched his hand out. "Yeah, I'm sure I'm a first year. I'm not sure if you noticed or not," the sentence was dripping with sarcasm, "but I'm not your average first year."

Golden eyes narrowed at him as the prefect threw his essay at him. "Whatever brat. Your essay is fine. McGonagall will like it."

"Thank Hecate for that," he muttered under his breath as he gently rolled it up and placed it in his bag -ink already having been spelled dry so it didn't smudge.

He'd finished his potions essay, having to go in search of some books for reference, and was half-way through his charms essay when he heard the voices.

"Did mum send you a letter too?"

The dark haired boy paused in his writing, the other Ravenclaws not having noticed, and tilted his head just the slightest to hear better.

"You mean the part where-"

"-they're planning on taking the-"

"-Burrow if mum and dad don't-"

"-pay them back? Yeah, mum's in-"

-"a right state about it."

"Gringotts sent me a letter too," the now familiar voice whined, "claiming that I had to start paying back the money I spent from my vault."

"You think-"

"-you're bad off-"

"-that's nothing-"

"-on us. We-"

"-have to pay back-"

"-everything we spent-"

"-which means the-"

"-goblins took-"

"-all of our-"

"-saved money."

In another time, another place, Castor would have felt bad for taking all the money the twins had saved up for their dream job, but in this time and place he just felt justification for it. They had taken his money and used it to buy supplies for their business. Now they were having to pay it all back.

"At least you two have a way to earn the money back!"

Madam Pince's 'shhhhhhhhh....' was louder than Weasley's cry.

"They're going to take my chocolate frog collection. Says that it'll pay off a good bit of what I owe. And mum and dad agreed! Can you believe that? They agreed to let the stupid goblins take my hard earned collection."

"At least you-"

"-can save up-"

"-your collection-"

"-again."

"That's not the point," Weasley snarled, "I'm one short of having the entire current collection and they're taking it."

"Be grateful-"

"-that your collection-"

"-isn't the self updating one."

Weasley let out a noise somewhere between an angered hippogriff and an angered mermaid before the sounds of him stomping off echoed around the room.

"Why do you think the goblins are taking Weasley's cards?" Sue suddenly asked, laying her quill down and rubbing at her hand.

"Were all of you listening to that discussion?" Castor asked surprised that he hadn't noticed since none of them had paused in their writing.

"Kind of hard not to," Anthony pointed out dryly.

"Yeah, baby Weasley is rather loud," Lily agreed.

"So, why do you think the goblins are taking his cards?" Sue repeated.

"Probably because he was stealing from me and I told the goblins to get all my money back."

There were gasps and mutters about 'how horrible that they would steal from an orphan.'

"Yeah, him, the twins, their parents, his little sister, then there were a number of people I don't actually know also taking my money. But the goblins are going to get it back."

"Good. Glad we got that settled. Now can someone help me with this stupid potions essay?"

Leave it to Terry to completely change the subject from interesting to boring.

Temporary Defense Against the Dark Arts Classroom, Ground Floor, around the Middle Courtyard

3 September 1991

The next day, Castor was ready to just lay down and take a nap. He'd had a giant free period after breakfast, which he'd spent going over the various letters and other mail he'd gotten the day before and that morning -apparently knowing that the Boy-Who-Lived was in fact alive meant that people wanted to send him 'thank you' mail along with offers for marriage, courting, and betrothal contracts- and the mail people had apparently sent him when he first 'defeated' Voldemort.

He would never understand people. Most of the letters had been tossed in his lit fireplace -"always burn your mail after reading it unless you need it for something else"- and the howlers were listened to in amusement. Packages were opened and most of them sealed right back up and sent back to their sender. Hedwig was getting a workout and he was glad when Dobpey arrived to tell him that the owls had been bought because it meant that he could send out more mail at a time instead of having to wait for his dear Hedwig to return.

It also meant that he could save Hedwig for the more important tasks, such as Gringotts or correspondence with Lord and Lady Lestrange (which he had to write to at least once a week or their evil hawks, Circe and Ravinger, would arrive with letters and refuse to leave until he replied).

By the time lunch had finished and he'd trekked down to the greenhouse for herbology and then back up to the castle for defense -which had had a sign on the notice board stating the classroom had been moved for the year because of the third floor thing- he was exhausted.

The classroom smelled like garlic and made Castor sneeze repeatedly when he entered, until he waved his hand and the scent was suddenly gone and replaced with lemon-y freshness. The others in the room also heaved a sigh of relief at the sudden lack of over-powering garlic, though Professor Quirrell nearly jumped out of his skin at the sudden change.

"M...Mr. B...Black," the professor stuttered -Castor was fairly sure he meant it to come out more sternly than his stutter would allow- "I do not app...ppreciate you p...p...putting my life in d...danger by getting rid of the g...garlic."

"I'm sure you'll be safe behind the Hogwarts wards professor," Castor chirped with a big smile, "no need to try to murder the students with something like garlic when there are so many other more interesting ways to do it."

The pre-teen was sure he heard a hissing voice saying something, but he couldn't make out what. As the lesson began, Castor let his mind drift because Quirrell might have been a good professor if not for the curse and the whole 'possessed by Voldemort thing.'

"~Idiot. Who let's a wraith possess them?~" he couldn't help hiss softly and was well aware he'd caught the attention of the person he wanted when Quirrell suddenly stopped his stuttering and his eyes flashed red.

Castor and the professor locked eyes for a moment and the eleven year old knew that it was not Quirinus Quirrell staring back at him. He gave the faintest smirk before he broke eye contact with the body Voldemort was possessing and went back to taking notes.

Ravenclaw Common Room

12 September 1991

The rest of the week and into the next had been the same as the first two days, except for Thursday where he'd had Magical Theory instead of History of Magic and Friday when he'd had Astronomy. Sadly for him, Saturday he hadn't managed to sleep in because his internal clock was still running on the 'wake up at 5:30 every morning' schedule, which he took full advantage of by finishing up any remaining homework -astronomy essays on Saturdays- and going through any mail he'd had arrive at dinner -which happened regularly- and writing out his weekly letters to Citrio and Cispia.

His week was messed up on the second Thursday he was in school. His usual morning free time right after defense was taken up with Flying Lessons. Every Thursday from 3:40 p.m. to 4:40 p.m. he was to be outside having Flying Lessons.

Near the Quidditch Pitch, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry, Hogwarts Castle, Highlands, Scotland, Great Britain

12 September 1991

That's where he was today, standing around with a handful of his fellow Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs, Slytherins -which sadly included Malfoy-, and Gryffindors -which sadly included Weasley, Granger, and Longbottom.

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" Hooch snapped, gesturing towards the brooms, "everyone pick a broom. Come on, quickly now, step up next to it."

Her hawk like eyes watched everyone impatiently as they shuffled around towards the brooms some of them -Malfoy- taking his sweet time to look over the brooms until he found the one he wanted, which just so happened to also be the one Castor had already claimed.

"That's my broom," the blond brat demanded, hands on his hips and daring Castor to refuse him, which...well...

"I don't see your name on it," the dark haired boy said, "and if you wanted it you shouldn't have taken your sweet time walking around."

"Why I-wait until my father hears about this!"

Castor snorted at that, covering his mouth and nose with his hand to try and hide his laughter.

"Please, do tell him that Heir Lestrange is refusing to let his son have a school broom for flying lessons," the Ravenclaw begged, "I would love to hear his response."

A bright pink spread across Draco's cheeks because the boy wasn't as stupid as he came off. He was well aware that his father would tell him to apologize in this case because the Malfoy family wasn't nearly as old or respected as the Lestrange family. Instead of trying to argue with him more Malfoy used the little sense he had to shuffle over to the only remaining broom.

"Good, now I want you to hold your hand over the broom, palm down, and say 'up.'"

Castor watched the others try to summon their brooms and was a bit embarrassed by them. It wasn't that hard to summon the broom.

"Up."

The broom flew into his hand so fast that it almost hurt and got him several glares from the Gryffindors and Slytherins, while the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs started requesting his help since Hooch was stuck helping Granger.

"Just...stop," Castor demanded as he watched Sue and Anthony try to summon their brooms. His demand had all the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs pausing to look at him and Hooch still wasn't paying any of them any attention too focused on Gryffindor and Slytherin. "The magic in the broom can tell when you're scared or worried," he explained, "so when you're trying to summon your broom you can't let any of that show through."

"Think of it like this," he said, deciding to change directions on them in hopes that it would help, "animals and babies can feel your emotions and react to them, right?"

That got him nods from those listening to him.

"Magic is the same way. It feels your emotions, in this case when you're scared or worried about flying, and reacts to it by not letting the broom come to you. So you have to be firm when you summon it."

He put his own broom on the ground and held his hand over it. "Remember, firm. Don't let it feel your fear or worry or whatever not positive emotions you might be feeling towards the idea of flying."

"Up."

Once more the broom flew into his hand. His voice had been strong, kept firm so that magic wouldn't mistake it for worry or fear -not that magic would ever think that he was scared to fly- "now you try it."

The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs both did as he commanded and most of them got it on the second or third try. It was only Sue and Anthony, and Megan Jones (a Hufflepuff) that hadn't managed by the time Hooch actually bothered to turn her attention to them. Castor hadn't seen the woman approaching the three still needing their brooms when he told them to stop.

"Sue, you're being too soft with it. You need to speak louder. Order the broom to come to you."

The girl took a deep breath and followed followed the directions as Castor had given them and the entire group of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs cheered when her broom went right into her hand. "See, just a little more command to your voice and you have it," he praised before looking at Anthony, "you on the other hand need to tone it down a little. You're being waaay too forceful here. More command, less trying to bully the magic to do what you want."

The blond frowned down at his broom for a moment, turning the words over before trying again. The broom rolled over, but didn't come to his hand. "That was better. Just a little less bully."

The second time he tried while using Castor's advice had the broom flying into his hand, which got him the same reaction Sue had gotten when she managed it. "See? Don't try to bully the magic. You  want to command it, not make it fearful of you."

His dark green gaze landed on Megan who was shaking like a leaf. "Talk to me Jones," he said, voice softer than it had been as he walked closer, "what's got you so scared?"

"Flying! I...I'm scared of heights and just...flying means I have to be way up in the sky."

His head tilted to the side as he watched the little red head for a minute. "You don't have to go super high," he finally pointed out, "these lessons aren't to make you go super high into the sky. The lessons are only to teach you how to ride a broom if you ever need to."

Her watery brown eyes looked at him in confusion. "I don't understand?"

Castor leaned his weight to one leg and slipped his hands into his pockets. "I mean, that you don't have to get on the broom and fly all the way to the top of the school," he explained, glance going to the top of the school for a moment, "you only have to prove that you can get off the ground. A foot, two at most to prove that you can actually stay in the air and then you'll be right back on the ground."

She still looked unsure and so without thinking, he threw a leg over the broom in his hand and kicked off, hovering just enough that his feet were obviously not touching the ground and then he landed once more. "See? Just enough to prove that you can do it. Do you think you can?"

The red head nodded slowly, hand steadier as she held it over the broom. In a less trembling voice she ordered the broom up, but it barely twitched. "Again, more force."

She did it again and again and again until her broom suddenly flew into her hand, much to her amazement. The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were both cheering for her success and without thinking much of it she threw her arms around Castor.

The pre-teen stumbled back a couple of steps and awkwardly patted her back before gently pushing her away from him.

"Well done Mr. Black," Madam Hooch said loudly from behind him.

The Ravenclaw spun on his heel, wand already falling into his hand and spell on his lips before he realized who had sneaked up on him. Fighting off his blush he straightened up and slid his wand back into its holster.

"Thank you professor."

"You managed to help three of your fellow students overcome their problems summoning their brooms. I overheard your explanations about where the other students were going wrong as well. Fifty points to Ravenclaw."

The Ravenclaw students cheered at the reward and Castor just nodded in thanks. After that the lesson went off without a hitch...for about sixty seconds when Longbottom managed to freak out, kick off, not pay any attention to what he was doing, and fall from his broom to the ground and break his wrist.

Hooch ran over to the downed Gryffindor and had to fight him to get him uncurled enough to check said broken wrist before she got him to his feet and walking back towards the school. "Class dismissed," she ordered, "leave the brooms there. If I find out a single one of you took to the air I'll have you expelled before you can say Quidditch."

Then she disappeared into the school with a still crying Gryffindor.

Most of the students dispersed after that, while Malfoy headed over to where Longbottom had landed.

'The remembrall,' Castor reminded himself with a nod as the blond picked it up and tossed it from hand to hand, talking about leaving it on the roof or up a tree. 'For fucks sake I thought he was supposed to be a pure-blood heir. Not an annoying muggle-born.'

"Malfoy!" he called across the grounds, gaining the attention of the blond Slytherin, along with his 'friends' and the Gryffindors. Castor approached so he didn't have to scream over the space. Once he was close enough he continued, "take it to McGonagall. Honestly, I thought you were a pure-blood. The heir to a pure-blood family. You're acting like a common muggle-born."

Draco's face heated up again. "I am a pure-blood heir. The Malfoy heir. How dare you-"

"Then fucking act like it. Honestly, if I didn't know who you were I would assume you came from some idiot muggle family. Even Granger has better manners than you. So if you don't want me contacting Lucius about how his heir is apparently a common mud-blood in hiding you had better start acting like a proper pure-blood heir. Or maybe I should just contact your mother. After all I know a lady of the house of Black would have taught her son manners."

