November 2nd, 1981, Little Whinging

The big, black dog panted as he approached privet drive – he had been racing the Aurors and the Order to this perfectly normal house that was shrouded by the dark, cloudy night. Nobody would see a thing – at least, not if he was quick. The dog sprang forward, its bones and muscle pulled themselves apart and reformed in a flash to form a young, handsome man with bags under his eyes and a scowl plastered across his face. Sirius advanced upon the door, drew his wand and blew the door off of its hinges to instantaneous reaction – screaming and the sound of a door being slammed open upstairs with heavy footsteps racing across the lander. Sirius tried to be patient but was left tapping his foot in his anxiety as he waited, at least he was until the very large man descended the stairs and swung a big meaty fist at him.

Sirius raised his wand to the large, many chinned man whose jowels quivered with silent rage – and watched as he fell back, his back smacking into the bannister which creaked loudly.

"Where is Harry?" Sirius asked with a tilt of his head, examining the man who was starting to turn dangerously red. It wasn't the man who answered, however, but a shrill female voice Sirius recognized immediately as the voice of Lily's sister.

He cringed, a flash of pain throbbing in his chest – brimming under the surface.

"He's in the dining room. In his crib. But you can't take him," Petunia said with an air of haughty defiance despite the sweat beading upon her brow.

Sirius arched a brow towards Petunia, silently stupefying her husband who collapsed with a loud thud. Petunia stumbled backwards against the wall at the top of the stairs, her eyes widened in fear.

"Why not?" he asked simply, abandoning all pretence of patience.

"What did you do to him you freak?!"

"I knocked him out, now answer my question!" Sirius roared, sparks flying from his wand as he stepped forward.

"B-because, Dumbledore gave him to us. He's pr-"Petunia was cut short by Sirius' loud, mocking laugh, his eyes narrowing soon after as his voice dropped an octave.

"Surely you jest! Protected! Here! No. I'm taking him. You can try and stop me." Sirius stepped over Vernon's unconscious form towards the dining room wherein there was a crib pushed to the side just so that it was out of the way. He looked down at the one year old child – noticing Lily's eyes staring back at him as a painful reminder. He smiled at his godson, and scooped him up into his arms.

"Let's go home."

July 31st, 1989, 12 Grimmauld Place

Harry woke up with a start on his eighth birthday, grinning from ear to ear before leaping out of his large, king sized bed and pelting down the stairs of 12 Grimmauld Place.

"Sirius! Sirius!" he yelled exuberantly, not even noticing Kreacher's frowns and mutterings for a change. His godfather was nowhere to be seen however, Harry's yells met only with silence that caused the young, scruffy boy to stop and look around with his piercing green eyes.

"Sirius?" he whispered tentatively, advancing forwards quietly down the hallway of the Black estate. He paid special attention to curtains, trying to find a silhouette. It took him a while, but eventually he found one – perfectly still.

"Hah! As if that'd get me again, come out." Harry called triumphantly, staring at the silhouette with his hands on his hips. His godfather didn't hesitate in making use of Harry's distraction to creep out behind him and send off a loud bang from his wand right next to Harry's ear. Harry's reaction was instant – he let out a gigantic scream, before running off shouting. As Harry slammed a door to escape, Sirius collapsed into a fit of laughter, his eyes twinkling whilst he slapped his knees which elicited a scowl from Harry as he opened the door cautiously, his eyes locked upon his godfather like he was a lion ready to pounce.

"That wasn't funny," he said, flushing furiously. "You should be nicer to me on my birthday."

Sirius gave Harry another long look, before starting to cackle again, his godson cracking a smile eventually and running over to hug him.

"Happy birthday, Harry."

"Thanks, Sirius," Harry replied as his hair was ruffled, pressing his face into Sirius' robe whose hand now guided him towards the kitchen as he walked, where there was a small pile of presents lying in wait.

"Well, are we going to eat breakfast – and there'd better be bacon - first or-"Harry burst forward as Sirius spoke, his hands a blur as he tore apart the black and gold paper to reveal the contents of the first easily discerned present. Flipping the book around to read the title, a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "Thank you," he said to Sirius as he opened onto the first page of The Standard Book of Spells Grade 1. His godfather beamed at him, evidently pleased with himself. "I feel bad knowing that all you can do is sit in a library and read tomes older than me, so I got you something new." Sirius let out a quiet laugh at the thought of James and Lily's reactions to effectively raising their child in a library. He was sure James was rolling over in his grave – though, James's child appeared to share Lily's delight in learning as he tore into book after book, stacking them up next to him. However, when all of the books had been opened one still remained – eliciting a more curious approach from Harry who turned over the present in his hands before slowly peeling away its wrappings.

"Turn it around," Sirius urged and Harry obeyed, his eyes widening slightly as he blinked, speechless as he looked into the eyes of his parents before looking at Sirius hoping for an explanation.

"I stole it away from an old order member who struggled to believe that I would betray your parents to You-Know-Who." Sirius's godson's only reaction was to nod simply, sit down and stare at the parents he had never known.

After a large breakfast with copious amounts of bacon, and a few hours spent in the library, Harry gathered up the courage to go ask Sirius for one final present, as he asked every year. He stumbled into the kitchen blearily, looking at his godfather who was drinking a bottle of fire whiskey as he read the Daily Prophet – how he always got a copy was beyond Harry.

"Sirius?" Harry asked meekly, his godfather turning his head to smile at him while taking a sip from his drink.

