Disclamer - Rick Riordan owns PJO and JK Rowling owns HP. I'm just a poor college student.

Chapter 1 – In which missing relatives are found

Albus wondered off-handedly if it was possible to feel so old and still be alive.

For years he had known that Tom was not really dead and that he would one day come back to fulfill the prophecy. He even had his suspicions on how he had achieved this sort of invulnerability – suspicions that had been confirmed by the same boy who had vanquished him over a decade ago at the end of the last school year.

For this reason, he had worked relentlessly to make sure his inevitable return didn't catch them unprepared.

He had kept in contact with most of the former Order members (those few who had survived the war, anyway) and he had also kept his eyes open for possible recruits among the younger generations and even the actual student body (the Weasleys were almost a given, of course, but he had pinpointed a few others that could prove to be great allies, like Nymphadora Tonks and Cedric Diggory).

He had begun his research on Horcruxes – and what objects Tom could've used to guard his soul – and he had hidden the Boy-Who-Lived, their only hope of ever seeing Voldemort defeated, with his muggle relatives where he was protected by powerful blood wards. Not to mention, the muggle world was terribly complicated to navigate for pureblood wizards and witches.

Of course, just when everything seemed to be going for the best, fate had thrown a monkey wrench into his plans in the form of Sirius Black.

That boy had always had the exceptional ability to make everything he touched go pear-shaped and Albus was not afraid to admit he had once delighted in and even admired his penchant for laying destruction to the enemy's best laid plans.

Now, though…

He really couldn't fathom what had gone wrong with the young Black.

"…and that's why I believe having Dementors at Hogwarts would be a good idea."

Albus tuned back into the conversation just as Cornelius reiterated the need for Dementors for what had to be the millionth time that week.

"I like it even less than you do, Albus, I assure you."

He shook his head. "I doubt it, Cornelius. You won't be the one sharing a school with those wretched creatures and you can only imagine the effects they will have on the children." He glanced at the Phoenix resting peacefully on his perch out of the corner of his eye and he felt his spirits lift a little. "No, I won't allow them on school grounds and while I cannot stop you from stationing them in Hogsmeade, I beseech you to reconsider. They are malignant beings not fit to guard a prison full of criminals, let alone a school."

The head in the fireplace snorted, sending tendrils of flame careening through the air. "Spare me the melodramatic political propaganda, Albus. I cannot, and will not, kick the Dementors out of Azkaban just because you think they're an inhuman punishment. They're the only thing standing between us and worse monsters."

"Alas, that's something we won't ever agree on and I can only hope you'll never have to witness just how unpredictable and uncontrollable Dementors can be." He stared at Cornelius over the frame of his glasses and he was pleased to see him squirming (or as close to squirming as a disembodied head could get). "Still, I won't allow them anywhere near my school and that's final."

"And what happens if Black isn't caught before getting to Scotland? You know who he's going to target."

"I'm perfectly aware of that, Cornelius." He retorted sharply, his voice taking on an unyielding tone, "The school is well protected, I assure you. The safety of my students is not something I take lightly."

Cornelius hurried to nod, appearing surprised that his seemingly innocent question had been taken as an insult. "Of course, of course. I was not trying to imply that, well…you know, that you wouldn't be able to defend your students. Still," he continued hesitantly, not meeting Albus' eyes, "after what happened during the last two school years…the board of Governors is understandably worried."

Blaming someone else for his fears seemed to give him the strength necessary to say his next piece. Albus often wondered why the magical population of Britain had chosen someone as weak-willed and easily manipulated as Cornelius Fudge as its first minister. The answer, frankly, scared him.

"I mean, You-Know-Who managed to infiltrate Hogwarts twice! He possessed two different people and almost killed many more." He sighed deeply. "Many parents would consider the Dementors a lesser threat compared to a man who murdered thirteen people with a single curse."

Albus forced his lips to stretch into a credible smile. From the way the other man paled, he suspected it ended up looking more like a baring of teeth than anything else. "Ah, but Sirius Black is not Vol–"

"Don't say his name!"

"–demort." He resisted the urge to roll his eyes at Cornelius' outburst. Now, that would be undignified. "He doesn't have his resources," I hope, "nor his considerable power. And while he was always a successful and bright student, I've no doubt Azkaban has greatly damaged his thinking abilities."

"I wouldn't bet on that, Albus." Cornelius snorted, still looking a bit put-out by his use of Voldemort's name. "You seem to forget that I visited the prisoners many times throughout my tenure. Black isn't insane by any stretch of the word. Last time I saw him, right before he evaded, he was lucid and perfectly capable of critical thinking." He shook his head, his lips as thin as Minerva's on a bad day. "We shouldn't underestimate him. Mark my words, Albus – he is as dangerous as he ever was."

