The Secrets of House Black

by Anonymous

Summary:

The secret was never supposed to be discovered. When fate caused two heartbroken young women to bump into one another one winter day and for a terrible secret to form- they never expected that one day that secret would be exposed.

---

Harry had finally thought he was going to have a nice summer. After third year, he finally thought he had his life under control- the Dursleys finally left him alone, Sirius was free and he was heading to Ron’s in a few weeks.

Only the visit to Ron’s never happened.

A traumatic discussion, a visit to St.Mungo’s and a new scar later. Harry was saddled uncomfortably in the presence of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, heading straight towards the house of his childhood nemesis.

He really should’ve taken Sirius up on that offer.

OR: the unhinged Sirius Black is Harry Potter’s parent au. Starring Regulus Black, the grandparents Harry really deserved in canon and an unhinged cousin.

Notes:

• Inspired by Harry Potter and the Black Secret by savya398
• Inspired by The Black Secret by PolarisAriesBlack

This fic is inspired by two amazing Sirius Black is Harry Potter’s parent AU’s here on AO3. The first being the Harry Potter and the Black Secret by Savya398 and The Black Secret by PolarisAriesBlack- ironically, the second fic is inspired by the first so this is a fanfic of a fanfic of a fanfic.

I’ve always wanted to say that sentence.

I would’ve liked to ask the original authors for permission to write an inspired fic but they were last active in 2016 so I don’t think my fic is going to get any response yet.

If the original authors do want me to take down this fic though, I will. Mostly, because this is an ‘adopted’ fic which takes quite a few direct paragraphs from the originals.

If you’ve noticed, this fic is not really a canon compliant au (if the Sirius Black being Harry Potter’s parent wasn’t enough of an indicator…) because too many interesting character that could play a part in this fic were dead by the time canon came around.

So in traditional fanfic-fashion, I took some creative liberties!

Namely, Regulus Black is alive, along with Abraxas Malfoy, Walburga Black and Orion Black (more characters to be added later). Most of the irregularities with canon will be clarified later on, I don’t really have a plot for this so we’ll se where this goes.

Anyways, hope you enjoy!

Chapter 1

The secret was never supposed to be discovered. When fate caused two heartbroken young women to bump into one another one winter day and for a terrible secret to form- they never expected that one day that secret would be exposed. 

Of course they expected to survive the war, to continue to guard their secret. Unfortunately that did not happen for either one, and so they took their secret to the grave. Leaving no one alive who knew the truth. No one who could stop it from coming to the surface. Because oftentimes even the deepest, darkest, most hidden secrets have a way of coming to the surface.

 

---

Harry James Potter groaned as rolled over in bed. He’d been woken up by loud pounding and insistent shrieking outside his door. It was a reminder of the summer. It was a reminder that today was another day at the Dursleys. Another horrible summer to add to his collection.

Most teenagers loved summer, the chance to sleep in and a break from schoolwork. But not Harry. For Harry ‘summer’ meant an endless list of chores, meagre meals and the loving company of his relatives- the dear sweet Dursleys.

Harry grumbled, muttering under his breath as he rolled out of bed and fumbled with his glasses before opening his eyes. “Oh come on. I swear I cleaned these last night!”

“Shouldn’t there be a spell for this?” He frowned at the blurry sight in front of him, pulling off his glasses to rub off the evident smudges present on the slightly scratched glass. They must have gotten smudged or something when Dudley pushed him into the bushes yesterday-

“What the heck?” 

He could see the details of the door clearly. He could see the details of the door in perfect clarity without his glasses. Harry gaped, hands erratically rubbing his eyes, was everyone’s eyesight like this? Either that, or his glasses were just terrible quality (that actually sounded like the correct answer- it wasn’t like the Dursely’s were going to spend the time let alone the money to get him new ones).

“Is this something that happens to wizards when they turn thirteen?” Hermione would know. Harry bit his lip, peering at the empty bright blue sky- no snowy white owl in sight. “Hedwig’s probably hunting right now. Maybe I should ask lat- oww!

He grimaced, eyes watering in pain as he squinted; watching the colours suddenly blur into each other- revealing nothing but the familiar sight of his blurry eyesight. Harry frowned, perching his glasses back on the slope of his nose. 

Was that normal? Was this some sort of weird-wizard puberty that starts when you turn 13-

“Boy! Get down here this instant!” Uncle Vernon roared.

Harry grimaced, shaking off that particular train of thought. He’d write to Sirius about it later, there was no real point in worrying about something he couldn't change.

The incident was soon forgotten, Harry honestly thought he’d imagined it- between Aunt Petunia’s countless hours of mandatory manual labour he’d hardly noticed any extra pain (his joints did that everyday on a daily basis).

That was, until he woke up several days later in the middle of the night feeling like his legs were about to fall off. His whole body was spasming and tensing. It felt like he was putty, his limbs being yanked in all directions- it was painful.

He didn’t get much sleep that night.

Feeling as though someone had repeatedly bashed his head in with a mallet while he was asleep, Harry made his way downstairs, trying not to trip over his feet as he dragged himself towards the kitchen table.

“But I feel like I grew taller-”

“You've probably just hit a growth spurt. At this rate I might’ve to order a new table with the amount of space you take! Couldn’t you just be more like Dudley?”

Harry grimaced as his aunt blathered on, forcing himself to chew the peanut butter and jam sandwiches slowly, the texture and taste feeling like mud on his tongue.

“Make sure you water the daisies by the time we’re home.” Aunt Petunia murmured, glancing at him wearily as she struggled to squeeze herself into a coat that was two times too small for her. “And clean up that mess when you’re done.”

So much for helpful insight.

He decided to send a letter to Sirius just mentioning it. Who knows? Maybe puberty was more severe and happened more quickly for wizards than muggles. 

Unconsciously, Harry smiled. He had someone to talk to, someone to ask advice from- someone who wasn’t his age or a professor.

He had an adult who actually cared about him. Had cared enough to seek him out.

He wondered, absentmindedly, what life would look like if Pettigrew had been caught and Sirius’ name cleared.

Sirius would probably be eligible to take up the Black lordship- not that he’d be interested, with Regulus Black taking up the title last month since his release. But maybe, just maybe, they would be able to find a house in London- close to the city, so he could visit Diagon whenever he liked.

Maybe he could’ve invited Hermione, the Weasleys- the possibilities were right there in front of him. If only he hadn’t decided to spare the rat, then maybe.

Harry shook his head, trying to focus on writing the actual letter. Whatever it would look like, it definitely would’ve been better than staying with the Durselys. Okay, he’d only met Sirius this past year and for most of that year he’d thought he was a crazed murderer- but he was the closest thing Harry had to a parent and who actually wanted the role.