"Can I ask for a favour?" he asked whilst attempting to make himself look both pitiful and adorable at the same time, widening his eyes and making his bottom lip quiver. His godfather just rolled his eyes at the attempt before sighing and putting down the newspaper as he began to speak.

"Harry. There's a very good reason why I can't let you go outside – I've told you twice already, if you are seen outside, they will take you away. They will find me, and I'll be given the kiss. I hate us being holed up here just as much as you."

Harry looked at his godfather with tears brimming in his eyes. Sirius frowned, clenching his right hand around his drink as he fought back the urge to just give in.

"It doesn't matter though! I'm going to Hogwarts in three years! They'll know then anyway." The shout made Sirius flinch slightly and look away as he ran a hand through his long black hair.

"Harry. You're not going to Hogwarts," his godfather started before being interrupted by a loud surprised outcry, "You need to go to Durmstrang."

His godson looked up at him wordlessly – Harry had read about Durmstrang, and he knew that nobody knew where it was, but they all had to speak German – though they did practice the Dark Arts.

"But… why?" he asked, confusion and hurt creeping into his tone. Sirius looked at him with something akin to sympathy and sighed.

"For the same reason you can't go outside. Maybe if I can get my name cleared, we can send you to Hogwarts but, I doubt that'll happen while you're still at school."

Harry looked up at Sirius, shaking slightly as he tried his best to fight back the rising tears, before speaking shakily, "Why did you tell me about all the things you and my dad did then, if you knew I couldn't do that too?"

Sirius grimaced, and shook his head, "I didn't think, Harry. I'm sorry." When Harry went to turn and storm out of the room, his godfather called out, making him stop in his tracks.

"You can't be called Harry Potter outside of here either. You'll have to become a Black."

Harry turned, with wide eyes to stare at his godfather, speechless again, before just closing the door and running away. Sirius let out a sigh of relief – he'd expected much more angst and magical accidents at the news. At least now he could continue trying to figure out a solution to hiding Harry's scar that didn't involve copious amounts of potions – something that could be cast once and wouldn't be easily broken.

It was times like this that he wished he still had Remus around.

July 31st, Hogwarts, Noon

Dumbledore frowned as he peered through his half-moon glasses out of the windows and over the grounds. It was Harry's birthday, and in seven years he still hadn't been found and the Aurors were just as clueless as usual. It had caused a huge stir when they had made the proclamation that Sirius Black had broken in and taken him as a child, and now everyone believed he had been murdered by Lord Voldemort's most loyal follower.

Of course, Dumbledore thought that was all nonsense. Or at least, he hoped so. If Harry was indeed dead, no one would be there to defeat Lord Voldemort when he returned. Despite his power, Dumbledore knew he was simply too old and slow to defeat a renewed Voldemort in a display of skill.

"Severus, what should we do if we can't find him?" he spoke quietly, exhaustion weighing heavily upon his words.

"I always thought that was your job – to think of how to proceed." Snape rolled his eyes, glancing distastefully towards Remus who spoke next, ignoring his old school rival.

"We will find him. Sirius will send him to Hogwarts, or Beauxbatons – I'm certain of it. Just a matter of keeping tabs on the first years that come through there when he turns eleven."

Snape sneered slightly as he retaliated Lupin's point.

"You think he won't send him somewhere further away, like Durmstrang?"

"Sirius hates the Dark Arts, and his mother wanted to send him th-"

"Please! He betrayed the Potters and you still act like you know what he's like!" laughed Snape.

Remus stared at Snape before sighing. "You're right, Severus." Remus sat down as his shoulders drooped. Snape stayed silent – a sneer plastered on his face, and looked back towards Dumbledore. "Headmaster?" he asked, quietly.

"I agree, Severus. We can't predict what he will do, as we don't understand him. Where before we might have thought him reckless – well, it's easy enough to put on an act."

As Severus and Remus went to leave, Dumbledore stood by his window in silent thought before speaking aloud to himself as he planned aloud.

"If Harry is not dead, he will be at a school, which is the problem – I doubt Sirius would send him anywhere too vague, but also he wouldn't send him somewhere we would expect him. I need a way to bring the schools to Hogwarts – a way for them to bring their best and brightest." Dumbledore paused as he considered. "If Harry takes after his father or mother, or even Tom, then he will be part of that." He moved over to his books as Dippet spoke up.

"You're aware, Albus, of how long it will take to have the Triwizard Tournament return? The ministry is awfully slow about such matters. A few years at least."

"I understand, Armando. But, I'm afraid we're running out of options."

Phineas snorted from where he was pretending to slumber in his portrait. "Or you could just admit he's probably dead. Orion's son isn't in our ancestral home at least, so who's to say he's even in Europe?"

Albus quietly sighed, "You miss the point, Phineas. This is a test of if he is alive, and why would he be kidnapped and taken away from Europe? It'd be much harder to restore Tom to full power away from his servants."

"And if you're wrong, and he isn't the best, or brightest?" Phineas asked sharply.

"Then my ploy will have failed." Albus responded to the old Black headmaster's mirth.

"You're playing a dangerous game of Russian roulette here, Albus. Gambling the future of the wizarding world on a chance."

Albus' eyes twinkled as he looked at Phineas, "Russian roulette? Seems you've been learning a bit about the muggles from me after all." To Albus' bemusement Phineas just snorted and turned away from him.

Dumbledore conjured a goblet with a wave of his wand and summoned his oak-matured mead, a gift from Slughorn, before raising a toast.

"Happy Birthday, Harry, wherever you may be."

