AN: Sorry for the long wait on this chapter. A mixture of being grounded for over a month and a half, my part time job, school starting back up, football practice, and GTA 5 all contributed to the wait. The in-between time of future chapters won't be as long. At the moment (literally as I post this) I'm working on chapter three.

As for the incest controversy, I have a solution that will be shown later on in the story. Yes, real incest (for fan fiction, anyway) will take place. I had planned on making this change, and was going to let it be a surprise, but a lot of people wanted to get picky. (It's okay, I'm the same way when reading fics. I feel your need for blood-love.)

Thanks goes out to Joe Lawyer for beta'ing and dealing with me and my issues.

"I distinctly recall ordering you to never disgrace this home with your presence again." Orion Black, former head of the Ancient and Noble House of Black, sat behind his opulent desk in his private study, his wife standing dutifully at his side as they watched their disgrace of an eldest son traipse about the room as if it were his own. His anger at the boy's blatant disrespect was only exceeded by that which he felt hours before when he realized that the Lordship ring, that had been upon his finger for a better part of the past thirty years, had mysteriously vanished.

'No, not vanished—passed on. I felt that. The ring has recognized another as being more deserving of the title 'Lord Black' than I.'

"You test my undeserved generosity by showing your face here. Do you possess a valid reason for why I shouldn't kill you where you stand for returning here? Why should I not save myself and the name of Black from any further shame the taint of your continued existence will unquestionably bring?"

"Because," Harry replied, his voice light and airy as he pulled an aged, leather bound journal from its shelf. "It would be the mark of a fool to attempt to assassinate the Lord of a Most Ancient and Most Noble House. Especially the house you still, for the moment, belong to." Turning to face 'his' parents, the form of Sirius Black fixed them with a devious smirk. "Are you a fool, dear father?"

Leaning to the side to avoid the blur of green that flew at his head, Harry lazily flicked his wand at Walburga Black, sending the woman whose womb Sirius—he—came from, crashing into one of the many bookcases which lined the walls of the study.

Watching as his wife collapsed brokenly under an avalanche of priceless tomes, Orion remained behind his large oaken desk, making no move to aid the woman who had given birth to his children.

Harry chuckled softly, the sound filling the unnaturally silent office like the anticipating breath of a beast lurking just beyond its prey's field of vision, ready to pounce and enjoy a wonderful meal. "There was never any doubt that she was a fool."

"You have the gall to come here and waste my time spewing such lunacy?" What little emotion Orion did allow to surface in his crisp, cold voice, was that of undisguised disgust. "To claim the Black family magics have chosen you over so many more deserving individuals, even in jest, is the act of a true fool. The day that you become the Lord Black is the day I would invite a filthy muggle to share a bed with my wife."

Placing the journal back upon its shelf, its aged and cracked leather like sandpaper against his smooth, pampered hands, he turned to face the room and the former head of the Black family. "Perhaps you should get mother a potion for her head before you pick her out a nice dress." Holding up his right hand, Harry flipped the man a crude hand gesture, showcasing the dark-red, almost black garnet encircling his middle finger. The very same ring that Orion had worn for the past thirty years.

"If I were you, I'd make it an obligation of her new mundane lover that he take her out for a nice dinner before their slap and tickle." Harry was certain that the cruel smirk he wore stretched widely across his features at seeing the naturally tan bastard pale to levels that a ghost would be envious of. "You know, make mum feel like the special broad we both know her to be."

During his time as a member of the ICW's Secret Intelligence Service and three-man enforcer squad—also known, by the very few who were even aware of the group's existence, as 'Hecate's Hounds' or 'Circe's Trinity'—Harry had encountered many unspeakable atrocities, both wizard-made and those caused by magic's foulest creatures. These people, however, fell into the small category of monsters that Harry took personal offense to, even more so after the birth of his only daughter.

Child abusers.

It may have been the result of his own experiences at the hands of his 'uncle' up until the age of eight—after which the man had never touched him nor anyone else ever again—which drove Harry to having such a sadist's view on how those who would harm a child should be dealt with. A view surprisingly, or unsurprisingly, depending on how you looked at it, that had been eagerly shared by his two comrades of the Trinity. The fate child abusers met at their hands fueled legends of truly epic suffering.

Sirius had often made light of his dysfunctional childhood, always joking when his family was brought up about everything he had done in defiance of his parents' wishes during his youth. But now that Harry held an intimate knowledge of just how drastic Orion and Walburga's punishments for the smallest of offences had been, he was barely restraining himself from doling out the same type of punishments to these two. The people who had harmed the closest thing to a father figure he had ever had in his life. He yearned to do the things that he and the Hounds had done to any slavers they had the pleasure of coming across.

"Let me ask you the question you asked me just moments ago. So tell me, father, why is it that I shouldn't kill you right now?" All traces of his twisted humor disappeared along with the rest of his features as his eyes began to shine with an otherworldly glow. Orion watched in horrified disbelief as all but the teen's eyes disappeared under an inky-black, undulating shadow. Twin emeralds gazed superiorly at him—through him—piercing his very soul with their intensity and utter loathing.

His magic purred upon being unleashed from the tightly coiled sphere he normally restrained and confined it to, supercharging the air with its intimidating, yet enthralling mystical humming. Slowly, the same darkness which had obscured his face began to do the same with the entirety of the room, smothering any and all sources of light. Feeling his magic bleeding throughout his body, enhancing his entire being to inhuman levels, he knew the twin smoky tendrils of magic, which bled from his eyes like poisonous fumes whenever his magic was allowed to go unchecked—a pleasant side effect of his animagus form—were making an appearance by the sound of Orion's fearful pants as he struggled to draw breath in the suddenly stifling room.

"If you choose not to speak, I'll have to assume that you want to die," Harry commented into the darkness. With vision granted to him by his magic, he watched as Orion hastily removed his wand from his robes, desperately holding onto it like a lifeline.

"Because…" Orion took a shuddering breath, attempting to calm his frayed nerves. He may have been unnerved by his son's effective display of power, but he'd be damned if he'd allow the blasted upstart know as much. "Because I am the only one who can reveal all of the Black family magics to you."