That had to count for something, right?

As Harry waited for Sirius’s response he noticed other changes about himself. His hair wasn’t quite as messy as it was before. In fact it was such a small change that he wasn’t sure if it actually was real or if he was just making things up.

When Sirius’s letter finally arrived it said something along those same lines. He assured Harry that everything was fine and it was a natural part of growing up. Harry had to agree- it was probably because of all the extra anxiety he’d had because he’d been cooped up with the Dursleys all week. Yeah, that was probably it.

That evening, Harry had decided to take an evening stroll. Taking his time to observe the calm peace of Privet Drive- the way Mrs. Figgs cats sprawled across her front porch yawned and mewled at the tiny rat scamping towards a gutter, the way the TV next door shrieked with the tell-tale sound of an American TV opening. 

He sighed,  for once, he was just a normal boy going through normal changes. He sent Sirius a thank you letter and another request for some stories about his dad as a teenager.

His feelings of peace all changed when a week later Harry was working in the yard and everything suddenly went blurry. Frustrated, he took off his glasses, frowning when everything was in perfect clarity.Feeling extremely strange, Harry rubbed at his eyes and blinked a few times to see if it would go away. It didn’t. 

Internally, Harry panicked. He stood there not knowing what to do. Harry wasn’t quite as smart as Hermione or had as much experience in the wizarding world as Ron but even Harry knew that going from being as blind as a bat to seeing in perfect detail wasn’t a normal part of growing up- even for wizards.

“What do you think you're just standing around for?” Aunt Petunia’s voice cut through the clearing. “Vernon’s going to be home any minute! I thought I told you to- what have you done? ”

Harry gulped, instinctively glancing at the bed of lillies in front of him. Had he screwed up? He was pretty sure this was exactly what she did when she was preening them. “What-”

“What have you done to your eyes?” she shrieked, her voice shriller than normal.

“What? What’s wrong with them?” Harry gasped, hands immediately darting to his face. He looked around for a reflective surface he could look into. What could possibly be happening to his eyes ?

“You’ve changed them!”

“What?”

“You heard me. You used that- that thing to change them!” Her hands were reaching towards her throat, shocked gasps escaping her usually indifferent frame. “Change them back!”

“I don’t know how!” Harry cried, panic rising. He knew it was something to be looked into. He knew it. If only he wasn’t so stupid- “What’s wrong with my eyes?”

“I-I-”

“What’s wrong with my eyes?” There was anger, desperation- a mix of the two- leaking into his voice now, his tone desperate . “Please, Aunt Petunia.”

For once, his Aunt seemed to take pity on him; even her prejudiced mind was able to realize that her nephew was truly terrified about what was going on.

“Your eyes are blue,” she said.

“ Blue ?” Harry said feeling off.

“Yes, well send a letter off with your o-owl then,” She stuttered, eyes darting to the fence then back- almost as if she hoped the neighbours hadn’t heard her slip up. . “I’m sure they’ll know what’s wrong with you. They know everything after all.” The last part was said with something akin to malice, bitterness tainting every word. Her gaze hardened, “Well? What are you waiting for? Go. Now.”

That was the first time Aunt Petunia seemed to be concerned about his wellbeing. Harry shook his head, fighting off the dizziness and nausea rising up inside his gut as he bolted up the stairs. He had to get his room. Maybe write a message to Dumbledore -

“Fuck.” Hedwig was with Sirius. He’s written a letter to Sirius and had no idea when she would be back. Swallowing, Harry gripped the stairwell, it felt like something was burning- like something inside him was twisting and turning, struggling to come out.

Was this what Quirrel felt when he died?

“What are you doing?” Maybe, having extremely detailed eyesight was a curse. Harry stared at Dudley, fighting to keep his mouth shut for the sake of Aunt Petunia’s pristine carpet floors. Dudley stared at him, his beaded eyes narrowing before he yelled towards the garden, “ Mum ! Harry’s being weird again-”

Harry could barely make out the rest of his sentence before his body was engulfed in pain. He hit thr ground, knees buckling as his head made impact against the immaculate wooden stairs, he whimpered, clawing at his hair, eyes tearing as he managed to croak out, “H- help-”

He coughed, his blood splattering in between the thin cracks in the wood. He shook his head, barely making out his Aunt’s silhouette behind him, “Dumbledore. I need to-” he choked, the words died in his throat as another wave of pain enveloped him.

He shook his head, eyes watering as he gasped. Praying, hoping someone would do something. That someone would save him. With his last bit of strength, he called to his aunt- his family- hoping that they’d at least think of something - anything- to put him out of his misery before he collapsed into blissful nothingness.

---

 

Regulus Black had always hated the damned tapestry.

When he was younger, he’d always hoped that someone would accidentally set off Fiendfyre in that room of the house- it’s not like it hadn’t happened before, Uncle Alphard had set the entire library on fire during one particular dinner. Who's to say it wouldn’t happen again?

Unfortunately, the thing was impervious to any kind of damag e (a testament to his family’s persistence )- nothing but Fiendfyre could damage the thing. Sure , you could burn people off it- but destroy it?   That was a feat worth watching.

He sighed, staring at the delicate gold embroidery, staring at his portrait etched onto the canvas; his face almost a virtual copy of his fathers- of Sirius’- the same piercing silver eyes, the same wavy black hair (though his was always in that atrocious hairstyle mother insisted on him having) and the same fucking jawline.

He sighed, pressing his forehead against the rough canvas, eyes lingering on the black smudge next to his name- the smudge that used to be Sirius’ name. “Where are you?”

The ministry had ‘visited’ again. Fudge and Bones insisted that they were checking up on him, ensuring that the new ‘Lord Black’ was in good health. Regulus scoffed, everyone knew the real reason they were there. The real reason they even bothered being here.

Sirius.

The prisoner of Azkaban.

Sirius who always had been the center of attention- even when he was a literal criminal. Sirius who betrayed his family for a bunch of blood traitors and half breeds.

Sirius who betrayed him to go with Potter.

Regulus’ hands tightened, his fingers pressing against the smooth texture of his Cypress wand. Sirius. His brother. The rightful heir. The heroic Gryffindor- Dumbledore’s golden boy along with Potter and that halfblooded werewolf-

CRACK

“Master Regulus, Mistress says she might take a while longer as they’ve been having some problems at the ministry sir,” Kreacher’s head was bent so low it touched the ground. The elf tugged at his rags, watery-grey eyes glancing towards him, “Master Orion says they might have to reschedule.”

