Disclaimer: I have books! Actual, legitimate, published, books. These books are mine, the characters in the books are mine, and the royalties I get from the books are mine. Unfortunately, the Harry Potter series does not fall into either of those categories. I will not be making a single galleon from this work. It is written and meant to be read for pure enjoyment.
Content Warning: This fanfiction will contain mild wearing, child abuse, a boy with Binge Eating Disorder, and several graphic depictions of war/fantasy violence. Should any other squicky moments come up along the way, I will most assuredly let you know.
Summary: On Harry Potter's eleventh birthday, a giant informed him that he was a wizard, a cat informed him that he would never have to return to his abusive uncle, and pure intuition informed him that his world would never be the same. Harry soon finds himself and Dudley in the loving care of Regulus Black. Three turns to four, then five, then more. It isn't long before the boy receives his birthday wish in the form of a family. The world will truly never be the same.
CHAPTER ONE
Harry Potter was happy.
It was a rare feeling and the boy wasn't sure what to do with it. It filled up every inch of his tiny body, so much so that it ached. He stood in that wand shop, a baggy plaid shirt practically reaching his knees, hiding the ribs that poked through his skin, hiding the bruises and cuts that danced across it.
Yet despite these injuries, he had never been happier. With his new wand in hand, still warm, he finally had a means to defend himself. No more punches, no more blows, no more harsh shrieks, no more nicknames. Freak. Whelp. Bastard orphan.
No more.
He would never have to return to the Dursleys. He was free. He was a wizard and though his past chilled him, the child knew that this was his way out. And with that came a true sense of happiness.
Then again, that giddiness faded as he realized that he was on the receiving end of a rather uncomfortable conversation.
His knees threatened to buckle as he stared up at the strange wizard with the violet eyes, the wizard who muttered about the curious nature of his wand. A cold hand ran down his spine. He let out an involuntary shudder as the man's eyes pierced the top of his head.
"Sorry," he said in a small voice, "but what's curious?"
Those eyes somehow intensified. Harry tore his gaze away to stare at Hagrid, who was squashed into the corner, examining the tip of his umbrella.
When Harry turned back, he saw that Mr. Ollivander was smiling-a sinister smile that usually meant trouble for the young child.
"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather - just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother why, its brother gave
you that scar."
Harry swallowed.
"Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember. I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter. After all, He Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things. Terrible, yes, but great."
The eleven-year-old shrank until he was nothing more than a speck of dust on the carpet. With a shaky hand, he produced the seven galleons for the wand. Mr. Ollivander's gaze followed him all the way out.
"I 'ppose we have a few minutes," Hagrid said. "I'll tell yeh what, I'll get yeh a birthday present."
Harry's cheeks immediately burned. He couldn't remember the last time anyone had gotten him a present, let alone a birthday present. The child stared at the cobblestone road and mumbled, "You don't have to do that."
"I know I don't have to," said Hagrid with a wave of his enormous hand. "I'll get yeh an owl. How's that?"
"Erm-"
Harry didn't have much of a choice. The giant ushered him into the Magical Menagerie. There were dozens of pets, each more absurd than the last, but the boy wasn't really allowed to look at them. Instead, he was practically dragged over to the wall of owls. The birds were beautiful, their breeds different, their feathers different, their temperaments different. A tawny own bit at his fingers when he reached towards it. A barn owl continued sleeping, even as he spoke to it softly. A screech owl, well, screeched.
"How 'bout this one?" Hagrid asked, gesturing towards a snowy owl.
She was quite beautiful with feathers as white as fluffy clouds and blue eyes that sparkled beneath the hanging lights.
"I suppose," Harry said. "I just don't know what I would use an owl for."
"Fer deliverin' packages," said Hagrid, sounding slightly annoyed. "Ev'ry good wizard has an owl."
"Oh."
Harry wasn't sure if he was a good wizard.
He wasn't sure if he was much of anything, really.
True, everyone in that strange alleyway seemed to regard him as some sort of hero, the person who had managed to bring down a great darkness. But he still thought they were wrong, and perhaps a bit barking. He wasn't a hero. He wasn't a great wizard. He was Harry. Just Harry.
At that moment, 'Just Harry' felt something ram into the back of his knees.