"You may be hard pressed to believe it, but I can, in fact, read." Tone dry as he spoke, he strode slowly to his father's desk, making just enough noise as he moved to allow the man to know he was nearing. "It would only take me a small amount of time to learn our magics on my own. Time… which I have more than enough of."

Swallowing thickly, Orion gave a small, humorless chuckle. "There are magics only the head of our family is privy to…"

Harry watched in shocked amazement—a feeling one rarely experienced after seeing as much as he had—as across the surface of Orion's exposed skin appeared glowing gray symbols that looked as if they were powered by the man's own magic. Over the planes of his aged, yet handsome face, trailing down his neck and up his slightly muscled arms, disappearing into the openings of his expensive robes were words of magic and power, all from different and varying runic languages. It was a sight that established and universally accepted magical theory told Harry should be all but impossible.

"Without me," Orion breathed, his form now visible to the naked eye thanks to the glow coming from the runes etched across his body, "the magic which first garnered the name 'Black' the respect we possess today, will be lost to you and any future heads that succeed you."

Hair of the Grim

"Since Mr. Snape and Mr. Potter find themselves to be above listening to what I have to say about this term's project—a potion which will be difficult for even the best of you budding brewers, I assure you—they can both come up front where I can watch them and make sure they pay attention."

James and Severus glared daggers at one another as they gathered their things and made their way to the front of the classroom where the professor had indicated. Horace Slughorn looked on in disappointment as two of the more promising members of his Slug Club begrudgingly stalked to their places before him. Why couldn't the talented duo see the benefits forming a friendship, or at the very least an alliance, would present them with in the future? Such a terrible waste in talent.

"From now until I say otherwise, the two of you will be partners in all assignments in which you are required to work in pairs. This, of course, includes your end-of-term projects." Horace held his hand up, stopping their anticipated objections before they could even begin. "Anything more said on the subject will see the two of you as partners for the remainder of your time under my tutelage. Am I understood gentlemen?"

Wearing their disapproval plainly upon their faces, James and Severus gave curt nods that they understood. It would have only served to further infuriate the two to know just how in sync their silent responses were, and as a result, how similar the dark haired teens were in that brief moment.

"Ms. Evans," Slughorn began, a fondness that hadn't been present when addressing the boys shaping his tone now, "if you'd like, you may join an existing pair for today's assignment, since your original partner is now sharing a cauldron with Mr. Potter. Or, if you would prefer the challenge, you may attempt to brew today's potion on your own. I'll leave the choice in your very capable hands."

Lily spared the now sullen Severus a look of pity as she was about to answer the man, but was interrupted before she could so much as utter a word in response.

"While I'm sure no one here doubts the lovely Lily's brewing ability, I, on the other hand, could use all the help I can get." The class turned to find Sirius Black lazily propped up in the doorway of the dungeon, looking to all the world as if he were only a few minutes late to class, whereas, in reality, he'd been missing from Hogwarts for the past month.

"Sirius!" The Marauders exclaimed in unison, the joy at seeing the return of their fourth member dancing merrily in their eyes. Harry favored them all, Peter included, with a small smile.

"Mr. Black," Slughorn started in surprise, obviously having not expected to see the young man within the confines of his classroom. "I was unaware of your return."

Navigating his way through the seated Gryffindors and Slytherins, Harry unceremoniously dropped his bag atop the table Lily alone was occupying, sliding into the seat next to the redhead.

"Mind being my partner?" Eyes loaded with a look that was equally curious as it was guarded, Lily nodded her consent.

"As long as you can control yourself and contribute, I'm fine with working with you." Sirius nodded, a content smile playing on his lips.

"Mr. Black," Slughorn called, diverting the class' attention to himself. "I take it from your housemates' reactions that this is the first time they've laid eyes upon you in quite some time. This leaves me to wonder if your Head of House, or the Headmaster, for that matter, knows of your return?"

"McGonagall and the Headmaster were there to greet me when I arrived this morning," he revealed, pulling his potions textbook from his bag. "My subsequent meeting with them was why I was late arriving to your class, sir."

Slughorn nodded. "Very well. Ms. Evans, if you would, I'd like for you to go over the Angel's Trumpet Draught with Mr. Black. As he was absent during our last lesson, he needs to be made aware of the more commonly made mistakes which occur when brewing this particular concoction."

"As for the rest of you," Slughorn said, turning his focus upon the room at large, "you may go gather any ingredients you may be lacking from the supply closet. I will be walking amongst you, giving help to those who may require it." Ending his instructions, the whale of a man began maneuvering amongst the closely arranged desks and the herd of bodies now making their way dutifully to the supply closet.

"Alright, Black. I need you to get us Moonseed Berries, Sea Lavender, Silver Lime leaves, and Hornbeam shavings." Lily ordered without looking away from the flame at the base of their shared cauldron, carefully adjusting it to the exact temperature the draught called for. "When you return we can begin, and I'll inform you of the common mistakes the Professor spoke of."

Nodding, not that she even noticed, so focused was she on her task, Harry started for the supply closet, being sure to take a route that would take him directly by his young father.

"Sirius," greeted the grinning Potter as his long haired friend approached. "Where have you been? We've been right worried about your ugly ass!"

"Dealing with pressing family matters," he answered vaguely, nodding to Remus as he came to a stop next to him.

"It's good to have you back, Sirius." Smiling tiredly up at him, Remus readjusted his hold on the ingredients he had acquired prior to joining them. "Maybe now that you've returned, James will be able to calm down some."

Harry raised an amused eyebrow at the bespectacled teen. "What? Did you forget how to cast the contraceptive charm, again?" he asked, only slightly kidding. Now there had been a memory he had gotten a good laugh from.

"Ass," James grumbled good-naturedly, his features only staying in a pout for a second before a cheeky smirk quickly overtook his face.

"Even with McGonagall's continued reassurance that you were fine, Peter and I had to stop James on more than one occasion from coming to hunt you down." Remus shook his head in amusement at their now sheepish looking friend. "Not that he would have been successful in the first place. James is as bad as they come where tracking spells are concerned. Not that any of the rest of us are much better, mind you."

"I can't help it if my considerable talents lie in different branches of magic," James huffed indignantly. "Tracking magic is difficult for even the best witch or wizard. Besides, I had planned on going to my dad for help. It'd be no problem for him to locate you."

