Resurrection

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. All recognisable characters, content, or locations belong to their respective owners. No copyright infringement intended.

Summary: The Triwizard Tournament has been revived at Hogwarts, but monsters lurk in the abyss, and not all is as it seems. meanwhile, Fenrir Greyback's death, and Sirius Black's exoneration, have unavoidable, far-reaching consequences. Werewolves, Death Eaters, and Voldemort, nothing will ever be the same. GoF AU. OOC. Sequel to 'Resolution'.

Rating: T for language, violence and character death.

Author: tlyxor1.

Resurrection

Chapter One: The Islington House

June 24th, 1994

Harry's departure from Hogwarts was bittersweet. He didn't dread it as he had in years passed, but for a long time, Hogwarts had been his refuge. It wasn't safe by any means, but it had been far better than the alternative - Privet Drive, the Dursleys, his life before magic - and thus, it had always hurt to leave it behind.

This summer, however, Harry James Potter had something to look forward to. He was Sirius Black's ward. He would live with the man and his Great Aunt Cassiopeia. Best of all, however, was the fact he would not be returning to Little Whinging. If he was lucky, he would never have to see them again.

"You've gotten better at poker," Neville Longbottom observed. He was a stocky, tawny haired boy with the beginnings of whiskers on his chin, with brown eyes and an easy smile. He'd come a long way from the chubby, timid boy who'd run off with the sorting hat, but he'd also become a remarkable friend.

"I've been practicing my Occlumency," Harry answered.

"It shows," Theo contributed, "You're not such an open book. How are your shields?"

Theo Nott was a Slytherin Harry had met the summer prior. He'd crossed paths with a werewolf by the name of Fenrir Greyback and Harry had intervened. In the months that had followed, the Nott scion had become a close, stalwart friend.

"It's difficult to say. I haven't tested them against Snape and Dumbledore, obviously, and I don't know any other legillimens. Even if I did, I probably wouldn't ask them to. Test my shields, I mean."

"I guess I don't blame you," Neville acknowledged, "The mind arts are rather personal. It's why most scions learn when they're young. Less secrets, more unconditional trust."

The conversation waned as Theo folded with a muttered oath. Then he checked the time, stood, stretched, and addressed them both. "I'm out. Next time, we play with gold."

"Not happening," Harry answered lightly. Theo and Neville laughed. "You off?"

Theo nodded. "I told Blaise I'd sit with him and the others for a while."

Despite Theo's association with Harry, Neville, and a Hufflepuff in their year, Susan Bones, he'd been able to maintain strong connections with his Slytherin peers. It helped that most students their age couldn't care less about politics, but it did mean a fair deal of time spent with Draco Malfoy.

Harry sympathised. These days, he tried to avoid the Slytherin seeker but sometimes, confrontations were unavoidable. Malfoy's resentment of Harry had festered and had eventually culminated in an honour duel five months previously, though that hadn't been the end of their schoolyard rivalry. There had been encounters since, Draco's quiet loathing and Harry's certainty that it would become far worse before it was over.

It was all rather dramatic, really. Malfoy was a familiar, almost predictable constant though, and Harry, despite himself, had never been able to walk away from trouble. Draco wasn't Voldemort, but the pair of them had always clashed, and Harry doubted that would ever change. They were too different, with different values, beliefs, and attitudes. They would probably never be able to bury the hatchet.

He opted not to dwell on it. They were on their way to London, he wouldn't have to see the boy for two months, and life was good.

In fact, it had probably never been better.

"Have fun," Neville acknowledged, a small grin on his face. "And if we don't see you, have a good summer."

"You both, as well." He left.

The rest of the train ride passed uneventfully. They received intermittent visits from their respective friends, but by the time they had reached London, Harry's back ached, he was tired, hungry and agitated. A lot of people were perturbed by the revelation that Lupin was a werewolf, and the thought grated. Lupin was a good man and an even better wizard. Harry hated that he was defined by a curse he'd acquired through no fault of his own. He'd learned, however, that prejudice ran rampant through every society and unfortunately, he couldn't change people's minds.

He could only attempt to enlighten them. It would take a long time, of course, but if Remus could one day hold his head high without shame and fear of recrimination, then who was he not to try?

Once in London, Harry found Sirius already awaiting his arrival. Platform 9 and 3/4 was crowded, but people offered the newest Lord Black a wide berth and thus, it was easy to seek him out. Whether the space was due to his status as a former inmate of Azkaban, or due to his noble title, Harry didn't know. He didn't care to find out, either.

"How was the trip?" Sirius enquired.

"It was alright," Harry answered. Around them, the platform began to empty, "Where are we going?"

"Not far," he replied, "We're apparating. Have you ever travelled side-along?"

""Only with Totsy."

"Better then nothing," Sirius acknowledged, "Brace yourself. It's not pleasant."

With Harry's trunk shrunken in his pocket, Sirius took hold of Harry's elbow and turned on his heel. Harry closed his eyes, braced for anything.