Chapter One

July 31st, 12 Grimmauld Place, 1991

Harry stretched out in his bed as he awoke, rolling over slightly as he saw through the window that the sun was just starting to rise.

"You know a kid's growing up when he's deciding to sleep in rather than wake up the whole house on his birthday."

Harry jumped, flailing for a second as he yelped in fright before turning to glare at Sirius.

"Oi! It's not even seven yet! Give us an hour…"

Sirius snorted, flicking his wand and sending the covers flying from Harry's nearly naked form who let out another shout and leaped out of the bed shivering.

"Well, you won't have time to sleep in. Got to have breakfast first, then we're off out." Sirius grinned at Harry's pause.

"You'd best not be joking… it isn't funny." He said, scowling before spotting the serious expression upon his godfather's face. "… You're actually serious," he said before sprinting past Sirius to the kitchen where there were some croissants already waiting in front of him. A moment later and Sirius strode in – a single croissant left on the table.

"Um. Harry. Those weren't for you," Sirius idly nodded to a plate of eggs, bacon and toast which Harry moved his gaze over to slowly, before looking back at the croissants.

"Oh well. Guess I get to have the bacon," Sirius said boisterously before sitting down and tucking in much to Harry's silent outrage.

After Sirius had eaten breakfast at a very leisurely speed, Harry returned fully dressed in a black and gold overcoat, his long, wild hair flowing over the collar.

"Are we ready now?" he asked Sirius who shook his head as he wiped his mouth with a sleeve.

"Not quite, you need to drink something first," Sirius replied, pulling a small vial from his pocket to Harry's confusion.

"What is it?"

"Nothing nasty, trust me. Just drink it down and we'll be off," he said as he threw the vial to Harry who caught it deftly. As he uncorked it, he inhaled – it smelt odd, like burning coffee. He frowned, glancing at Sirius who just nodded, tapping his fingers onto the table in anticipation.

He brought the vial to his lips and drank, before a convulsion passed through him and an intense stinging started in his scar, as if it had been set alight. He let out a whine of pain, gritting his teeth – and then the sensation had passed. Gingerly, he reached a hand towards his head, tracing his scar with a lone finger – and felt nothing but smooth skin. He looked to Sirius with eyes that begged for an explanation.

"Your scar is iconic – anyone who sees it will know you are Harry Potter. Now, even if you look a bit… a lot more like James, I can pass you off as my son. You'll be a part of 'The Most Noble and Ancient House of Black'. I was thinking of names – what about Cepheus?"

Harry stared at him uncomprehendingly, not speaking.

"… Not Cepheus then? Fine, we'll go with Corvus."

Harry still didn't speak.

"Harry. It has to be named after a constellation – I know, it's silly, but think of all the stupid puns you can pull relating to stars."

Finally Harry spoke in a splutter, "I'm going to be your son?"

Sirius blinked, then nodded.

"But you said not to call you dad, because you said James is my dad," Harry said with furrowed brows, running a hand through his long, messy hair.

"Harry – it just feels wrong. I'm your godfather, but James was your dad who died for you. It'd be like stealing that right from him." Harry frowned, before retorting.

"But you raised me. You are my dad." Sirius stayed silent for a moment before speaking.

"Well, I guess this way you get what you want anyway. Going outside, calling me dad. What's bloody next, your own broom?" Harry stared at him for a minute, fighting the urge to smile.

"… Alright, you're getting your own broom too." Sirius grinned as his pseudo-son ran to him and embraced him.

As they stepped out of the door, Harry inhaled deeply, looking at the spectacle of everyday life around him in wonder, a pigeon flying over the street lit by the dawn that created shafts of sunlight between the houses, the sun looming overhead. The noise of people walking and talking filled his ears, and the faint smell of gasoline and tar that made him gag slightly before suddenly a car spurred past him making him jump as Sirius snickered.

"Where are we going?" he asked, looking up.

"We're going to Diagon Alley, Corvus," Sirius replied to Harry's confusion before he realized.

"Oh. Right. Corvus Black."

Sirius snorted and muttered something about a horrible idea before setting off down the street, Harry in tow who was looking around as he took in the sights of London – muggles walking past them carrying groceries and nodding their head to faint tunes coming from unwieldy boxes with spinning reels in them.

"There's so much going on," Harry remarked to Sirius as they walked, his head whirling from trying to keep track of everything going on around him in a desperate attempt to take in everything he can.

"It's a bit startling the first time around, Corvus, but you wait until we get to Diagon Alley."

"We're going there? But what if someone spots you?"

Sirius muttered something about kids not listening before explaining, "Well, let's be honest – most people don't know what I look like, and the last pictures of me are ten years old. We are staying away from the Leaky Cauldron though – easier to walk unnoticed in a busy street than a pub."

Harry nodded – this made sense, he supposed.

"The muggles are weird, look – they're so oblivious."

Sirius frowned, glancing at the boy he raised before shrugging – he wasn't wrong. "I suppose. Not their fault though."

"Well, whose is it then?" Harry peered up at Sirius inquisitively who sighed.

"H- Corvus, it isn't exactly anyone's fault. We had to hide from them for our safety at the time."

Harry pondered on this for a moment, before piping up loudly again.

"So it is their fault. Why should we hide from them? They're the ones without magic."

"Harry! It isn't the muggles fault, and we're not better than them just because we have magic. That line of thought is close to the Death Eaters."

Sirius fumed quietly – Harry silent for fear of angering him further before eventually Sirius let out a long breath.