"Normally that would be true I'm sure," Harry agreed, knowing for certain Charlus was skilled enough to know such complex magics. "But with me being behind the Black family wards, he would have been unable to locate even the smallest traces of my presence. Not to mention, you would have needlessly gotten into trouble—not that your concern is unappreciated though."

"Yes, and we all know you need little help getting into trouble, Potter." Severus appeared on the opposite side of the table of Harry and Remus, his face twisted into a sneer that made him look as if he were smelling something particularly foul. "I see you failed to do as I asked and prepare the cauldron's flame. I'm sure I can credit your inaction to these two."

"Sod off, Snivellus!" James spat nastily, prodding the aforementioned flame angrily.

"Not having another disagreement, are we boys?" Professor Slughorn came to a stop at the head of the two person table, his large belly coming dangerously close to bumping the wooden structure. "It would be unfortunate if I were forced to permanently revoke your right to choose your own potions partner. A punishment, I'm sure, no one would find comfort in."

"Well then, I'm off," chuckled Remus, hastily making his way back to his and Peter's work area so as not to draw the professor's ire.

"And you, Mr. Black," the potions professor said, turning his bristly, walrus-like mustache in his direction. "Should you not be gathering what you need and getting back to Miss Evans?"

"Probably," Harry nodded. Surveying the room and noting that he was the only one who hadn't returned to his seat yet, he saw that it was the perfect time to get the glutton of a man alone.

"Professor, would you mind giving me a hand? There are a few questions about the draught I'd like to ask you before we begin."

Looking only slightly taken aback by the boy's sudden studious behavior, Horace nodded. Sending the Slytherin and Gryffindor partners a final stern look of warning, he followed the teen who had been publicly exiled from the Black family out of the room.

Upon first entering the storeroom, neither Harry nor Slughorn spoke. To Harry, it seemed that the professor was waiting for him to initiate the conversation—a startling reversal compared to how the man had treated their encounters before Sirius' banishment from the Black family had been publicized. It was almost enough for Harry to decide against making his as of yet unoffered proposal to the greedy Slytherin—almost!

"Tell me, Professor, a man such as yourself must be well connected to a number of powerful and influential individuals, no?"

Without looking away from the Silver Lime leaves he was collecting, Harry knew his words had brought a self-satisfied smile to the man's thin lips. He could just see the way the man would have puffed his chest out proudly, causing further strain for the poor buttons of his too small waistcoat.

"Correct you are, my boy," he chuckled giddily. What portion of his cheeks not obscured by his bushy facial hair had taken on a boyish, rosy hue. "I can truthfully boast to having had a hand in many a fantastic witch's and wizard's prosperous futures. A good number of which, I might add, I still have the ear of to this day."

His back still facing the man as he searched for the required ingredients, he nodded, giving the impression he was riveted by this information. "Having all those contacts, it must make it easier for you to acquire rare and obscure potions ingredients for your research."

"Indeed, it does. As I'm sure you know, being a former member of the House of Black, the ministry is very strict with its rules and regulations. All of which are needed, mind you, but are at times rather restricting and bothersome for those of us who are cut short for time and are in great need of objects and goods of a 'potentially' dangerous nature. My connections allow me to bypass such laws that are unnecessary for one such as I. After all, I am but a simple Potions master. What misdeeds could I possible get into?" he asked, his rotund form vibrating with laughter.

Hidden from the professor, Harry allowed an unrestricted smirk to pull on his lips. The Inhibition Lowering and Trust Increasing Wards he had cast upon the threshold of the room, plus the minor privacy wards he had erected upon their arrival, were taking a rapid effect; he very much doubted a man like Horace Slughorn, a true Slytherin to the core, would be so forthcoming with such reputation damaging information otherwise.

"And all because you invited them to a couple of parties during their time here," Harry mused, pulling the last of what he required from the shelves as he turned to face the balding Head of Slytherin. "Must be nice."

Slughorn laughed pompously, patting him condescendingly on the shoulder. "Had you accepted my invitation in your first year, you too could have been privy to such useful connections. But alas, you refused my offer. If I recall correctly, your exact words were 'you'd be damned if you'd be cooped up alone with an old man with a strange fascination for children.'"

"That I did," Harry chuckled, recalling the memory of Sirius leaving the portly professor speechless and more than a little offended. It was no surprise that after years of backhanded comments from Sirius, that now that he was ostracized from his financially and politically powerful family that Slughorn had thrown such a fact, however subtly, in his face.

"My childish disrespect aside, I didn't call you here to reminisce or talk about any potion," Harry announced, earning a surprised look. "I'm in need of a go-between, an intermediary. Someone who has connections with individuals who can procure items of a… questionable nature."

Harry watched in amusement as the man before him shifted his weight nervously from one foot to another, his hand drawing dangerously close to the wand sticking out of his undercoat. 'Even with my wards in place, I've managed to make him uncomfortable.'

"Mr. Black, you should be careful about what you say. You never know how your words may be perceived by those who hear them."

"Don't play the fool, Professor, such an act can only harm one's reputation. You and I both know you perceived my words exactly as I intended them." Lips pursed into a thin line and giving an almost violent shake of his head, Slughorn hastily made his way toward the exit.

"I'm clueless as to what it is you're playing at—some form of prank you and your rambunctious friends are attempting, no doubt. I, however, refuse to stand around and entertain such nonsense!"

'…Distress leads to hostility.'

"What a brave wizard you are, Horace." The shift in tone was subtle and came naturally, flowing from light and airy to something more akin to dark-honey, but was more than enough to halt the man's hasty retreat. "You'd be hard pressed to even find a member of Gryffindor house who would be so audacious as to say no to the new Lord of the Black family in such a disrespectful manner, let alone an individual from the house of cunning and ambition who would make such a folly."

"False claims of Lordship and impersonation of a Lord of an Ancient and Noble House are crimes punishable by no less than ten years in Azkaban," Slughorn stated evenly, turning to fix him with a dour look. "If for no one else but yourself, choose your next words very carefully."

"As Lord Black, I could simply hire the best private tutors in the world, and could, realistically, have my schooling completed by year's end," Harry continued as if he hadn't heard the Professor's thinly veiled threat. "This line of action, however, would be counterproductive to my long-term plans. My title as Lord Black is, as of yet, a secret known only by you and two others. I intend for it to stay that way; and this is where you and yourcontacts come into play."