A shiver ran down Albus' spine. He himself hadn't gone back to Azkaban since before the end of the war. He hadn't personally seen the effects the Dementors had had on Sirius Black, but simply assumed he would be no better than any other prisoner: either catatonic or crazy. And while an insane person was by no means harmless, they rarely had the lucidity necessary to plan ahead (Albus firmly believed an enemy without a plan was a dead enemy).

Dementors truly were terrifying creatures, worse than any curse or torture invented by man, and the possibility that someone could be completely unaffected by them was almost absurd.

If what Cornelius said was true and Sirius Black was indeed immune to their powers, then either his determination and will were stronger than Albus had ever suspected or, perhaps even more worrying, he didn't have enough of a conscience left to feel guilty.

Maybe the other man was right, after all; maybe he really was underestimating the threat.

He could feel a migraine building up just behind his eyes and his limbs felt uncharacteristically heavy, even for a man of his considerable age.

Albus wondered, just for a moment, if perhaps it was time to rest and let someone else take over. He was old, too old, and he often felt as if his brain was slowing down, as if it was unable to think and scheme and imagine with the speed and agility he was used to and the outside world was but a muffled jumble of sounds.

What if Cornelius had it right? What if allowing the Dementors into Hogwarts was the only way to keep Harry and the other students safe?

Then again, he reminded himself, Dementors were hardly the lesser evil.

Harry could learn to defend himself from another wizard, especially if he was surrounded day and night by faculty members and powerful wards. Protecting oneself from the onslaught of memories that close proximity to Dementors caused was a unicorn of a different colour.

Albus shook himself, exhaling deeply. "All the same, my position remains unchanged. If Black makes it to Scotland and Hogwarts – well, we'll cross that bridge once we come to it."

And he already had a few ideas how (none involved making a deal with Death, funnily enough).

There were a few people he'd need to contact, a few strings he'd need to pull and a stubborn, self-hating werewolf of a former student he'd need to talk out of self-enforced isolation, but he was positive he could pull it off.

Yes, he'd be prepared for Sirius Black to make his move.

Cornelius shook his head. "You're going to regret it, Albus."

"I certainly hope not, my friend." I certainly hope not.

Roughly an hour after Cornelius' head had vacated his fireplace, and just when he was getting ready to join the few professors still at Hogwarts during the summer for a light lunch, the charmed glass ball linked to the moving staircase trilled softly, warning him that someone was on his (or her) way to see him.

Albus was already back on his chair (he was starting to hate the thing) and smiling benevolently at nothing in particular when he heard them stop right in front of his door.

"Come in." he called before they had time to knock. He so loved seeing the dumbfounded expressions on his visitors' faces at his apparent omniscience.

This particular visitor did not disappoint and Albus almost felt like beaming.

"Good-morning, Headmaster." The younger man sounded bashful, "I hope I didn't interrupt anything too important. I would've come earlier, but I've been terribly busy these past days."

This time Albus did beam. "Nonsense, Tyler. I always have free time for my old students." He indicated the chair on the other side of his desk with a wave and waited patiently for Tyler to discard his bag and sit. "So, what brings you back to your Alma Mater, my dear boy? Do you need help with something?"

It had been a while since he had last seen Tyler Blackwood up close – over a decade, in fact – and he was glad to see the years had been kind to him. Sure, his cropped black hair had a few more gray strands and he was paler than Albus remember, but his hazel eyes were as lively as ever and he looked fit and healthy.

He hadn't lied when he had said he always had time for a student, former or current. It was an incomparable pleasure seeing the successful witches and wizards they had become.

"Actually, I was hoping to offer help in a way. If you're still interested, that is."

Albus raised an eye-brow. "Oh?"

"Yeah, it's about that…conversation we had after You-Know-Who's fall, when you asked me to track down Lily Evans' remaining family."

Albus' second eye-brow joined the first near his hair-line without his consent. "Ah. Well, that's surprising."

And it was.

Tyler had left Hogwarts the year before Lily, James and the rest of their friends began. He had been a Ravenclaw and also one of the few muggleborn wizards who kept up with their muggle studies after being accepted at Hogwarts.

It had given him a considerable advantage in his field of choice.

As far as he could remember, Tyler's one true love had always been the history of families. Filius had found him scavenging the library for information on the origin of the most ancient and noble houses of the magical world at improbable hours more than once.