Even as he'd been prepared for the unexpected, the sensation that washed over him was entirely startling in it's unpleasantness. It felt as though his entire body had been squeezed through Petunia Durseley's vacuum cleaner, and when it was over, Harry was gasping for breath he'd not realised he'd lost.

"What the bloody hell was that?" He groused. "That was awful!"

"It's better when you're not the passenger," Sirius consoled, "I'm impressed though. Most people throw up the first time."

"That doesn't make me feel any better," Harry answered dully, cast his gaze around, and arched a skeptical eyebrow. "You live here?"

They were in a part of Greater London that had seen better days, in a dingy street littered with old beer bottles, fast food wrappers, and disconcertingly high piles of uncollected rubbish. It wasn't what he'd expected of the Ancient and Noble House of Black.

Then again, he wasn't too sure of what he'd expected. He'd learned that the Ancient and Noble House of Black had been notoriously 'dark' in the past. Given that the House of Potter had been traditionally 'grey' with 'light leanings, Redridge Hall and the Mayfair House hadn't offered him much of an indication, either. All the same, he was surprised not to find something a little - or a lot - more ostentatious.

"This is the Black family townhouse," Sirius explained. He gestured theatrically towards the house they stood in front of, "Number 12, Grimmauld Place. I grew up here."

The house was a tall, imposing structure, with stone walls and dimly lit windows. It seemed to have walked right out of Georgian era London, and it appeared as though the house hadn't been maintained since. In fact, it seemed borderline condemned.

"It's…" Harry floundered, and failed, to provide an apt description.

Sirius smiled wryly. "It's better on the inside. Shall we go in?"

He nodded. "After you."

True to Sirius' word, the house was far better on the inside. He wasn't sure what it had looked like previously, but the cream coloured walls were freshly painted and the light wood floors were newly polished.

"This is the front hallway, obviously," Sirius explained, and then proceeded to guide Harry through a tour around the house. Disregarding the basement, it was three storeys all together, and every magically expanded inch of it had been renovated. The structure remained the same, but the floors had been replaced, the walls stripped of their previous colour scheme, and much of the furniture newly purchased, as well.

The exceptions were the public areas, though Harry doubted he'd spend much time in them. They were distinctly more formal than Harry was at all comfortable with.

"And this is your room."

They'd come to a stop on the top floor of the house. He could see a stairway that led up to the attic, but otherwise, there was a small living area illuminated by firelight, and two doors on opposite ends of the small common room.

"The other one's mine."

Sirius opened the door to Harry's room, stepped back, and allowed Harry to take it in. Comparatively speaking, it was larger than Dudley's, but much of the space was occupied with a full sized sleigh bed covered by a burgundy comforter. The walls were a nondescript cream, the carpet beneath his feet a soft brown. It was, essentially, gender neutral, and Harry was mildly surprised.

"Cassiopeia and I weren't sure what you'd like," Sirius explained, "And we didn't want to assume. You're welcome to decorate it as you please."

"I like it," Harry assured, "Thank you."

He didn't want to admit that he'd never had a room of his own before. It was somewhat mortifying, actually, and it would also be something awkward to explain. In any case, Privet Drive was part of his past, and it wasn't important. Not anymore.

"This is your home," Sirius answered, "You'll inherit it one day."

"Right," he acknowledged, "That's not a frightening prospect. At all."

"Don't worry," Sirius assured, "I don't plan to kick the bucket any time soon. I've got a lot of living left to do."

Harry tried to find comfort in his godfather's words, though he wasn't particularly successful. He knew, perhaps better than most his age, that life was fragile. It could be snuffed out in the blink of an eye, more so in the magical world, and nothing was ever certain.

"I'll hold you to that, Padfoot. I still have no idea how to manage a family estate."

"That's alright. Cassiopeia and I will teach you everything you need to know. All of that can wait until tomorrow, however. In the mean time, I'll let you get settled in."

"Can I summon Totsy, or…?"

Sirius nodded. "She's welcome here. Speaking of elves though, my mother's elf, Kreacher, is lurking around here somewhere. He's off his rocker, so just a head's up."

"Err… I'll keep that in mind, I suppose."

"That's all, I think. Um, dinner will be ready in about an hour, so just make your way into the kitchen when you're hungry."

Sirius left, Harry stepped into his room, and produced his trunk from his pocket. Totsy appeared without prompting, resized it, an began to magic his things into their appropriate places. The trunk seemed to shake itself as she did, and Harry made a mental note not to shrink it again. It didn't seem to appreciate the treatment.

"How is Master Henry being doing?"

"I'm alright, Totsy," Harry answered, "How are you?"

Totsy offered him a grin. "Totsy is being well, Master Henry."

As she spoke, she produced the bag of gold from the summer prior. It was a result of the bounty on Fenrir Greyback's head, and Harry still hadn't gotten around to depositing it in his vault. He supposed it would do better in circulation - boosting the economy, and all that - but he honestly had no idea what he would spend it on.