Then not giving the annoying blond a chance to say a word, he spun on his heel and stalked back to the castle. 'Why the fuck did I just say any of that?'

Chapter Text

Chapter Eleven: Side-Track POV

Temporary Defence Against the Dark Arts Classroom

3 September 1991

When he'd done it, the whole possessing Quirrell after the failed break-in thing, it had seemed like a good idea.

Now though?

Now it just sounded stupid. Here he was weaker than a newborn kitten, on the back of his minion's head, the horrid smell of death and garlic surrounding him, and a giant cloth -he knew it was a turban but he was going to call it a giant cloth okay?!- smothering him. It was all just terrible. And to make matters worse, for some Hecate damned reason the idiot had decided to pick up a fucking stutter. Voldemort knew that he was scary and powerful and everyone should bow to him, but come on! There was no need to make everyone -even himself-miserable by stuttering. It was just stupid.

And Harry Potter had come to Hogwarts. Potter. The brat that put him in such a state. And if that wasn't bad enough? The matter was made worse by the boy claiming to be Castor Lestrange Black. Voldemort was well aware of who Castor Lestrange Black was because he'd been subjected to the panic and mental decline of a number of his followers when the boy had vanished.

...and he might have been a little upset too. But just a little!

So yeah, all in all, this year was turning out to be filled with stupidity and upset. Until the class with Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. That was the most interesting class so far...though it was only the second day of classes.

Voldemort had been minding his own business, paying little to no attention to what was going on with Quirrell, when the man started stuttering.

"M...Mr. B...Black, I do not app...ppreciate you p...p...putting my life in d...danger by getting rid of the g...garlic."

Red eyes, unseen by anyone, rolled at the stupidity of the complaint. 'Why does the man insist on worrying about vampires, he's in Hogwarts? There are no vampires getting through the wards, no matter how fucked up Dumbledore has gotten them.'

"I'm sure you'll be safe behind the Hogwarts wards, professor, no need to try to murder the students with something like garlic when there are so many other more interesting ways to do it."

"~He's not wrong. There are plenty more interesting ways to get rid of the students than just smothering them with garlic~" he hissed out, wishing he had his own body because the statement would have gone off much better if he could have shrugged in agreement, "~we need to work harder getting that blasted stone. I want my own body back.~"

Quirrell said nothing to his near silent hissing, but the sudden jerk and twitch told Voldemort that the man had heard and understood.

Having Castor in class meant that he had to pay attention to the lesson, even if it was going terribly. How anyone was expected to learn anything with this man as the professor, the wraith didn't know.

'Probably a good thing the curse is still going strong. Won't have to deal with this idiot again.'

He was doing his best to focus his attention on the small, dark haired Ravenclaw when he heard something that had him quickly overtaking Quirrell's body to focus on the student.

"~Idiot. Who lets a wraith possess them?~"

Pale blue eyes narrowed in on the Ravenclaw and the two stared at each other for what felt like hours but was probably only about five seconds. Then the connection was broken and Voldemort felt like something had been taken with it. Add in the smirk he'd gotten before eye contact was broken, and he was sure something had been taken with the broken eye contact.

'Stupid annoying brat! Just wait til I get my hands on him! I'll tear him to pieces! If he thinks for a second that he's going to get the last word in, he's got another thing coming!'

Near the Quidditch Pitch

12 September 1991

Draco had been looking forward to Flying Lessons because he'd been flying since he was in nappies. He was great at it. Probably going to be the best in his year!

So to be told that he was holding the broomstick wrong had been embarrassing, and his cheeks had heated up. The whole thing was made worse when Black -or was it Lestrange? or Potter?- completely ignored everything except his little gang of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs and earned his house fifty points for 'teaching' a bunch of mud-bloods how to summon their brooms.

The only upside to the entire lesson was when Longbottom fell who knows how far and had to be escorted away. As he'd shakily stood, Draco had noticed something fall from his pocket and once he was sure Hooch and the idiot were gone, he'd headed over to check it out.

"Oh look," he drawled, gaining the attention of his fellow Slytherins and the stupid Gryffindors, "Longbottom lost his little toy. Maybe he should have squeezed it and realized he was forgetting something." He tossed it back and forth between his hands for a moment, completely ignoring the glares being sent to him by the house of the lions as he thought out loud. "Maybe I should leave it for him? Up a tree, perhaps?"

The suggestion got him snickers from his fellow snakes, and he was about to make another 'creative' comment when he was distracted.

"Malfoy!"

"Great. The noble raven here to save the day," Draco muttered under his breath as he stopped tossing the orb and held it tightly in one hand.

"Take it to McGonagall. Honestly, I thought you were a pure-blood. The heir to a pure-blood family. You're acting like a common muggle-born."

The blond felt his face get hot and was sure that -against his wishes-his face was turning red. 'I'm going to match the fucking Weasley's at this rate.'

"I am a pure-blood heir," he tried to state calmly, but it came out more like a hissing cat, "The Malfoy heir. How dare you-"

"Then fucking act like it. Honestly, if I didn't know who you were, I would assume you came from some idiot muggle family."

He wasn't used to being cut off -everyone in Slytherin too scared of his father to interrupt him when he was in one of his 'moods'- and for a moment his mouth kept moving without words before he realized what he was doing and snapped it shut. 'I am not acting like a muggle of all things,' he complained in his head.

"Even Granger has better manners than you."

'He sure doesn't pull his punches,' Draco thought, glancing over at the bushy haired know-it-all that was now puffed up -insulted?- at the words, and honestly the blond couldn't blame her. He was insulted at being compared and found lesser than Granger.

"So if you don't want me contacting Lucius about how his heir is apparently a common mud-blood in hiding, you had better start acting like a proper pure-blood heir. Or maybe I should just contact your mother. After all I know, a lady of the house of Black would have taught her son manners."

The only thing worse -in Draco's humble opinion-than this boy writing to his father was this boy writing to his mother. For all that Lucius Malfoy had the money and influence to make people scared to cross him, Narcissa Malfoy had the family to back it up. Everyone knew that you didn't mess with the Black family, and the threat of being 'tattled on' to his mother put the fear of Lady Hecate herself in the boy.

Grey eyes -inherited from the Black family-watched as the Ravenclaw got further and further away, his mind still focused on the fact that he'd been compared to a muggle and a mud-blood and found wanting both times.

Chapter Text

Chapter Twelve: Challenge Accepted

Great Hall

13 September 1991

Castor was sitting with the other first year Ravenclaws gathered around him -okay seriously? he wasn't that interesting!- and enjoying a nice lunch before charms when those who had a lovely view of the Slytherin table suddenly got very quiet. Dark green eyes were rolled as the youngest first year took a bite of his food, content to ignore the idiots approaching him from behind. It wasn't meant to be however, as the blond in question that had approached him reached out to shove his shoulder.

"Oi! Black, look at me when I'm talking to you."

Muttering under his breath about entitled assholes, he set his utensils on either side of his plate and turned in his seat.

"No, you can't sit with us. And no, I won't tutor you in how to act like a proper pure-blood heir."

The students around them who had heard started laughing as Malfoy's face turned beet red.

"I don't want to sit with you and I don't need a tutor on 'how to act like a proper pure-blood heir.' I'm here because I-"

"I also don't sign autographs for people who annoy me."

"Stop saying stupid things! People are going to believe that you're serious!"

The deadpan look Castor gave him said that he was, in fact, very serious.

"Then I'm at a loss as to what I can help you with today."

The answer to his statement was a rather...goofy smile. Castor was sure it was supposed to be evil or dangerous or something, but the kid wasn't pulling it off. Instead his smile made him look like a weird sloth one might see in a kid's animated movie about a world where zoo animals act like humans.

"You. Me. Midnight. Duel."

Castor wasn't sure what he was expecting, but it wasn't that. He had a vague memory of a midnight duel once that resulted in he and two others almost getting caught by Filch. 'This must be the equivalent of that duel,' he thought to himself.

"Are you challenging me to a formal duel at midnight?"

"What else would it be?"

Castor looked at the blond for a long moment, contemplating it.

"Do you even know what a formal duel is? And the consequences of not showing up?"

The look of contempt on the blond's face said 'of course I know what it means.' And well...if he knew what not showing up to a formal midnight duel meant and he still wanted to go through with it who was Castor to say no?

"Very well, Draco Malfoy. I Castor Lestrange Black accept your formal challenge to a duel at midnight in the trophy room. My second will be-" he glanced around at his fellow first years who were all looking a little worried, probably because they hadn't learned enough to actually be his second in a real duel. Not that he would need it when facing Malfoy of all people. "Lily Moon. Who will yours be?"

Malfoy looked at the kids who had followed him over, which weren't very good options in Castor's opinion. Between Crabbe, Goyle, and Parkinson though he'd go with Parkinson. At least she had a brain.

"Crabbe."

Then the Slytherins turned on their heels and walked away.

"Think they realize that they've already pissed off Lady Hecate before the duel even starts?" Lily asked, looking a bit shocked at being chosen to be Castor's second, even if it was widely known in Ravenclaw that he didn't need a second. The rules of formal dueling said he still needed a second.

"I'm looking forward to sending an owl to Lord Malfoy in the morning informing him about his son's failure to appear for a formally accepted duel," Castor admitted. "Now come on, we have charms in an hour and I would like to finish lunch before the elves take it away."

The first years didn't argue as they all dug in.

Severus Snape's Office

13 Friday 1991

Castor hadn't been planning on speaking to his godfather -and who would have ever thought that was a thing- about the potions he needed until he was out. Sadly, that meant he was out and in need of them before dinner. And if that wasn't bad enough? He still mostly sucked at potions. Sure he could make them, but it took him twice as long and they were never great quality. If it were anything else he would have just settled for okay quality, but this was his health and that meant no 'making it himself' option.

It was just after charms and he'd told the other Ravenclaws to go ahead and get their homework done -Castor would have his done within a couple of hours- and headed down to the dungeons. No matter how powerful he was, no matter how much magic he could do without having to use any spell, the idea of facing off against Snape since he had -in a moment of stupidity- made a comment about Lily Potter's death made him want to just turn around and find someone else.

Steeling his nerves and taking a deep breath, the eleven year old knocked loudly on the man's office door three times. Then he waited...and waited...and waited...and wai- "Come in."

Another deep breath and slowly he opened the door, glancing around just in case Snape was paying attention and decided to curse him before hearing him out. Seeing that the man was busy with his nose in a stack of parchment -'probably grading essays'- the pre-teen slipped around the door and gently shut it, content to let the man take his time.

"What do you want Black?"

So much for that plan then.

"We need to have a talk."

The potions master put his quill down as he looked up at the boy who'd entered his office.

"I don't believe we have anything to talk about."

Castor took a deep breath, hands clenched at his sides not in anger but in fear -an emotion he wasn't used to- and locked eyes with the man.

"Considering you're my godfather, I think we do."

The look on Snape's face at that revelation was worth having to put up with this situation.

"I'm your what?"

Yep. Definitely worth it.

"My godfather. You and Lucius Malfoy" -the same one he was using to threaten Draco with actually- "are my godfathers. My actual godfathers. Picked by my actual parents. I imagine you were picked by Regulus since I don't see him getting along well with Lucius, but maybe I'm wrong. I know as much about my bearer as I do about the rest of my parents."

Snape was in shock. This whole time he'd been thinking that this Castor Lestrange Black was his bully's son since he wouldn't put it passed Sirius Black to have a kid and name him such just to make everyone's heart hurt. After all, they'd found Castor's body.

"I doubt any of us will ever know the truth of what happened," Castor said, bringing the man out of his thoughts, "and I honestly don't want to know who they used in place of me. If I had to guess I would say the real Harry Potter, but I digress. Gringotts inheritance test says that you're my godfather and my medical history test says that we have a 'Compater Vinculum' bond."

'It really is him,' Snape thought to himself as he stared at the small boy in front of him. Regulus would have been so excited to have his son back...but Regulus was gone. He'd disappeared after his son's death.

"What do you believe we should talk about then," Snape said after a long moment.

Castor fidgeted on the spot, something he thought he'd gotten control over after so long. It seemed in tense situations like this he was going to fidget. A terrible show of nerves because it was easily picked up on.

"I...I am in...need of...potions," he managed to grit out. Hating having to admit any weakness to anyone. Citrio and Cispia didn't even know he was on a potions regimen for his health. And he'd like to keep it that way.

Of course Snape couldn't just agree to give him potions because 'that would be too easy.'

"What sort of potions? And why do you need them?"

Castor clenched his fist, shoving his hands into his pockets and looking away from the piercing black eyes. He wanted to lie. He wanted to declare that he didn't need them. But he did need them. And lying wouldn't get him anywhere with the man. No matter how good a liar you were Snape always found out. It was an annoying skill of the man's.

"Nutrient potions," the pre-teen whispered, knowing Snape's freakish bat hearing would understand. He didn't bother telling him why because the answer was in the name of the potion.

"Why would you need nutrient potions?"

And apparently he was going to have to tell him. Unable to stop himself he retorted with, "why do you think I need fucking nutrient potions?"