"Just as easy as it would be for me to procure private instructors for myself, it would cause me no great effort to establish my own network of contacts and allies. But in doing so, I would be taking unnecessary risks, putting my identity in jeopardy of being discovered by disreputable characters before it is time. Not to mention sneaking from school grounds each and every time I'm in need of something that is beyond my reach would quickly become bothersome."

"You, on the other hand, can move about with an ease that is beyond me during the semester. If I were to continually disappear time and again, my 'rambunctiousfriends,' as you so aptly called them,would take notice and make things overly complicated." As he spoke he could see the same light of recognition enter the man's mud colored eyes as Orion's had, moments before he had begun losing himself to his instinctual fear.

Slughorn had begun to believe his claim of lordship.

"Failure to report a crime is punishable by up to half the sentenced time of the original lawbreaker." Horace tried to be inconspicuous in his actions, but was unable to fool the eyes of a man whose life had always depended on him being able to track and predict the movements of his enemies.

"If you're looking for proof of my claims, you'll need to agree to my terms and swear an oath of secrecy before I'm willing to show you what it is you seek."

"And what exactly are your terms, Mr. Black?" he asked, realizing the Lordship ring of House Black would be currently hidden away from sight.

"Use your contacts to get me what I require—anything I request, and I'll give you a percentage of each purchase I make." Slughorn, as an individual, was as greedy as he was proficient at spotting talented witches and wizards. The lure of having the new Lord Black in his debt and the possibility of earning large sums of money, Harry knew, was too great a temptation for the head of Slytherin house to pass up.

"I'll have no part in the harm of others." Slughorn declared weakly, the possibility of large sums of gold coming his way making him much more agreeable.

"And you won't have to. All you need to do is get me what I require in a timely and discreet fashion. If you can do as much, you can expect the sums in your vaults to grow substantially." Pulling a piece of parchment from his robes, Harry handed it to the man, willing the ring to end the magic hiding the Black family ring from detection, but leaving the one cloaking the Potter ring from view firmly in place. "I believe it's time you made those oaths, Professor."

"These items…" Slughorn murmured, the corners of his lips turning downward into a frown as he scanned the list he was handed. "These are all elements which can be used in a ritual."

"Have some history with rituals, do we, Horace?" Said man blushed at his inquiry, but said nothing in confirmation. "I'll require everything on that list before the first night of the waning gibbous, and your oaths now."

Slughorn nearly dropped the parchment in shock. "The waning gibbous!? But the full moon is in five days' time!" he spat incredulously.

"Which leaves you with six full days to do everything that is needed. If it's too much for you and your connections, tell me now. Though it will undoubtedly be an inconvenience, I can get what I need on my own. The question you have to ask yourself is how badly do you want the gold I'm offering you?"

Slughorn's response was to hold his wand up and give a series of magically binding vows that would ensure he would not betray the new Lord Black's secrets.

"Good on you, Professor." Harry smiled reassuringly at the visibly shaken Potions Master, clapping him softly on the shoulder. "And don't worry about me harming innocents, the only ones who have anything to fear from me are those who deserve as much. Under my rule the Black family will stand for a different set of principles than what we are known for now, but will be no less feared and respected."

Exiting the cramped storage area with his and his partner's needed supplies in hand, he started for his and Lily's work area, taking the same out of the way route as he had originally. Passing Severus and James, Harry became confused when he found both boys giving the hard at work Lily baffled looks. Not sure what the cause behind their odd behavior was, he remained silent as he passed the duo, catching their eyes just long enough to give them a bemused look.

"Sorry for taking so long, the professor and I were talking and we lost track of time." Setting what he had gathered to the side, he pulled the Moonseed in front of him and began crushing the cherry looking berries, draining them of the needed juices the draught called for. As he worked, a silence hanging between them that hadn't been broken since his arrival, Harry couldn't help but feel as if the redhead next to him was purposely avoiding looking in his direction.

"The Silver Lime, please."

Pausing in his motions, he placed the mint looking leaves into her hand. "Did I somehow manage to piss you off?" he asked, noting that she still refused to look his way.

"No," she answered, her response coming far too quickly to be convincing. Crumbling the leaves into the cauldron, she sent him a strained smile that failed to reach her expressive eyes.

'What was that fake smile about?' he wondered as he went back to extracting juice from the berries.

"Why were you absent from school for so long?" she asked abruptly, surprising him by breaking the silence that had fallen between them.

"I was needed at home," he answered, deciding to stick to vague, yet truthful answers for the time being. There was no sense in telling long winded lies, which could possibly come back to bite him in the ass, when short, honest answers, which didn't reveal any real information, would be more than adequate.

"Are your parents alright?" she inquired, a touch of unidentifiable emotion entering her voice as she paused in her work to give him a concerned look.

"Pissed off as they always are when they see me, but otherwise they're fine." Lily frowned at his words.

"Then why were you needed at home?" she pressed, trying and failing to not sound overly curious.

Harry spared her a small, curious glance before going back to his work. From what he could gather from the memories that now belonged to him, Lily was being uncharacteristically prying where he was concerned. Perhaps Severus and James had also noticed her out of character behavior and their previous blatant staring had stemmed from as much.

Trying to lighten the mood and dissipate the cornered feeling he was getting from her, he tried lightening the mood. "They called me home for our annual sacrifice."

Lily stopped what she was doing to turn her wide, startled eyes upon him. "Sacrifice?"

"Yeah," he nodded, answering her with false seriousness. "Each month we must dance naked beneath the full moon, bathing in the blood of a virgin goat in order to appease the Night Mother." By the time he finished speaking a playful smirk had spread across his lips. His mischievous joy, however, was to be short lived.

Tasting a bit of the bitter juice coating his fingers, unaware of how the red staining his hand closely resembled blood, he glanced over at his partner to see her naturally pale skin had become startlingly more so, surpassing the point of simply looking sickly and progressing to what one would expect of a character out of a Bram Stroker novel. He blanched at the look of horrified disbelief marring her natural beauty, never once considering how sinister he appeared as he savored the scarlet fluid gracing his hands and now lips.