He whirled around and nearly tripped over a giant orange lump of fur. He gained his footing, careful as to not tread on the cat's paws. The poor creature looked as though it had sustained enough injuries already. Its face rather reminded Harry of the cartoons that Dudley enjoyed watching, the ones where the cat chased the mouse. The mouse would dive away at the last moment, causing the cat to slam into the wall until its face was completely flat. Harry didn't like those cartoons much. He never knew which side to take. Of course, the mouse deserved to live, but the cat was always punished for sparing the mouse's life.
He reached down to pet the cat's ear. Unlike most cats, which would meow or purr, this cat didn't react. Not one sound. He stared up at Harry with large silver eyes, eyes that looked plainly concerned. Was it upset that Harry was petting him? The child jerked back his hand just in case. No, the cat was still giving him that strange look.
"Humph," growled a voice from the corner. "Curious."
An elderly man stepped away from the shadows, sporting a walking stick and a scowl.
Harry inwardly groaned. What was curious now? Was this cat somehow related to his supposed magical destiny?
"My boy, don't look so alarmed," said the man, his frown melting into something more friendly. "I'm just jealous, is all. That cat has been in and out of my shop for a good decade now, always going off with different owners before coming back within a few months. It's never let me go near it, let alone touch it. And yet, it seems to have taking a shine to you. Got any mice in your pockets?"
Harry let out a small giggle before shaking his head. The cat finally let out a meow, pressing up against the boy's legs.
Unfortunately, a gigantic noise shook the walls of the shop, causing Harry to stagger backwards until he crashed into the display of owls. He straightened up, brushing feathers from his hair, and was horrified and amused when he realized the source of the chaos: Hagrid had sneezed.
"Never liked cats," he said. "They make me sneeze."
"I can see that," Harry said.
A second sneeze ricocheted through the shop. The owner frowned before producing a handkerchief, a miniscule relief for the sniffling giant.
Oddly enough, the cat wasn't spooked by the sounds. If anything, he seemed annoyed. When Harry had staggered backwards, the cat had bounded forward, pressing himself against his legs once more.
Both Harry and the owner noticed this.
"That's more than just a shine," said the old man. "That cat wants to go with you. Would you be interested?"
"Erm, I don't know," Harry admitted. "What's his name?"
"Crookshanks," the man began.
Before he could say anything else, Hagrid stepped between them. "Ah, s'rry Harry, but I'm afraid the cat won' do. Got ter get yeh an owl."
"You've got te-to?" Harry repeated, momentarily slipping into the giant's dialect. "Why do you have to?"
To his absolute horror, the man who had rescued him from the Dursleys now looked slightly hurt and affronted.
"Well," he grunted, "it was 'possed to be your birthday present."
Harry's face was immediately on fire. He tried to put out the flames and any other damage he might have caused by hastily saying, "O-oh no, no, Hagrid, I'm grateful. I mean, I really am. Thank you so much. It's just, these owls are so expensive. I could never ask you to pay that much. Not after everything you've done for me already. Look. Right over here, this piece of paper is all about Crookshanks. He's a fraction of what an owl would cost. I'd be grateful for anything, really, I would, but I I'd feel a lot better knowing that you didn't go through too much trouble for me. I'm not worth it."
The last part slipped out before he could stop it. Hagrid didn't seem to notice but the cat's head shot up.
Harry desperately tried to change the subject. He used the inclination of the cat's head to his advantage, petting him beneath the chin.
"Besides," he said, "Crookshanks really does seem to like me. And it looks like it needs a good home. Please, Hagrid? If you're going to get anything, I really would prefer Crookshanks. I mean, I'd appreciate anything but-"
He trailed off, feeling as though he had mucked everything up.
Fortunately, after a brief moment of hesitation, Hagrid slowly said, "Well, all right, Harry. If it's what yeh want." He let out another large sneeze before adding, "Just don' bring 'im by my house, eh?"
He gave the boy a large smile, causing his spirits to lift. They lifted even more when the giant pulled out a small hairy wallet. He glanced at the snowy owl again before asking, "Yeh sure yeh don' want her? I was told-well-if it's what yeh want-"
Looking slightly uncomfortable, he paid for Crookshanks. The discomfort quickly washed away as Harry let out a whoop of delight and threw his arms around the cat.