The pre-teen winced at his inability to keep his mouth shut and the glare the man gave him said he wasn't overly pleased with it either.

"Five points from Ravenclaw. Now either tell me why you need them or get out."

Castor was fairly sure the man had never treated Malfoy like this and -even though he didn't want to- felt a little hurt at how mean the man was being to him, knowing that Castor was his godson. None of this showed on his face or in his body language though. He'd long ago learned how to hide those tells.

"Because the healer I saw over the summer told me I was going to be on them for the foreseeable future in order to get all the nutrients I've been deprived of during my life."

Severus Snape's POV

Whatever Severus had been expecting it wasn't that answer. He was well aware of the type of life one had to live to be put on a nutrient potion regimen for 'the foreseeable future' and it made his blood boil thinking that his godson had lived such a life.

"Do you have enough to last you until in the morning?"

The boy nodded slowly, as if unsure if he truly wanted to answer the question.

"Then I'll have a week's worth ready first thing tomorrow morning and get a house-elf to deliver it," he assured, not sure how to feel over the way the boy seemed to slump in relief. Did he truly think Severus would deny him something he obviously needed? Okay so maybe he would have demanded the boy go see Pomfrey if he hadn't been his godson, but he would have still ensured the boy got the potions he needed.

"If you could have Dobpey or Nompey deliver them that would be great," Castor said, a tentative smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

"I assume those are your house elves?"

"Well...they're a couple of them anyways. They live at my current place of residence."

"I see. Very well then, I'll call one of them to deliver your potions in the morning. Now shoo," Severus made a shooing motion with his hand as he picked up his grading quill against, "I have things to grade."

Normal POV

Castor hid his grin as he left the room, pausing at the door to toss a 'thank you' over his shoulder before the door slammed shut behind him. Satisfied that he'd managed to get the whole thing over with without it coming to blows or demands, Castor headed straight to the library where he knew his fellow first year Ravenclaws would be gathered around working on homework. He'd finish and then go take a nap. He needed to be well rested if he was going to go 'duel' tonight. Even if he was aware that Malfoy wasn't going to show up.

The pre-teen refused to let himself or Lily Moon insult Lady Hecate after accepting the duel, which meant showing up and staying for at least thirty minutes before magic declared the Malfoy had forfeit the duel and decided on the payment. Castor was rather hoping it would be something embarrassing for the teen. It might teach him something...unlikely though that was.

Chapter Text

Chapter Thirteen: Duel to the Death

Formal & Informal Dueling: According to Lady Hecate

Formal Dueling: A challenger issues a formal demand for a duel, which is expected to be accepted by the opponent and ends with either the death of one of the opponents or with formal resignation. Failure to appear after challenging or accepting a duel penalizes the absentee until Lady Hecate and magick declares that the punishment for failure to attend has been met.

To end a formal duel with an absentee opponent, the other participant of the duel must wait half an hour at least before calling the duel in the favour of the opponent that showed up.

Most formal duels are only issues when one or the other has committed a grave offense of some sort since most formal duels end in death. It is cautioned that unless you are willing to kill or be killed that you avoid issuing formal duels and find other ways to settle disputes.

Informal Dueling: A challenger offers a challenge for a duel, which has no expectation to either accept or refuse and often ends when one of the other has received the most 'points.' Failure to appear after challenging or accepting a duel penalizes the absentee until Lady Hecate and magick declares the punishment for failure to appear has been paid. This is often times something fairly small and simple and ends after one magical mishap.

Most informal duels are issued by school children to settle petty feuds or by family members to settle arguments. It is also the type of dueling used in schools to teach students and with dueling circuits

Issuing & Accepting Formal Duels: A Guide by Lord Ares

1. When Issuing a Formal Duel:
   1. Approach the person you want to issue the challenge to
   2. Demand their attention
   3. Issue the demand for a duel
   4. Wait for them to formally accept (normally using things like 'I [Name] accept your formal  challenge to a duel at [time] in [place] and my second will be [name]').
   5. Once they've accepted the demand, you must complete the acceptance (normally using something like 'I [Name] shall see you at [time] in [place] with my second [name] to complete our duel')
   6. Meet at the time and place specified
   7. Set your rules & reward for winning (if any)
   8. DUEL TO THE DEATH!!!
2. When Issuing an Informal Duel (Why would you ever want to have a boring informal challenge when you could issue a formal duel and FIGHT TO THE DEATH!!!! Hecate is being a party pooper and says I have to give actual instructions for an informal duel).
   1. Approach the person you want to offer a duel to
   2. Request their attention (using words such as please and hello)
   3. Ask if they would like to duel you (for practice or as a fun time consumer)
   4. Wait to see if they accept (using words like 'sure' and 'sounds fun')
   5. Complete the acceptance of the duel (using things like 'awesome' or 'when do you want to meet up')
   6. Make the plans to meet up
   7. Meet up
   8. Set any rules or rewards for winning (if something so lame actually has rules or rewards)
   9. Duel, WIN!!!!!!!!

Trophy Room, Third Floor, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry, Hogwarts Castle, Highlands, Scotland, Great Britain

13 Friday 1991

At 11:30 that night, Castor and Lily sneaked out of Ravenclaw Tower. It had taken a bit of doing and some asking from Hogwarts to get the wards Flitwick kept on the common room entrance changed enough to allow them out without alerting him, but they'd managed...or at least Castor had managed it for them (and if he kept the changes after tonight well...no one needed to know).

Considering the trophy room liked to change up its location between the third floor and the sixth floor Castor was hoping that tonight it would hang out on the sixth floor, but alas it was not to be. The trophy room was on the third floor and he couldn't even change it because he'd already agreed to the formal duel in the trophy room.

"We should have picked a room that stays where its supposed to be," he said to Lily as they sneaked into the room overfilled with trophies and awards of students over the years.

The dark skinned girl nodded as she threw her brown haired braid over her shoulder.

"Do you...do you think he's going to show up?" she whispered, dark eyes flickering around the overfilled room.

"Unlikely," Castor admitted with a shrug at the wide-eyed look he got in response, "but I accepted a formal duel and so we're stuck here for half an hour."

The two eleven year olds were silent for about five minutes before Lily asked, "why did you pick me?"

When Castor simply glanced at her with a raised brow she said, "out of all the other first years -or heck the rest of Ravenclaw- you picked me to be your second. Why not...I don't know...Terry or...or Padma...or even...that third year Cindy girl that's always lurking close by lately? What made you think I would be the best option?"

For a moment Castor was silent, thinking about the best way to answer. "For one I would never pick Wendy because a) she's a third year and I don't want to seriously injure Malfoy and b) her obsessive need to follow us around lately freaks me out. Second, no offense to the others intended and not tooting my own horn, you're the smartest first year next to me."

Lily's POV

She felt her cheeks heat up at the correction to the girl's name, but in her defense she didn't much care about the third year's name only the fact that she was always there. Lily was fairly sure the girl followed Castor to the bathroom and stood outside the door. It was rather creepy and she really wanted to suggest that Castor tell a teacher about his stalker or at least confront her about it, but she wasn't sure how well the younger boy would take her suggestions. After tonight though, she might just suggest it since he probably wouldn't get upset with her.

"W...wait, you think I'm the smartest out of the other Ravenclaw first years?"

"Excluding myself, yes."

The nearly twelve year old didn't know how to feel about that because...he thought she was the smartest! When she thought about just how smart Terry and Padma were it shocked her that he would think it of her. Terry was a pure-blood with knowledge of seemingly everything -or maybe it was just opinions?- and Padma...Padma was always reading and always had her head stuck in a book and made O's on all her assignments, whereas Lily made as many EE's as she did O's.

"I don't...why would you...how could you think I'm smarter than them? I mean...Terry is a pure-blood and Padma...Padma's makes straight O's!"

She got a droll look and a flash of purple eyes at her question.

"Gee Lils, it's not like you're a pure-blood or anything," he said with a roll of his eyes as he glanced down at his watch, "and Padma only makes straight O's because she writes and rewrites her essays about fifty times and demands prefects and any other older student willing to proofread it for her."

"Oh..."

Normal POV

"It's been half an hour," Castor said, snapping his pocket watch -a gift from Citrio that he had received earlier that day- shut and putting it back in his pocket, "that means Malfoy and Crabbe forfeit the duel in absentee."

Lily looked around as if expecting something to happen, but there was no flash of light or ominous fog or noise to tell them that Lady Hecate had acknowledged the absentee decree.

"Let's get out of here before we get caught," Castor said, gesturing with his head towards the door only to pause at the sounds of soft footfalls.

The dark skinned girl stopped as close to Castor as she felt she could get away with so that she could hear the noise too.

"Oh fuck."

Castor would later find the look Lily gave him at his words hilarious, but right now it was a reminder that he had a seriously innocent first year with him, which meant no spells that would get them out of this situation unless he wanted to be more than just an above average -he was considered a prodigy no  matter what he thought- first year.

"Right, this way then," he decided, ushering the girl towards the only other door in the room.

One thing Castor had always hated about Hogwarts was the ability to get lost even when you knew exactly where you were trying to go and how to get there. This was one of those times. He knew they wanted to get back to Ravenclaw Tower and he knew exactly how to get there, but it was like the school was determined to have them elsewhere.

"This is a terrible place to be," he announced as he recognized the corridor, "and they were supposed to put precautions here too."

"You can be upset about that later," Lily hissed, grabbing his sleeve and dragging him to the end of the corridor, the soft padding of feet still close behind, "we need to get away from here before we're caught."

Dark eyes flashed a glowing killing curse green as Castor's annoyance heightened. If Dumbledore or Flitwick -the little liar- thought for a second they would get away with not adding precautions to this 'out of bounds' area they were greatly mistaken.

"Alohomora."

Castor was brought out of his annoyance by the spell and the sudden tug that brought him into the room he would have liked to avoid. He spun around just as Lily pulled the door shut and stared at her with still glowing eyes.

"C...Castor, why are your eyes glowing green?"

"Probably because I'm slowly getting pissed off," he snapped, running a hand through his hair, "we need to get out of here."

"We can't go back out there yet!"

"Yes we ca-"

"What in Hecate's name is that?!"

The growling got louder as Lily acknowledged the giant three headed dog standing behind them and a large paw stepped closer to them.

"That is a cerberus and we've just invaded his? their? territory and threatened the thing they're here to guard."

"Wh...wh...what?"

He was mildly amused by the squeaked stutter, but his amusement was quickly overtaken by annoyance and anger once more. Spinning on his heel he pointed sternly at the giant XXXXX beast that was reeling back to -probably- bark at them.

"/No. Bad dog. We didn't come here on purpose so you will not attack us. Sit down and be silent and we will leave soon enough./

The overgrown puppy stopped growling and three pairs of eyes stared at the small human that had just spoken to him.

"/You no take treasure?/"

"/No we aren't here for your treasure,/" he assured and was rewarded with the cerberus sitting down and just staring at them instead of immediately trying to eat them. Honestly, he had no idea why that had worked, but he wasn't going to complain about the cerberus not trying to eat them.

When he turned to Lily with the intent to tell her they needed to leave he was met with an incredulous look.

"What?"

"You just...you just made that cerberus sit down," Lily squeaked out. Castor couldn't stop himself from wondering if it was a common thing she did or if it was just in highly stressful times that she started squeaking about everything. It was something to think about before he declared himself friends with her. He really didn't need a squeaky friend.

"Yeah, it happens. One of the perks of being a 'Speaker of All' or whatever. Now let's get out of here."

Giving the girl no chance to actually say anything to that declaration Castor pushed the door open and pulled her out before turning and casting a much stronger locking charm and wards to keep children out. Honestly, he was going to have to bring in the big guns for this.

Chapter Text

Chapter Fourteen: Food Fight

Great Hall

14 September 1991

If Castor thought he would be able to get away with no one calling him out about his claim weeks ago about being Harry Potter and a champion of their gods he was sorely mistaken. After the night before where he claimed to be a Speaker of All, Lily Moon wanted answers. It was easy enough to avoid a single eleven year old first year, but the Daily Prophet was determined to make his life harder than it had any right to be.

And to make matters worse?

Citrio -his grandfather and his lawyer- had sent him a letter that morning explaining that the article in the paper was the easiest way to get everything out there and get it over with so that people would move past it quicker. It was like the man didn't know anything about the public!

"Castor, you might wanna...you know, see this," Terry Boot said softly, almost whispering the words, as he pushed the morning paper to his fellow first year.

Castor Lestrange Black, Boy-Who-Lived, Champion of the gods,

Lord and Heir of Multiple Ancient And Noble Houses

The headline seemed to scream at him as he stared at it. What-had-Citrio-done?!

Castor Lestrange Black, Boy-Who-Lived, Champion of the gods,

Lord and Heir of Multiple Ancient And Noble Houses

This reporter is happy to announce that she finally has the answers all of us have been waiting for when it comes to the explanation about Castor Lestrange Black. Late last night, this reporter received a copy of a Gringotts inheritance test and a long explanation of what exactly was happening in regards to the apparent 'Castor Lestrange Black being Harry Potter' situation.