Reschedule a meeting with Crouch. That’s going to go great. Regulus winced, imagining the horde of angry owl mail he was going to receive after this. He better update the wards on Grimmauld. He sighed, tapestry-destroying could wait for another day then, “They didn't say anything else then?”

“Nothing master, they’s be at St.Mungo’s by now.”

“St Mungo's?” Regulus echoed, tilting his head. “Why would they be at St Mungo’s?”

“Kreacher doesn’t know Master,”

“Of course not.” Regulus muttered under his breath, hoping that the elf hadn’t heard him. He winced, brushing his hair out of his eyes as he watched Kreacher subtly pinch himself in the thigh. “Stop that.” Kreacher’s eyes widened, eyes watering, “I’m sorry master. Kreacher will punish himself better this time, Kreacher will-”

“I don’t want you to punish yourself.” Regulus muttered, suddenly weary. “I’m just… stressed.”

The sentence in itself sounded like an admission of complacency. Mother would’ve thrown him in the dungeons for such a mistake. Father would’ve put him under the Cruciatus or had him drink another potion that would make him regret his existence.

He always wished he’d had his brother’s bravery to escape this hellhole.

“Kreacher will go make some scones.”

CRACK

Regulus smiled softly, his fingers unconsciously running against his ring. He stared at the mirror nestled against the bookshelf- he looked like shit . His eyes were bloodshot, black hair disarrayed and messy (he should probably comb that before Mother gets home) and his slouch was so atrocious that he made the tree look like it was growing-

Wait. The tree was growing?

Regulus whirled around, eyes fixed on the canvas, trying to find out which branch the tree was extending out of. He scanned the surface with increasing desperation, he knew what that meant. They all knew what it meant. He remembered the countless hours his mother had unhealthily been fixated on Narcissa’s line, the way her onyx eyes greedily took in another branch being born.

Another Black being born.

Andy’s line wasn’t moving, Bella’s was impossible, Narcissa’s- Regulus glanced at Narcissa’s line, sighing in relief when he didn’t notice anything new- the line labelled Draco Malfoy staying fixed in place with no additional branches.

Regulus frowned, trepidation rising in his gut, there was no other person that could possibly conceive an heir. He definitely hadn’t. He’d barely been with anyone outside of the house for the past week- let alone the last 13 years. “Then who-”

He stopped abruptly. Had- had Sirius’ line always been that long?

He watched, his form buzzing with a mix of increasing anxiety and trepidation, eyes alight with excitement. Sirius’ line continued, curling and threading its way to link to the Malfoy’s?

Regulus choked, feet skidding backwards, eyes widening as his brother’s name interlinked with Gena’s. Ipigena Malfoy’s, their branches twirling and interlacing, stopping right next to Draco’s, the elegant gold script shimmering to write the name: Hadrian Sirius Black.

Regulus threw his head back and laughed . 

Maybe his brother wasn’t as pure as he’d thought.

Chapter 2

Summary:

Abraxas Malfoy had always valued family.

Regardless of what those light-loving fools and Dumbledore spewed in Wizgenmont, Abraxas would say that he did care about one thing. One thing that had motivated his thoughts, actions and effort throughout his entire life.

So when he found out that his dead daughter left one last gift to their family, he would do anything to secure it.

Regardless of what Regulus Black said.

Notes:

Abraxas Malfoy is honestly one of the most intriguing characters I've read about in teh tiem travel Harry Potter fics so I hope I get his characterisation right.

Abraxas Malfoy had always valued family.

Regardless of what those light-loving fools and Dumbledore spewed in Wizgenmont, Abraxas would say that he did care about one thing. One thing that had motivated his thoughts, actions and effort throughout his entire life.

His family.

Calliope, Draco, Lucius and Narcissa- Gena - his family . The Malfoys had always been well known, the name transcending across centuries of Wandlore and wizardry. Abraxas had always known he would one day inherit a seat in Wizgenmont, that he’d be the one to carry the Malfoy name forward.

So when the newly-declared Heir of Slytherin had offered his hand, with the promise of friendship, power and protection, Abraxas shook it.

What he hadn’t predicted was the price he’d had to pay to get power.

His hands tightened around his cane, fingers itching to grab the hidden compartment where his elm wand was hidden. He felt Calliope’s fingers tighten slightly, her manicured fingers pinching into the thick fabric of his cloak.

He stared at his wife, his right hand grasping hers, his blue eyes tracing her strawberry-blonde hair as they made their way towards the cemetery. Unconsciously, he tugged at his ponytail, blonde hair falling against his shoulders as he made his way to an unmarked grave nestled under an overgrown tree.

He hesitated, throat bobbing as he kneeled next to the grave; all pureblood proprietary and grace forgotten as he leaned forward, forehead pressed against the smooth stone. “I… I should’ve visited sooner. I’m sorry…”

He glanced at the desecrated grave, blue eyes raking over the unmarked gravestone; the surface was caked with dirt- the name it once held scratched and faded- unknown to those who passed by it. He closed his eyes, trying to keep his voice steady- to stop his voice from cracking-

“You do know it wasn’t your fault, right?” Calliope’s voice was soft, calming, her presence comforting against the storm of emotions going on in his mind. “We didn’t know what was going to happen. We didn’t even know the dark lord was planning an attack on-”

“- I could’ve stopped it.” He whispered, gaze broken- eyes fixed on the white flower growing between the cracks on the stone. “I could’ve prevented her death- my own daughter’s- yet I stood by watching as he-”

CRACK

Instinctively, his hand was on his cane, fingers pressing against the tiny compartment in the wood, revealing the ash grey elm wand beneath it. He pulled  a struggling Calliope behind him, ignoring her hisses about her ‘knowing to defend herself’.

“Who’s there?” His tone was curt, authoritarian. Lax of any sort of emotion it held moments prior. His fingers tightened around the wood- a myriad of curses flashing through his mind, each one more lethal than the next. He narrowed his eyes, scanning the expanse of the cemetery, “I’m only repeating this once. Who are you and what exactly do you-”

“Now, now Abraxas,” a deceptively familiar voice cut through the eerie silence. A silhouette materialized on the edge of the clearing, behind the lush trees and foliage.

He recognized that voice. Instinctively, his hands tightened around Calliope, a signal to leave- to apparate and get to safety. It was something they’d learnt in the war- a subtle signal of danger, enough to get his family out of danger in a moment's notice. He only hoped his wife would listen.

Calliope, to no one’s surprise, ignored his warning, “What do you want, Aurelius?”

