Chapter 1: Chapter One: Stray From Home

Disclaimer: I do not own the franchise of Harry Potter. The world and characters used in this story belongs to J.K. Rowling. Material has been altered to suit the needs of this fanfiction.

A/N: This is an AU story about Harry Potter's introductory to the world of magic and his first year of education at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. While Sirius's involvement is crucial to this story, Harry is the main character with Hermione Granger playing an important role at his side.

Warning: This story is rated M for strong language and graphic violence.

Harry Potter:

Black Dog

Story by Aptman

Hogwarts, June 1992.

"…Be careful."

It came out as a whisper, barely audible, but the meaning was powerful. It was directed at a small boy, ragged and scraggy. His eyes, a vibrant green, held a determination that lit up from behind round rimmed glasses and messy jet black hair, that swept across his forehead to cover up his too famous lightning bolt shaped scar.

Harry Potter stared down at the bottle in his hand and then back to the foreboding black wall of fire. Behind those flames was an archway. Where it led, he didn't know but the Stone was beyond it. For months the traps and protections placed by his professors had guarded the Stone and kept it from those wishing to harness its power. Now those traps were beaten by one of the very professors assigned to the Stone's safety.

Harry looked back to the girl who spoke a moment before. She was scared; he knew it because he was scared too. Her eyes were watery and her cheeks were stained with dry tears and dirt, but there was something behind those eyes, the way they stared back at him now, that spoke volumes of the confidence and faith the young girl had for the eleven year old boy standing before her.

Nodding, Harry tilted back the bottle and swallowed the contents. The liquid was bitter and cold. For an instant nothing happened. Then a chill ran through Harry's entire body. Panic struck as he feared they had chosen wrong. Had he taken a bottle with poison inside? But the feeling faded and Harry was able to focus once again.

Wiping his hand off on his disheveled school uniform, he decided to test the potion's effects. Sticking his hand out toward raging fire, the flames parted wide.

"Take care of Ron," Harry spoke over his shoulder. "Get help." With those parting words to his friend, he stepped through the flame.

Harry stumbled through the archway and righted himself. Stepping into a large antechamber, he took in his surroundings. The ceiling was tall, and the walls wrapped the room in a circle without doors or windows. The room was bare except for a full length mirror in the center.

This wasn't the first time he had seen this particular mirror. It was large and decorative; the writing etched across it read like nonsense, but Harry knew it to hold a very special meaning. This mirror possessed magic, a dangerous magic, which ensnared those who gazed upon it through illusion and desire.

Why is the Mirror of Erised here? Harry thought. Obviously Dumbledore moved it to this room, but to what purpose?

"Harry Potter," said a voice from behind the mirror, "how fortunate you've arrived."

From the other side of the mirror emerged a pale man dressed in long purple robes and a tightly wrapped grey turban. He stood with a relaxed hand on the mirror and had a slight smirk as he talked, but his eyes were calculating as if judging Harry's worth.

"Professor Quirrell?" Harry asked accusingly. Harry took a step back, startled; he hadn't expected this. Harry's scar began to ache.

"Are you surprised Harry Potter?" Quirrell's voice was laced with acidic sweetness. Gliding closer to Harry, he continued. "Did my act fool you as well as I hoped? Were you expecting someone else perhaps?"

Quirrell reached out and draped his hand over Harry's shaking shoulders.

"Potter," Quirrell began, but paused for a moment to reconsider his approach. With a broad smile, Quirrell looked directly into Harry's eyes. "Harry, my boy, I need a favor."

Quirrell let the statement hang in the air as he pulled Harry toward the center of the room, arm over Harry's shoulder. Quirrell kept the appearances of casual conversation as he walked, taking on a relaxed gait, but his strong grip made sure Harry understood there was no choice but to go along with him. Placing Harry in front of the Mirror of Erised, he stood behind him, holding the boy in place. Harry turned his head to look anywhere but the mirror's surface.

"I find myself at a loss," Quirrell began again. "The Philosopher's Stone: I know it is somehow protected by this mirror's magic; I see the Stone within it. However, try as I might, I am unable to retrieve it."

Harry looked into the mirror, unable to resist the draw of the mirror's power. At first he only saw his reflection, but then the image started to swirl.

Here it comes. Harry thought, both excited and fearful of what would appear. Two bodies formed; both familiar and at the same time foreign to Harry's memories, and then more shadows and blurs began to take shape.