"Thank you, Hagrid," Harry practically squealed. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"
The giant chuckled, his face as pink as his umbrella. He waved his hand and mumbled something incoherent.
They entered the alleyway and realized that the sun was slipping beneath the horizon.
"'Reckon we have time for a bite to eat before yeh have to go back," Hagrid mused. "Yeh want a hamburger?"
Harry froze and Crookshanks crashed into the back of his legs.
"B-back?" asked the boy in a small voice. "What do you mean 'back'?"
"Back to the Dursleys."
And just like that, everything came crashing down. The boy's stomach twisted as that strange cold hand returned, tickling every single part of his skin, grabbing his chest and squeezing so tightly that he was sure he was going to burst.
"N-no," he finally said. "I can't go back there. I can't."
"Yeh have to," Hagrid said. "Term doesn't start til September Firs'."
September 1st. That was a month away. A month. There was no way he could survive the Dursleys for another month. Not after the amount of trouble he'd caused. He could already feel the welts and bruises forming.
He tried to summon up enough courage to tell the giant what might, no, would, happen if he returned. But he didn't. He didn't say anything when they bought six hamburgers from a kiosk-one for him and five for Hagrid. He didn't say anything when they made their way to the Underground. He didn't say anything when Hagrid gave him an entire trolley of supplies that he had purchased, which the thin boy had to haul over the gap between the platform and train. He didn't say anything. He only watched, sadly, as the doors closed between him and the giant. The train sighed as it pulled away from the platform, as if it too was reluctant to go.
Harry rested his forehead against the cool glass. Not even the cat against his legs could cheer him up. He had been so close...so close to being free…
The dusty carpet shook as Hagrid made his way across the headmaster's office. He felt rather like a schoolboy who was about to be admonished. The giant took some comfort in the trilling of Fawkes. He raised a finger and gently ran it across the back of the bird's head.
At that moment, another bird swooped in through the window. The white owl circled around the desk for a few seconds. Hagrid blinked and suddenly Dumbledore was there, brushing his feathery white hair out of his eyes. He adjusted his pointed hat and his half-moon glasses before turning his gaze to Hagrid.
"'m sorry, sir," Hagrid said, close to tears. "I know yeh wanted me to have 'im pick yeh but he wanted that cat so badly."
"Calm yourself, Hagrid," Dumbledore said with a lifted hand. "Everything is all right. You did brilliantly."
The giant's face grew pink again and his chest swelled with pride.
Truth be told, the headmaster was frustrated and disappointed. His plan had been perfect. He would pass as a common owl and have Harry take him in. Of course, he would only actually be in the boy's presence for a few minutes here or there, just to monitor how he was coming along. His extensive absences would be attributed to hunting or letter collecting.
Alas, the plan had failed. No matter. There was more than one way to check in on a child's progress. Truth be told, he probably should have thought of the more conventional methods first. He always had to overthink things.
Unlike the man in front of him who never seemed to put two thoughts together when they were needed the most.
Still, he was useful in some ways.
"The package, Hagrid," Dumbledore said, holding out his long fingers.
Hagrid pulled it from his pocket after a great deal of digging, happily handing it over. It was only when the giant left, accidentally tearing off his door handle, that Dumbledore stared at the object like a starved child stares at food.
Granted there had been a tiny hiccup in the plan-wasn't there always?-but everything was still going exactly as it should.
The walls of St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries were so white that they caused eye strain. She was glad that she had her face hidden behind a veil; it made everything just a little bit darker. Including her.
She swiftly made her way through the corridors, having performed this trip once a week for the past decade. She entered the Janus Thickley Ward and gave a nod of greeting to the matrons attending the various patients. Her practical shoes still clicked and clacked as she strolled down the ward, reaching the final bed that was situated just beneath the window.
The man stirred and let out a croak: "Help...me...let...me...go…"
"Tsk tsk," she said.
She produced a vial from the folds of her robes and poured its contents down the man's throat. He tried to fight but was too weak. And thus, just has he had done five hundred other times, he resignedly accepted his fate. His head hit the pillow and he fell into a deep sleep.
But not before he could whisper two more words:
"Harry...Potter…"
CHAPTER TWO
An inky blanket stretched across Privet Drive. Harry trudged up the sidewalk, dragging his trolley behind him. The cat followed him without command.