Abraxas grimaced, his eye twitching, fingers itching to shoot a curse towards the other wizard’s face. How did the bastard get here? This cemetery is limited to only exclusive members of the Malfoy family- charmed under the Fidelius in the eighteenth century. “Lord Greengrass,” he inclined his head slightly, putting the smallest amount of acknowledgement he could muster into the gesture. “What brings you… here tonight?”

No one in the clearing missed the underlying insinuation within the sentence. Calliope’s hands tightened slightly, warning him from starting another diplomatic incident. Lord Greengrass grinned, he tilted his head slightly, short brown hair getting caught in the lamplight, “Oh you know, just visiting some old friends-”  

“Who you murdered or abandoned.” Abraxas muttered, wincing when Calliope’s arm dug into his side.

“- the ministry has had some interesting rumours about your family going around.” What’s new? Suddenly, Abraxas was filled with an old bone-deep sense of weariness; the ministry of magic’s gossip had probably run dry again. So, they reverted back to the old rumours: Lucius being a Death Eater, the Malfoy’s secretly being vampires (ludicrousy) and of course, them being descendants of Veelas.

It surprised him to the extent of which some were true. Take the Veela one for an example, he had no idea how the idiots managed to track down their lineage to the point of accuracy. Especially, after most of their family history pre-nineteenth century had been destroyed.

“- the rumours about what the Black’s are doing at St. Mungo’s through, now that’s interesting.” What? Abraxas frowned, eyebrows knitting together, Aurelius would not be telling him this information if he didn’t have some sort of external motive.

He knew, from his days at Hogwarts, that Greengrass hated him for his engagement to Calliope Roseir. Then, for becoming one of the Dark Lord’s closest advisors and now for the amount of influence he held over Wizgenmont.

So why was he giving him this information?

The Malfoy’s had been estranged from the Black’s ever since Gena’s death. Excluding Regulus, relationships between the two houses were tense- neither willing to interact with the other, any alliance made swiftly cut down by the war.

Sure, there was the ongoing problem of Draco’s status as a possible Heir Black but-

“And why should we care if the Black’s are visiting St. Mungo’s or Madam Malkins?” Calliope interrupted, tugging her coat tighter, breath misting in the frigid air. “Really, cousin? Your obsession with the Blacks knows no-”

“- mysterious circumstances, really. I was having a conversation with Fudge the other day when an Auror burst through the door, mumbling about Sirius Black and blood magic. I was about to leave, mind you, after all menial things like-”

“Could you just say what you were about to say?” He snapped. If Father was alive he’d probably get a swat from his cane for his lack of poise. Fortunately, Father was dead. And Abraxas was getting increasingly frustrated with Greengrass talking in circles- neither giving him any useful information nor explaining why he felt the need to break into a pureblood cemetery claiming his distant blood relation to the Malfoy’s.

Greengrass only grinned, his smile wolfish and predatory, “Fudge was informed that a child in St. Mungo’s activated blood magic linked to two… powerful pureblood lines. A specific pureblood who the ministry’s very interested in.” He paused, as if waiting for a dramatic effect. “Sirius Black.”

Abraxas’ cane snapped under the force of his magic. Calliope stepped in front of him, sending him a glare as she did so, “Sirius Black has nothing to do with us. Nor does this random child-”

“You wound me Calli,” Greengrass was twirling his wand now, eyes taunting. “I thought you of all people would know! The rumours of your daughters… dalliances with the Black heir were certainly… enlightening.”

“Locomotor Mortis!” Abraxas hissed, a smug sense of satisfaction rising inside him as he watched the younger wizard tripping on his feet. Lord Greengrass shielded the charm, as predicted, tripping over himself as he dodged the leg-locker curse. “So you came to my daughter’s grave, not for the purpose of catching me off guard but to gloat about Cornelius Fudge’s lack of pertaining gossip ?”

Lord Greengrass muttered something incomprehensible, Abraxas swore he heard something about ‘an idiot being the Head of a noble house’. He was about to throw another curse towards him when Calliope intervened again, “You said… a child was brought to St. Mungo’s.” She muttered slowly, “And that… the Blacks were in St. Mungo’s.”

“Yes, Calli, if you’re just going to be repeating information-”

“You knew that Ipigena dated Sirius Black.” What? Abraxas froze, the whiplash of that statement sending him spiralling. Gena dated Sirius Black? The rebellious blood-traitor who scorned the name of his house and tarnished the name of his family in his escapade 13 years ago?
That Sirius Black?

Calliope continued, oblivious to her husband’s internal turmoil, “You also said that the child activated blood magic linking to both the Malfoys and the Blacks.” 

He was not liking the picture this was painting. 

Lord Greengrass grinned, eyes alight with new found excitement, “It seems that you haven’t lost your intellect, even under non-desirable company-”

“What does this have to do with anything?” Abraxas snapped, completely lost between what the two cousins were talking about. Could they stop talking in circles?
Aurelius rolled his eyes, his lanky frame leaning against the tree, “Well. It seems intellect isn’t something the Malfoy family holds-”

“Just tell me what your doing here Aurelis or I swear on my -”

“Sirius Black was found to be taking an international-floo out of Versailles on September 29nth 1981, ” Lord Greengrass murmured, delighting in the way the older-pureblood stilled abruptly. “And the child found in St.Mungo’s was found to be the son of Sirius Black with the blood of a Malfoy…” he trailed off. 

No. Abraxas stuttered, his mind suddenly feeling like he’d inhaled three jugs of Butterbeer at once. He grasped at the remnants of his broken cane, feeling like someone had snatched the air out of his lungs.

“Which means, the only possible way Sirius Black could’ve conceived an heir in that timespan would be with your daughter.” Greengrass laughed. “Oh Merlin, the irony. Especially considering the rumours! This is definitely going to be a scandal!” He leaned forwards, lips quirking upwards, “Congratulations, Malfoy. You have another grandchild.”

“What?” was all Abraxas could get out before his world faded into black.

---

Saline. Why was he smelling Saline? Harry’s nose twitched, face pressing into the soft cotton material of hsi pillow trying to block out the scent of the Hospital Wing.

Wait. Hospital wing?

Harry’s heart soared before plummeting abruptly. How could he possibly be at the Hospital Wing? Term hadn’t even started yet. Did it? 

He opened his eyes, he frowned when he found himself in an unfamiliar room.He looked around and noted the moving portraits on the walls and figured this must be the wizarding hospital he’d heard about, St. Mungo’s. He couldn’t remember how he’d gotten here but he was feeling more relaxed knowing he was now in the wizarding world and that they would most likely be able to take care of anything that was wrong with him.