"I'm sorry, Corvus," he said, making note to use his son's name this time, "It's just - you can't understand just yet, after all, you've never spent any time with muggles." Harry remained quiet and simply nodded – trusting his godfather.

It wasn't long until Sirius had smuggled them through a lesser known passageway into Knockturn Alley, where Harry made certain to stay a few steps closer to Sirius – the buildings grungy, and the light dim. It made him feel on edge, as did the wizards and witches dressed in dark robes who watched him and Sirius as they passed, occasionally approaching before Sirius cast them a piercing look.

"Si- dad, how much further until we get to Diagon Alley?" Harry asked, a couple of people emerging from a shop glancing over at them suspiciously.

"Not long, tru- oh, well, this is bloody brilliant." Sirius remarked as a tall, elegant blonde witch emerged from a shop full of strange objects only to briefly glance over at Sirius in shock.

"Who'd have thought to find you wandering about?" the witch said loftily before glancing at Harry who was looking between the two in confusion, "And well, I thought you reckless but… honestly?"

"Narcissa, this is an unexpected… pleasure," Sirius said through gritted teeth before ruffling Harry's hair. "I see you've found my son – I'm glad you can see him past that beak of yours."

Narcissa turned and glared at Sirius momentarily before approaching Harry who stiffened.

"And what would be your name, then?" Harry opened his mouth to respond with "Harry" before pausing and replying confidently as if he'd won a duel.

"My name is Corvus Black." Narcissa smiled thinly at him, before going to quickly brush aside his black fringe before drawing herself back to her full height.

"I see. May I ask -which- woman it was that gave you your son, Sirius?" she said, a number of eyes having been drawn before by the name Black – now a fair portion staring at Sirius.

"Honestly, I can't remember her name. A French woman – pureblood, before you start on that, Cissy." Harry didn't miss Narcissa's flinch to the use of her presumed name, or Sirius' smirk at her reaction.

"Well, at least you aren't sullying yourself with muggles anymore – honestly, I never understood their appeal to you." She replied cuttingly.

"Well, frankly my dear cousin, I never understood your taste for slimy snakes like Malfoy either, but you never saw me questioning that." He replied rudely, before Harry elbowed him.

"Dad, c'mon, that's a bit rude." He said while Narcissa smirked like she'd seized a quaffle in quidditch.

"Well, at least we can be glad your son didn't inherit your courtesy. I imagine you'll be looking forward to Hogwarts, Corvus?" she asked, arching an eyebrow curiously only for Sirius to respond.

"Hogwarts, as if. I know you think me reckless-"

"I know you're reckless, Sirius."

"- but I'm not insane like a lot of your friends."

Narcissa sighed and rolled her eyes.

"Well. Be careful Sirius. And I hope to see you again, Corvus – good day." After her parting words, Narcissa turned around and left, her black robes trailing behind her.

"I hate that bloody woman," Sirius muttered to Harry, as they started to walk through the gathered crowd who parted for them with seemingly more alarm than before.

"She called you Sirius – isn't that dangerous?"

Sirius only shrugged. "This is Knockturn Alley, I imagine most of them would want to shake my hand knowing who I am. It's in Diagon Alley we'll have to be more careful."

Harry nodded, continuing down the dark, twisting path.

After another quiet minute, Harry spotted the light at the end of the alley, sprinting past Sirius into the open street of Diagon Alley – bustling with shopping witches and wizards and full of golden sun light. Harry stopped in his tracks for the second time in the day – and simply stared around him. On all sides were shop windows filled with flamboyant displays of sweets, jewellery, books and toys. Sirius caught up quickly with a smirk, resting his hand on Harry's shoulder who didn't even appear to notice.

"Come on, I know where we're going first. Keep your head down and just keep following me."

Harry nodded, his long black hair falling over his face as they proceeded down the sunny street, listening into errant conversations about the upcoming Holyhead Harpies game against the Chudley Cannons, stories of evading muggle aircraft on brooms, and spells gone wrong.

However, it was cut short when Sirius suddenly guided him inside a narrow, shabby shop to the side of the road.

Immediately, he noticed how small the shop was – but also its height with thousands of wooden boxes aligned neatly on shelves rising to the ceiling that seemed like it could have never fit inside the small shop. With a single chair in the corner of the room, the shop appeared unoccupied but for the two Black wizards.

Harry's assumption was wrong – he jumped about half a foot into the air when an old man appeared behind them.

"Good evening, Mr Black, Mr Potter. Are we ready to begin?" Sirius nodded to the man who flicked his wand, causing shutters to descend down the windows and the door to click locked.

"You know, at first I was curious when Mr Black walked into my shop with a request for a private session – something I normally would never grant, but when he said you, Mr Potter, were coming, I had to accept."

Harry blinked, "Why?"

Ollivander smiled in a somewhat disturbing fashion. "Why, because everyone thinks Mr Black here murdered you as an infant."

Harry, doing his best not to show how disturbed he was, shrugged, "He didn't."

"As I can see. I'm glad – I have the feeling you will prove to be quite the interesting wizard. I know your parents became talented young people – as did young Mr Black here."

"You knew my parents?" Harry interrupted, staring at Ollivander with wide eyes, who nodded as Sirius went to sit down.

"Of course, I remember every wand I've sold, Mr Potter."

Harry ran a hand through his head, looking around curiously before Sirius spoke.

"We're here to get your wand, Harry, focus."

Ollivander's smile never left his lips as Harry's eyes widened in excitement.