"It was a joke, Lily." he quickly reassured her, giving a nervous look around the room to assure they weren't drawing any unwanted attention to themselves. "I promise that all forms of virgin livestock are safe around me."

Lily scowled, fighting against the embarrassed flush which threatened to overtake the entirety of her visage. "That's a first then, isn't it?" she snapped, making a point to turn her back to him as she returned to their assignment.

"What's a first?" Harry asked, more than a little confused by her odd behavior.

"A virgin who's safe around the Sirius Black." From the desk in front of them, Alice McKenna, the girl who would later go on to marry Frank Longbottom, and her lab partner, broke into a fit a girlish giggles, both having obviously overheard Lily's sharp retort.

"What the hell?!" Harry hissed, now completely baffled by his mother's seemingly random bout of hostility. Stepping in close to her, forcing himself not to think about the pleasant warmth being in such close proximity to her resulted in, he spoke softly but urgently, attempting not to feed the eavesdroppers at the table before them with any juicy bits of gossip they were looking for. "Be careful about what you say; you'll make people think I'm a-"

"Man-slag?" she supplied unhelpfully, not bothering to turn from the bubbling contents of their cauldron to insult him.

"No, not a bloody man-slag—a sheep rapist!" In his annoyance, Harry spoke louder than he had meant to and was rewarded with the entire class turning to look at him like he had gone mad. It was abundantly clear that they all had overheard his unfortunate choice of words.

"Mr. Black," Slughorn began over the barely contained snickers and giggles of his students, looking unsure as how to proceed. Something told the Head of Slytherin house that punishing his newest meal ticket would be a very bad way to start off their new partnership. "Is there something that the class or I should be made aware of?"

"No, sir." Harry blushed, feeling genuine embarrassment for the first time in close to a decade.

"Are you in need of help then?"

"No, professor, I'm fine."

"Then if you would be so kind, please refrain from causing anymore disturbances during my class."

"Sorry, Professor." he apologized, catching sight of Lily's self-satisfied smirk as he did.

Deciding that it would be best not to say anything else that might set the unusually testy redhead off, Harry spent the remainder of the lesson in silence. As they worked in silence, he pondered what it was that was causing his mother to act as strangely and hostile toward him as she was.

Hair of the Grim

"Anything I can get for you, mate?"

Harry, along with James and Peter, dejectedly watched as the fourth member of their group desperately binged himself on anything within reaching distance, whilst trying to preserve some semblance of his normal decorum and dignity.

Remus pulled himself from his overflowing plate, loaded with pink and juicy, rare cooked meats the Hogwarts' house-elves continued to replenish every time the youth made progress with what he had. Furiously wiping at his face, he attempted to fight off the unavoidable blush burning his cheeks.

"Thank you, but no," he whispered, as if someone nearby would overhear him and know what he was by the animalistic way he was gorging himself. It was the same paranoid fear that always got the better of him this time of month, even though no one could hear or see him through the wards they had erected around their small group—that they always put into place on nights like these. Nights when Remus would disappear into the evening's fading light with Madam Pomfrey or at times Professor McGonagall.

Nights of the full moon.

Avoiding meeting their eyes, as if doing so would make them judge him for the monster he knew himself to be despite their many reassurances to the contrary, Remus pulled a large bowl of mashed potatoes toward him. "The more hardy foods I consume now, the easier the…change will be." he explained for what could very well be the thousandth time.

Harry shook his head, watching as his friend somehow found space on his crowded plate for more than half the bowl of thick, cloud-looking vegetables. "We know. Just as you know we'd be willing to eat with our bare hands if it would make you more comfortable. Though we'd have to pause long enough to take my picture. A Christmas card featuring me with food up to my elbows and gravy on my face may possibly be the best gift I could ever give my mother and all her pureblood buddies."

Laughing as hard as the rest of his friends, James reached across the table, grabbing a chicken-leg from Remus' plate. "I don't know about the rest of the family, but mum and dad would frame it and put it on the wall."

Harry, Remus and Peter watched on in silent amusement as James took a larger than what would have been deemed 'polite' bite of the stolen poultry, only to pale once he realized just how under-cooked the meat was. It was a mistake they all had made on occasion, one which never failed to earn, at the very least, a small round of chuckles.

"It's getting late," Remus sighed, sending a look of disgust at the still replenishing plate, pushing it as far away from him as possible to indicate that he was done. "I suspect McGonagall will be waiting for me at the portrait of the Fat Lady."

Leading the group into the Entrance Hall, they were just beginning to climb the Grand Staircase when Harry suddenly felt as if he were being watched. Slowing only slightly, he pretended to laugh at the joke James was telling in an attempt to cheer Remus up. Using his ruse as an opportunity to peer around the hall for whomever it was that was spying on him, it didn't take him long to locate the group's stalker, and even less time to come to the realization that the individual wasn't following him.

Smiling wolfishly, Harry threw his arm around Remus' shoulder. "Come on, man, cheer up! You never know when some beauty is going to be looking your way."

Remus smiled weakly up at him. "I'll be sure and remember that."

Hair of the Grim

Crouching down low, the cold permeating the Shrieking Shack stinging painfully at his bare back and the rest of his exposed skin, Remus neatly folded the last of his clothing, placing them just inside the hidden entrance leading to the exit at the base of the Whomping Willow. Here, stored where his personal Mr. Hyde would be unable to reach thanks to its large mass, his belongings would remain safe through the night.

It had been an hour since he had bid his three friends goodbye at the entrance of Gryffindor tower, and it would be only a little longer till the change would begin. Already his body temperature had begun to rise to levels that would have made Madam Pomfrey's heart stop had it been anyone else with such symptoms, and his senses were functioning at levels that no human should be able to naturally attain.

Unabashedly rising to his feet, safe in the knowledge that no one would stumble upon him in his nude state, he made his way over to the lone piece of furniture adorning this area of the abandoned house; a simple wooden chair where he would sit once a month as he waited for his mind to be eroded away by indescribable rage and the instincts of a beast. Wrapping himself in the thick, woolen blanket he had prepared beforehand, he sat down to await his inescapable fate and the insanity inducing pain which never failed to accompany it.