He was just forcing his achy limbs into an upright position when a brown haired gentleman in his forties with kind brown eyes entered the room. He wore green robes and exuded a calm professional demeanor that immediately put Harry at ease. Besides he wouldn’t be smiling if something truly bad had happened to Harry.

“Hello Harry, I’m Healer Baybridge. You are in St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries and I’ve been put in charge of your care,” he informed, sitting himself down in a chair beside Harry’s bed.

“Okay,” said Harry shakily. “What happened?”

“After you fainted your aunt took you to a muggle hospital. St. Mungo’s has fail safes in place in regards to muggleborn children. If they happen to enter a muggle hospital with an injury St. Mungo’s is immediately notified and someone is sent out to collect them in case that child has an ailment that needs magical intervention which muggle doctors are unable to provide. So when your aunt brought you in we were notified here and went to collect you. You’ve been asleep for about two hours now,” he explained calmly.

“So what’s wrong with me?” asked Harry hesitantly.

“Nothing is wrong with you per say. Your case is actually rather unique.” Uh oh. Instinctively, Harry’s hands hovered over his scar. Baybridge tracked the movement, he shook his head,It has nothing to do with your scar. Though, I’m surprised no one has taken a magical diagnostic of it yet…” He cleared his throat, his tone forcefully soothing,“One we’ve never actually dealt with before. But to make the long story short your body is simply reverting to its natural state,” the Healer elaborated carefully.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Do you know anything about adoption rituals Harry?” Healer Baybridge asked.

“No,” replied Harry.

“Well you see adoption rituals and potions have been around for quite some time in our world. Almost all of them are now illegal because of the purposes they served back in the old days and the type of magic they involve. When a witch or wizard was unable to have children they would steal a muggleborn child and use a blood adoption potion to save face and keep everyone from knowing they were infertile.” 

Harry did not like where this was going. “What does this have to do with me?

Healer Baybridge sighed, his  tone apologetic as he glanced at Harry's scar. “Well… The potion, when mixed with the blood of the two adoptive parents would alter the child to appear as if they were the child of the adoptive parents. Of course, it would start to wear off after about thirteen years from when it was first taken unless the potion was administered a second time, just before the effects wore off, then the changes would remain permanent. If not, then the potions effects would wear off and the child would slowly revert to his or her natural state.”

The blood in Harry’s ears was roaring. Millions of questions danced around his head, each of them blurring into each other as he struggled to listen to whatever the Healer said next. He listened, frozen, as the oblivious healer continued to crush the fragile reality of his life.

“Now as you’ve probably guessed I’m telling you this information because you were under the effects of a blood adoption potion. I believe it has lasted a bit longer than the normal thirteen years and with more severe withdrawal symptoms because it was taken while you were still in the womb. The effects of which have never been documented.” Well that’s just great.

“We’ve looked over your birth records because as you can imagine we were quite shocked to discover this and many are unable to believe that you aren’t the child of Lily and James Potter,” he paused a moment to let that thought sink in a bit before he continued.

“But on further investigation it seems that you were reported to have been born at home and were only brought in after. Both Lily and James claimed you as their biological child so of course no one ever suspected anything differently which led to problems because there were no leads as to who your biological parents were. Because of legal matters since you were never formally adopted you still legally belong to your biological parents.”

“What?” Could his life get any worse? Harry’s mind was swirling. James and Lily Potter weren’t his parents? Did anyone else know about this? Remus, Sirius- Dumbledore- Harry bitterly thought, eyes gazing into the distance. How could he have lied to him? After everything- the Dementors, Basilisks and Voldemort?

The Dursleys weren’t really his biological relatives.

And god, that was a hard pill to swallow. He never- he’d never- would’ve had to live with the Dursleys, never have to spend time in that cupboard. 

He swallowed, anxiety worming his way in his gut. What if… his real parents were alive? What if, they hadn’t really wanted him? Harry’s grip tightened around his blanket, they had given him up for adoption so… they hadn’t wanted him right? 

Right?

That was the realistic option. He was probably an unwanted surprise, dumped on the side of the Potter’s doorstep. That is, of course the only-

‘Unless.’ A voice seemed to hiss in his head, voicing his worst possible fear. ‘Unless you were stolen.’

Stolen. A stone dropped in Harry’s gut. Oh Merlin, what if he’d been stolen ? All of these thoughts and so many more were just bouncing around inside his head with no clear organization or way to stop them.

Wait. What if his parents were Death Eaters? What if he wasn’t magical at all? What if Voldemort was his grandfather in some horrible star wars way? What if-

Unbeknownst to his internal panic, Healer Baybridge continued, every word sending Harry spiralling further,“We here at the hospital were required under law to perform a Paternis charm to reveal who your biological parents were so that they may notified and so you could be placed within their care,” the Healer paused again looking at Harry as if trying to gauge if he was ready for the next bit of information.

So, they had already taken the test without his consent. Suddenly, Harry was furious. Who gave them permission to take the test? Sure, it was ‘the law’ but couldn’t they have waited until he was conscious? He scanned Baybridge’s face, watching the Healer twitch under his scrutiny.

They didn’t seem to care about the law when they threw Sirius in Azkaban without a trial.

“Who are they? Who are my parents?” I swear, if he says Voldemort-

Healer Baybridge took a deep breath, his eyes almost pitying. Definitely Voldemort. Wait. That would make the stories of him being the heir of Slytherin right. Oh fuck, would being Voldemort’s son make him naturally evil? Was he about to set Basilisks on people? Maybe Dumbledore sending him to the Dursely’s was the right decision to make-

“Your mother’s name is Iphigenia Malfoy.” Fuck, that’s worse.  Harry stilled, eyes widening as he gaped at the Healer who seemed to have mistaken Harry’s disgust for elation. “ I’m afraid she passed away in 1981. But the good news is that your mother’s parents are still alive as well as her older brother!” No. 

This cannot be happening. Harry struggled, forcing himself to lean back, what were the chances that he could escape if he jumped out of the window?

“You may have heard of him? Lucius Malfoy? They are quite well off from what I hear. Your grandparents have been notified about the situation and even now are in the process of gaining legal custody of you,” said the Healer.

Harry gaped at him. Good news? It was good news that he was related to the Malfoys? Oh Merlin, Lucius Malfoy that smarmy, slimy bastard was his uncle ! And Malfoy, Draco freaking Malfoy , was his cousin! Harry suddenly felt nauseous, his head feeling heavy. He pinched himself, this was just a bad dream- a dream that he would wake up from any minute now…

“Now as for your father. This might be a little more difficult for you to hear,” said the Healer.