Below you will see a copy of the inheritance test, done on 16 August 1991 at Gringotts Wizarding Bank:

 

Birth Name: Castor Rigel Rabastan Lestrange Black

Date of Birth: 31 July 1991

Place of Birth: Lestrange Manor, Unplottable, France

Time of Birth: 23:59:59

Father: Rabastan Corvus Lestrange (incarcerated)

Bearer: Regulus Arcturus Black (deceased)

 

Grandmother: Walburga Camilie Black (deceased)

Grandfather: Orion Sirius Black (deceased)

Grandmother: Cispia Aurian Lestrange née Prewett

Grandfather: Citrio Aspasius Lestrange

 

Godfather: Severus Tobias Snape

Godmother: Pandora Cathe Lovegood née Silverberry (deceased)

Godfather: Lucius Abraxis Malfoy

Godmother: Narcissa Lyra Malfoy née Black

 

Adopted Name: Harry James Potter (Void)

Date of Adoption: 31 July 1981

Place of Adoption: Potter Cottage, Godric's Hollow, West Country, England, Great Britain

Time of Adoption: 23: 59: 59

Adopted Father: James Fleamont Potter (deceased)

Adopted Mother: Lily Julia Potter née Evans (deceased)

 

Adopted Paternal Grandmother: Euphemia Venus Potter née Everglade (deceased)

Adopted Paternal Grandfather: Fleamont Alabaster Potter (deceased)

Adopted Maternal Grandmother: Betty Shirley Evans née Smyth (deceased)

Adopted Maternal Grandfather: Edward Thomas Evans (deceased)

 

Godfather: Sirius Orion Black (incarcerated)

Godmother: Alice Seena Longbottom née Littletree (incapacitated)

 

Title(s):

 Favoured Childe of Magick, as denoted by Lady Hecate

Harbinger of Change, as denoted by Lord Janus

Heir Gaunt, per the Nobel House of Gaunt contract

Heir Lestrange, per the Most Ancient & Creative House of Lestrange contract

Heir Slytherin, per the Most Ancient & Cunning House of Slytherin contract

 

Lord Black, per the Most Ancient & Noble House of Black Contract

Lord Emrys, per the Most Ancient & Powerful House of Emrys Contract

Lord Fleamont, per the Noble House of Fleamont

Lord Gryffindor, per the Most Ancient & Courageous House of Gryffindor contract

Lord Hufflepuff, per the Most Ancient & Loyal House of Hufflepuff contract

 

Lord Le Fay, per the Most Ancient & Dark House of Le Fay Contract

Lord Peverell, per the Most Ancient & Secret House of Peverell Contract

Lord Potter, per the Most Ancient & Brave House of Potter contract

Lord Ravenclaw, per the Most Ancient & Intelligent House of Ravenclaw contract

Master of Death, as denoted by Lord Thanatos

 

Ruler of Balance, as denoted by Lady Adrestia

Speaker of All, as denoted by Lord Hermes

 

For those of you who are not familiar with the way inheritance tests work, the word 'void' next to Harry James Potter denotes that the name is no longer valid or that it no longer applies to the person who used the name. There are many reasons this might have come about, but considering the long list of titles Lord Black has it is no wonder that magick itself has probably voided his use of the name Harry James Potter.

So there you have it fellow wixen! Our saviour is not dead, he has simply gone through a name change. I shall ensure that you stay up-to-date with the story as more information becomes available.

The hall had grown quiet while Castor read over the article. His grandfather hadn't been kidding. He had literally posted his inheritance test for the world to see. The eleven year old wasn't sure how he felt about it because he would have liked to have given the information out on his own terms and not a man who'd known him for about a month and met him in person for all of a week or so. As he placed the paper back on the table it was like it was the cue that everyone had been waiting for because suddenly he was surrounded by his fellow students all demanding answers and wanting to know if the article was true.

He ignored them to the best of his ability, trying to eat his breakfast because he did have classes today, but the other students wouldn't allow for it.

"Come on Black, tell us!"

"Yeah! Why'd you drop the name Potter?"

"Do you not care that James and Lily Potter died for you?"

"It's a disgrace that you'd drop the name Potter for such dark families!"

"James would be so disappointed that you've taken on Death Eater names."

Finally, he was fed up. Slamming his utensils on the table Castor shoved himself to his feet and spun around to face the crowd who all quickly took steps back as his magic began to swirl around him. Dark green eyes were glowing killing curse green as he pinned each person who'd made demands involving the Potters or his biological parents with a hard stare.

"Let me clear up somethings," he commanded, magic starting to make those around him shiver, "the article is obviously true."

There were murmurs of 'of course it's true it was in the paper' which he easily ignored. "There is no information or knowledge about how I came to live with and be adopted by the Potters and anyone with half a brain," glowing green eyes scanned those surrounding him saying that none of them fell into that category, "knows that no matter the affinity all families treasure children. There are too few of them and it's too hard to conceive children to go getting rid of them like yesterday's garbage, especially the heir to the family."

A few of the pure-bloods in the crowd were nodding and agreeing because wixen children were cherished. So the idea that families like the Blacks or Lestranges just handing a child over was actually rather ridiculous.

"Also is seems that everyone has conveniently forgotten that the Potter family isn't light. It was only James Potter that was light. The rest of the Potter family has been grey and before that it was 'dark.' So if you're going to get on my case about dropping the Potter name for 'dark families' then at least get your facts straight so you don't come off as a bigger idiot than you actually are," here the green gaze locked on a couple of people who'd been claiming Potters were light."

He was fairly sure he was hearing people muttering about 'how wrong he was because the Potters are light' or something similar and rolled his eyes at the stupidity. "One last thing, stop acting like I'm some great survivor or something," he picked up the article and shook it so people could see it, "notice there's a particular title 'Master of Death' that was given to me by Lord Thanatos. That's how I survived. There was nothing overly special about it. I don't have strange powers that allowed me to defeat him or whatever. It was solely down to Lord Thanatos that allowed me to survive. So now you know."

When he turned to sit back down to eat he was interrupted by one of the older years grabbing his shoulder and spinning him around. "You don't get to just make declarations like that and then ignore us Black," the fifth year spat, "you're going to explain everything from the start."

What followed the demand for an explanation was a lot of shouting and fighting. There were words said and fists thrown, kicks and punches, spells and jinxes, and someone threw an apple and it all dissolved into a giant food fight. By the time the professors managed to get the chaos under control it was nearly lunch and all four houses were in the negatives.

"Everyone go back to their common rooms," Dumbledore demanded loudly.

Ravenclaw Tower

14 September 1991

Castor was still pissed, eyes glowing brighter than they had ever glowed. His magic was swirling around him causing people who were touched with it to shiver violently at the icy feel. Prefects were herding the students and everyone was dripping some kind of food or liquid through the halls. As they arrived at the common room, students still grumbling and gripping about the entire thing, Milo and Chandra turned to look at everyone.

"Go straight to your dorms and get cleaned up. We don't want to get the entire common room filthy. Once you're done, meet in the common room because I know that Professor Flitwick will be here soon enough to have words with all of us," Milo ordered and then he and the other five prefects stood and watched as one by one the other students trudged down the stairs.

The eleven year old wasted no time in going straight to the shower, completely forgoing grabbing clothes since he had the dorm to himself. It took him twenty minutes to get all of the food, sauces, and liquids off of himself -mostly all of it that had caught in his hair- and then another ten minutes to remove all the various spells, hexes, and jinxes and heal his various bruises, cuts, and scratches. Once he was satisfied that he looked good as new, he tossed on more casual clothes -like Hades he was going to sit around waiting for someone to be nice enough to let him go see Pomfrey- before grabbing a book and heading up to the common room.

Professor Flitwick was already there when Castor finally arrived. The pre-teen had never seen the little professor so angry before and he'd seen him during a war. The dark beady eyes landed on Castor as the boy made it to the common room and the first year just knew that he was about to get into some serious trouble, which what the hell?! he'd been the one attacked!

It took another hour before the rest of the students arrived. Some of them dressed in pajamas with very few of them dressed casually like Castor.

"What happened in the Great Hall this morning was the worst thing that has happened in this school since I began teaching in 1971. It tops out any prank or fight any of us professors has ever seen," a few people were smiling at the idea of outdoing pranksters but one look at Professor Flitwick and the smile quickly fell, "if I had it my way, students would be down there cleaning up the mess instead of forcing the poor house-elves to do it, but Professor Dumbledore and the others agree that it would be irresponsible to put all of your back in the same room after what happened."

It took everything Castor had not to snort or laugh at the idea of cleaning being more irresponsible than keeping a three headed XXXXX beast locked up in a school.

"As such, Professor Dumbledore has decided that the best punishment is detention for the next month because 'children will be children.'"

Anyone paying attention could see that Professor Flitwick did not agree with the decision, but there was nothing he could actually do about it since the headmaster was the one deciding the punishment. The fact that the entire school had the next month filled with detention seemed like a stupid punishment. Writing lines or cleaning cauldrons wasn't going to help.

"He has also decided that certain people," dark beady eyes glanced at Castor, "will be writing apology notes to those they harmed in a physical or magical way."

This did cause Castor to snort because like Hades he was going to apologize for refusing to bow down to people demanding things of him.

Chapter Text

Chapter Fifteen: Discussions

Library

14 September 1991

In the hubbub of the food fight and the article about his inheritance test, Castor completely forgot about Malfoy never showing up for their duel the night before and he probably wouldn't have remembered for a while yet, if he hadn't had a fun little run-in with the blond later that day.

After the announcement that everyone had been given detention for the next month -which Castor still thought was the stupidest punishment- Flitwick had quietly discussed with Castor about the 'apology' letters he was expected to write, which was met with a flash of glowing green eyes and a 'fuck no' before he left the Tower to meet up with his friends -were they friends?- in the library.

The other first years were working on all the homework they hadn't bothered with yesterday because they had wanted to 'relax and enjoy the day' until they had to go to Astronomy, which was when Castor realized that his acceptance of the duel meant that he and Lily would be forced to skip the class. So when he arrived, Castor was stuck copying and comparing the notes that Terry, Michael, Anthony, Padma, and Lisa had taken -since somehow they had become their own study group (even Flitwick approved!)- for both himself and Lily since she had put off doing her homework the night before.

"Can I at least get the assignment and do that first?" Castor whined, leaning over to catch Lily's eye and pout in hopes of being allowed to do it that way.

"Put that away," she grumped, pushing him away, "and if you promise that you'll still make copies of the notes for us then yes, I suppose you can complete your assignment first."

The eleven year old let out a quiet 'whoop' of joy and quickly pulled out the necessary before turning his dark eyes to Terry, who was happily ignoring him as he slowly worked on his Transfiguration essay. Castor watched until the other boy had finished his sentence before interrupting him. "Terry. Terry, Terry, Terry, Terry, Terry," Castor said, gently poking the other boy in the arm, "what's the assignment for Astronomy?"

"An essay about the differences between muggle tools and wixen tools used in astronomy."

Castor was a bit disappointed, having been looking forward to something more interesting, especially since the notes he'd been looking at so far said that last nights lesson was about muggle-made tools and next weeks lesson was supposed to be about wixen tools. Maybe it was meant to make students read ahead. Either way, with ink, quill, and parchment out -no notes or books in sight- he began to write the essay...until they were disrupted by a familiar drawling voice.

Draco Malfoy POV

He'd been expecting Black to get caught last night and maybe even be on the way home -if he was so lucky- but no! The annoying creature had been sitting at breakfast and proceeded to manage to get the entire school into detention via a fucking food fight. He was sure his father was going to be so disappointed in him. His godfather definitely was if the scowl the man had had on his face earlier was anything to go by.

"He played a rather large part in the debacle this morning," Blaise said, pointing his quill at him as he continued, "maybe he'll be expelled for that."

"I highly doubt it," Pansy complained, leaned back in her chair and painting her nails while the others worked on homework, "he's been exposed as the 'Boy-Who-Lived' and that means Dumbledore isn't going to allow his precious 'saviour' to be expelled."

There were murmurs of agreement, which made Draco happy because it meant he had others on his side. Then he heard a voice that he could do without. "Are you kidding me?" the blond hissed, glaring towards the bookshelf where the voice had come from -well the other side of the bookcase.

Then unable to help himself he stood up with a quick "I'll be right back" and stalked around the bookshelf to be confronted with a table filled with Ravenclaws.

"What are you still doing here?"

The dark green eyes glanced up at him and flashed purple -why did his eyes do that?!- as the boy laid his quill down. "Probably the same thing you're doing here," the other pre-teen snarked, "homework."

Draco pursed his lips for a moment as he looked at the essay and notes scattered around the table. "You're supposed to be expelled. You started a physical, magical, and food fight that took hours for the professors to get under control. You should be packing your bags and leaving."

"Aww...is little baby Dwaco upset that the big bad Cas'or isn't going bye-bye?"

Red began to spread across Draco's cheeks at the mocking and he stood up to his full height, not overly tall, but taller than most of the others at the table. "I'm greatly worried about my safety and the safety of my fellow students if someone like you is left to roam the halls."

Castor snorted at the words and shook his head. "You're so full of bullshit," the dark haired teen told him, "you're just upset that your plan didn't work. Plus, I am innocent of this morning's debacle. I was the one attacked after all. I just defended myself."

Draco let out a huff and spun on his heel. "You'll be gone soon enough," he proclaimed as he turned the corner of the bookcase only to bump into it and have a book fall onto his head. "Ouch!"

