Noble Trouble

Title:Noble Trouble

Author: Lilith Duvare

Fandom: Harry Potter/Glee

Pairing: Harry Potter/Noah Puckerman

Rating: M

Genre: Romance, Drama, General, Humour

Warnings: AU!(Voldemort dies and several other characters don't), Slash, homophobia, bullying, cursing, discrimination

Summary: On that faithful night, instead of running after Peter Pettigrew, Sirius Black chose another route and changed the future of the Wizarding World and with it unknowingly turned Noah Puckerman's life upside down.

Disclaimer: I'm not famous or rich, so no everything still belongs to J.K. Rowling, FOX and Ryan Murphy and his gang.

Author's Note: Before anyone asks, no, I have not abandoned Swan Heart, but I just had to write this. I hope you're going to like it, because this is nothing like you've ever read when it comes to a Harry Potter/Glee crossover. This idea is wild and set in an Alternative Universe, but I don't want to spoil the fun. If you are familiar with the books you'll know what I mean or changed.

Dedication: This story is entirely dedicated to popupman because he deserves it for listening to my ramblings and being a wonderful if a bit evil muse. So I know it's really late and everything, but Happy Birthday and thank you for being there! I hope you'll enjoy it.

Part I. – A Change in History

October 31th 1993, Godric's Hollow

Sirius Black stood over the lifeless body of his best friend, devastated rage twisting his otherwise striking features into a horrifying mask, silently vowing revenge against the traitor who betrayed their family and destroyed a decade of friendship for glory and personal greed. He couldn't tear his gaze away from the frozen horror on James' face, hazel eyes empty and robbed of the ever present mischievous gleam; he was afraid to see what happened to Lily and little Harry, because there was no way they could have gotten away no matter how much Sirius would have liked to believe.

Long, tanned fingers clenched around the dark mahogany wand as Sirius finally gathered the courage to leave his friend behind and head for the stairs, expecting more destruction and death, but deep down still trying to hope to see his godson and James' wife alive and well. He walked by the open door of Lily and James' bedroom; it was empty and relatively intact – except for the broken windows – and the exact opposite of the once cheerful and bright nursery that lay before him completely destroyed with Lily Potter's broken body as its centre.

Sirius bit back an anguished scream, cursing himself for being so stupid, for letting a coward like Peter to bear the weight of such a huge secret and squelching the urge to go after the spineless bastard and tearing him to pieces. He would do it, he promised his blazing fury, he would torture the disgusting rat and revel in the high pitched pathetic screams like a good Dark wizard was meant to do, but he had to wait. He had to see his godson, his tiny, adorable little pup for one last time; he had to say his goodbyes and strengthen his vow...

A small whimper pulled him out of his dark musings, a weak barely audible sound, and Sirius' head snapped up, shattered grey eyes seeking out the source of the sound, not daring to hope that it could be possible. Yet the next whimper was stronger and unmistakeable and caused him to flee across the room in a mad search for the crying baby, his wand slicing and stabbing through the air to clear the sight before him until he found his Harry's shivering and twitching form under the protection of a pile of rag-like curtains and blankets.

He could hardly choke back the sobs that welled up in his throat, his wand carelessly slipping from his fingers as he reached forward to touch the soft tuft of raven curls that couldn't hide the angry red scar on the boy's forehead. Red rimmed glowing green eyes blinked open at his touch, his godson recognising him instantly and reaching out with his small chubby hands causing Sirius to act without thinking and lift the petite body up cradling it to his chest in a desperate attempt to assure himself it was real and Harry, his sweet little Harry was alive.

He couldn't think straight, fear and venomous rage messing his head up beyond repair, however, even through the fog of his broken thoughts he knew he couldn't live his godson there.

"No," he whispered hoarsely, repeating that one word like an endearment, still caressing the soft hair under his fingers and listening to the soft hiccups of the child in his arms. He had to do something; he didn't exactly know why, but he could feel the need to hide his godson, hide him from the world's eye and the Dumbledore's claws, because that scar on his forehead was not normal. "My Harry, my little pup... No... no... no."

He didn't really know what he was doing, his body working by sheer instincts as he summoned his wand and calling forward powers he thought he had long forgotten. Yet the incantations fell from his lips like it was only yesterday when his father shared ancient secrets with him in the confines of the Black library hidden from the shrewd gaze of his mother and his little brother who was too young and too innocent to hear such things. He shushed the babe while he pricked his tiny finger and taking a few drops of his blood his attention never wavering from the slowly emerging form by his feet.