"I have a theory of course," Quirrell continued on, not realizing that Harry was no longer paying attention. "Tell me, what do you see?"

My parents. There they were reflecting back at him. Behind them, Hogwarts came into view. Hagrid was on the grounds in the distance. A boy with fiery Weasley-red hair was flying on a broom overhead. A young girl sat reading by a tree. Another walked up to Mirror-Harry and took his hand. Family.

"What do you see?" Quirrell shook Harry, the façade of niceties forgotten.

I see my family. This wasn't the same image he had seen before. This was something so much more.

"But where's…" Harry began to say aloud. The mirror's magic pulled at him and bewitched his senses.

"Where's what?" Quirrell was getting angry. "Tell me what you see!" Quirrell's voice was unnatural now, and he turned to look at Harry.

Harry's eyes were frantically searching the mirror for the missing piece.

"Yesss Harry," Quirrell's voice was unnatural to Harry's ears. "Find me the Stone."

Somehow Quirrell's new intensity reached Harry through the fog of the mirror, but still Harry's gaze was locked onto the magic reflection within.

"Where's…" Harry started again. He was looking at the grounds of Hogwarts looking for someone missing from the perfect scene. Then, coming out from the distance of the mirror's landscape, a figure ran toward him. It was fast and dark, with eyes wild and teeth bare.

"What is it?" Quirrell screamed. He pulled Harry around to face him, but Harry's eyes were focused somewhere over Quirrell's shoulder.

"Black Dog."

...

Chapter One:

Stray From Home

...

At the age of nine, Harry Potter could not be described as anything less than a blemish to Privet Drive: an otherwise average and wholesome neighborhood of Little Whinging, Surrey, England.

"His poor aunt," would say Mr. Prentice, owner of Number 2, Privet Drive, whose lawn often had the misfortune of being tarnished by loose cuttings from Harry's inadequate mowing.

"The unruly boy is out at all hours," Mrs. Number Seven would complain. "Who knows what trouble he's causing."

"I watch him for his family from time to time, the dears. My cats don't go near him," Mrs. Figgs, owner of Number Six, Wisteria Walk, always pointed out, knowing a character could be judged by such a thing.

It was clear to the neighbors that Harry Potter was a menace. Just looking at him was proof enough. He never took care of his appearance, from his tangled mop of black hair to his too small shoes which were practically held together with tape. He was always out on his own: a sure sign of being up to no good. His cousin Dudley, a healthy boy who dressed right, was always off with friends, playing as a nine year old should. Harry, on the other hand, spent his time loitering around the neighborhood or talking aloud to no one at all in his own back yard of Number 4, Privet Drive. It seemed that giving him a roof over his head and providing him a nurturing environment, which came from a proper upbringing full of chores and good manners, could not beat the strange out of the boy. Even after all their effort, the Dursleys could always be heard berating that living oddity for one problem or another.

His most recent misguided act was cheating in school yet again.

Number 4, Privet Drive, June 1990

"What's this boy?" Vernon Dursley choked out through his not yet fully chewed bit of supper.

Harry's stance was one of acceptance for his error. He knew when he did it that he'd be in trouble, and now he was about to receive the punishment at the hand of his uncle.

Why? Harry scolded himself. All I had to do was scribble down a couple wrong answers. It was stupid!

Grasped between Uncle Vernon's fat fingers, was Harry's report card. Harry could make out a couple of the grades given to him. They weren't top marks for sure, Harry wasn't that stupid, but he did score little better than he should have in several subjects in his attempt to not repeat a grade.

"Cheating again Harry?" Aunt Petunia scowled from across the kitchen, and her lips thinned when Harry's brow creased at the accusation.

Of course they claim I'm cheating. What they mean to say is that it's against the rule for me to do better than Dudley. It's not my fault I have to put more work into doing badly than he puts into answering correctly.

"We'll be talking to your teacher," Uncle Vernon spat triumphantly. "Dudley here gets ahead based on his own merit." At that remark, Dudley gave a superior glance to Harry.

So far, Dudley had remained quiet through the conversation, either due to the amount of food he had being shoving in his mouth or due to the less than stellar performance of his own marks. Harry was not sure which was the case, but was glad for it none the less. Whenever Dudley added to these discussions, Harry always found himself in even more trouble.

"We can't have you using improper methods to outscore an honest boy like Dudley," Uncle Vernon continued. "It would set a bad example."