"Now, listen," Harry said. "I don't know how else to say this but you need to be...normal. You came from the Magical Menagerie so there must be something about you that's not Dursley-ish. And whatever that is, I'm begging you to keep it hidden. They hate anything that's not normal. Including m-"
He broke off, slightly embarrassed.
The cat purred and Harry nodded. "You're right; it's going to be fine."
The cat stared at him incredulously, as if he had said nothing of the sort and didn't like words being put into his mouth.
Harry sighed and threw the door open. He walked across the threshold, closed the door, entered the living room…
...and walked straight into a fist.
The eleven-year-old felt the pressure in his nose, then heard a snap, and finally felt the white hot pain. Something wet trickled down the front of his face. Even then, he didn't react, nor did he make any attempt to run. He merely stared up at his uncle in horror.
Shock was one hell of a potion.
"Vernon!" Aunt Petunia screamed, racing across the room. "Now, listen-"
Uncle Vernon ignored her. He grabbed Harry by the front of his shirt and pulled him right off of the ground. Harry wiggled in a desperate attempt to get away but his uncle's grip was firm. Dudley backed into the nearest corner, his eyes bulging. He mouthed Harry's name over and over, reaching towards him though his hand stopped abruptly, much like how it had pressed against the glass in the zoo.
The boy had just enough time to register this before he received another blow.
"Vernon, this isn't his fault!" Aunt Petunia cried. "It was the giant's. It's not like he asked him to put a tail on our Dudders. And besides, it can't be permanent."
Harry was more shocked at Aunt Petunia's attempt at a defense than he was by the fact that his uncle was about to throw him.
All at once, the cat charged forward and sank his claws into Uncle Vernon's thigh. The beefy man let out a scream and threw Harry all the same. The boy crashed into the side of the stairs and fell to the floor. He was dazed and his ears were ringing but he knew that lying down wasn't an option, no matter how much he suddenly wanted to sleep.
Uncle Vernon threw the cat with ease and it crashed into the wall next to Harry, who let out a small cry. The cat fell and was quite still when it reached the ground.
"No!" Harry whispered, much more concerned with this animal that he had just met than his own wellbeing. "No! Crookshanks! Crookshanks!"
Uncle Vernon was walking towards him like a predator seeking its prey.
Harry knew that he wasn't going to get out of this with brains and he certainly wasn't going to get out of it with brawn.
There was only one thing left to do. He jumped in front of the cat and withdrew his wand. It came slashing down and he cried, "Flibberdijibberdy! Abracadabra! Freeze!"
Nothing happened.
And then his uncle hand one hand on his wrist and the other around his neck. Harry's eyes grew wide as he realized that his uncle was trying to choke him!
Whether or not he would have succeeded, Harry was never sure. For at that moment, a random man stepped around Harry and lifted his hands.
Wait...what?
Before Harry could fathom where the man had come from, he and Uncle Vernon were ripped apart by a strange force. The boy safely landed on his feet, though the pain and exhaustion ended up dragging him to the floor.
He looked around for Crookshanks and was shocked to realize that the cat was gone. Where was he? Was he okay?
'Focus, Harry,' said a voice in the back of his mind.
He turned his attention back to the scene before him. The man was taking on Uncle Vernon in a fistfight-and he was winning! A strange pulse seemed to emit from him. Harry could feel it, like waves of static and energy. Something must have burst from the man's palms for Vernon suddenly went flying into the wall.
He ended up going right through it, falling partially into the kitchen. He let out a small grunt and lifted his head before it crashed back down.
"Not much of a dueller, are you?" asked the man with a twisted smile. He spun back around and crouched in front of the boy. "Harry, I am so sorry I wasn't able to help you sooner. I'll never forgive myself for letting this happen to you. Sirius is going to murder me but until he does, I'm going to do everything within my power to protect you."
Harry gaped at him. He had no idea what to say and the man seemed to understand. He picked up the trembling boy's wand and gently said, "I know a few spells that can heal your most recent injuries. Shall I perform them?"
The man flicked the wand that didn't belong to him and set to work healing as much as he could. As he did so, Harry took a good look at him.
He was tall, unusually tall. Like Harry, he had raven black hair. Unlike Harry, his skin was pale and he had silver eyer eyes that Harry suspected once held a sparkle. His hair was also different too, the boy realized. It was long and mostly straight, though there was a bit of a wave here or there.