Another book followed the first and then a third. All of them large and heavy and he was fairly sure he needed to go see Madam Pomfrey because...ow.

"Just wait til my father hears about this," he complained as he made it back to his seat, getting pelted with another three books before he managed it.

Normal POV

Castor watched the other boy leave and couldn't help but shake his head. It reminded him that he needed to write a letter, but perhaps he needed to go over Lucius' head and talk to Narcissa. The woman was able to put the fear of Hecate into anyone. He would finish his homework and note taking first though.

Even having to write out the notes twice and having to write an essay, Castor was finished with his tasks before his fellow Ravenclaws, which meant there was plenty of time to write to his grandparents -though he wasn't so sure he wanted to talk to Citrio very much at the moment-, Gringotts, and the Malfoys.

The first two letters didn't take very long to write because simply giving the sentence 'I don't trust this not to end up in the paper too' helped explain why a usual long letter was down to just a short piece of parchment that basically said 'week two or maybe three, going well.'

His Gringotts letter was much easier because it was made solely about how his stocks were doing. He got information at the start of each month, but he'd been following the success of gaining all shares of a particular company.

Lastly, his letter to Lucius and Narcissa. After all, why write one when you can write both?

Lord Malfoy,

If you've seen today's paper you will now be aware that I am your godson. I do wish this letter was just an attempt to let us get to know each other, but I fear that such a letter will have to wait for another time.

The reason I'm contacting you today is because your heir, Draco Malfoy, isn't acting like a wizard that will one day be Lord Malfoy. From his actions so far I am actually surprised that he didn't wind up in Gryffindor. He's hotheaded, rude, calls everyone slurs to their face -even you have to admit that's a terrible way to make connections-, and that's just what I've seen so far.

He also seems to have a strange tendency to complain about things other students receive in the mail, such as a remembrall (might I suggest sending him one so he'll leave Heir Longbottom's alone). When I say complain I don't mean he does so quietly with his companions. He makes sure it's loud enough for everyone to hear, forever causing a scene.

Also he seems severely lacking in knowledge about things that could have serious impacts on his magic because he challenged me to a formal duel and never showed up. Instead he went and told someone that myself and a fellow student would be there. He doesn't seem to realize the consequences of his actions. Perhaps you should teach him?

He also has a tendency to go out of his way to bother people in the most annoying ways possible, much like a Gryffindor. As I already mentioned, I'm unsure how he managed to not go into the House of the Lions.

If you could please do something about him before he manages to get himself into more serious trouble I would greatly appreciate it.

Sincerely,

Castor Lestrange Black

Lady Malfoy,

If you've seen today's paper then you are probably aware that I am your godson. Normally, my first letter to you would be an attempt to meet up, maybe get to know each other, or something similar. Sadly, that is not the case for my letter today.

Knowing that you are a lady of the house of Black -whether you still carry the name or not- I felt it prudent that I inform you that your son is causing a bit of a problem at Hogwarts. From the things I've been able to deduce about the Black family, they raised polite gentlemen and ladies who used their brains and manners to get the job done.

I'm sure that you have passed such ideals and ways onto your son, but it seems as if he's forgotten all of it while being at Hogwarts. He is constantly getting into fights, yelling out slurs against fellow students, and making more enemies than he can realistically handle. If it weren't for the fear of Lord Malfoy retaliating he would have already been 'put in his place' as some of the students have been muttering.

He also seems to lack knowledge of important things that can have severe consequences, such as giving a formal duel challenge and then not appearing to fulfill the obligation.

To be honest, Lady Malfoy your son is the embodiment of Gryffindor. He's more Gryffindor than some Gryffindors! I only write and tell you all of this so that you can -hopefully- do something to help him before he does something so stupid he can't come back from it.

I do apologize if I've overstepped, but I felt it necessary that you be informed before something worse happens.

Sincerely,

Castor Lestrange Black

By the time he managed to finish his letters, the other Ravenclaws had finished their rough drafts of their essays and piled them up next to him since he had -somehow- become the one that was forced to proofread until they were perfect. It was getting close to early evening when they all finally declared that they liked their essays enough to not rewrite it for about the fifth time. Even Padma had declared it as close to perfect as she could get it.

"Great! Does this mean we can take a break now?"

Everyone at the table snorted as they packed up their things -Castor sliding the letters into the expanded pocket of his robes- and proceeded to Ravenclaw Tower.

Ravenclaw Tower

14 September 1991

After they'd dropped their bags off in their dorms the first years gathered in the common room and flopped down in a group of seats. Padma, Lisa, and Lily into a pile on one couch, with Anthony and Terry spread out on another, and Castor and Michael in the remaining chairs. "How did your...thing go?" Anthony asked, seeming unsure about what 'thing' he was even asking about. The two hadn't been very specific about why they'd needed them to make excuses for their absence.

"About as well as expected," Castor said, while at the same time Lily said, "horribly."

The two shared a look before Lily let out a breath and seemingly slumped deeper into the couch.

"Malfoy challenged me to a formal duel yesterday morning," Castor explained, figuring it was safe enough by this point, "and I accepted with Lily as my second. Wait...you were there when he issued the challenge!"

Anthony grinned as he leaned back in his seat. "Yes, but it doesn't explain how it went afterwards."

"The stupid bastard didn't show up!"

All eyes turned to stare at Lily in shock. She was always so...so...nice. And here she was calling Heir Malfoy a bastard. "Must have been really bad then," Lisa declared with a firm nod, pulling Lily between her and Padma for platonic cuddles.

"Lily's right. He never showed up, which I knew he wasn't going to. I think it was his best Slytherin attempt to make sure I got caught and expelled or something? I'm not completely sure what his plan there was and I honestly don't care enough to find out."

"Don't forget about that stupid dog!" Lily wailed, burying her face in Lisa's shoulder while Padma braided her hair, "the evil, demon dog. That you spoke to!"

"Dog?"

"Cerberus," Castor clarified, "named Fluffy. He's in the out-of-bounds corridor that was supposed to have precautions to keep innocent students out. I fixed that problem by putting up better wards and stronger locking charms."

"Why is there a three headed, XXXXX classified beast in the school?!" Lisa cried, sitting up and dislodging Lily.

"Because the professors here give no fucks about the students?"

"In an attempt to entice a dead man to come get something he would desperately crave if he weren't dead."

"You have the weirdest guesses," Michael told Castor, with a little poke.

"Made worse by the fact that he's always right."

Their conversation slowly moved from the dangerous beast inside the school to other topics that were much less worrisome until it was time for dinner.

Great Hall

14 September 1991

The Great Hall was quieter than usual when the group arrived, but it was to be expected considering the last time they'd been in here. The seven took their seats as the food appeared on the table and they all dug in. About half-way through the meal owls began to flood the room, more than there usually were. All the students had paused in their eating to glance up since mail normally arrived in the mornings, but this time the owls swooped down, dropped letters in the children's laps and flew off. By the time all owls had finally left, every student in the school had a letter.

"I bet I can guess what it is," Castor told them with a sigh as Hedwig arrived, no letter in sight, "detentions. Time, Place, with who."

While his friends -were they friends? they sort of felt like friends- opened their letters to check, Castor tied his letters to Hedwig's leg. "Lestrange, Gringotts, Malfoy," he told her softly so no one else could hear them, "well...flip those. Malfoy, Gringotts, Lestrange. It will be easier and give you more chances to rest."

She let out a little chirp, nipped at his ear, stole a piece of bacon and flew off with his letters. Once she'd disappeared, Castor turned his attention to the letter he'd received. By the looks on their faces, he'd been correct in his guess.

Detention: Starting & Participating in a food fight, a physical altercation, and an informal duel

Start Date: 14 September 1991 at 8:00p.m. to 10:00p.m.

End Date: 14 October 1991 at 10:00p.m.

Then, also located in the envelope was a smaller piece of parchment, much less formal looking and in a very familiar scrawl.

Detention, tonight, 8-10, Temp DADA room

"Well? Who'd you get stuck with?" Michael demanded, leaning over his shoulder in an attempt to see what his said.

"Tonight I'm with Quirrell," Castor paused when he caught sight of the looks of disappointment on everyone's faces, "what? Who did you all get then?"

"McGonagall," Lisa said with a sigh as Lily followed up with, "Flitwick."

"Snape," Terry whined as Padma followed up with, "Filch."

"Kettleburn," Anthony complained and Michael gave a sigh before saying, "Pomfrey."

"They really spread out the students, didn't they," Castor said with a thoughtful look. It made him wonder who all he would get stuck with while in detention with Quirrell. "Well, let's finish dinner and get to detention. Sooner we get started sooner it'll get finished."

Temporary Defense Against the Dark Arts Classroom

14 September 1991

Castor was the first one to arrive, having left a bit earlier so he could -hopefully- get free a little bit earlier -unlikely as it was- so he shouldn't have been surprised that instead of seeing his professor standing there waiting he was met with the uncovered back of his professor's head.

"I suppose even you would get hot and need a break from the weight on your head," Castor commented as he strolled into the room and dropped his bag in the chair before taking a seat on the student desk he was claiming for himself.

"Potter," the professor hissed as he quickly spun around, trying too late to hide his head.

"You know, your head looks rather tiny without the turban," Castor continued conversationally, "though if possible I would appreciate a chance to have a discussion with your...master."

Quirrell froze and Castor took that moment to wandlessly and wordlessly shut and lock the door before tossing up a bunch of privacy wards. "Now, about that discussion. That will not involve murder attempts if you'd please."

All three of them were silent for a moment before Voldemort hissed something and then Quirrell was turning away from him, leaving Harry staring at a parasite on the back of the man's head.

"'Ello Tom," he greeted with a small wave, "you're looking a bit under the weather."

The face coming out of the back of his professor's head sneered at him. "Harry Potter," Voldemort managed to whisper out only to be cut off by Castor saying, "nope. Sorry. Apparently you didn't get the memo where my name is now Castor Black."

Voldemort paused for a moment to stare at the boy, who did hold a lot of resemblance to his followers. "Whatever, do you see what you've done to me? See what I-"

He was cut off again by Castor shaking his head. "Nu-uh. You don't get to blame your Gryffindor stupidity on me. You were the one who was all 'let's hear half a prophecy and run off to kill babies and give them a reason to kill me.' Own up to your own actions. You're a," Castor trailed off and started counting on his fingers, "sixty-four year old...I can't call you a man because right now you're a leech. Age still counts though. And when you decided to kill babies you were a fifty-four year old man. So you should know how to take responsibility for your own mistakes and bullshit."

It was obvious that it was taking everything Voldemort had not to force Quirrell to start cursing Castor, but the pre-teen would go with it. "Now, about the reason you're here..."

Voldemort's POV

This...this stupid brat! How dare he show up and start claiming that everything was his fault. It was the stupid prophecy that had caused the whole situation. THE PROPHECY!!!

Oh how he wanted to hex the stupid boy, make him wither and scream in pain. There was a reason the Cruciatus Curse was his favorite after all.

"Now about the reason you're here-" he made sure to cut the boy off this time 'two can play that game.'

"You know why I'm here?"

"Kind of hard not to with the Gringotts break-in being a new or I guess old story, but they still give regular updates about an investigation that's gone cold. Anyway, we're getting off topic. You're here for the stone. And it's a stupid idea to grab it."

Voldemort felt his mind go completely blank at the words because the boy knew! How could the boy know?!

"Trying to convince me to spare your life?" the leech mocked with a hissing laugh only to be cut off mid-laugh. "We both know you're not going to kill me. No, it would be a stupid idea to grab the stone and come back now because Dumbles will be expecting you. Try using the so called 'Slytherin cunning' that you should have and just think it through. Dumbles knows you're here. He knows that you're here for the stone. Ergo, he will have it all warded to let him know when you get there so that he can swoop in stop you or whatever it is that he does."

The leech stayed silent for a moment, thinking through what he'd just been told and -annoyingly enough- knew that the child was correct. Dumbledore would realize by now that he was in the castle and it would make sense for the man to have it set up to capture him while at his weakest.

"So what do you suggest?"

How he hated asking a child for advice and suggestions, but Potter -wait no Black. He was a Black.- had just shown that he knew more than people were giving him credit for so might as well just go along with it...for now...

Chapter Text

Chapter Sixteen: Chocolate Frogs

The last month had been amusing to say the least. He'd sent off his letters to the Malfoys and they had not disappointed in their replies. Granted Castor wasn't sure what he might have been expecting from them after he'd told them about their heir, but it was not for them to come storming the castle the very next morning.

Castor -and everyone else who could pull themselves out of bed in time for breakfast on a Sunday- were witness to Narcissa Malfoy née Black stalking into the Entrance of Hogwarts with her husband following behind (looking a little worried if Castor were being honest). The woman cast a look around the Entrance before disappearing down in the dungeons. No one outside of the Slytherins had any idea what happened while she was down there, but when Draco Malfoy arrived for breakfast he was thoroughly cowed.

The only thing that even came close to topping Narcissa Malfoy's arrival was the first of October when Castor received a box from Gringotts -most of the weird mail he now received being sent to The Den first to be checked for curses before being sent to him- that held all the items that had been stolen from his vaults. It also contained items taken from the various persons to pay back what they owed him, which meant that the chocolate frog cards Ronald was so proud of were now in his possession.