Harry began to tune out the rest of what Uncle Vernon said. It was always one of two things with Uncle Vernon; Harry outshined Dudley, or something strange happened and Uncle Vernon didn't have anyone else to blame for it. In either case, Harry would be punished.

A plate falls off the table and breaks, even though no one was around: Harry's fault. Dudley can't run as fast in gym and someone laughed: Harry's fault. Vernon's keys go missing, lights go on or off by themselves, chores take less time than Vernon expects: Harry, Harry, Harry.

This was how Harry found himself outside, in the near darkness of night, picking weeds out from one of Aunt Petunia's flowerbeds.

Harry was careful to keep his mouth shut and work diligently. He knew he had what his teachers called an active imagination, though his uncle called it something else. Moments where he let his mind wander, that's when his imagination did its worst. His uncle knew this, and was most likely checking on him through the window to make sure he kept in line.

When Harry was younger and hadn't known better, he would often point out the odd things his imagination showed him. There were sightings of tiny men, bright lights, and things that shouldn't but moved on their own accord. They brought him only hunger, chores and a sore bottom. So, on guard from watchful eyes, Harry was careful to ignore his imagination as an olive-green snake slithered out from a dark corner complaining aloud about the weather.

It must be nearly ten o'clock. I wonder if they forgot I'm out here. Thinking it over, Harry decided, no, it's not that they forgot; they just don't care.

"So cold," the snake that wasn't there hissed.

A strong breeze swept through the garden and Harry shivered. The imaginary snake was right, even though it was summertime; the night was cool and damp. It had drizzled a bit earlier in the day and there was still overcast. The air smelled like rain and felt like a storm was coming. Harry got up to check the front door.

Locked.

The winds began to howl and Harry could feel the first drops of rain start to fall. He debated on whether he should knock, knowing that he would be in more trouble for causing Uncle Vernon to take the effort to get the door. Harry decided to play it safe by checking the back door before attempting to disturb his uncle. It started sprinkling before he made it around the house, and with a crack of thunder, it began to pour.

This one's locked too, great. Resigning to his fate, Harry knocked loudly, but to no answer.

It was really coming down now. Harry's only shelter from the downpour was the small awning hanging just over the back door, but even there, he was getting wetter and colder.

A flash of lightening startled him. A second ticked by, then another, and another. Crack. Thunder struck; wind raged. The worst of the storm was getting closer.

From the corner of his eye, through his rain covered glasses, he thought he saw something large move from one hedge to another. Harry backed into the door and peered out at the dark space around him.

"Shadows," Harry said aloud to himself as he wiped his glasses clean of the raindrops, "just shadows from trees moving in this wind."

Harry turned back to the door and banged on it again. Rustling noises drew his attention to bushes at the back of the property. Harry couldn't make out much from where he stood; the porch light only illuminated a small area of the yard.

From the sound of it, whatever it was, it was coming closer. Harry froze, hoping to not draw its attention. Something was emerging from the brush, noisily disturbing the foliage as it moved. Harry still couldn't see it clearly, but it was big and it was alive.

With another crack of thunder, the lights on the block all went out. Trapped in total darkness, Harry panicked, and turned to the door again, pounding on it as hard and fast as he could.

"Let me in! Let me in! Let me in!" Harry repeatedly shouted.

The door opened and Harry fell. He could hear his uncle shouting at him, but Harry was too frightened to understand what was said. He felt a hand grab ahold of him and pull hard, forcing him from the floor into the kitchen. There was an angry growling coming from outside now. Harry turned to see the source of the noise, but in the dark all he saw was black. Then the power returned.

Hunched dangerously, under the dim glow of the porch light, stood an animal. It was black as the night itself, with wild fierce eyes, teeth bare, grumbling a low growl. Somewhere in the back of Harry's mind he registered Dudley's scream. With a deep bark, the giant beast leaped towards them, but it was met with the slamming of a door.

Vernon managed to close the door just as the dog came close. Harry could still hear the dog barking from outside and scraping at the door. Fear overcame him, and he hardly noticed as Vernon ranted and yelled about bringing dangerous animals to the home and dragging wet shoes all over the house.

Harry was shoved roughly by Uncle Vernon into the hallway cupboard: a place that had been both his prison and his haven from harm for as long as he could remember. Harry curled up on his cot and took comfort in the safety the tiny space under the stairs provided him.