Harry scowled,  what could be worse than being related to the Malfoy’s? He definitely didn’t care who his father was, only that the bastard had slept with a Malfoy and doomed Harry to this fate-

“Your father’s name is Sirius Black,” said Healer Baybridge.

“WHAT?” Harry was sure everyone staying on this floor had heard him. He didn’t care. He gaped, not caring that his jaw was hanging on the floor or that he probably resembled a codfish. Sirius was his father? Padfoot the big black dog was his… father?

What sort of Star Wars storyline was this?

Wait. Did he know? Why hadn’t he said anything to Harry? Had he… had he really not wanted him? But he had seemed to genuinely want Harry before- even asking him to come live with him when he thought he was going to get his name cleared.

Wait a minute, that meant that Regulus Black was his uncle? Regulus Black, the same powerful Lord who backed up Hagrid’s temporary Azkaban sentence last year, the same person who was okay with his brother getting the Dementor’s kiss and did nothing about it.

Regulus Black, who personally misled Harry to the Chamber of Secrets knowing full well that Harry would probably die.

“I know this is difficult knowing what he’s done but you have nothing to fear! I’m sure he has no legal right to you and I’m sure your mother’s relatives will keep you safe from him,” the Healer assured, patting him on the back. He leaned forward, “I even heard that Lord Black- his brother, is personally fighting for custody over you.”

That sounded like a death sentence. Harry shivered, wondering what life under Lord Black would be like- oh Merlin wait, he’s Heir Black-

Harry was spiraling now. He couldn’t hear what the Healer was saying, he didn’t want to hear what the Healer would say. Did he have to go with either of them? Couldn’t he… just go back with the Dursleys? Harry cleared his throat, “Could- couldn’t I just go home? To my… muggle relatives?”

He couldn’t believe he was asking to go to the Dursleys. The world had truly turned upside down. Healer Baybridge stopped abruptly, concerned brown eyes glancing at him wearily, “Your…your muggle relatives?”

“Petunia and Vernon Dursley.” Harry muttered, trying to lift himself upwards; ignoring how his hand shot up in pain as he did so. “I- I’m really feeling fine now-”

“Now, why would you want to do that?” A dangerously soft voice cut through his panic, its owner leaning against the wall of the room, his tone carrying deep amusement. “I’m distraught . I’d like to think that my only nephew would like to know his family a little better. Especially with the amount of family bonding we missed.”

Fuck. Harry gasped, hands instinctively reaching towards his pocket for his wand that wasn’t there. He froze, eyes widening as he turned towards the wall. His heartbeat thundering in his ears, he knew that voice. He’d heard that elegant, sarcastic drawl every time he’d get nightmares of the Chamber of Secrets.

Regulus Black leaned against the wall, he arched an elegant eyebrow, silver eyes raking over Harry’s form, “You’re malnourished.”

Harry jerked back as though he’d been stung, the whiplash from his previous encounters with the lord contradicting the concerned facade the man had going on. Lord Black tilted his head, eyes appraising. Suddenly, Harry could see the resemblance between him and Sirius- no matter how much his godfather denied it, his childhood’s influence was there.

From the way Regulus’ back was leaning against the wall, to the amused smirk he was sporting on his pompous face- the Black influence was vivid. Regulus turned towards the Healer, ignoring Harry completely, “When will he be given the antidote?”

“W-well you s-see we need to wait till we get permission from his maternal grandparents first-” Healer Baybridge stuttered, wilting under the force of the glare he received from Black. “T- the ministry-”

“The ministry’s decree of Child Welfare declared the right of the child’s legal guardian to administer any potion that wasn’t in the Decree of Harmful and Potentially Malignant potions so long as the child produces symptoms of an ailment.” Black replied coolly, eyes regarding Harry’s form- almost taunting him to respond.

So he did. “You aren’t my legal guardian!”

Black raised an eyebrow, almost as if to say, that’s the best you can do? He grinned, “Still the oldest living blood relative in the premise,” he turned towards Baybridge. “So what will it be?” His eyes raked over Baybridge’s form, his distaste evident. “... Baybridge?”

Baybridge ducked, finally seeming to understand that arguing with one of the most powerful men in Britain would get him nowhere. He hesitated, eyes glancing wearily between Harry and Black before finally seeming to make his decision, “I’ll be back in a few minutes, sir.”

“Wait no- you can’t-” Harry floundered, thinking of some way he could convince them to let him go back to the Dursley’s dammit!  Baybridge, the coward, bolted without another word, the door slamming behind him before Harry could get out another word.

“I always thought Lucius was melodramatic. Guess it runs in the family.”

Harry scowled, biting his cheek as he tried to untangle himself from the sheets. He wouldn’t respond and give the bastard the satisfaction, he wouldn’t-

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Cold hands gripped his shoulder, pushing him back slightly. “It’ll just cause you more pain-”

“Like you care about people being in pain.” Harry sneered, forcing himself to meet Black’s silver eyes. “You almost led me straight to my death in second year.”

“I wanted to know if you’re as reckless as your parents.” Black shrugged, as though being responsible for a child’s death was of no consequence to him. “What did you expect asking for what the Chamber of Secrets was from a random stranger you’d never met by owl ?”

He sounded incredulous. Like he couldn’t believe anyone would place that much trust in someone else. Harry grimaced as he felt pain shoot up his skull, he gripped the sheets tighter, “I was twelve .”

Regulus grimaced, “Twelve and as reckless as my brother.”

Harry was about to retort when a Healer bustled into the room holding some vials of potions and some scrolls. They glanced at Black and had a brief chat in which they used a silencing spell around them so Harry couldn’t eavesdrop before the Healer departed. 

Black held out a small green vial in front of Harry.

“I’m not drinking that.” What if it was poisoned? Harry glanced at Black wearily, he wouldn’t put it past him. He wondered if this was all a ploy to kill him- Black certainly had the funds for it. He snuggled further into the bed, leaning away from Black’s outstretched hand, “I’m not touching anything you give me, actually. Dumbledore will-”

“Dumbledore has no say in what happens to you. Chief Warlock of Wizgenmont or not, by blood and magic you’re rightfully a Black.” Regulus hissed, pushing the vial towards him. “In all honesty, he shouldn’t even be your legal guardian. Let alone have a say in what you get to do with your life-”

“And you do?” Harry challenged.

“Do you know what’ll happen if you don’t take the potion?” Regulus leaned forward, a wolfish grin on his face; his eyes alight with smugness of having something over Harry, “A blood adoption potion- if delivered in the womb, has many many adverse effects, Harry. For instance, you’ll be in pain constantly .” 