"When do I get it then?" he asked with a grin, causing Ollivander to throw a tape measure at him – however, as Harry reached up to catch it, it flew away from his grip and started to measure him independently much to Harry's surprise.

"So, Mr Potter – what will we be looking for? I wonder what will suit you, hm?" Ollivander's meanderings were little more than a mutter as he wandered amongst the shelves – scouting amongst them before pulling out a few boxes – one number in particular standing out to Harry.

"Nine hundred and sixty-three? How many wands do you have, Mr…?"

"Ollivander, and many and more, Mr Potter. A wand for every wizard or witch. See, the trick is that the wand chooses the wizard," Ollivander murmured as he carefully picked up the first box – pulling a long ashen wand from it.

"Ash, Unicorn Hair, twelve inches long. Go on, Mr Potter – give it a wave."

And so Harry did, tentatively, give the wand a wave – and sent the newspaper his godfather had pulled out set alight much to their surprise.

"Bloody hell!" Sirius yelled as he pulled out his wand and countered the flames quickly while Ollivander carefully plucked the wand from Harry's grip.

"No matter, no matter – there are plenty more to try. Try this one – Ebony, Dragon Heartstring, thirteen inches long."

Harry flicked the wand upwards and sent a cascade of paper into the air to flutter down around him like snowflakes in a storm.

"Not… quite, but we're getting there." Ollivander glanced towards the last box – 963.

"Curious, but… perhaps to be expected. Here, Mr Potter, try this. Holly, Phoenix Feather, eleven inches long."

Harry peered at the wand a long while before taking, making certain to make no sudden movements with the wand.

"Go on, Mr Potter – we're eagerly waiting to see what happens," Ollivander said with a tinge of anticipation - Sirius, in comparison, seemed bored.

He gave it a swish – only for it to elicit a painful burning sensation in his fingers causing him to fling it across the room only to be caught by Sirius who casually handed it back to Ollivander.

"Well, maybe my faith was misplaced in that last one. Never mind, shall we try again?"

Harry nodded, a frown slowly forming upon his face – maybe he was a squib, and no wand would choose him? Ollivander seemed to sense his doubt, however.

"There is nothing to worry about, Mr Potter. Many great wizards took a long time to find their perfect wand. Including the one who you defeated ten years ago." Ollivander smiled slightly, while Sirius snapped out, twitching, "Great? He was a murderer."

"A murderer indeed, Mr Black, and whilst his deeds were terrible – we cannot ignore their greatness either." Ollivander seemed to muse on this for a moment, almost, before nodding as if given an idea and moving to the shelf on the left most corner of the room and pulling out a box.

"Here, Mr Potter. I think this one shall suit you admirably."

Harry took the long, pale wand from the box and shivered as a tingle passed through his arm though it was most certainly not unpleasant.

"Aspen, Dragon Heartstring, and twelve inches. Now, go on, try it," Ollivander urged Harry, his hands fidgeting with each other.

Overtaken by a sudden, bold urge, Harry pointed the wand at his godfather's newspaper and intoned loudly "Wingardium Leviosa!" with a swish and flick causing the newspaper to tug upwards from Sirius's grip. Ollivander blinked in surprise, and smiled faintly.

"Well done Mr Potter – it seems you have quite the intuitive grasp on magic. I'll expect great things from you."

"He also seems to have a particular aversion to the Daily Prophet," Sirius muttered bleakly while his godson grinned cheekily.

"Well, it was certainly a delight to meet you, but I imagine you'd best be off – the less time you are exposed in public, the better," Ollivander said as he took a pouch of coins from Sirius.

"Seven galleons, plus a bit extra for the private meeting. Thank you." They nodded to each other, before Sirius guided Harry outside again through the now unlocked door.

"So, that was interesting," Sirius remarked before Harry elbowed him.

"Oi! What was that for?"

"You being such a sarcastic ass is what that was for." Sirius just grinned before shushing Harry as they stepped off the steps to Ollivander's and back onto the street, travelling down towards a large building with tall, white pillars.

"Gringotts. We're going to get some money out for you and although we'll be ordering a lot of your books I'll let you choose a few of your own with the money I give you."

Harry nodded – it made sense to him, and soon after they emerged into the grand hall where it was deadly silent but for the quiet murmurings of business conducted by the goblins behind their tall wood podiums. They quietly made their way towards the front where a goblin was scrawling onto a piece of parchment.

Sirius coughed, but the goblin did not look up to speak.

"Name."

Sirius lowered his voice, and leaned in to whisper to the goblin who merely nodded, stepped down and gestured they follow down a small corridor.

"Good evening, Mr Black – we were informed you would be showing up today, and this…?" The goblin's voice lacked curiosity, but retained the flat courtesy of a businessman.

"This would be my son and heir, Corvus Black."

The goblin nodded. "I presume you will be wanting to sign him as your heir to the estate and vault while you are here?" Sirius nodded in confirmation.

"Well then – first we shall visit your vault, then get around to signing the appropriate documents. Shall we?" Sirius inclined his head, and followed the goblin who proceeded down the corridor with - much to Harry's amusement – a very prominent waddle.

Harry and Sirius stumbled out of the cart – wet, dizzy and very much in danger of throwing up.

"If you're about done, shall we carry on?" the goblin asked sternly. Sirius just held up a finger – luckily not his middle which he so commonly raised towards Harry – and quickly checked Harry's forehead, blinking in surprise but nodding. Harry reached up and rubbed his forehead – the scar wasn't there, just as it hadn't been since he drank the potion. He merely gave a shrug at Sirius' odd behaviour and carried on only to pause immediately afterwards at the sight of a large, albino dragon snoozing.