A normal person might just leave them in the box, take them back to their dorm, and not let anyone know that he or she had them, but Castor wasn't a normal person. So when he saw the chocolate frog cards sitting on top of everything else he just had to pull them out to look at them (obviously he needed to know which ones were there and not rub it in Weasley's face that his prized collection was now Castor's).

"Anything interesting?" Terry asked at the same time Lisa complained that, "you get as many boxes worth of stuff as you send out. It's not fair."

Castor glanced over the box at his fellow first years, eyes flashing purple in amusement. "Life's not fair Lisa," the pre-teen pointed out with a slight grin, "and as a matter of fact, Terry, it is something interesting."

The group of first years that had somehow become his friends over the last month all leaned over, trying and failing to see inside the box.

"Well?! Share with the class, Cas!"

The other six snorted at Lily's demand, but they were all eager and so Castor was quick to open it. Inside, right on the top was a book. The only thing on the book was a name.

"Why do you have Ronald Weasley's book?" Lisa asked, her look of confusion mirrored on the faces of the other pre-teens.

The dark haired boy pulled the book out, giving a glance into the box to make sure the rest of the stuff was what he was expecting before shutting it, shrinking it with a wave of his hand, and dropping it in his bag. He would have to wait until lunch or after classes to take it to the dorms. "I have Weasel's book because he stole money from me and his family is too poor to pay me back with actual money."

Some of the Slytherins behind them heard his comment and snickered to themselves, muttering something that might or might not be agreement.

"Or I suppose it's better to say Ronald is too poor to pay me back with real money so the goblins took his most valuable things and sent them to me to keep or sell. It doesn't even come close to paying back all the money he spent, but it'll suffice for now." He paused for a moment to think about something before adding, "though his family is too poor to pay back what they stole either."

The fact that they'd been using the stolen money to put their kids to school didn't make him feel any better about it, nor did it stop him from taking everything back. Even their house was currently his until they paid off their debt and bought it back ('if they ever manage it'). The only one spared was -annoyingly enough- Percy. He was the only one (his two older brothers not counting) that hadn't stolen from him and thus was free of having his things taken from him.

"Did he even have anything of value?" Padma asked, nose wrinkling at the idea of Weasley having anything of value that wasn't family heirlooms, though knowing Gringotts they'd probably taken the heirlooms too (which they had, now Castor had a box filled with cheap knock off jewelry, a couple real pearl necklaces, and one or two diamond tiaras).

"Not really," Castor admitted, pushing his now empty plate to the side and placing the book in its spot, "this is the most valuable, everything else has been sold off."

"Why wouldn't you sell that then?" Anthony inquired, confusion on his face at the same time that Terry demanded, "show us what it is already!"

Castor shot Terry a warning look because the entire group knew that the dark haired first year hated being told what to do. "Right, sorry, please show us what it is already!"

Padma, Lisa, and Michael all rolled their eyes at the rephrasing, but it was obvious that all of them were curious.

By this point many of the people around them had stopped to eating to pay attention to the group of first years. So without further ado Castor flipped open the book and those around him were privy to see the various chocolate frog cards held inside. At first a lot of people were unimpressed because anyone could have chocolate frog cards -and most of them did- but then Michael leaned over and saw the names and then amazement abounded.

"Holy Hecate! He has Lamia?! Ladon! Arachne, Arion, Charybdis, Scylla," Michael pulled the book away from Castor without thought, reading off the various names before finally just looking at the now owner of the book. "He has the entire limited edition Greek monsters set. Do you know how much that is worth?"

"Not as much as you apparently," Castor said blandly, eyes focused across the hall on a certain red haired pre-teen who was staring at them, or more accurately the book Michael was now flipping through again.

"All the limited edition gods & goddesses set, even the mythical gods & goddesses," Michael informed him in awe, "he had to spend literally thousands of galleons to get all of these. No one has ever had a collection like this before. You'd best put it somewhere safe so no one can get it."

As if those were the magic words, Castor's green eyes watched as Weasley shoved himself to his feet and stormed over to the Ravenclaw table.

"You! You're the one who's been taking all of our stuff!" Weasley yelled, pointing a finger at the smaller pre-teen. "You took all of our money! Our home and now you're charging us to be able to live in a place that's been in our family for decades!"

By this point they had -once again- gained the attention of everyone in the room, but Castor didn't care much. If Ronald wanted to air his dirty laundry out for the world then who was Castor to stop him?

"And that," a jab towards the book Michael was still flipping through, "is mine. I worked hard to get all of those and you don't have the right to keep it from me."

Then the red head shoved Michael out of the way -it must pay to be so big- and made to grab the book, only to find himself frozen with his hand still out stretched. Michael was quick to grab the book and hold it close to him as if he thought Weasley would actually be able to take it.

"That's enough Weasley," Castor hissed, now getting to his feet to turn and face the taller boy, "you made your bed and now you have to lay in it. It's not my fault that you used stolen money to build up your collection. If you didn't want your things repossessed then you shouldn't have taken my money. Yeah, that's right," he let the spell keeping Weasley froze down and watched the other boy stumble, "I'm well aware that you and your parents and your brothers stole money from me. And now you get to learn the price of stealing from your betters."

He'd forgotten how interesting it was to watch Weasley get worked up over something. The boy's face got redder than his hair, his hands clenched into fist, and sweat starting forming at his hair line. "You take that back! We didn't steal from you! Professor Dumbledore was giving us money to help us out. The money was to help take care of you when you got to the wizarding world. And now you're taking it all back and forcing us to pay rent on our house. You have no right to do that! You...you'd better give us our stuff back and...and start up the payments again or else I'm gon-"

His screaming was cut off so suddenly that it took Ronald a moment to realize that no sound was escaping him.

"I believe that is quite enough out of you," Castor said with a roll of his eyes. He took the book out of Michael's hands and shoved it back in his bag before swinging it over his shoulder. "I'm not going to put up with your stupidity and thinking that you're owed my money. It's mine and I can share it or keep it to myself and you have no say in what I do with it. You decided to use the money on something like chocolate frog cards and that means that I get the entire collection, plus whatever else you might have stashed away in your room -which wasn't much to be honest- and anything your parents or brothers had of value. And I'll keep getting your things or your money until I've recovered every knut of my money that you spent."

Spinning on his heel he made it all of three steps before he heard his friends call out a warning. His first instinct -which he followed through with- was to toss up a shield before turning to face the Gryffindor, eyes glowing green in anger. "Really? You're going to try and curse me when my back is turned? I'm not sure if I'm more surprised by your stupidity to curse me in the middle of the Great Hall or your stupidity to try and curse me at all."

A twitch of his finger had the Gryffindor's wand flying out of his hand and landing in Castor's and another twitch saw the Gryffindor falling on his ass. "It's like you forget that I'm the stronger wizard here Weasel."

A third twitch of his finger had the red head sprawled on his back and frozen where he lay. "Now let me make this very clear," a fourth twitch had the older boy on his feet with his arms locked to his sides and his legs locked together, "you, two of your older brothers, your sister, and your parents stole my money. So now you get to learn the price for your greediness. Let it be a lesson," a final twitch of his finger had the boy released from his frozen state.

Blue eyes and green eyes stayed locked until Ronald finally looked away. Satisfied with his 'win' Castor turned and left the Great Hall, all of his friends hurried to catch up with him as the room broke into mutters and whispers about what had just happened.

And up at the head table the professors watched the entire thing, frozen in their own seats for reasons they didn't understand...

Chapter Text

Chapter Seventeen: Hallowe'en

Great Hall

31 October 1991

It had been a stressful time, more stressful than he remembered it, but he supposed that was to be expected. After everything with Weasley, things had seemingly changed over night. Students and teachers alike looked at him differently.

The Slytherins always looked like they were planning and plotting with him in the center. The Ravenclaws forever gave him looks that spoke of wanting to experiment and test him. The Gryffindors glared at him any chance they got. And the Hufflepuffs were always side-eyeing him wearily as if he was just going to go nuts and start cursing everyone. Quirrell and Dumbledore also looked like they were plotting something, but with those two Castor couldn't even say he was surprised.

He was wondering how he'd managed to avoid being summoned to the headmaster's office for so long, but wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth because something told him he would be called up soon enough.

When he got to the Great Hall on Hallowe'en morning his luck ran out. He'd just settled down with the other first years with the intent to eat breakfast before going off to classes -which would be filled more with teachers teaching them stupid things for the holiday instead of following their schedules- when the mail arrived. First there was the day's edition of the Daily Prophet that got dropped on his plate. Then the usual boxes worth of useless bullshit 'fans' still sent him that he either sold or put in his vault for future uses -maybe-, letters from Gringotts about some businesses he'd been looking into, letters from his grandparents -no he still hadn't forgiven Citrio-, letters from other members of his family -Narcissa & Lucius were insistent that he stay in contact-, and finally a letter that held nothing more than his name on the front in familiar writing.

"Where do you get all of that?" Padma asked in amazement as the usual mail got dropped off. Her look was that of someone who wasn't used to a person getting so much mail in one sitting, which was weird considering she saw the same thing every day.

"Gringotts, useless fans, family, the usual," Castor said, brushing off the strangeness as he stuck the 'fan' mail in the empty section of his bag, while the important letters were placed with his stationary items. Slitting open the remaining envelope with one of the butter knives, he pulled out the parchment and rolled his eyes at the short message.

Harry,

Please join me in my office after breakfast.

Professor Dumbledore

P.S.: Ice Mice are a particular favorite of mine.

He wordlessly set the parchment on fire and let the ashes catch on a sudden breeze before piling him plate with food, only to be stopped by Terry pushing his copy of the Daily Prophet in front of Castor's face.

"Special Edition," the other boy explained as Castor took the paper just to get it out of his face.

"I refuse to miss breakfast," the smaller Ravenclaw retorted as he handed the paper back without looking -he knew what it said since he'd been the one to help write it- and started in on his food. Only after he was finished did he take his own copy of the paper and open it up.

In the middle of the front page was a picture of James and Lily Potter with 'Harry' in their arms and next to it a picture of Regulus Black and Rabastan Lestrange with Castor in their arms. Below the two family pictures was a recent picture of Castor.

Special Edition

Lord, Lady, and Heir Lestrange Tell All

Early yesterday morning this reporter was summoned to the Lestrange Manor -unplottable and somewhere in France- for what turned out to be the interview of the century. Lord Citrio Lestrange and his wife, Lady Cispia Lestrange, wanted this reporter to finally spread the truth about what happened to their family nearly eleven years ago.

As many of you probably remember, September was filled with articles focused on Harry Potter and Castor Lestrange Black. It was during yesterday's interview that it was pointed out that Heir Lestrange was most displeased with the printing of his inheritance test without his permission -Lord Lestrange had given his permission though- and had taken some serious convincing to allow this interview.

The tale Lord and Lady Lestrange had for this reporter nearly broke my heart. A tale of love and loss; a tale of loss that shattered a family.

Lady Lestrange begins the tale: "It all started on 30 July 1981. We were all gathered at Regulus and Rabastan's home-"

I hated to interrupt, but I needed to know a few more details so I cut her off, "who all were gathered? I imagine you mean yourself and Lord Lestrange, but who else might have been there? And where was their home?"

It was Lord Lestrange who answered my questions (he seemed rather displeased that I had cut Lady Lestrange off if his look was anything to go by). "The location matters not for the place no longer exist. As for the guests, it was our families. Myself, Lady Lestrange, our eldest son and his wife, many of our relatives from France, Lord and Lady Black, their various relatives, extended family and friends such as the Malfoys, etc."

"As I was saying," Lady Lestrange didn't look overly pleased with my interruption either, "we had all retired for the evening. It was late and we had plans for the next day. It's not everyday your first grandchild turns one, you know? We were all so excited. There was a huge party planned. Me and a number of the other women were going to take him out for the day while the others set up, but at some point in the night everything went...wrong."

The two clutch each other's hands and it's obvious that whatever is about to be said is very painful for the couple.

"We aren't one hundred percent sure what happened. The alarm wards went off and Castor started screaming. His screams were loud enough to be heard over the alarm wards!"

-For those who don't know, alarm wards are spelled to be loud enough to be heard for miles so that anyone nearby who might be able to help will hear it. It also alerts the DMLE of a disturbance and they have to manually shut them off.-

"It's...everyone ran to the nursery," Lady Lestrange let's out a watery chuckle, "Regulus and Rabastan got there first and the rest of us got stuck in the doorway, fighting to be the next one in to ensure Castor was safe. But...he...he wasn't there."

Lord Lestrange has to pick up the tale at this time because Lady Lestrange is unable to continue. "The nursery window was shattered, probably what set the alarm wards off in the first place. The entire room was a mess, like there had been a fight, which was weird considering Castor was the only one in the room. Bookshelves were broken and the crib was on its side facing the door. At this point we can only assume that whoever broke in and set off the wards terrified him enough for his accidental magic to react."

-The fact that even the aurors seemed to believe it was the child's accidental magic tells us exactly how powerful the child must have been to not even be a year old (almost but not quite) and manage to destroy a room like that since most children don't begin showing signs of accidental magic until two or three and even then it's small things.-

"We searched for...for months," Lady Lestrange manages to tell me, "following the smallest whiff of a lead. Then in...in late...late October..."