Over the next couple of days, Harry entered the backyard with trepidation. Each noise startled him and reminded him of that night. Occasionally, he would see a glimpse of the dog as it ran around the neighborhood. He overheard his uncle talking to Mr. Prentice, saying he'd called the proper authorities about collecting the "rabid black stray". Aunt Petunia had gossiped with the neighbors as well. She heard reports that "the black dog's been stealing food out of the trash" from no less than three other housewives around the block. As the week progressed, it seemed there were more and more sightings of a black dog terrorizing the neighborhood. Several times, Harry had rounded a corner of Number 4, to find himself face to face with the animal. Initially dropping everything and running for the safety of indoors, Harry began to notice the dog never gave chase, though Harry did catch it barking at Vernon from a far a couple of times.

It was nearly a week later, when Harry was working in the backyard, he stumbled across something unusual. He was in the brush stacking limbs; the storm caused a bit of damage, knocking down a few tree branches around the property, and Vernon tasked Harry with cleaning the mess up. Harry attempted to ignore the blatant glare of Mr. Prentice, who was cleaning his own neighboring yard, and finish his job all the faster. As he made his way near where he first saw the dog emerge, among the broken branches was an umbrella. He picked it up to take a closer look.

"Hey," the scratchy voice of Mr. Prentice yelled. "What do you think you're doing with my umbrella?"

Mr. Prentice was glaring accusingly at Harry from the other side of picket fence dividing the properties of Number 2 and Number 4. Harry quickly traversed the yard and made to give the umbrella back to him, but Mr. Prentice quickly snatched it from Harry's hands with force.

"Running around taking things that don't belong to you," Mr. Prentice talked down to Harry. "We'll see what your uncle thinks about that."

Harry attempted to explain, but the man disappeared into his house before Harry got the chance.

Looks like I won't be getting dinner tonight then.

Harry went back to the pile of brush he collected, but when he did, he found himself face to face with the long black haired dog once again. It was sitting with its head slightly titled, ears pointed up and alert. Its short haired, long muzzled face, combined with its long black mane of fur, made the animal appear strong and agile even from its sitting position. It rose up and made to move toward Harry, but Harry stepped back. As if recognizing his fear, the dog went back to its seated position and waited. Feeling courage he didn't realize he possessed, Harry cautiously approached it.

Harry reached a hand out to touch the dog, barely petting it on the top of the head. As the dog leaned into the petting, Harry relaxed. A rare smile forced its way onto Harry's face when he realized the dog wasn't going to shy away from him. Neighbors didn't trust Harry, and the school kids knew better than to make Dudley mad, but this dog didn't fear or hate Harry. Before long, he was crouched down next to the dog and scratching it behind the ear, with the dog laying half on top of him.

The dog lifted its head just before Harry's own ears picked up the sound of Uncle Vernon's car pulling up into the drive. The dog gave a small growl while looking in the direction of the sound. Licking Harry square in the face, the dog jumped up and ran off.

Maybe you aren't dangerous and just hate Uncle Vernon, Harry thought as he watched the dog run behind another house. Smart dog.

Harry began to seek out the black dog whenever he was outside. Happily he discovered that it seemed to want to be with him as well. It was a good feeling to have someone he could relate to. Just like Harry, the dog was an outcast, feared and hated by everyone who lived on the block. This was better than playing pretend with grass snakes; they never had much to say other than asking about a warm place to sleep or where to find some food.

Harry had been in trouble the couple times Dudley told Uncle Vernon he'd seen Harry with the dog, but Harry thought it was worth the punishment just to see his uncle's surprised face. Every day, Harry would rush around the house to get his chores done as quickly as possible, and then he would leave the house unnoticed to find the dog waiting for him at the nearby park.

Things changed on July 31st. It was Harry's birthday. He would be turning 10, not that anyone else cared to count. Harry made sure to wake up extra early that morning to get a jump on chores. His relatives may have not planned a party, like the extravagant one thrown for Dudley only weeks before, but Harry decided some extra free time during the day was a well-deserved gift.

He was just rounding Magnolia Road, about to enter the park, when the last person he wanted to run into spoke up.

"Happy birthday Harry," Dudley said, wishing Harry no such thing.

Harry closed his eyes tight for a moment, hoping Dudley would just go away. Opening them again, he faced his paunchy cousin. Dudley stood just inside the entrance to the park, flanked by his friends. Dudley was the largest of the boys, round and heavy set like a baby whale with a blonde mop of hair on top. Piers Polkiss was standing on Dudley's left. Dudley's best friend was lean but as tall as Dudley was fat. Gordon and Malcolm, two meat-headed boys, moved around Harry until he was completely surround.