After he had left Hogwarts, he had apprenticed for a number of years under the tutelage of Magdalene Crawford, one of Albus' own former classmates and an exceptional witch.

Though young, Tyler had soon become one of the major experts on magical genealogy and probably the only wizard in the British Isles interested in the muggle one.

And so, in the wake of Voldemort's fall and the Potters' death, Albus had contacted him to ask for a favor.

He could remember it as if it was yesterday. It had been the first of November, mere hours after James and Lily had been killed and Tom vanquished. He had already erected the blood wards around the Dursleys' house and left Harry with his aunt, hoping he would be safe, when he had found himself knocking on Tyler's door.

To say the man had been astonished would be an understatement.

"I know this is pretty much out of the blue, Professor, but I've found something that could interest you. To be honest, I don't know how I missed it years ago."

"Those were busy days for everyone, my boy." Albus reassured him, all the time hoping he hadn't made a mistake in contacting Tyler instead of the more experienced Magdalene. In his defense, he had known the older witch would be too busy with the mess left behind by Voldemort to help him. "Do tell, please."

"At the time of your request I told you Petunia Evans Dursley was the only surviving member of Lily Evans' family of origin. Her grand-parents had died when she was a child and so had her parents a few years previous."

Albus nodded, indicating he still remembered those same information from years ago. He had been both saddened and elated by the news. Saddened, because it was always hard to lose one's family, especially at a young age such as Lily's. Elated, because it made his job infinitely easier.

The only way Tom could nullify the blood protection on Harry was to absorb some of the blood the protection itself was anchored to: Lily's blood.

For Albus' plan to work, Voldemort would've to take that blood directly from Harry or the boy wouldn't survive. It was a slim chance, but better than nothing. (He tried not to think too much about it, anyway, or he'd end up a sobbing mess on the floor and that wouldn't help anyone).

For this reason, he had tasked Tyler with tracking down any remaining blood relative of Lily's so that he could then offer them his protection.

"The other day, I was going through a few of my old researches and I found an unopened letter from the General Register Office of London." He scratched the back of his head, looking abashed. "It had apparently gotten lost in the chaos that's my office."

"It can happen to everyone, I'm sure." Albus winked at him, suppressing the sudden spike of fear he had felt in his gut at Tyler's words. "And what did this letter say?"

"Well, it would seem that Lily Evans had another relative, after all. A younger sister."

That was bad.

/

He had called Trixie from the kitchens and asked for tea and biscuits before Tyler could go on. He had a feeling he was going to need it (and perhaps something stronger) for the conversation they were about to have.

"So, another sister." He wondered out-loud, carefully sipping the hot beverage. Tyler nodded. "Why didn't we know about her until now?"

Tyler tightened his hands around his cup. "When their parents died in a plane crash, Miss Petunia Evans was already of age, while Lily became a ward of the Magical Ministry until she turned seventeen two years later, as you probably remember."

"I do. Minerva and I were the ones to sign all the necessary paperwork."

Tyler nodded. "Their sister Sally was only thirteen at the time. Custody was awarded to a maternal uncle living in the States and she moved there. I can only assume that contact with her sisters became scarce from that point on for one reason or another. She even took her mother's maiden name, Jackson."

"No, I cannot imagine she had a close relationship with Petunia. Lily once told me her older sister wasn't particularly attached to the rest of her family. As for Lily herself, she had her own life in the magical world." Albus leaned back against his chair with a sigh. "The States. That would explain how she escaped our notice."

"I did a bit of research these past few days." Tyler took a roll of parchments out of his bag and passed it over to Albus. "That's everything I could find about Sally. Her uncle died when she was seventeen from lung cancer and she was left alone."

Albus winced. "Not a lucky girl."

"Not really. Her economic situation was – well, frankly a disaster. Her uncle's expensive treatments sapped her saving. She dropped out of high school and found a job. From what I was able to uncover, she will be going back to college in the fall."

"Why didn't she contact her sister for help?" Albus muttered more to himself than to Tyler.

The other man, though, took it as something more than a rhetorical question. "I may be able to answer that."

Albus stopped distractedly thumbing through the parchments and raised his head. There had been something...suspicious in Tyler's voice; something that hinted at worse news to come.

The younger man met his eyes reluctantly. "I also found out that Miss Jackson has a son."

Yes, he was definitely going to need something stronger than tea.

"A son." He half whispered. "A young boy, I imagine?"

Tyler pressed his lips together, unsure. "Yes...and no." Noticing Albus' unimpressed expression, he hurried to add, "I mean, he's a young boy, but not as young as you're probably thinking. He'll be turning thirteen on the eighteenth of August."