As if to prove his point, Harry’s stomach shot up in pain- a burning  scalding feeling spreading across his body. Harry groaned, tipping forwards, hands gripping the railing of the bed. Impervious to his pain, Regulus continued, his voice laced with faux sympathy, “You will continue to be plagued by random bouts of severe pain and discomfort as your body shifts back into its natural form- it’s inevitable, really. Of course, there are two ways to treat this: one is to give you a second dose of the blood adoption potion or to give you the antidote. The first, being impossible as Lily and James Potter are in the ground and that ‘blood adoption’ is a highly illegal magical practice.”

“So in simple words, I don’t have any choice.”

“Yes.” The response was curt and bored, as though he was talking about the weather and not dictating a major point in Harry’s life. The pureblooded lord shrugged, his long porcelain fingers offering the vial to Harry, eyebrows raised, “Once you drink this, you’ll revert to your natural state. Merlin knows how you’ll end up looking. Let’s hope you take after Gena and not my reckless older-”

“Sirius wasn’t reckless.” Harry snapped, his hands tigh tening around the glass vial. He glared at Black, almost daring him to argue, “He’s one of the bravest people I’ve met-”

“One of the bravest people you ‘ met’?” Regulus quoted, eyes gleaming with newfound interest. “So the rumours were true then… you’ve met him. Sirius . Tell me, how’s my brother after his visit to Azkaban? Is he still sane? Or perhaps he took after Bella-”

“Who’s Bella?” Harry cut in, a hopeless attempt to distract the older wizard to stall for Dumbledore to intervene. 

“Your aunt. Well, technically she’s your second cousin once removed but-”

Harry tuned the rest of Black’s rant out, ignoring most of the older wizard’s explanation in favour of trying to come up with some sort of strategy to escape his current predicament. Merlin, when had things gone so wrong? Just yesterday he’d been at the Dursely’s, baking in the son while caring for Aunt Petunia’s precious flowers- wishing that he’d be able to return to Hogwarts, the Burrow- anywhere in the Wizarding World, really.

Now, he was seriously wishing the opposite would happen.

He glanced at Regulus- his actual uncle- who was ranting about something… a canvas? A tapestry? Harry didn’t know- nor did he bother to. He knew that, no matter what happened to him, one thing was clear: He’d never be going back to the Dursleys.

And was that really a bad thing?

It didn’t seem like a selfish thought to him. Uncle Vernon had wanted him gone long before Harry had found out he was a wizard- his aunt had probably wanted the same- Dudley would definitely be glad that he could have his second bedroom back with no creepy cousin haunting his backyard with his ‘weirdo behavior’. Harry looked at the vial in his hand. If he made the wrong decision, he could end up serving himself on a silver platter- Sirius’ son or not, he’d most likely end up in the custody of the Blacks or the Malfoys. Both options were deeply depressing. 

On the other hand, he could wait for Dumbledore. Wait for the headmaster to show up and settle this, maybe Dumbledore could convince everyone that this was just a bad mistake and he’d be able to go back to the Dursleys and sneak off with Sirius-

“Don’t think about it.” Harry jerked up, abruptly pulled out of his train of thought. He glanced at Black, eyes widening at the sight of the myriad of potions in the young lord’s arms. “No one but your immediate blood family knows that you’re here. Not Dumbledore, your friends or even Sirius knows you’re here.”

Harry gulped, grasping the other vials offered to him. He couldn’t see any way out of this. He was already changing and there was no going back. He might as well just do it quickly- like a band aid just yank it off quickly and be done with it.

 As for being in the custody of the Malfoys (or the Blacks), there wasn’t much he could do about it. He was a minor and not taking the potion wasn’t going to stop them from taking him. All Harry could hope was that he didn’t look like Malfoy- just imagining having to deal with that pompous face staring at him every morning in the mirror made him want to chicken out of taking the potion.

But what choice did he really have?

What would it be like to look in the mirror and see something different?  Not his wild black hair, green eyes and spectacles? What would it be like not to have knobby knees or be one of the shorter boys in his class? “I’ll do it,” he murmured, quickly uncorking the vial before he could lose his nerve.

Regulus nodded, brushing off the nonexistent dust off his robes. “Good. I’ll be outside. The procedure should take less than half an hour. The red potion is a numbing potion to keep you from feeling the pain from the rapid changes. The other is a nutrient potion to make sure your body has the correct amount of weight and nutrients for your new body’s size and weight. If you take after Sirius, you look like you’ll be a bit taller and heavier.” He paused, smirking slightly before adding, “After all we can’t have you getting too thin or cause your bones to become brittle, you already look fragile enough as it is.”

Harry shot up, indignation rising, “Hey! What’s that supposed to mean-”

SLAM

This family definitely has its flair for dramatics. Harry grimaced, hoping that he wouldn’t turn into a pureblooded-prick the minute he’d swallowed the potion.

Harry swallowed, unceremoniously gulping each one down quickly, briefly hesitating on the last one before it too was swallowed. He groaned, leaning back against the bed as a slight tingling started. He closed his eyes, feeling the awkward sensation of his bones shifting and rearranging; tiny spikes of pain emanating from sites of previous injury.

It didn’t hurt as much as he thought it would. The numbing potion was weird- it made him feel like he was on a cloud- any pain or nausea fleeting as he focused on the tingling sensation spreading across his body. Distantly, he could feel his skin distorting and stretching,a s though it was put in a cotton candy machine.

The phenomenon was all-consuming. Harry could feel everything within him changing- from his hair, to his jawbone- everything felt different. He grimaced at the tiny spike of pain searing down his feet, though in all honesty the pain was nothing compared to the pain he’d experienced when regrowing bone in second year using Skele-gro. 

Distantly, he registered that he was twisting in his sheets. His scar tingling slightly as he gasped, feeling the unfamiliar sensation fade slightly; the fog in his head clearing as he shot up, accidentally knocking his wrist on the railing of his bed.

Finally it was over. 

Harry laid still on the bed, eyes watering slightly now that the numbing potion had worn off. He felt strange - like the world had tilted on its axis when he’d undergone the transformation. Everything was different . The way his tongue moved in his mouth and the feel of his teeth against it was different than he was used to. When he’d spoken his voice was different, smoother and not at all like he’d sounded before.

“Merlin, it’s like I’m watching the past.” Harry’s gaze snapped up towards the sound of the voice. Eyes narrowing when he saw Regulus approaching him. The older wizard only huffed, eyebrows arching dramatically as he regarded him, “I don’t even need to use the Paternis Revelio spell, you look identical to him.”