Sirius knew he had not much time left, Dumbledore and his cronies would not stay away for much longer and they needed to leave before they arrived. He wasn't sure why or how he knew this; his instincts were going haywire and compelling him to act without really giving any explanation at all. He could almost see the magic crackling around him; the dark and heady power so familiar and welcoming even after all those years he spent denying his craving for it.

He spared a glance at the charred lump on the other end of the room, his blurred vision noticing a blackened skull and a molten cape before he forced himself to turn away from the nauseating sight, not connecting the dots that carried the harsh and impossible sounding truth, deciding to focus on the lifeless replica of his godson. He took in the similarities and clutched the softly babbling baby closer in an attempt to make sure he was there and it was not just his crazed mind playing petty tricks with him.

He murmured reassuring words in the soft hair and with a deep breath he levitated the "dead" child closer to his best friend's wife, the picture of the sacrificed mother and son breaking his heart despite the knowledge that it wasn't exactly real. Because Harry was there and alive, small finger clutching his robe and a pair of rosy lips sniffling against his neck, coating the already damp skin with slick baby saliva.

Somebody threw open the remnants of the door downstairs and a moment later a booming wail filled the trashed room causing Sirius to cringe and collect some of his wits at least for a second; he had to get away before the intruder came upstairs and saw him and Harry. And no one could see Harry.

No.

No.

No.

Magic crackled around him once again, gathering and sizzling like the beginning of a thunderstorm before he was whisked away, his barely conscious mind pleading to the Ancestors that they survived the journey in one piece...

[HP/Glee]

Orion Black was a ruthless man, but he always prided himself in placing his family in front of everything else. He sold his very soul and life to acquire the position as the Head of the Family – it was his birthright as his father used to say – and murdered his own wife to save his son from being turned into nothing more than a useless slave in an insane madman's court. He never regretted anything, because in a true Black's eyes fighting for your blood was the most important thing; and Orion had done that, made sure nothing and no one could touch his family.

So it was only expected that he reacted with instant vengeance when someone intruded his carefully crafted wards and broke into his home; a cruel, most painful curse almost dripping from his lips only to freeze and die a moment later when he recognized his older son in the pitiful hunched figure in the middle of the entrance hall. Sirius was crouching down, unintelligible words blurring into a haze of nonsense in his mouth as he whispered to something in his arms, something small and fragile and oh so breakable that it caused Orion to stop in his tracks and stare for a second in an attempt to understand what was before his very eyes.

It was a child, a little boy with noticeable Black characteristics, sleeping soundly in the wayward Black heir's embrace like nothing in the world mattered or was important enough to gain his attention. He was a very attractive child, the profile of his face already gaining a definition despite the still obvious baby-fat, just like any Black child's face should, however, there was something achingly familiar in the arch of the brow and the chin, a touch of softness that was so different from the Blacks' sharp angles...

"Why have you brought the Potter heir here, dressed in rags?" the Black Patriarch asked regally, his tone carrying none of his doubt and surprise.

Sirius raised his head and levelled his father with a flat, empty look sending the older man's heart into a worried frenzy. Just what had happened? "Dead..." Sirius rattled, but that simple word was enough for Orion to understand. After all the disappearance of the Potter family had been one of the most sought after topic amongst higher members of the Wizarding Society, not to mention the hysteria it caused in the Middle Class.

"Stand up, Sirius, you are no commoner to kneel on the floor," Orion ordered, half-expecting his son's well-known disobedient side to strike again, however, Sirius struggled to his feet, his mouth still forming incomprehensible, silent words as he walked forward basically falling into Orion's chest seeking the warmth and comfort he used to find there when he was a little boy himself.

"They're dead... empty... killed... Father," Sirius was suddenly sobbing and choking on his tears at the same time; his mind long gone, lost to the greedy sea of grief.

Orion's arms encircled the shuddering form of his elder son and closed his eyes, revelling in the feeling of his blood resting against his body after years spent apart. "Hush now," he chided gently, a tone no one ever heard from him aside from his boys. "You're at home. At home, my child."

"Harry–" came the desperate answer. "Please... Father."

"Hush, Sirius." This time Orion's voice was firmer and less soothing. "You both are safe," he added and with a firm hold around his son's shoulder he led the younger wizard down the hall.