Perhaps Sirius would have some suggestions.

"What will Totsy be doing with this, Master Henry?"

"Maybe keep it in a safe place for now," Harry answered, "In Redridge Hall, I think."

The manor was on lockdown, which essentially meant no unrelated guests. He could trust that the gold would remain safe there. Although he wasn't particularly concerned about his fortune in Gringott's, he was also uncomfortably familiar with the excessive number of goblin rebellions throughout history.

Perhaps, then, it would be wise to deposit some of his gold elsewhere.

The thought bore further consideration. At this point in time, however, Harry was unprepared to make such decisions.

Totsy nodded her acquiescence. "Totsy is being putting it in the catacombs. It is being safe there."

Before he could ask what the catacombs were, Totsy popped out of sight. Meanwhile, Harry himself shuffled into his bedroom's attached bathroom, certain his enquiry could wait a while. He took advantage of the facilities provided, and afterwards, he dressed in the comfortable clothes Totsy had left out for his use. Then he made his way downstairs, into the basement kitchen, and to the dinner awaiting him there.

Sirius was already seated at the dining table, a glass of wine at his elbow. A stack of paperwork was spread out in front of him, but upon Harry's entry, he glanced up and smiled. He was a far cry from the man who'd escaped Azkaban, and briefly, Harry marvelled over the capabilities of magic. He didn't think muggle means could have ever returned Sirius to full health.

"You settle in alright, Harry?"

He nodded. "I did. Thanks, again."

"No problem," he acknowledged, "Take a seat. Cassiopeia will be joining us shortly."

As Harry settled himself in the seat to Sirius' right, he queried, "What are you working on?"

"The finances for the Black Estate," Sirius answered. He explained that after the death of Arcturus Black in 1991, the accounts hadn't been properly managed. The goblin responsible for the misconduct had been 'taken care of'', but it left Sirius - and his new account manager - with an impressive mess to clean up.

"Sounds exhausting."

"More tedious than anything." Sirius banished the paperwork to his study. "Better than politics, at least."

"I'll take your word for it," Harry acknowledged. Overhead, the doorbell sounded. "Is that Great Aunt Cassiopeia?"

Sirius nodded, excused himself to answer the door, and returned shortly thereafter. Cassiopeia followed him into the room, Harry rose to greet her, and the woman studied him critically.

"You've grown," she observed, "You'll need some new clothes. A whole new wardrobe, I think. Sirius?"

"In time, Aunt," he answered, "There are other things that take priority, don't you think? Besides, he's still growing. Might as well wait until the end of August."

They settled down to eat dinner, and Harry was unsurprised to find it exceedingly awkward. He'd gotten to know Sirius and Cassiopeia through a consistent exchange of letters throughout the spring and summer terms, but in all actuality, he'd spent very little time with them. The discomfort was inevitable, but they'd all made an effort.

It was more than the Dursleys had ever done. Disregarding that, it would eventually get better. They simply needed time.

"I've got word on the inquest," Cassiopeia informed them. Harry raised his head, unabashedly curious. It was he and his friends' complaints to their respective guardians that had been the catalyst for the DMLE's investigation, after all. He'd not paid much attention to the goings on beyond the various interviews he'd given with aurors Savage and Robards, though he was interested to hear about the results. "Bones has Dumbledore on probation. He and the Hogwarts Board of Governors need to get their act together, or risk criminal charges. It should be in the 'Prophet' in the next few days."

"On what grounds?" Sirius queried. He seemed unsurprised, though Harry wished he could say the same for himself. He'd not expected that outcome. Actually, he'd not expected much of an outcome at all. He'd simply wanted their - unwarranted - punishments revoked.

"Child endangerment, neglect, harassment with regards to Snape, among other things. I didn't learn much else, though I do know the DMLE, in conjunction with the Department of Wizarding Education, will be keeping a sharp eye on the school." She addressed Harry, "Your next term should be interesting, to say the least."

Harry's smile was wry. "It always is, Aunt Cassiopeia."

"I don't doubt that," Cassiopeia acknowledged, "Though it really oughtn't be. Hogwarts is a school, after all, not some kind of demented adventure park. It's absurd what's gone on under Dumbledore's authority, honestly."

She looked set to continue, but Sirius cut her off with a tactless change of subject. Harry was silently grateful. He wasn't inclined to be witness - or victim - of his great aunt's temper, or Sirius' for that matter. He'd had enough of that at Privet Drive, thank you very much.

While the adults conversed, Harry finished his meal, drank his water, and listened absently. Dinner was cleared away quickly, however, replaced with a chocolate mousse that Harry ate with enthusiasm, a smile on his face.

He could, without regrets, get used to life far from Privet Drive.

Author's Note: Been sitting on this one for a while, trying to decide whether or not I should go into details regarding the inquest, or just the results, but I eventually just decided to write the latter. Other than that, I don't think I'll ever get around to finishing the revision of 'Resolution', but who knows? Hope you enjoyed. Leave a review. -t.