“Does that mean I look similar to you? If so, I’ll gladly pass.” Harry startled, realising that the sarcastic aristocratic drawl had come out of him. Fuck , the adoption had changed his voice- it sounded smoother now, more refined- like those charming actors he’d seen Aunt Petunia gape at on television. “Please tell me I don’t look like Malfoy.”

He scanned his form noting that his hands which were bigger, the palms broader and somehow more aristocratic looking with more elegantly shaped fingers. He glanced at himself in the mirror, horrified to find out his skin was paler , it no longer held the slight tan it always had before.

It was now a pale cream much like Malfoy’s. The thought made him shudder, he retched, suddenly feeling like he was about to vomit the contents of his stomach out.

Regulus only grinned, tilting his head slightly, silver eyes assessing, “I don’t know… I see the family resemblance-”

Harry wasted no time, bolting to the bathroom. 

When they got to the mirror Harry could only stare, unable to believe that the boy looking back at him was actually him. Harry couldn’t deny there was rightness to this new look, this new body. It was as if he’d been wearing his tie too tight for so long that he’d stopped noticing until he’d finally removed it and felt the relief of no longer being so constricted.

He was relieved to discover that he greatly resembled Sirius- a younger version- or at least what he thought Sirius would look like had he not been in Azkaban for the past twelve years. He had the same square jaw with sharp aristocratic cheekbones. His hair was somehow an even deeper black than before and fell in waves against his scalp- emulating Regulus. His lips were fuller than he was used to which he wasn’t sure he liked. 

He could see what Regulus meant by the ‘family resemblance’ though. His nose, though the general shape and size of Sirius's, seemed a bit pointier- more like Malfoy’s as did his chin- but luckily for him Sirius’s other features drowned them out and kept him from looking too much like Draco.

He had elegantly arched thick black brows over his eyes which were a piercing sapphire blue which must have come from his mother. 

Harry scowled, the pureblood in the mirror emulating him. Regulus had been lying then, the dick.

His scar on the other hand, sat firmly on his head- stark against the paler pallor of his skin. Absentmindedly, he pulled his hair over it, hiding it from sight. His thoughts drifted back to Sirius- what would he do if he found out Harry was his actual son? And more importantly had he known all along?

Oh Merlin, what if he was the one who’d given him to Lily and James on purpose because he hadn’t wanted him-

A knock on his door. “I can hear your thoughts across the room, Harry. Could you come out without panicking so I’m not kicked out for ‘assaulting a patient’.” Regulus sounded bored, as though he was mocking someone else in the room. “Yes, yes, another media scandal. I know-” Another tap at his door, this one firmer with more warning. “Harry, I’m giving you five seconds. If you don’t open the door by then I’ll-”

“You’ll what?” Black couldn’t possibly attack him when he was in public.

Could he?

“You really don’t want to know the answer to that question.” Regulus’ tone was cheerful, as though he was trying to convince someone. Harry felt a pang in his heart at how much the tone reminded him of Sirius.“Why am I even doing this? Alohomora.”

The lock clicked open without much protest.

“How is that even allowed?” Harry muttered under his breath. “Shouldn’t magical toilets have anti- alohomora charms-”

“Most do.” Regulus grasped his arm, tugging him out of the enclosed space. Harry stumbled, not used to his increased height. He frowned- observing the room from a taller angle was jarring. Was this how Ron always felt? Regulus dragged him towards the bed, wandlessly summoning a piece of parchment along with a quill. He thrust it towards Harry, “Sign this.”

Harry arched an eyebrow, reading the text out loud, “I, Hadrian Sirius Black , Heir to the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black- that sounds way too pretentious-”

“Of course you’re as bad as Sirius,” Regulus muttered, shaking his head. “Just read it.”

Harry skimmed the page, incredulously reading the rest of the paragraph, “... agree to be in legal custody of my Paternal relatives: Regulus Arcturus Black, Walburga Black and Orion Arcturus Black. I, by both blood and magic, recognise Regulus Arcturus Black as my legal guardian?” Harry spluttered, slamming the parchment down on the bed, venomously glaring at Regulus as he did so. “Hell no! Why the fuck would I-”

“ Language .” 

Harry faltered, something in his mind instinctually telling him to run, flee, get away while he still could- He froze, legs feeling like they were suddenly made out of lead. A sonorous voice cut through his protests, drawing Black’s attention away from him.

Black smiled, his expression reminding Harry oddly of Sirius- the strained grin that his godfather- father- wore when he was forced to confront something directly unpleasant. “Lord Malfoy,”

“Black,” Lucius Malfoy responded coolly, gaze moving past Regulus and fixing themselves on Harry. “I believe we have something to discuss.”

Fuck.

Notes:

This fic is set in the summer after third year. So Sirius is out of Azkaban, hiding somewhere (that’s not specified). And this is the year Harry goes to the Quidditch World Cup- can’t wait to write that chapter.

Will this fic have any romance? I honestly don’t know. I haven’t worked through the full plotline yet so…

---

(Minor spoilers for the Half Blood Prince and afterwards) So some clarification for this chapter. Regulus Black (in this story) did not discover the existence of the Horcruxes; because he didn't volunteer Kreacher to be used by Voldemort in the cave.

Instead, he was caught for Death Eater activity (at least an association of it) and was put under House Arrest for the past 13 years while his brother served in Azkaban. I know the idea of 'magical house arrest' sounds stupid but this is the Wizarding world where the Malfoy's managed to get out of punishment for the First war by convincing the ministry that they were 'under the Imperious curse'.

The concept was taken from this cool Death Eater!Sirius Black au. So, theoretically, after his house arrest was over he was able to take the Black Lordship the summer Sirius escaped from Azkaban.

Why do Regulus and Harry seem to know each other? It'll be explained better in future chapters but long story short: when looking for the Chamber of Secrets, he overheard some Slytherins talking about it and saying they were going to ask their parents about it.

Hermione had the idea to owl the estranged Heir Black who was currently under House Arrest- hoping that he might've offered some information. Instead, Regulus finds this incredibly amusing and sends Harry on a wild goose chase which Harry alludes to here.

Notes:

And the Black family drama starts. Seriously though, I need recommendations for some good black family drama fics- but anyway, uploads might be erratic (definitely for the month of May) because the author is struggling with A levels and is using this as a coping mechanism!

Perfectly healthy, I know.

Constructive criticism is appreciated! I will be using British English in this fic so no some words are supposed to be spelt differently (I swear, I’m not trying to be an asshole).

Anyway, if you like this fic drop a comment! It does wonders for motivation. But yeah, stay safe, until next time!