At this point in the interview we have to pause because emotions get the better of both Lord and Lady Lestrange. It takes them almost an hour to gather themselves enough to continue. An hour in which I am shown multiple pictures of a happy little boy who looks exactly like his bearer -Regulus Black- and nothing like James or Lily Potter (except for the green eyes strangely enough).

"In late October we found a body," Lord Lestrange tells me when the interview picks back up, "various spells and tests told us that it was Castor. It...the things done to him..."

The look Lord Lestrange gave me as Lady Lestrange excused herself in sobs once more told me that I didn't want to know what shape the poor child had been found in.

"After we found him, or who we thought was him, everything went...wrong. The loss of Castor affected all of us. It...it tore us apart. Regulus went missing and then...well...you know what happened to our children."

-For those who don't know their children, Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange, have been imprisoned in Azkaban since November of 1981, along with Rodolphus' wife Bellatrix.-

When I questioned their find of Castor alive the story was much less painful.

"He wrote to me actually," Lord Lestrange told me with a hint of a smirk, "wanted my help with some...personal things. It ended up with us meeting at Gringotts and well...you saw for yourself what the results of that meeting were."

-See the 14 September 1991 edition of the Daily Prophet for the information Lord Lestrange mentioned.-

"And you have no idea how he came to be with the Potter family? Or even who the child you found was?"

By this point Lord Lestrange had taken over answering since Lady Lestrange had retired due to emotional distress. "We imagine that the child we found was probably the actual Harry Potter. It would make since considering everyone knows that James and Lily Potter had a son born almost the exact same time as our Castor. It is possible that something happened and to keep us off the trail someone used the poor child as a decoy to keep us from continuing to look."

"As for how he came to be with the Potters? Only James and Lily would be able to answer that question and well...sadly they aren't here to do so."

The interview after that didn't last long and Lord Lestrange asked that we not start making wild speculations about how his grandson, Heir Lestrange, wound up so far away from family.

After that the article went off talking more about Citrio and Cispia's reactions during the interview and made lots of comments about Castor's schooling, but it didn't start speculating about how he went from his family home to Potter Cottage, which he would take as a plus. The last thing Castor wanted to do was deal with reporters attempting to create their own creative theory.

He quickly scanned the rest of the paper for anything of interest and upon not seeing anything put it aside, having no need for it. "I'll meet you in class," he told his friends as he stood, plate cleaned of his breakfast -he had finished it before getting to the paper or letter afterall-, tossed his bag over his shoulder and left the Great Hall. Dumbledore wanted to see him after all.

Headmaster's Office, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry, Hogwarts Castle, Highlands, Scotland, Great Britain

31 October 1991

Castor knocked loudly on the door twice -knowing that the headmaster always waited for three knocks- and waited. He was beginning to think that the man wasn't going to let him into the room -which would be fine by Castor he had classes- when Dumbledore called out a soft "enter."

The large wooden door got opened just enough for him to slip inside and then it closed on its own. "You wanted to see me headmaster?"

"Ah, yes, yes, come in, my body, take a seat, lemon drop?"

The Ravenclaw knew how this worked and took a seat on the edge of the wooden chair, bag still over his shoulder. "No thank you. Did you need something, sir? I have classes soon."

It was obvious that Dumbledore didn't know how to handle a situation where the student was reminding him of attending classes. 'Probably because most students are idiots and don't realize that he doesn't care about their education outside of what it can do for him,' Castor thought to himself.

"Right, of course," the man said softly, blue eyes twinkling at him.

The dark haired first year felt something brush up against his mind shield and mentally kicked at it. The feeling of something jerking back was there and followed up with a harder prod at his mental walls, which resulted in him -mentally- cursing it with some...less than legal spells (it was his mind so it wasn't like it was his fault he went with what he was good at!) until the presence left.

The blue eyes dulled as the feeling disappeared and Castor tilted his head, eerily dark green eyes staring unblinking at the headmaster.

"Sir?"

As if the word snapped the man out of his thoughts, the headmaster's dull blue eyes looked at him.

"Right, sorry my boy, the reason I asked you to meet me is because I wished to speak to you about the goblins invasion of my office and rooms," the man explained, "as well as this silly name change and house and such."

Castor stared at the man blankly as the man went into a long winded rant? vent? monologue? about not dishonoring the sacrifice Lily and James gave for him by giving up their name and allowing himself to be 'turned to the dark side' and...whatever else he was spouting because Castor had stopped paying attention.

"Professor," Castor called to stop the man mid-whatever he was doing, "I'm unclear on why any of this has anything to do with you? Outside, of course, of the goblins raiding your office and rooms but then again they would only be doing that to take back anything they've found that you've taken without permission."

Dumbledore stared at him for a moment.

"My boy-"

"Please stop calling me that. We aren't familiar with each other and it makes me highly uncomfortable for the headmaster of my school that I've personally only met this one time to be calling me something like 'my boy.'"

"Harry-"

"My name isn't Harry. It's Castor. And I would still appreciate if you wouldn't call me by my first name as if we're close. Heir Lestrange, Lord Black, Lord Lestrange Black, or Heir Lestrange Black all work."

It was obvious that his refusal to allow the man to act familiar with him bothered the headmaster, but there really wasn't anything that could be said since Castor was making a very good point. Dumbledore had no reason to be acting so familiar with the first year.

"Of course Heir Lestrange-Black," Albus grit out, "I wished to speak to you about the goblins raiding my rooms and office and taking a large number of my things."

"I believe I pointed out, sir, that they only took things that didn't belong to you. Such as the Invisibility  Cloak that belonged to James Potter that you had no business having, the various family Line books and Grimoires that you took. Those are only things I know and remember. It doesn't include anything from other families you've taken over the years."

Obviously, he'd hit a nerve at his words because Dumbledore shooed him out of the office 'off to class' rather quickly and without making comments about people 'loaning' their things to him.

Great Hall

31 October 1991

The Hallowe'en feast was in full swing. The decorations adding just enough 'spooky' to get everyone in the holiday spirit and enough candy to give anyone diabetes. Castor was surrounded by his friends and they were all talking and laughing. They took turns pulling the Hallowe'en crackers -like the ones they had at Christmas just with things suitable for Halowe'en instead- and laughing at the various things they got. By the time the door to the Great Hall flew open and Quirrell came running in screaming about a troll -apparently pointing out the issue of trying to get the stone had made no impact on Voldemort- Castor had already amassed a wide selection of everything from common chocolate frog cards to silly little bat shaped hats.

"Troll! Troll in the dungeon! Thought you ought to know!"

As the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher's body hit the ground in a faint -had he actually fainted or was he pretending?- the hall broke into screams and shouts.

"Silence!"

It took a good few minutes before the students quieted down enough for Dumbledore to be heard, but when the man announced that prefects were supposed to 'lead their house to their common room' Castor decided someone with a brain and common sense should speak up.

Grumbling about having his fun ruined, the pre-teen cast a wandless sonorus and stood up on the bench.

"Everyone!"

All eyes immediately went to him as people quieted down much faster -which what the hell?!

"Sit back down. We are not going to go running through the corridors when there's a troll on the loose."

Slowly starting to glow killing curse green eyes turned to fix the professors at the table a look.

"It would be stupid to send students out in the corridors when there's no telling where the troll might wander off to. Plus in case some of you," an annoyed look towards Dumbledore, "forgot, the Slytherins and the Hufflepuffs dorms are where the troll was just reported to be. You could be sending them to their deaths!"

That got reactions from the professors that there should have been from the start.

"Mr. Black is correct," Professor Sprout -head of Hufflepuff house- said in worry as she glanced over at the badger house table, "we can't send them out there. And we most definitely can't be sending students into the dungeons."

Dumbledore was glaring towards Castor and completely ignoring how the other professors got tired of waiting for him to change his orders.

"Students will stay seated," McGonagall informed them, "with Professors Snape and Quirrell staying to help protect them in case the troll manages to wander this far."

Castor hid a smirk at the displeased look on Snape's face because he was well aware of exactly what Snape had been planning to do. The fact that McGonagall set it so that Quirrell couldn't go free either? Priceless.

"The other professors will go find the troll and-"

"Professor McGonagall," Castor called, gaining the attention of the woman, "the heads of houses should probably stay behind or at least make sure all of their students are accounted for before going troll hunting."

It was obvious that none of them thought it important to make sure all students were accounted for -seriously things needed to change- and after a moment thought the transfiguration professor nodded.

"That is an excellent point Mr. Black," the woman said with a nod, "five points to Ravenclaw for looking out for your fellow students. Professors Snape, Sprout, Flitwick, and I will stay behind to protect the students. The other professors will go troll hunting."

Satisfied that the professors were finally doing their jobs correctly -even if Castor had been needed to ensure things went right- the pre-teen hopped down and removed the spell before going back to talk with his friends about the troll.

It took nearly half an hour for the heads of houses to check up on all of their students and to realize that Professor Quirrell was still laid out where he'd fainted. A simple Enervate had the defense professor back in the world of the living -Castor wasn't convinced he hadn't been faking it

"All Slytherins are accounted for," Snape suddenly drawled, moving towards the entrance to the Great Hall.

"Same with Hufflepuffs," Sprout announced just as Flitwick said, "Ravenclaws are all here."

"Where is Miss Granger?" McGonagall asked, worry clear in her tone and on her face.

"She's in the loo," Padma's twin informed the professor from where she was sitting with her best friend talking about...whatever girls talk about, "crying because Ron made fun of her earlier."

The look McGonagall sent towards Weasley said they would be having words later.

"Pomona with me. We must go get Miss Granger," the woman said, as she hurried out of the Great Hall with the herbology professor right behind her.

"I hope she's alright," Lily suddenly whispered, glancing over at the Gryffindor table.

"Professor Quirrell said it was in the dungeons and they are kind of stupid," Michael said and Anthony added quickly after, "she'll be fine. Plus the professors have gone after her so she'll have protection."

Terry, Lisa, and Padma all nodded in agreement, which seemed to help Lily calm down, until she caught the look on Castor's face.

"You know something. What?"

The green eyed boy blinked and looked at his friends who were now staring at him with curiosity in their eyes.

"Hm? Oh. I imagine that the troll has managed to get out of the dungeons by this point. The professors waited a long time to actually leave to get it and that's not including us not knowing how long it took Quirrell to actually get here. He's a bit of a coward so he might have passed out upon seeing it."

The other six Ravenclaws paled at the idea of a troll roaming the halls.

"But...but you think the professors will find it, right?" Lily asked, glancing towards the door like she thought it was going to bust in.

"Probably. If nothing else I imagine that McGonagall and Sprout will find it."

Worried looks were shared amongst his friends at his words, but he completely ignored it and turned back to his feast.

A couple of hours later -Castor had been right about McGonagall and Sprout finding the troll- they were allowed to retire to their dorms. Everyone was talking about the troll and how (apparently) McGonagall and Sprout had found it at the same time they found Granger. From what little had been told to the students -mostly by Granger- the two professors had rushed into the bathroom just as the troll took down the row of toilet stalls and between the two of them they'd incapacitated the creature until help arrived.

"Remind me to write to my grandfather tomorrow," Castor suddenly told Lisa, "about the fact that they just released a troll into the Forbidden Forest instead of sending it far away from the school. I think it's time that something is done about the forest."

He didn't like the idea that something so dangerous would be allowed free so close to a school full of children.

Chapter Text

The Story Thus Far...

Harry Potter received some strange flashes during the run from Privet Drive on the eve of his eleventh birthday, where he then met the half-giant Hagrid. The two journeyed to Diagon Alley where Harry learned that he was in fact not Harry James Potter son of Lily and James Potter but Castor Rigel Rabastan Lestrange Black, son of Regulus Black and Rabastan Lestrange. He bought the bare minimum while out with Hagrid and then went back a couple of days later where he proceeded to go through some grueling medical procedures to fix his many problems, had a very long chat with his account manager, and went on the shopping spree of the century.

He moved out of Privet Drive and took up residence at one of the properties that he owned (The Den) with his two house elves (Dobpey and Nompey) and his three familiars (Jormungandr [Jor], Bastet, and Hedwig). The rest of his summer was spent 'catching up' with Lord Citrio and Lady Cispia Lestrange (his grandparents), which brought him to the start of his first year at Hogwarts, where he was sorted into Ravenclaw and began to question basically everything.

The Story Continues...

Library

1 November 1991

Castor hadn't been joking when he said that he was going to be writing to his grandfather, Lord Citrio Lestrange, about the Forbidden Forest. Granted, he'd been planning on waiting a while before calling anyone in because he knew they were going to want to check the grounds for any other dangerous creatures that might be on the loose, which meant they would be finding Fluffy and thus what Fluffy just so happened to be hiding. Still, having watched them release a troll into the forest instead of taking it off somewhere else brought home the fact that their safety was greatly compromised. So, while his fellow first years were sitting around working on homework the next afternoon, Castor was attempting to write a letter that would get the danger of the forest across without making it seem like the rest of the place was in danger. It wasn't going well.

Lord Lestrange

Citrio

Grandfather

The pre-teen couldn't even figure out how to start the letter, which was unusual for him, since normally he at least knew how to start the thing. "Maybe I should just write to the board of governors or something," he mumbled as he scribbled out more possible starts to his letter.