His mental image of a red-haired, green-eyed toddler was swiftly replaced by that of a teenager. "Harry's age, then." He frowned. "That would mean Miss Jackson was only eighteen when he was born."

"That's why I think she didn't contact her sister. From what you told me years ago she's not an open-minded woman."

"She isn't."

Lily had never talked much about her family, but he had once overheard her say that her sister was intolerant of everything that she perceived as different, and not just magic. He imagined he hadn't helped, answering her request of attending Hogwarts without warning her parents that their eldest daughter had felt left out, but he had honestly believed he was sparing her the humiliation of having to explain her feelings to them.

"What about the boy's father?"

"Unknown. I think that, well," he shrugged.

Albus' lips tightened in disapproval. "He left his family." He sighed heavily. "Nothing that can be done about that, unfortunately. Now, Tyler, if that's all I'd –" he made to get up, but his visitor interrupted him.

"Not exactly, sir."

He sat back down with an expectant look.

"Sally's son seems to be a wizard. Though I've no idea why he would still be attending a muggle school."

Albus replaced his empty cup on its saucer and accepted the new roll of parchments that Tyler offered him. He squinted at the writing on top. "Perseus. Interesting name."

"He was named after the constellation."

"Or the hero from the old stories." He grinned at Tyler over the top of the parchment. "You said he goes to a muggle school."

Tyler took the invitation to further elaborate for what it was. "Not with much success, I've got to say. He was kicked out of basically every school he ever attended, the last one being a strict academy for juvenile delinquents. Many of the accidents were caused by what was probably his magic escaping his control. Others, though, were all him. He's also dyslexic and ADHD which doesn't make studying easy."

"Muggle disorders, right?" Albus went on before Tyler had even had the time to nod, "to answer your previous question, the reason he doesn't attend a wizarding school is that the educational system in the States is a bit, ah, messier than ours. Less structured, if you want.

"There are only two schools of Magic for all of North America – not just the States, but Canada too – and one of them, Salem Witches' Institute, only accepts, as the name implies, witches. The other school, Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, is left to cover the entirety of the male and roughly half of the female magical population.

"It's not a surprise that many muggle-borns fall through the cracks. It seems to have happened to our young Perseus, too."

Tyler looked disturbed, probably imagining what his life would've been like if his magic hadn't been recognized for what it was. "They should find a better way to monitor possible students."

"I agree. But thanks to you," Albus smiled at him, "we now know about Mr Jackson and we can offer him a place at Hogwarts, albeit a few years late."

Tyler grinned. "Glad to be of help." He got to his feet and Albus followed suit. "That's everything, I think. Just..." he pursued his lips, "I didn't say anything years ago because I assumed you were looking for a place where young Harry Potter could live, but you didn't need my help to find Petunia Evans and so, if I may ask, what's the real reason you're interested in Lily Evans' muggle family? Are you planning on removing Harry from his aunt's custody?"

Albus smiled affably, hiding his irritation behind a congenial mask.

He freely admitted, if only to himself, that his feeling of vexation was quite irrational. Tyler was an intelligent and scrupulous man and it was only logical he'd notice inconsistencies in the excuse he had given to disguise the true motivation behind his interest in Lily's relatives. It wasn't his best lie, after all.

Unfortunately, not a word of what he knew, or suspected, could reach unwanted ears, which meant keeping it a secret from everyone, even his most trusted companions.

"Nothing quite so drastic, my friend." He said. "Just mere curiosity. And I think young Harry would like to know he has other relatives outside his aunt and cousin. Not to mention, Sally probably doesn't even know her nephew survived that night. I doubt Petunia has told her." He offered Tyler his hand over the desk. "About your discoveries – I trust they will remain between us. At least until Harry himself decides to make them public."

"Of course." Tyler assured, letting go of his hand. "Client confidentiality and all that. Good day, Professor."

Albus waited until he was out of the door and all the way down the stairs before letting his smile slip.

Perceiving the downcast turn his mood had taken, Fawkes chirped softly, almost mournfully, and flew on his lap. He butted his head against one of Albus' hand, letting out a joyful trill as the old man began petting him.

Albus chuckled. "Ah, Fawkes. What would I do without you? I would certainly be lost."

The Phoenix cooed appreciatively.

An aunt and a cousin. That complicated things, but at least Harry would've someone else to call family. The gods knew the boy severely missed that. Albus couldn't imagine he would be sad about having a wizard cousin his own age, unless he turned out to be just one more Dudley, spoiled and capricious.