"Uhm. Why's that thing here?" he asked, a tinge of doubt creeping into his voice.

"Security, Master Black. Don't worry – we can control him," the goblin said while he picked up an odd instrument that he was careful not to shake as he walked past the slumbering drake.

They passed a few vaults – the goblin having noted proudly that these were all "The wealthiest and most influential families in Britain," before they reached the Black vault.

"So, as you can see, Mr Black – your fortune still remains vast, would you care for a comparison to the other estates?" The goblin's tone was still formal, but underneath there seemed a passion.

"I've never been offered that before, but never cared mu-"Sirius began, before being interrupted by a curious Harry, "That sounds great – go on." The goblin looked delighted, nodding, either ignoring or unaware of Sirius glaring at Harry and him.

"Well, you remain the third wealthiest family in Britain – behind the houses of Lestrange and Malfoy. Though, I must confess – at this point, it's rather difficult to catch up to the Malfoys. Their wealth grows exponentially with each year – their head of house is a genius in that respect. Anyway, the house of Black is still ahead of the Greengrass family by a fair margin, though due to your family's… stagnation, that gap will likely not remain as such for long-"

Sirius yawned loudly, interrupting the goblin, "Are we done yet?"

The goblin paused, as if collecting himself after what seemed to be a moment of annoyance and nodding, "Of course, Mr Black."

"Thank you, that was interesting," Harry said to the goblin who inclined his head.

"It was my pleasure, now – shall we head inside?" the goblin asked before opening the door with a wave of his hand.

And as Harry walked inside, he saw the mountains of gold – various ornaments and pieces of armour, weapons and paintings. The whole gigantic chamber gleamed with the gold that covered nearly every part of the onyx surface.

"How much were you wanting to extract, exactly, Mr Black?" the goblin asked politely.

"Well, Durmstrang is a school for pure blood and half-bloods – and it's unlikely they're poor if they're at Durmstrang, so… a hundred galleons a month?"

Harry blinked, before asking tentatively:

"What's the exchange rate for galleons to pounds?"

"Well, Master Black, based on the current value of the pound, a galleon is worth fifteen pounds. Why?" Harry just shook his head – a curious expression upon his face.

"Just wondered." Sirius let out a snigger for some reason and the goblin sighed and spoke simply.

"Very well, we shall send Master Black here his money every month. This way, it won't pass through you. This service will cost you ten galleons each time. Is this agreed?" Sirius nodded, and shook hands with the goblin who gestured for them to follow – the vault door closing behind them silently.

"We'll require you to sign this parchment, then we'll sign the legal forms for Master Black to become your heir."

It didn't take long – Harry ended up waiting behind, watching the snoozing dragon for a few minutes before they appeared behind him.

"Ready to go, Corvus?" Harry nodded towards his godfather, and they set off – back through the tracks and to the main hall.

After a long, sickening ride on the tram back to the bank, they stepped off – the goblin bowing to them and thanking them for visiting. When left alone, Sirius paused for a moment in thought, before speaking.

"Huh. I'm glad that's over. Now – Corvus, if you want you can linger in Diagon Alley another hour or so, and then I'll pick you up from outside Borgin and Burkes in Knockturn Alley if you want, or we can head home now. Up to you."

Harry opened his mouth in surprise – Sirius had never given him this much freedom, and the idea of being on his own seemed… scary?

"I'll stay here for an hour."

Sirius nodded, ruffling his son's hair, without making a single facet of difference to it in the end.

"Alright – be careful. Don't be stupid."

They hugged briefly, and Sirius gave him a large pouch of coins before leaving. Harry stayed inside a moment longer, hesitant.

It was noon when Harry emerged from the bank – the sun hovering overhead, leaving the streets even brighter than before.

"Guess I spent a little longer in there than I thought," Harry muttered quietly before setting off down the street, glancing at the shops that he passed by – and much to his surprise, nobody gave him a second glance. The way his godfather had acted had made him believe that even the sight of him would ruin the charade.

He supposed no one was perfect.

He glanced to the side, at Flourish and Blotts – a new book floating around in the window in an attempt to draw people in. He gave a shrug and headed inside – why not find some new reading material? He'd already devoured the first three editions of the standard book of spells – and although the Black Library was extensive, his godfather constantly tried to prevent him from reading books on the dark arts which limited his choice substantially.

"Um, sir, how much is this book?" asked a young girl with bushy hair, and slightly larger than normal front teeth. The tired man leaned over, peering at the book before smiling.

"That'd be… thirteen sickles, dear."

The girl blinked, rummaging through her pockets before pulling out thirteen sickles.

"Sickles are the silver ones, right?"

Harry grinned, slightly bemused and answered before the manager could.

"Yeah, they are. Are you muggleborn, then?" Harry asked the slightly frazzled looking girl who looked up and nodded briefly.

"Not that it matters, though, does it?" she said while putting the book into her bag, the manager shaking his head with a slight smile upon his face.

"No, not really – but I've never met a muggleborn before, so I was a bit curious."

"What, so now I'm just something to gawk at, like an animal in a zoo?"

Harry blinked, taken aback by the girl's sharp retort.

"Um, I didn't mean it like that," Harry answered to the young witch who stood with her hands on her hips, "I just meant like, well, it's interesting to meet someone who aint a pureblood?"