"Or you could just write to him like you usually do," Lily suggested with a sigh, quill dropping onto the table. She and the other first years were having a difficult time focusing on their own work because Castor kept mumbling to himself.

Castor made a face and mimicked the girl in a high-pitched voice that sounded nothing like her, "or you could just write to him like you usually do."

"Hey!" Padma hissed, leaning across the table towards Castor. "There's no reason for you to be mean about it. She was just trying to help. Plus, you're distracting the rest of us from being able to do our homework with your muttering."

The pre-teen felt his cheeks heat up at the anger being directed by him. He hadn't really thought about the fact that his words were being mean to Lily, and she was just trying to help. Sighing softly, he dropped his quill and rubbed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger. "You're right, you're right," he agreed with another sigh, letting his hand drop to the table and looking towards Lily.

"I apologize for mocking you like that. I just...Lord Lestrange didn't attend Hogwarts, so the letter has to be worded just right to get the extent of the danger across. But my annoyance at my lack of progress is still no reason to be making fun of you for helping. Nor is it a good excuse for doing so. So again, I apologize."

The table was silent for a moment before Terry snorted and shook his head. "Dude, you're always so...so...formal and...and...serious about stuff. You honestly need to just relax sometimes."

As usual, Terry was the one to break the silence. Padma, Lisa, and Michael rolled their eyes at the rudeness, while Anthony just laughed along with Terry. Lily just gave Castor a small smile. "Apology accepted."

Lestrange Manor

2 November 1991

Citrio and Cispia were enjoying a nice breakfast when the familiar white owl came soaring through the window. As usual, Cispia was nearly bouncing in her seat at the sight of the owl and the letter attached to her leg, while Citrio just watched his wife fondly. The letter was removed and the owl -Hedwig- was given a piece of bacon. On a normal day, the gorgeous owl would take the bacon and leave, but today she stayed perched on the back of one of the extra chairs. It alarmed them because 'why would Castor want his owl to wait for a response?'

Quickly opening the letter, Citrio pulled it out. Only for multiple pieces of parchment to fall out. One was labeled for both Cispia and Citrio, while the other was labeled solely for 'Lord Lestrange.'

"Do you think something's happened?" his wife asked nervously.

"I can't think of any other reason our grandson might send mail labeled Lord Lestrange," Citrio replied with a slight shrug. He handed the letter labeled to both of them over to his wife, since she was now twisting her fingers together in worry, while he turned his attention to the other one.

Lord Lestrange,

I'm writing to you in regards to an incident that happened on 31 October.

Okay, no. I can't be formal about this because it feels weird.

I know you never attended Hogwarts and I honestly have no idea what the place was like when Cispia attended. So I'm honestly not sure how this letter is going to go over or if the seriousness of the problem will get through. I'm hoping that by adressing you as Lord Lestrange that it will at least get some of my seriousness across.

The incident I'm talking about is that a troll was let loose into the Forbidden Forest-

Citrio lowered the letter to glance at his wife, who had her nose nearly touching the parchment, and cleared his throat loudly to get her attention. Cispia nearly jumped out of her seat at the sudden noise and quickly looked at him.

"Yes, dear?" she asked sweetly, as if she hadn't been attempting to meld her face to the letter from her grandson.

"What can you tell me about this," he glanced down at the letter again to ensure he was calling the place by the correct name, "Forbidden Forest at Hogwarts?"

Purple eyes blinked in surprise and then narrowed in confusion.

"There's really not much to tell," she said, laying the letter in her hands on the table for the moment, "it's a large forest that borders one side of the castle, stretches out for who knows how long and extends past the school wards. There were rumors that there were all sorts of dangerous creatures living in there. Trolls and those horrid spiders. You know, the giant ones that eat people? Someone also started up a rumor that there was a werewolf pack living in there, but we both know how ludicrous that would be."

Citrio hummed in thought and nodded before turning his attention back to the letter.

"Why are you asking me about the Forbidden Forest?"

He only held up the letter a little and shook it as if to say, 'why else except this letter?'

You stopped to ask Cispia about the forest, didn't you? I'm sure you did because I'd do the same thing. Anywayas I was saying, on Hallowe'en, a troll somehow infultrated the school. We were only alerted to it when the defense against the dark arts professor came running in screeching about there being a troll in the dungeon. As I'm sure you can guess everything exploded into chaos after the announcement -and subsequent fainting by said defense against the dark arts professor.

I shan't go into details about the stupidity of the Hogwarts staff because it would take much more parchment than I wish to use. But in the end the troll was captured -alive- and then realeased into the forest. When I say released I don't mean it was taken outside the school wards and let out. No. I mean they took it to the edge of the forest on school grounds and shooed it through. As I told you back in September, I was sorted into Ravenclaw, which means I got to sit in one of the windows and watch this happen.

I'm honestly unclear on if there's anything you can actually do in regards to the knowledge that there is now at least one troll -probably more- wandering in the forest so close to a school full of underaged witches and wizards, but I'm hoping that if you can't then you could at least get in contact with someone who can do something about it because I fear what else might make an appearance.

After all, if they simply released a troll back into the forest then who knows what else they might have released in there over the years.

Best Regards,

Castor

"I do believe I will be taking a trip to London tomorrow," Citrio said after he finished reading the letter, then rereading it, then re-rereading it.

By this point, Cispia had already finished reading her letter and was already writing a reply -the woman was obsessed with making sure Castor knew that they read every letter and paid attention to every detail-but she did stop and look at him in confusion.

"It seems the headmaster and professors at Hogwarts don't have the sense Chaos gave a flubberworm," the man explained, frowning down at the letter, "and have released a troll into this Forbidden Forest."

"What were they thinking?!"

Chapter Text

Filius Flitwick's POV

14 September 1991

Charm's Professor's Office, Third Floor, Charm's Corridor, Training Grounds tower, Hogwarts Castle, Scotland, Great Britain

Filius couldn't believe the events that had taken place today. A food fight of all things! He'd never seen anything like it, and he'd been here when James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew were running around causing chaos...and the Weasley Twins! It was just...and one of his Ravenclaws had been one of the first to start it. Now here he was, staring at his brightest student, who looked bored with the entire ordeal. He wasn't sure how well the whole 'write an apology letter' thing was going to go over, considering Castor had been the one attacked. The half-goblin had attempted to point this out to the headmaster, but Albus was insistent on it.

"Mr. Black," he began, gaining the attention of the first year who was leaning against the wall like he had nothing better to do, "Headmaster Dumbledore has decided that those who started the food fight, or injured anyone magically or physically, will write apology notes to each other."

When the pre-teen opened his mouth to argue, the Charms professor held up his hand to stop him.

"I am aware of what occurred, Mr. Black, but the headmaster has given his decision, and we will respect it. If you could please sit and write your letter, and then you're free to go."

Before the boy even opened his mouth, Filius knew this wasn't going to go over well, and sure enough it did not go over well.

"Fuck no."

Dark green eyes flashed the colour of the killing curse, which made the small man step back on reflex before he caught himself. By the time he had, the first year was gone, and the door was slamming shut behind him.

"Kids these days," Filius grumbled as he made his way to his desk and climbed up into the chair before dragging quill and parchment closer, "always so damn rude."

The small man wrote out a letter -addressed to Castor Black-about the detention he would be serving for 'using curse words.' As if one more detention was going to be any use against a boy that already had a month's worth.

"...and then another ten minutes to remove all the various spells, hexes, and jinxes and heal his various bruises, cuts, and scratches." - Chapter Fourteen: Food Fight

Severus Snape's POV

14 September 1991

Severus Snape's Private Rooms, Dungeons

The entire day had been a complete clusterfuck. Honestly, not even Potter had managed to start a school wide food fight. It was like his godson -his younger godson?- was Hades bent on outshining all the other pranksters the school had ever seen or something. And to make the entire thing worse? Now Severus was going to have to put up with students in detention. For an entire month. There would be no free time. No time away from the brats. The only freedom from them he would get would be when he slept. It was going to be a nightmare. Curse Albus for doing this!

The whole mess also meant that it took him until after dinner -and hadn't that been a worry and a half- before he managed to summon Castor down to his rooms. He wasn't blind. He'd seen the boy get hit with curses and hexes and who knew what all else and no one had been sent to the Hospital Wing -an oversight on all of their parts but mostly Albus's since he'd sent everyone to their common rooms. So come 19:00 Severus wasn't even a little surprised by the knock on his door.

Opening it dark eyes swept over the boy to ensure there were no immediate injuries. He caught sight of a bruise peaking out from the collar of the pre-teen's shirt and a red mark around his wrist where the sleeve had rolled up a little.

"You wanted to see me?" the Ravenclaw asked with a small tilt of his head, reminding Severus greatly of his bearer at that moment. It was the same look Regulus always got when he found a puzzle he couldn't easily solve. It made Severus wonder what sort of puzzle Castor had found in being asked to see his godfather.

"Get in," the man said instead of answering, stepping back and gesturing for the boy to enter his rooms.

Once they were both inside and the door once more locked with his wards activated -he didn't trust Albus not to have messed with the usual wards and thus put up his own just in case- he finally turned to his -thought dead- godson.

"You were injured during the...altercation earlier," Severus said, sneer in place at the idea of the 'altercation,' "and I wished to ensure that there were no lingering effects on you. I saw some of the spells Mr. Carsen was throwing around and if they aren't counteracted quickly there can be severe problems."

"Mr. Carsen? You mean the idiot that threw the first spell? I already cast the counterspell for all of his -admittedly badly cast- spells and...whatever else he was throwing around," Castor informed him, a little too quickly in Severus's opinion.

"I would still rather check for myself. I can still see bruises and other injuries that have been left untreated. It would be remiss of me not to check to ensure you are alright."

"And you did this to 'Mr. Carsen' as well?" Castor asked with amusement dancing in his eyes.

Severus let out a snort as he pulled out his wand and began to cast diagnostic spells to ensure that the first year had in fact managed to counter anything cast on him -and mostly heal himself- before answering.

"Don't be ridiculous. Mr. Carsen brought whatever happened to him on himself. Now, it looks like you've missed a couple of minor spells that would have worn off in about a week's time, but I'll go ahead and counter them and then I'm going to give you something for those bruises. Otherwise it looks like you're going to be fine."

"And up at the head table the professors watched the entire thing, frozen in their own seats for reasons they didn't understand..." -Chapter Sixteen: Chocolate Frogs

A month into the new school year had brought a lot of knowledge to Minerva McGonagall.

The first being that some way, somehow, Harry James Potter -the son of James Potter and Lily Evans, two of her star pupils - had been tricked into believing that he was the son of Death Eaters of all things. And not just any nameless Death Eaters, either! Regulus Black -heir of the Black family after her dear Sirius had been disowned- and Rabastan Lestrange -co-heir of the Lestrange family. It was such a ridiculous thing. The only consolation was that poor Harry had never learned anything about the magical world and, as such, didn't know that the idea was completely ridiculous. She'd spoken to Albus on a number of occasions since the news had come out, and the two had yet to figure out how to fix this mess.

The second thing that she'd learned is that Ronald Weasley was a complete idiot. The boy never put effort into his school work, complained about it all the time, was at the bottom of his class -below even Gregory Goyle and Vincent Crabbe!-, and it was unlikely to get any better if something was not done. Sadly, any and all help offered to the boy was turned down with some stupid line about how he was fine, and he'd manage to pass the year. Unlikely as it was looking at the moment.

The third thing that she had learned was that Harry Potter -or Castor Lestrange Black-had decided, in all of his misguided wisdom, to cut off the Weasley family and repossess whatever he believed they owed him. Which is why she knew that the scene happening was overdue.

The Great Hall

1 October 1991

It started with the arrival of the mail.

The professors that had bothered to climb out of bed and attend breakfast were busy trying to get themselves up to their normal efficiency with tons of tea or coffee (or some type of juice). Some of the so called 'morning people' were attempting inane talk amongst themselves. But for the most part the head table was silent except for the sounds of people taking sips of their drinks or the clatter of silverware on plates and bowls.

Then the mail arrived.

"Gilderoy Lockhart has published another book!" Bathsheda Babbling -the Ancient Runes professor - squealed as she and Charity Burbage -the Muggle Studies professor - shifted closer to read the (very long and ridiculous) article in Witch News Monthly, giggling like school girls as they did so.

Minerva was sitting to the right of Albus Dumbledore's chair, sipping on a cup of tea as she watched the goings-on, and so she was aware when Ronald Weasley made a sudden detour from his quest for food and towards the Ravenclaw table where -sure enough - Harry Potter was sitting with his friends looking through a book that Harry had received in the mail.

"You! You're the one who's been taking all of our stuff! You took all of our money! Our home and now you're charging us to be able to live in a place that's been in our family for decades!" Ronald shouted, gaining the attention of more than just Minerva. Beside her, Filius Flitwick -the Charms professor - furrowed his brow and made as if to get out of his seat.

"Don't bother Filius," the woman told him with a sigh of annoyance, ignoring the look she was getting from the Charms professor, "Ronald won't take it further than yelling. Best to let him get it out of his system."

And she truly believed that. She truly believed that Ronald would yell and scream at Harry, and then things would settle down and go back to normal. If she'd been her normal self, she would have realized how stupid that all sounded. She would have realized how that didn't sound like her at all. As it was, she just continued to sip at her drink as she watched the events unfolding.