Running into Dudley's gang was bound to happen eventually. Over the years, the boys had made sport of terrorizing Harry Potter. It had been a while since their last "Harry Hunt", and Harry was actually surprised he'd made it this far into the summer without real conflict with the gang.

"Dennis is going to be sad he missed out on your party," Piers joked.

Dennis was probably the strongest of Dudley's friends. Luckily for Harry, he was currently absent.

"Cheers," Harry said awkwardly. He wanted to say more, hoping to prolong the conversation and stall whatever beating or embarrassment they had planned for him.

"Where's your mutt?" Dudley questioned. As he looked around and noticed it wasn't anywhere is sight, his confidence grew as he confirmed the black dog wasn't around.

Of course, Harry realized. Dudley's left me alone all summer because he's frightened of the dog. Harry began looking around for the black dog as well, hoping it would come running up any second. Maybe it'll hear us talking.

"It's not mine," Harry began. "You know Uncle Vernon wouldn't allow that."

Harry glance longingly at pathway that cut through the park. Down the way, it led to a clearing: the place where he always met up with his large four-legged defender. If he could get past the boys, he could make a break for that clearing. He was by far the fastest boy there. Dudley's heavy physique would break sweat just watching Harry run, let alone be able to keep up with him. But with the boys all so close to him, Harry didn't stand a chance for escape.

Fear and adrenaline rushed through Harry. Something bad was going to happen unless he got away soon.

"That black dog's been spoiling our fun Harry," Dudley's demeanor grew grim as he spoke. "I think maybe me and the boys should teach you a lesson for running around with that dirty stray." He took a step in close in on Harry. "Then maybe we'll go take care of that pet of yours too."

Dudley made a move to grab him. Harry tried stepping back to get away, but ran into Malcolm instead. Malcolm laughed and shoved Harry into the middle of the circled group. Harry continued to try and get away, but the boys continued to push and pull on him, never allowing him to regain his footing. Harry could still see the park's path between the boys. He closed his eye tight to prepare for the inevitable beating about to come. The safety of the clearing and the protection of the black dog played over again in Harry's mind. There was another strong push that spun him around, followed by a swift punch to his stomach, and then there was nothing but the dull ache of his gut. In tears, Harry balled up on the ground waiting for the next strike, but it didn't come. There was no more pushing or boys laughing and taunting; just silence.

"Bark," the familiar cry of the black dog rang out.

Harry opened his emerald eyes to see a pair of grey-blue ones staring back. Harry knew those eyes; they belonged to his large, pointed-eared best friend.

"Did you save me?" Harry questioned as he leapt up and hugged the dog tightly, tears still falling down his face.

"Did they take off when they saw you?" Thank you! Thank god you came when you did.

Harry pulled back from his savior smiling. He looked around to see if the boys remained close by, hiding behind the fence line or somewhere deeper in the park perhaps. But what he saw didn't make sense. Harry was no longer near the entrance to the park, but deep within it. He was in the clearing, the place he had prayed to be only moments before.

What happened? I couldn't have been pushed around all the way out here. Did I pass out? No, I was getting thrown around… and then…someone punched me, and now I'm in the park. It didn't add up.

The large black dog barked again as if sensing Harry's confusion. It nuzzled Harry into getting up, and began to walk to a group of trees. But before it got far, the dog turned and became alert, running up and stopping just behind Harry, facing away from him toward the path, and taking a defensive position.

"Where'd you go Harry," Piers yelled somewhere off in the distance.

"Don't know what you did," Dudley screamed, "but wait until mum and dad hear about this!"

"Over here!" Gordon said as he reached the opening of the clearing.

Harry locked eyes with the boy. At first Gordon glared back with intensity, but his expression changed when he finally noticed the dangerous black dog Dudley had warned him about.

"About time we found you," Dudley's voice could be heard as he and the rest of his gang caught up to Gordon. "Dad hates tricks. Harry's going to be sorry for…" Whatever Harry was going to be "sorry for" became forgotten as Dudley followed Gordon's line of sight to the snarling animal at Harry's feet.

Harry's companion made a sudden dash toward the group of boys, and as quickly as they came, they were gone.