The glare slowly went away before she smiled faintly, her cheeks flushing a little.

"I guess. It must get pretty boring only seeing your cousins and family." Harry arched a brow curiously. "Well. All the old pure blood families are related aren't they?" the girl said quickly.

"Yeah. I guess – anyway, what were you buying?"

"Oh. My parents let me buy myself a book – so I decided to get Hogwarts: A History so I can read about it before I get there." The manager slowly shuffled away to the other end of the store.

Harry blinked, before nodding, "Makes sense – I read about Durmstrang once I knew I was going there."

That made her pause, Harry noted, before she spoke out.

"Don't they practice the dark arts at Durmstrang?" Her voice had lost that bossy tone, replaced now with a tinge of uncertainty.

"Yeah. My dad isn't the biggest fan, but… honestly it's kind of fascinating." Harry said swiftly, before blinking – realizing how he sounded.

"But, they're really bad aren't they? That's why we're going to be taught how to defend against them."

"Well, sure, they can be used for something bad. But so can a charm, or transfiguration, right?"

Hermione frowned, before glancing out the window in surprise.

"Well, I guess – I'm sorry, but I have to go. I'm Hermione by the way – Hermione Granger. What was your name again?"

"Oh. I'm Corvus Black." Hermione nodded towards Harry, pausing for a moment before frowning and heading outside towards a couple who clapped her on the back and lead her away.

Shaking his head with a faint smile, Harry went off towards the shelves, starting to examine the multiple titles on display.

It was twenty five minutes later that he walked out of the store with two new books – one on the conjuration of fire, and another on language charms. He looked around immediately after exiting – wondering where next to explore before deciding to just search around a little.

As he explored the streets, wandering in and out of various sweet stores – eventually finding a bag for himself – he wasted the time he had left to him, soon turning into Knockturn Alley where he discovered a strange antiques shop by the name of "Borgin & Burkes".

The shop was gloomy, and had a stale smell to it, as if it hadn't been tended to in years – Harry wrinkled his nose however, and pressed on, closing the door behind him.

Unfortunately, that seemed to draw the attention of a man lurking in the shadows clutching a quill and papers.

"Who's there?" the man called out, peering around a table stacked with antiques – necklaces, strange trophies and ritualistic weaponry.

"Um. I am." The man groaned at Harry's reply.

"Bloody brilliant. Another kid wandering into my shop – bet you're a muggleborn too."

Harry bristled at the insult – snapping back venomously more out of a need to defend his honour than genuine hurt.

"I'm not a muggleborn!"

The oily haired man peered at him curiously, before responding quietly.

"Then answer the question, who are you? I only do business with a select number of people, and I doubt you're related to any of them."

Harry paused, collecting himself before speaking calmly, and with the slightest tone of authority.

"My name is Corvus Black."

The man raised an eyebrow, and for someone so obviously acquainted with the wizarding world Harry was surprised by his lack of reaction.

"Now, there's something I doubt very much."

Harry shrugged – it's not like he cared much if he was believed or not, "Can I look around or not, then?"

The man paused, before answering with a wave of his hand. "Go ahead. Just don't touch anything if you value your life." Harry gave him an uncertain smile before starting to wander around – peering at the necklace he spotted earlier, before moving over to an old scroll. Yet, the man's eyes never left his back until the door opened again to an exasperated Sirius who looked flushed and flicked his left hand towards Harry, quickly flexing his grip as he did so.

"I leave you alone for an hour and you end up in Borgin and Burkes of all places!"

The man's eyes stared at Sirius for a moment before drawing his wand, Sirius glanced over at the man momentarily before sighing.

"Honestly, Borgin, you'd think that you'd treat the head of the house of Black a bit better than that."

Harry blinked – Sirius didn't care if the man knew?

"Can't be certain you won't try and obliviate me. Again."

Sirius let out a groan before speaking "Honestly, if I failed the first time, what makes you think I'd try again?"

"Because you're an idiot?" was Borgin's cutting reply.

"Guilty as charged. Unfortunately, also an idiot who's already holding his wand. So please, lower yours." Sirius raised his hand, and sure enough his wand was in his left hand – and Harry was left wondering how exactly he did that without anyone noticing.

Borgin didn't seem to care as much, however, and rolled his eyes before lowering his wand.

"Never realized you had a son, Sirius. Or that you were so opposed to my shop – you've been visiting here for the last few years almost religiously."

Sirius shrugged, glancing at Harry curiously, before back to Borgin.

"Let's be honest, I'd hardly want my child to be in a shop populated almost solely by former Death Eaters."

Borgin snorted, walking over to Harry, finally taking an interest in what he was examining.

"Bit hypocritical. Either way, seems as if your son has fairly similar tastes in literature to those Death Eaters." Sirius paused slightly, before shrugging.

"Just says a lot about them that they share the same taste as an eleven year old. Anyway – we'd best be off, Corvus still hasn't had dinner, and it's a long walk back." Borgin nodded, placing a firm hand on Harry's shoulder and guiding him away from the scroll back towards Sirius.

"Very well then – have a good journey. And pay a visit soon – Lucius Malfoy recently sold me something I'm certain you'd have an interest in."

Sirius gave a nod to Borgin, and led Harry out of the shop – and out of Knockturn Alley.

"So, you've been using the name Corvus Black to anyone who asks, have you?" Sirius asked casually.

"Well, yeah. Only two people though."

Sirius let out a sigh of relief, visibly relaxing.

"Well, Borgin's one of them, so who's the other?"