He wasn't surprised when he saw Regulus in the parlour sitting on the sofa with his back straight as an arrow and just as tense, but standing up the moment he noticed their presences, his charcoal eyes widening just slightly at the sight of his brother.

"Father?" Regulus sounded unsure, his concern showing in his voice for once.

"Tell Kreacher to prepare your brother's room with the utmost care and to draw a hot bath for him as well," Orion ordered his youngest, ignoring the shift look he shot at the still sleeping babe in Sirius' hold.

Regulus bowed slightly, biting back his questions and complied to his father's commands while Orion helped his firstborn to sit on his sibling's vacated spot taking the unnaturally pale face between his hands and forcing the young man to look at him. "You are going to take a bath then sleep. We'll talk in the morning," he said, carefully pronouncing every syllable.

"Harry–"

"Is going to bed with you. Now shush, my son. I'm going to take care of you."

November the 1st 1993, Grimmauld Place, London

Sirius didn't want to open his eyes, because it would have made the hollow emptiness in his chest all too real, and he was too much of a coward to face reality. His best friend... No. It must have been a nightmare; James and little Harry were alright, and they would laugh at his craziness when he told them about it. There was just no way that Wormtail–

A startled gasp was torn from his lungs as fire like hatred flared through his veins, snapping his eyes open and causing reality to crash down on his head without warning. James, Prongs was dead as was Lily, and Harry... He made sure no one could find Harry, ever. Yes, Harry was safe and alive, alive...

Glassy grey orbs slid to the slight form of his godson who was actually sitting in the middle of the bed and watching him, his all too intelligent green eyes aware and oddly knowing, yet still remaining innocent and sweet as a toothy grin formed on the cherry lips. "Paddy," Harry uttered reaching out for him. "Paddy."

"I'm here pup," Sirius breathed, pulling the little body in his lap and squeezing his eyes shut to get rid of the still raging volcano, because it was not time for revenge. Not yet. "You're going to live a perfect life, away from the cruelty of our world. You're going to be safe and strong... You're going to rule this World one day..."

He caressed the angry red scar on the child's forehead, ignoring the quiet whimper for a second before he replaced his finger with his lips, kissing the scar, the last memento of the terror and destruction that was caused by Voldemort.

It was over.

He was startled out of his thoughts by a hand on his shoulder, causing his head to snap to the side only to see the unforgettable face of his little brother. "It's time to get up, Sirius," Regulus urged in his quiet voice. "The young Potter needs to eat and bathe."

"It's over, Reg," Sirius whispered in answer. "It's finally over."

Pale lips pressed together for a second, his sibling's only sign of confusion, before Regulus nodded his head and curled his fingers around his left wrist. "Good. Now come."

Sirius didn't know why he let himself dragged around, half-mindedly listening to Harry's subdued babble and watching the dark, ominous walls of his family home without really seeing anything. He felt strangely catatonic, his heart stolen and destroyed, and only reacted when strong hands tried to take his godson away from him.

He snarled and growled, reaching for his wand that wasn't there, but his brother snapped at him, using a tone so alike their father's making him obey without really meaning to. It was demeaning to know, he could still fall under Orion Black's command and power, it killed the last remnants of his adolescent arrogance, because what had he been thinking? He had never been his own man and despite all the fights and resistance, he would never be.

"Sit down." He did, staring at his rapidly filling plate, hating the feeling of uselessness, but having no will to break it. "Now eat and after that we shall talk."

It was his father this time, the hint of iron and sweet honey in his voice giving him away, but Sirius didn't look up, didn't acknowledge the older wizard's presence, just raised his fork to put some eggs in his mouth. He chewed and swallowed, never once tasting anything on his tongue, slipping deeper and deeper into depression without the only anchor that was able to chain him to the World of the Living.

"Stop the melodrama, Sirius and look at me!" Orion commanded sternly, his stormy eyes flashing dangerously. "This is no time for wallowing in self-pity and grief. You brought a child to my house, the child of my cousin and the future Head of a Noble House. I would appreciate if you explained yourself."

Explain, his father said.

"Voldemort is dead," he blurted out bluntly an angry sneer marring his lips. "James is dead. Lily is dead. They're dead. Dead. Dead!" He didn't notice how his voice raised and turned hysteric. Something shattered on the floor next to him, but he couldn't care less, because they were dead and left him behind to avenge their tragedy. James left him behind... Lost.