He glanced at the stack of parchments labelled 'Perseus Jackson'. The boy was a trouble-maker, for sure, but Albus had to appreciate his consistency in getting kicked out of school every year since he was seven and his ingenuity in always finding new ways of doing it. A true marauder at heart, he thought giddily. He was going to give hell to his poor teachers.

The matter of their blood was worrying. They had Lily's blood coursing through their veins and that alone made them targets for Voldemort and his Death-Eaters. He'd have to protect them, Sally especially as she was a closer relation to the late witch.

He sighed and began browsing through the parchments with Sally's information, looking for an address.

It seemed a visit was imperative.

/

/

The freezing wind bit at his skin despite the thick fur covering it.

Sirius shivered and curled more tightly into himself. He had hoped the small cave he had uncovered would protect him from the elements and give him the chance to rest for an hour or two before getting back on the road, but no such luck.

Ever since he had escaped from Azkaban five days ago, he had been unable to sleep for more than a few minutes at a time.

Nightmares tormented him more than ever. Ironically enough, getting away from the Dementors had seemed to bring back not only his higher brain functions, but also the understanding of how much he had really lost that fateful night over a decade ago.

His resting moments – few and far between as they were – were populated by the friends he had let down.

Every night, James and Lily stared accusingly at him, their eyes empty and their voices hoarse as they blamed him for leaving them in their betrayer's hands.

Remus cursed his name, his scars standing out starkly against the deathly pallor of his face. The wolf peeked out from behind his eyes, savagely satisfied of his downfall.

Peter smirked at him seconds before the explosion rocked the street and people – innocent people – were screaming and running and he was laughing because his entire life was slipping through his hands like water, but he couldn't cry, not yet.

And Harry, their pride and joy, bawling in Hagrid's arms, his forehead covered in blood, his face red and streaked with dirt.

He should've taken him.

He should've taken him and run, run, run until he couldn't hear James' and Lily's voice and see the wolf's hunger and smell the blood.

But he had let Hagrid take Harry and he had watched them fly away while the home James and Lily had built burned to the ground, the stench of dark magic everywhere and the smell of decaying flesh overpowering.

He didn't need to turn around to know who was there. Ghosts crawled out of their graves to torment him. But he deserved it, didn't he?

His ears twitched and he whined.

"Of course you deserve it. Shouldn't have trusted you." They whispered.

He didn't remember turning, but suddenly he was staring into Lily's milky white eyes and he wondered where the green had gone. But of course, green was life and it couldn't exist in death. Or was it the other way around? He didn't know anymore.

"You did this to us. You killed us."

James' neck was bent at an odd angle and what remained of his jaw hung open in a twisted imitation of a grin.

"Look at us."

He didn't want to.

They are not James and Lily, his mind told him. Lily's hair is as fiery as her courage and her eyes as green as Spring and James smiles and laughs and calls you his best-friend and they would not blame you. They're not James and Lily.

"Look at us."

But his heart thumped painfully because it knew something his brain did not: there is no forgiveness for those like him.

"You don't deserve forgiveness."

The ghosts left, their last words a mournful lament for the life they had lost, but something else emerged from his past to haunt him.

The smile of the wolf was a grotesque thing, all teeth and maliciousness. It stretched Remus' face uncomfortably and turned him into something he had never been before: a night terror.

"I know who you are." It purred, circling him. "I see you. I see your anger, your hatred, the violence you try to hide."

Not true. Not true. Not true. Not true.

"It's not the first time you let your friends down."

Not Remus. Not Remus. Not Remus. Not Remus.

The wolf snarled, but it was Remus' voice that left its mouth, "And it was a joke to you!"

It pounced and he fell and fell and fell and when he opened his eyes, Harry's crib was next to him, but this time Harry wasn't crying. He was just staring into the void, eyes as empty as his mother's, and he wanted to scream because he failed. Instead he just laughed and laughed and laughed as the Aurors took him away.

All your fault!

Sirius snapped awake from the nightmare he had slipped into with a growl.

His superior canine hearing could detect the sound of cars in the distance and the smaller animals moving through the undergrowth, but nothing else.

There were no voices and no ghosts from the past. The only scents that reached his nose were those typical of a forest, albeit a small and man-made one.

He looked up at the stars, but they didn't seem to have moved any since the last time he checked, just before laying down. He certainly didn't feel rested.

He got up, limping slightly from a wound he had acquired the day before while trying to sneak into a dumpster.

It was obvious he was not going to rest easy until he had accomplished what he had set out to do. Once he had killed the rat and made sure Harry was safe – well, he'd probably have more than enough time to sleep.

Before going to Hogwarts, though, he wanted to see his godson at least once.

He could worry about his mission later.