What's going on? Harry's mind was running through a gauntlet of unanswerable questions. What happened back at the entrance? How did I get here? How did the gang lose sight of me? How much trouble am I going to be in when I get back to Number 4?

The last one was the worst question; it was also the only one Harry was fairly certain he could answer. Uncle Vernon hated anything slightly odd or "freaky", and always blamed Harry. Harry wasn't sure what exactly happened, but he was sure that it fell under the category of "freaky".

Once again, the black dog nuzzled Harry into moving toward the trees. In his confusion, Harry allowed himself to be guided behind the foliage there.

"I don't understand what's happening here," the excitement and worry was evident in Harry's voice as he talked out loud to himself.

Harry looked over to the stray.

"What about you?" He sarcastically asked the dog. "Any idea what's going on?"

The dog watched Harry for a moment. It was a deep and penetrating stare, judging him. And then something happened beyond Harry's understanding; the dog began to change.

Harry was young and didn't know why many things happened as they did: how electricity made the telly turn on, why a stop sign was red, or why a boy like Dudley got everything he ever wanted. But he did know what couldn't happen; Uncle Vernon had been very clear about that. Dishes did not break themselves, Harry did not get better marks than Dudley, and dogs did not turn into men before your very eyes. But as Harry frantically kicked with his feet and pushed with his arms to crawl backwards across the ground, he couldn't think of any other explanation for what he was witnessing. Before him, where once was his furry canine companion, now stood a towering figure of a man dressed in black.

The man shifted a pointed-toed boot, hesitating to make any sudden movement. Dark long wavy hair moved in the breeze to reveal the only remaining similarity between the dog Harry loved and the man in front of him: those sharp grey eyes.

"Harry," he spoke with a smoky whisper. His expression pleaded for understanding from the startled child.

Harry froze. Too much had occurred in such a short amount of time. Minutes ago, he was on his way to the park to celebrate his birthday with his dog, and now this.

"I…" The man paused and shook his head to gather his thoughts. "My name is Sirius Black. I'm your godfather." He looked away as he put a hand to his head and let out a breath that deflated his posture.

"Happy birthday," He added lamely. "Let me start over. I'm usually not so bad with words… Harry, what happened today: it was magic. Do you believe in magic, Harry?"

"There's no such thing," Harry automatically said. He surprised himself in doing so. He had been shocked into silence, but Uncle Vernon's words were etched so deeply in his mind, he couldn't help but to repeat them on command.

"There is, Harry," Sirius replied back. Dark features softened as he bent down, pushing the bottom of his long hooded coat out of the way and resting his arms on his knees. "There's a world of magic hidden beneath all of the mundane, full of miraculous things people like your uncle couldn't possibly dream of. What happened to you today, that was just a glimpse of those possibilities. We're wizards you and I."

"You're a dog," Harry was trying to piece together what this stranger was trying to tell him, but lacked the words to express himself.

"I've been splitting my time as of late," Sirius said, "dog by day and couch potato by night. I've been house sitting for a couple a few blocks away who were nice enough to summer overseas. I'm sure they'd appreciate how well I've managed the place in their absence. That is, if they knew I was staying there of course."

Harry continued to look blankly at Sirius.

I can be a dog again if you'd like," Sirius said with a wide grin. With a moment's concentration, he reverted back to the same black dog Harry was familiar with, and then he turned back into a man.

"I'm what you call an Animagus," Sirius explained. He saw Harry was still lost. "Animagi are wizards who can turn into an animal at will. In my case, I'm a Belgian Sheepdog, purebred as far as I can tell."

Harry relaxed in his position on the ground. Seeing this, Sirius rolled backward and leaned against the tree behind him.

"So," Sirius smirked knowingly at Harry, "magic is very real." At that, Sirius pulled a stick out from his coat and waved it around, causing sparks to fire from the tip. "A wand," Sirius murmured, referring to the stick in his hand. "It's how wizards control their magic."

"And when I ended up in the park," the wide-eyed boy questioned, "that was you? You did something with wizard magic and that wand to make me go from being in the middle of Dudley's gang to being here."

"No," Sirius said, confusing Harry more, "that was all you." He let out a laugh at Harry's surprise before continuing. "It's called accidental magic…Well, what you actually did was apparate, and quite well I might add, but you did it due to accidental magic. Your magical ability grows and matures as you do. Sometimes, all of that unreleased magic gets built up, usually under great duress or excitement, and it comes bursting out in some random feat of magic or another. That's what happened to you today, any more questions?"