"Um. A girl, muggleborn, called Hermione." Sirius arched a brow teasingly at his son, "What?" Harry asked in confusion before Sirius shook his head.

"I can't wait for you to grow a bit older, you'll be so fun to tease." Sirius shrugged before carrying on, "So, this girl – Hermione -, what was her reaction?"

"Honestly, I don't think she knew who you were, so, shouldn't matter much."

Sirius nodded, ruffling Harry's already wild hair, the rest of the walk back being continued in silence.

28th August, 1991, Portsmouth

Sirius looked around, wrapping his robe tighter around him, "Merlin's beard, if we have to wait much longer I think I'll turn into an icicle."

Harry snorted – he was already wrapped up in furs, ready for the long journey north. "Why here anyway? Can't muggles see us?"

Sirius shook his head. "The whole place is warded, any muggles looking in will feel very uncomfortable, and see only ruins."

"What – how do they do that?"

Sirius snorted, "Wait until you get to the bloody school, that's why you're going." Harry groaned, looking up at his godfather pleadingly.

"You'd be the worst teacher," Harry said, looking up at Sirius – before jumping in surprise as a loud, clear voice rang out behind them.

"I'd very much concur with that assessment." Harry and Sirius whirled around to face a tall man with long blonde hair flowing down over a dark green robe, a hand on the shoulder of a young boy with similar blonde hair – if much more short and stylish -, a pointed face, and similar aristocratic features.

"Lucius. Is this yours and Cissy's spawn, then?" Sirius said with a gesture towards the young boy whose face contorted in anger at the perceived insult.

"Yes, he is my "spawn" as you put it so indelicately. And his name is Draco. I'd much prefer you use it."

Sirius paused, before nodding.

"I'm surprised to see Cissy isn't here – or a gang of Aurors ready to arrest me."

Lucius rolled his eyes. "Honestly, Sirius – why would I, of all people, try and have you arrested?

"Because, let's be honest, Lucius, we don't exactly get along."

"Yet, calling the Aurors on you wouldn't result in much but a few dead – or knocked out, in your case – men being reported on by the Daily Prophet."

Sirius let out a loud snort, "Lucius, I'm not certain if you believe what the Prophet says about me being some wizard on the level of You-Know-Who, but I certainly can't bring down a group of Aurors on my own."

Lucius sighed before his wife spoke up for him from behind Sirius and Harry, causing them to jump yet again.

"What my husband is trying to get at, is that it wouldn't benefit us. If you were given a trial, we'd be in Azkaban alongside you."

Sirius smirked slightly as Draco glanced up at his parents inquisitively before speaking out loudly.

"… So you're actually Sirius Black? The murderer?"

"Come now, Draco, we mustn't forget our manners. You shouldn't call him a murderer like that," Lucius chided his son.

Draco muttered out something along the lines of "Yes, Father" before Sirius replied with a grin.

"Yeah, I am, and if you annoy me or my son I'll set my house elf on you."

Harry rolled his eyes as Draco snorted back laughter.

"Come now, Sirius, Kreacher was never that bad," Narcissa chimed in only to have Harry cut over her abruptly.

"You're joking, right? He's a nightmare!"

Draco smirked towards Harry, "Our house elf is great, never puts a foot out of line."

Harry beat Lucius' attempt to berate his son, loudly retorting "I bet he's the one that gives you all the wax for your hair."

Sirius grinned as Cissy rolled her eyes while Draco stopped to think of a retort.

"Well, at least I don't look like someone who's never seen a pair of scissors in their life!"

"That's rich, look at your d-"Abruptly, Harry's mouth was covered by Sirius' hand.

"Well, if there was any doubt to that being your son, it's gone now." Narcissa said coolly, glancing out at the waters.

Draco just stood there grinning at Harry, giving him a fake cheerful smile as Harry started glaring at him, trying to shove Sirius away. "I know. I'm so proud."

Lucius sighed, gesturing with a hand towards the sea. "You won't get to be proud of him for much longer. The ship's sailing in at the minute."

Sirius raised an eyebrow at Lucius' odd phrasing before moving his hand from Harry's mouth.

"Well, at least we know there'll be at least one other person who Draco will know." Narcissa said, sounding oddly upbeat at the prospect.

Draco smirked slightly, and Harry rolled his eyes. Sirius just peered at Narcissa oddly for a moment before shrugging.

"Well, best get to saying goodbyes then. Corvus – if you aren't better than Draco at quidditch I'll snap your wand in half," Sirius said seriously enough that Harry was taken aback for a moment before grinning and giving his godfather a hug.

"Draco – take care, and try not to do anything stupid. They're much harsher at Durmstrang than Hogwarts," Narcissa said whilst fussing over the state of Draco's clothes, his father just watching the two with what seemed to be a lack of patience.

"Honestly – Mother, I'll be fine," Draco sighed, before shifting away and picking up his incredibly large trunk with what seemed to be ease – no doubt using a feather light charm, Harry identified before nodding and grabbing his own – turning to see the ship silently coming in to port silently – the ship wasn't as large as Harry had expected, though it was still impressive – looking like a galleon from centuries past.

"Is that it?" Draco asked in a tone of disappointment.

"You never know what's on the boat though," Harry responded with a cheeky grin towards Draco who smirked and started running across the docks at lightning speed – the wooden planks shaking violently underneath him. Harry glanced backwards at a melancholy Lucius, a pleased Sirius, and an anxious Narcissa who he nodded towards before following Draco onto the ship.