As time went on—moving at speeds that were both too fast for his liking, and yet so slow that it was a torture in and of itself—the all too familiar sensation of liquid-fire spreading through his veins started to overtake him, bringing with it the overabundance of adrenaline which always threatened to rip his heart from his chest. Pulling the blanket tighter around him despite the sheen of sweat now coating his body, Remus slid from his seat, landing harshly on his exposed knees.

Had someone happened upon the sight of him as he fell forward to press his forehead painfully into the dusty floor, most would mistake his actions as those of someone desperately praying to the divine, begging for forgiveness for an unspeakable crime that was eating away at their very soul. But in reality—the truth being far more horrifying than the confessions of a guilty soul—he was desperately trying to calm the frantic pounding of his racing heart, attempting to clear his head of the stench of his sweat clinging to his body and the dust and grime that filled the long since abandoned house—his own private hell. There would be no cries or pleas for mercy to a god which he knew never existed, for what type of deity would curse him to such a twisted existence from such a young age?

Eyes clenched tightly shut, grinding his teeth viciously until his mouth pooled with blood, Remus vainly attempted to distract himself from the pain that was his muscles starting to rip and reform in symphony with the bones savagely working themselves from their joints, searing as they re-grew into forms more suitable for a large lupine beast. The sounds of his rapidly breaking and reforming bones filled the small room, mixing with his harsh labored breathing and his strangled cries of pain.

Aware of what was to come next, Remus tried his best to ignore his automatic response to the pain coursing through his entire being and loosened his flexed jaw. Having suffered through the change once a month for as long as he could remember, he knew how much more awful the reshaping and elongating of his facial features would be if he were to allow them to remain clenched and rigid.

Whimpering as his lips ripped to accommodate the length of his muzzle and the rows of rapidly forming razor sharp fangs, he experienced something that had never before accompanied his transformation.

A sense of peace.

Blowing gently across the planes of his misshapen features was a warm, calming breeze which shouldn't have been present in the rickety, decaying structure, especially on a night as cold as the one at present. Giving a particularly anguished cry as his jaw broke only to heal at a rate which was beyond even the most prodigious healer's capabilities, he pealed one eye open—exposing brown irises, which were quickly being overtaken by a mesmerizing and otherworldly yellow—and was greeted by a sight that very nearly succeeded in stilling the panicked racing of his heart.

Dancing languidly though the air, hovering only inches in front of his grime covered face, was what appeared to be a ball of Bluebell flames. The formless mass of icy, transparent blue moved in a way that was akin to smoke, or as Remus thought as the entity studied him, like a drop of ink in water. Though there were no eyes or any other recognizable features to the creature, the partially transformed werewolf instinctively knew it to be more than just brilliantly shaded fumes or magical flames.

As if to prove his deduction, the creature's dance began to pick up in pace, now going on to encircle the room and subsequently the kneeling teenager.

Remus, in his moment of clarity and fascination, failed to realize that he was no longer losing himself to his fears or the bloodlust which was synonymous with his transformation. Nor was the pain, which haunted even his happiest dreams, able to pierce the tranquil humming of the spirit-like creature. All he was capable of experiencing in that moment was a child-like wonderment as he longingly trailed the creature's movements with his wide luminous eyes.

And nor would he realize as much, for the bodiless entity then began to emit a high pitched sound reminiscent of a strong, winter wind filtering through the branches and leaves of a deserted forest. The melodious tune lulled the teen's eyes shut, a content sigh escaping his lips even as they continued their morphing, blackening and thinning, into something more animalistic in appearance.

Drifting peacefully into Morpheus' sweet embrace, the cursed boy never saw the creature shift from its original haunting blue to an all too familiar yet just as eye drawing shade of bright emerald.

Hair of the Grim

"I'm going to kill every blasted bird within a hundred miles if someone doesn't shut that bloody tapping up!" Kicking the cover restricting his movements to the floor, exposing his almost completely bare form, Harry pulled his pillow over his head, attempting to reclaim the rapidly vanishing dregs of sleep before they became impossible to return to.

"I'll get it," moaned an equally tired voice from the opposite side of the dorm. Sleep deprived and delirious, Harry's addled mind sluggishly connected the squeaky tone to the shortest of his dorm mates.

"Mhhmm, Evans…"

"Shut it, you horny bastard!"

"Really, James," Peter groused, throwing a blurry eyed look of disbelief at the dreaming Potter. "She should really see to getting a magically binding restraining order against you, mate. You're freaking obsessed!"

"I'm going to add male Gryffindors to my hit-list if I don't get some quiet!" Harry groused, his voice muffled by his pillow.

Rolling his eyes at the threat, Peter unlatched the aged pane glass window, throwing it open with little regard for the animal that had woken them. Before he could try to untie the letter on what he instantly recognized as one of the Potter owls, the large, tawny avian had crossed the length of the dorm with a few minor flaps of its impressive wings.

Landing on James' sternum, the owl peered inquisitively down at his slumbering master with dark, intelligent eyes. It didn't take the creature long to grow annoyed by its young master's failure to acknowledge its accomplishment in completing its duty so superbly. With small awkward hops forward, attempting to maintain its footing with the wide envelope fastened to its leg, it gave a small bark of annoyance in an attempt to rouse the slumbering teen. Seeing no immediate change in James' peaceful features, the impatient creature gave what a curiously watching Peter could only describe as a sigh of contempt, before it reached forward with its sharp beak and viciously tore into the boy's slightly parted lips, only just missing taking a chunk out of his tongue in the process.

"THA' FUCK!"

Shoulders shaking in not so silent laughter, Peter watched in great amusement as his glasses wearing friend vigorously thrashed about, screaming in agony. The owl, which had been launched from James' chest after assaulting him, landed gracefully upon the edge of his four poster bed, sending the wildly flailing teen a reproachful glare.

"Morgana's sweet ass," Harry huffed, rolling out of bed. "Daft ass wanker wailing like a bloody banshee." Boxers riding dangerously low on the finely muscled 'v' of his hips, he ambled his way toward their private showers, only slowing in his frustrated trek to throw his pillow as hard as he could at James' grimacing face.

"Where are you going?" Peter questioned, wiping the laughter induced tears from his eyes.