His father didn't show any sign of distress as he watched him throwing a tantrum like a naughty, spoiled child. He simply lifted a perfectly shaped brow and asked, "How did the child survive?"

"Harry."

"Harry, then."

Sirius scowled, hearing the distaste towards the less than noble name, but Orion was waiting, patient and unmoved as always, his soft heart buried under the wall of ruthless coldness. "You know. You can feel it."

"Say it, my child." It wasn't request and he couldn't fight the weight of those words. He was still a member of the family no matter how his mother wanted to believe otherwise. His father hadn't abandoned him.

"He survived the curse. He survived..." He couldn't bear it; that gaze was too much, looking through him knowing and owning him beyond everything, the bonds of blood singing and tightening around his soul. "The Killing Curse."

There was a sharp intake breath, but it didn't came from the Black Patriarch; Regulus was standing in the doorway, his charcoal eyes wide and disbelieving, yet suddenly understanding as they flickered down onto the scarred forehead of the baby in his arms.

"He is just a child," he whispered. "And the Dark Lord–"

"Was an arrogant, worthless mongrel who believed himself above everyone else," Orion spat, disgusted. "Stop gawking like a fish out of water, it's most unbecoming of you. The child needs to be fed."

"Yes, father," Regulus complied taking his seat on his father's right and seating Harry on his lap.

Sirius hands balled into fists even though he knew he had to let his godson go. He would be safe with his family, safe and happy. They would teach him how to follow the Old Ways properly, how to become someone that was worth following, someone that could destroy and conquer all of his enemies. They would teach him the ways of a True Lord, because it was Harry's birthright.

Yet, the rightness of his own broken actions didn't lessen the pain of losing the last true link he had with his best friend. It didn't lessen the guilt in his hollow chest for never realising what was going on, for his moronic suggestion of switching the Secret Keeper... It was his fault and he had to make things right. Had to pay for his foolishness–

Kreacher popped into the room with a dramatic bow, offering the Daily Prophet to his Master who nodded in dismissal a sardonic smirk playing on his lips as he looked at the headline. "I see Dumbledore has already declared the Freedom of Our Nation," he commented idly. "Raising a dead child to a nonexistent pedestal, how plebeian, don't you think, Regulus?"

Sirius looked at his brother, nails digging into his palms until they drew blood, however Regulus was busy feeding little Harry with small apple and pear cubes to pay any attention to him. "Indeed, father. Dumbledore's style became even more distasteful in his old age. Muggle loving old fool."

"I have to agree. Sacrificing an old Noble family just like that..." Orion shook his head in disapproval making Sirius' blood boil at his father's careless detachment, failing to notice the sharp gleam in the steely irises. "But nothing is over quite yet." Out of nowhere his father's attention focused on him a touch of earnest tenderness mixing into the cold facade of the striking mask. "He is going to pay, my child, pay for your loss and his crimes against our Society."

It was a vow, like the one he made the night before and the mere knowledge calmed his frazzled mind. "Thank you, father." He bowed his head to hide the tears that filled his eyes. It seemed despite what he thought, he still had a heart. "Ask anything–"

"Good boy," Orion smiled in approval. "However, we have more important things to concentrate on at the moment. Such as proving your innocence to the World."

"You forget the liquidating the slanderers of the Black name," Regulus added, a dark smile adorning his handsome face.

"Of course, but it's nothing your brother has to concern himself with. For now." Thunderstorm eyes froze him on the spot, the family bonds activating in his blood once again. "You take your time to grieve, Sirius. Embrace your demons and slaughter them at once, like a true Black should, because you are going to be an unstoppable force in our war against Degradation."

It was an order that gave him something to live for. A plan slower, but crueller and more effective than his own bloodlust filled, half-formed plots that included killing the traitor with his bare hands. A True Black was never blinded by their instincts and such lowly urge as lust. A True Black was always patient and obliterated their enemies with precisely calculated coldness. It was something ingrained in every Black child's heart and blood, it was unavoidable and unstoppable; the only reason Sirius hadn't gone after Peter Pettigrew the moment he laid his eyes on the lifeless body of his best friend.

A lethal smile curled his lips as the broken pieces of his soul started to frost over. He would do this; he would stop fighting against his true nature. After all there was no one to tie him to the "Light Side" anymore.