Harry sat quietly to process. Harry was a wizard, and so was the man-dog sitting across from him. That certainly explained his active imagination. Then he remembered something else Sirius told him.

"Sirius," Harry timidly began, "you said you're my godfather." Sirius nodded at that and gave Harry a warm smile. "Did you…I mean, does that mean you came to Little Whinging to see me?"

"Harry, you have no idea how long I searched to find you," Sirius's sincerity was evident in every word he spoke. "When your parents…" He let the sentence hang. Both he and Harry knew what he was speaking of. "You were supposed to come with me. They named me you guardian, but that night everything went wrong." He got a vacant look in his eyes as he remembered the night.

"The car crash," Harry added nodding solemnly.

"Car crash?" Sirius bolted upright at the statement.

"I know all about it," Harry said, trying to ease his newly found godfather's mind. "Uncle Vernon told me how they died."

"James and Lily did not die in a car crash!" The excitement in Sirius's voice was frightening, but he caught himself and tried to calm down when he spoke again. "Your parents were two of the greatest wizards I've ever known. Lily, she was brilliant, and Prongs, that's what we called your father; he was my best friend Harry. More than that even. He was family to me in ways my own flesh and blood never were. I wish you could have seen him in action. His transfiguration could give even the great Albus Dumbledore a run for his money. No car crash could kill those two."

"But," Harry once again found himself at a loss for words. Everything he thought he knew had been turned upside-down in a matter of minutes. If his parents didn't die in a drunken car wreck, then "how?"

"They were protecting you." Harry's godfather said, knowing what Harry was referring to. "Back then the wizarding world was at war against a terrible dark wizard, and your parents were right in the thick of it. Hell, we all were. At the time, we all followed the leader of the light; Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, the most powerful wizard of the age. We were young and thought we were invincible, but… Harry, you deserve to know the truth about what happened.'

"This dark wizard, he called himself Lord Voldemort. If you're out in public, call him You-Know-Who or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, because no one speaks his name aloud. I haven't spent much time with other wizards over the last few years, but I've seen enough to tell you they still shake in their robes at the mentioning of him. As much as I don't like it, I understand the fear. He was a powerful wizard, and the ugliest bloke I ever saw. He was willing to do anything to get what he wanted. And at some point, he decided he wanted you.'

"We got word of his plan, so you mum and dad went into hiding; used magic to make it so no one could find you unless the secret keeper told them. Being your dad's best mate, I was the sure choice for secret keeper, but your dad and me, we thought we'd out smart Voldemort and pull one over on the pasty tosser. I took off and had his followers chasing me all over the country side trying to find our secret. Meanwhile, your real secret keeper was that fat bastard Wormtail…" Sirius caught himself as he started to get carried away with his emotions. "Back in school your dad, me and two other boys were best mates. We did everything together, trusted each other, but the war changed things. Trust was harder to come by. In the last days of the war, it was just your dad, me and Wormtail. We made a mistake, your dad and me. We chose the wrong friend. Wormtail became secret keeper, and while I was away…that's when he betrayed us to Voldemort.'

"Your parents died that day, but a miracle happened too. I said your mum was brilliant; well, she did something that day that not only saved you, but got rid of Voldemort. Whatever bit of magic that was, it's what gave you that scar. Dumbledore says Voldemort used the Killing Curse on you. No one lives after being struck by that Harry, but with your mum's protection you're the first and only survivor.'

"I wasn't there to save them, and then I couldn't be there to raise you. We made a mistake letting everyone believe I was secret keeper. Once your mum and dad were dead, all the blame was on me. The only ones who knew the truth were Voldemort's inner circle and they wanted my head just as badly. Before I knew it, you were gone. It's taken me all this time to find you. I can't make up for the last few years, but I'm here now."

"My parents died to save me," Harry repeated, taking it all in. "You're my godfather, the one I was supposed to be raised by, not Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia…and you can do magic… we can do magic."

"I know it overwhelming pup," Sirius said as he stood up and stretched.

Off in the distance, a father and son were playing with a kite.

"Harry, how do you feel about flying?"

A/N: Well, That's the first chapter. Many of the elements from the first book will appear in this story, but as I've hinted with the Mirror Erised, this is a slightly twisted version of the world you know. Things will move along quickly from here. Next chapter, Harry gets a very important letter.

Update: This has been re-edited. Only minor changes have been altered: mostly phrasing and a couple grammatical choices.