"There's only two reasons to be up this early in the morning: getting laid or getting off." Disappearing into the showers, his slightly muffled voice drifted back to the now awake duo. "Since I'm not allowed to sleep in on a day where we have a free period first thing, I'll be taking a hand in achieving the latter."

Snorting, Peter turned back to the only other boy in the room at that point in time, only to find the messy haired teen to be having a glaring contest with his owl. It took the future rat animagus only a second to spot the thin trail of blood running down the Potter's chin.

"…Blasted bird," James sneered, gingerly running his tongue over his injured lip. "I hope you end up as Hippogriff shite." Grabbing his wand, he flicked it at the offending owl, untying and summoning the letter with the single motion. He only just restrained himself from hexing the beast as it took off for the open window, leaving behind a warm 'present' on his sheets.

"If only my mum wouldn't kill me for her owl showing up without any tail-feathers…or a head."

Chuckling softly, Peter padded his way over to his bed as James carelessly opened the thick envelope, ripping the wax seal bearing the Potter coat of arms from the back with the reckless abandon only a partially awake teen could accomplish. Grabbing a towel from his wardrobe, the teen left his friend to read his letter.

Steadily, as his gaze traveled over the expensive ink that set atop the equally expensive parchment, James' eyes grew more anxious and his posture more rigid. It wasn't until a rather tired looking Sirius exited the showers that James looked away from his father's message.

"Siri, take a look at this." James held the parchment out for him to take as he passed by his bed. "Tell me what you think."

Falling bonelessly onto his bed, Harry scanned the letter and was unsurprised to find what he did. Charlus had written to his only son to explain that a somewhat troubling situation had developed within the Potter family. He warned that there may be major, or even minor for that matter, changes coming their way. The former Head of the Potters wouldn't go into detail, for as he said in the letter the chance of it being intercepted was too great to risk it. He did, however, tell James not to worry about any of it, and to focus on his schooling and enjoying his time with his friends—that he had only written him to prepare him should any 'drastic' changes take place between then and Christmas.

Harry fought the smile that threatened to tug at his lips. Charlus and Dorea, it seemed, trusted him, or to be more specially, the mysterious new Potter Head, enough to follow his instructions. The letter had been as vague, yet informative, as he had requested it to be.

"Sounds to me like you should listen to your old man, for once." Sending the letter floating back to his friend with a dismissive wave of his hand, Harry made his way over to his wardrobe.

"You don't think I should write back and ask for more details about what's happening? Or maybe even go see him, do you?"

Harry shook his head, sending his wet and tangled locks to hang in his face. "From what I could discern from what he wrote, there's no chance of him writing anything more on the subject than what he's already sent you. And if you were to go running home now, you could inadvertently cause him and your mum more stress than they are already under."

"Yeah, but…" James trailed off, looking unsure as to what to say or do.

"If you're really that worried about it, why not write back and ask him to meet with you? Our first Hogsmeade weekend is in two weeks, get Uncle Charlus and Aunt Dorea to meet you then." he suggested. "Or better yet, ask if it would be okay for you to floo home at that time. I doubt they would refuse that."

"You're right," James agreed pensively. Giving his head a small shake to rid himself of such turbulent thoughts, he looked to his best friend, intent on telling him to give him a minute to get ready, but stopped when he saw Sirius pulling on a pair of warn from age and devoted reuse sleeping pants.

"Aren't you going to get dressed for class before we go down to breakfast?"

"I'm not going to breakfast," Harry announced, grabbing the sheets he had kicked to the floor earlier as he crawled into his bed. "I'm not even going to class."

"You're skiving the entire day?" James asked, adjusting his glasses more out of habit than necessity. Even from what little he could see of his best mate's features, most of which were obscured by the sheets he had pulled haphazardly over himself, it was clear to see that Sirius was exhausted. "You won't miss more than two periods before Minnie's up here lecturing you on how 'proper and respectable' Gryffindors should conduct themselves."

"Probably." Groaning childishly at the sun streaming through the dorm's only window, Harry pulled the thin sheets draped across him over his head, too tired to cast a shading charm on the window. "I'm knackered. I need a 'me-day.'"

James rolled out of his bed, Sirius' pillow in hand as he made his way over to his friend's unmoving form. "Here you are then," he said with a smile in his voice, tossing the pillow onto his chest. "I'll try and throw Minnie off your trail when she comes searching for answers as to why you weren't in class." Taking his wand, he pointed the eleven inches of Mahogany at the window, silently transfiguring the clarity of the glass to a much darker, tinted shade.

Giving a tired yawn that made his eyes water, Harry snaked his hand out from under his covers, quickly pulling his pillow into his personal sanctuary. "Thanks, mate."

James waved his hand dismissively, aware as he did so that the gesture would go unnoticed by its intended recipient. "No need to mention it. We're mates. Lying for one another is in the job description."

Minutes passed and Harry was finally able to attain the much needed sleep he had so desperately been craving. Following his roommates' example, James began to get ready for the day ahead of him. By the time he exited the showers, washed and feeling moderately more awake, Peter was lounged across his bed, his uniform wrinkling as a result. Surprisingly, however, was Remus' presence. Sitting atop his bed, fully clothed and surrounded by what could have passed for a makeshift wall, but what was in reality a large number of books that the young werewolf had collected from the library before arriving.

"Remus! You're up and about!" Normally, the mornings after his transformation, Remus would be left in great amounts of pain, his body unable to move without making said pain worse. This morning, contradictory to all past experience, he was up, appearing to have been so for some time, rapidly flipping through and scanning each of the books that surrounded him.

"Bit early to begin obsessing over your homework, don't you think?"

"It's not homework," Remus answered vaguely, not bothering with looking up from his book.

James came to a stop at the foot of his bed, picking up a few of the books strewn about around him.

"'Fantastical Beasts of the Forbidden Forest', 'Warlock Hunts: Scotland's Magical Wild Life', 'Extinct, Fabled and Rare Beings of the Scotland Isles'." As he listed off the different titles of the tomes he had picked up, his eyebrows rose progressively higher, leaving him with a dubious, contemplating look. "Got an itch you're needing scratched?"

Remus paused in his reading, looking up from the tome he was quickly realizing was utter rubbish. "I need to find a friend."

Hair of the Grim

The muted, barely audible patter of her flats uncertainly traversing the thick, twisted roots littering the Forbidden Forest floor filled Lily's hearing like claps of Earth shuddering thunder. Her damp and tangled auburn locks hung unrestrained in her heart-shaped face, clinging greedily to her petal-pink lips and obscuring her vision. For what felt like the thousandth time since she had left the castle and entered the misting evening air, she anxiously brushed her envy inducing locks from her eyes, attempting to remain hidden from the one she was pursuing.

It had been six days since Sirius Black had returned to Hogwarts and asked to be her potions partner. Six days since she had stumbled upon Professor Slughorn's and the new Lord Black's conversation, by way of piercing the minor privacy wards she had encountered, in which the latter had all but coerced the former into a shady, and if what the professor had said was true, illegal agreement to sneak questionable items into the school. Furthermore, from what she could discern from their words, Sirius was planning on performing some form of ritualistic magic. Lily would admit to knowing next to nothing on that rather obscure branch of magic, but what she did know was that it was outlawed by the British Ministry of Magic. And that was enough to let her know of the potential dangers said rituals presented.

Since that day, she had found herself secretly trailing Sirius whenever the opportunity presented itself. Watching him in class for any sign he was up to something untoward, sneaking out of the common room late at night to try and track his nighttime movements, even sitting closer to him and his friends than she normally would have, attempting to overhear any plans he might let slip while relaxed and conversing with them.

As a result of her constant and unpredictable disappearances, her friends were all under the assumption that she was sneaking off to see a boy, including Sev. That had been a fun few conversations.

She hadn't told her best friend nor anyone else, especially any of her professors, what she had overheard. Her reason being that it would be her word against that of another student and a professor. But more so than that, she had remained silent for fear of revealing herself and what she knew to Slughorn and Black.

Even as she had followed the younger of the two, Lily couldn't quite bring herself to understand why it was that Slughorn had agreed to take part in such a transaction. While it was true the man liked to play favorites, and that he did tend to give her an uneasy feeling with how he would leer at her at times, the Potions Professor had always appeared to be a good, honest man. It had been evident to her from his words that he had been concerned by Sirius' request, but then why was it he had eventually agreed? It was quite transparent to all that Slughorn could be a somewhat greedy, materialistic individual, as proven by his constant need to 'collect' talented students and his love of the finer things in life, but to Lily it had never appeared as if he were the type to actually break the law to gain either.

Having followed Sirius from the library, where she had cast the most powerful disillusionment charm on herself that she could manage, she mimicked his path through the twist and turns of the castle, allowing him to unknowingly lead her to the dungeon in which their potion lessons were held and also to where Horace Slughorn's office was housed. Silently praising herself for having the forethought to hide her scent and any noises she may have made while following him through the use of a few advanced and relatively obscure charms she had picked up during her time spent combing the far reaches of the library, she was able to slip between Sirius and the door as it closed without either of the office's occupants being any the wiser of her presence.

To say the interaction between the two males had been a brief one would have been an understatement. Slughorn had offered up an unusually large vial (practically a corked vase) of unknown red substance upon Sirius' closing of the dungeon door, which the Black Lord took, offering up a palm sized bag of Galleons in return. Few words were shared between them, Slughorn looking at the unassuming bag like it was, well, gold, and Sirius in too great of a hurry to bother with much more than the obligatory pleasantries.

As quickly as they had come, Lily followed Sirius, who had conjured a hooded robe before leaving Slughorn to count his money, from the dungeons and out into the darkening evening. The smell of rain, damp earth and foliage mixing with the many woodsy, unidentifiable scents and smells carried on the gentle wind pulling at their clothing and, in Lily's case, her hair.

The first generation witch hesitated for a fraction of a second before she followed the hooded teen into the aptly named forest. So caught up in her stalking was she that the thought of retrieving a professor and leading them to where the Black Lord had disappeared into the dense woods had never crossed her mind. Had she been thinking properly, now or even over the past six days since Sirius' return, she would have realized that it was so much more than her need to bring a lawbreaker to justice that drove her to such rash actions as trailing a possibly dangerous individual for days, and continuing to do so until she followed him into the very real dangers the Forbidden Forest presented. No, it was much more than her sense of justice which led her like a lamb to the slaughter.

It was her insatiable curiosity and thirst for knowledge.

A need to know all that she could about magic—both light and, though she would never admit it, even to herself, the darker, more frowned upon branches of magic that led her. It was the devil disguised as an angel upon her shoulder which drove her hunger to learn, discover—submerge herself in all that magic had to offer. It was a need that had led to her almost being sorted into Ravenclaw—a hunger which, had the hat not warned of the dangers such a move would place her under, would have seen her wearing the green and silver of Slytherin instead of the red and gold of Gryffindor.

For how long she had followed the black silhouette that was Sirius, Lily was unsure. Afraid that casting the tempus charm would expose her to the hunted, she had only the gradual transition from the barely distinguishable tint coloring the sky when they had first ventured outside, to the much fainter shade of the sun's rays that were now feebly fighting their way through the dense canopy encasing them in shadow from overhead.

Stalking fluidly over and through the treacherous shrubbery and thick foliage clawing at her ankles, Lily kept what she hoped was a safe distance behind Sirius. Any further and she would have lost him and his shadow blending hooded robe. As it was, with how dark the forest around them had become the further in they traveled, the space between each of the wide, sky piercing trees lessening every few steps, it would have been next to impossible for her to track him down once lost.

Just as the girl was beginning to question her hasty decision to follow him without definitive knowledge of what it was he was actually up to, a slight wavering of light off in the distance caught her eye. However, before she could make out the source of the far off beacon, all traces of its faint glow disappeared, obscured by the tall figure she was doggedly pursuing.

Cursing softly under her breath, Lily hastened forward, her intent to discover what the light was, was driving her to be recklessly loud. It was this, her sudden heedlessness that led to what happened to her next.

Eyes trained on a far off light that continued to escape her, she failed to notice the vast body bearing down on her from the foliage above. The last thing she saw as a vice-like grip latched on to her ankle and her world inexplicably reversed, was a large, hairy form with too many watery, disgusting eyes the size of a grown man's fist, and the many long, tree trunk sized legs attached to her attacker's body.

AN: Thanks for all the reviews and love.