It occurred to Harry that focusing on the man's physical features might not be the best priority at the moment.
And so, he whispered, "Who are you?"
Come to think of it, he should have probably asked that question before, such as when the man had grabbed his wand.
The man gave him a sad smile. "No, I don't suppose you remember me, do you? You were only a baby when...when it happened that we could no longer be in each other's lives. My name is Regulus Black. I'm your goduncle, though you used to call me G'uncle."
Harry stared at the man for what felt like a century and a half. He finally pulled himself together and said, "It's nice to meet you."
He held out his hand and Regulus chuckled. "It's nice to meet you too."
He shook the boy's hand with a kind smile that was...that was genuinely kind. He seemed genuinely kind, something that Harry couldn't remember ever seeing in an adult.
The Dursleys certainly weren't kind.
The Dursleys…
Harry looked past the man, staring at the lump that was Uncle Vernon. Regulus followed his gaze and firmly said, "Don't worry; there's nothing he can do that will ever harm you again. I promise."
With that, he handed the boy his wand. Harry was shocked to find that his body no longer ached and he was no longer ready to collapse. He thanked the man who gave him a grimace, as if he didn't think that gratitude was in order.
Harry spun around and ended up stumbling. Regulus caught him, raising an eyebrow, and the boy mumbled, "Sorry. My cat. Do you know where he went?"
"Ah." Regulus looked distinctly uncomfortable. "Well, Harry, I owe you another apology."
He released the boy and turned on the spot. Harry blinked and Crookshanks was looking up at him. Another blink and Regulus was back.
"I don't understand," Harry said thickly. "You're Crookshanks?"
"Well, Crookshanks is the name the owner of the shop gave me," said Regulus with a smile. "There are many other names that I've had but I assure you that Regulus is the one I was born with."
"Were you born a cat?"
Harry knew that it was a dumb question but he couldn't help it. He'd seen stranger today. Regulus gave him a small frown before saying, "No, I was born human. I'm an Animagus."
"Sorry...a what?"
"An Animagus," the man repeated. "I have the power to transform into an animal."
"Are all Animagus...ses...cats?"
"Animagi," Regulus corrected. "And no. I've known many Animagi throughout my lifetime, including a dog and a stag. But let's not discuss this here. We really must be going."
"Going?" Harry repeated. "Going where?"
Once again, he received a strange look, before the man said, "It's not safe for me to reveal that here. Which bedroom is yours?"
Regulus started up the stairs but paused when Harry froze.
"What is it?" the man asked. "What's wrong?"
The boy lifted a shaky finger and pointed towards the cupboard.
"What?" Regulus asked. "I don't under-why are you-?"
He suddenly broke off and was unable to hide the brief expression of horror that crossed his face. He hurried back down the stairs and wrenched the door to the cupboard open.
"Harry," he whispered, "is this where you slept?"
"Well, I didn't sleep all the time," Harry said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Sometimes I had to stay in there during the day so I couldn't. Sleep, that is."
Regulus gripped the doorway for a few seconds and Harry immediately panicked. What if he didn't believe him? What if he left, leaving Harry without a protector or a cat?
He must have sensed something for he whirled around and actually crouched down, looking the boy right in the eye. "Harry, I want you to listen to me: I am not upset with you, not even remotely. I am merely upset at the situation. Specifically, what you have gone through. You've done nothing wrong."
Ah.
This was a lie and Harry told the man so, along with: "I've been a freak my entire life. I made t-terrible things happen. I once shrunk a sweater that Aunt Petunia bought me and I've made pencils and papers fly across the classroom and I once regrew my hair overnight after she shaved it and I once broke a picture frame when I was really upset and just a few weeks ago, I-I locked Dudley in a snake exh-exhibit and I-I-"
Everything finally broke and the boy crumpled. Regulus caught him, wrapping his arms around him and holding him close. He whispered words of comfort as the child sobbed into his stomach, letting out pain that he had felt for years.
"Harry, none of that was your fault," he said gently. "That's what's called 'accidental magic'. It happens to every wizard and witch, especially children. I'm sure you didn't mean any of it. All right?"
He knew the conversation was far from over and truth be told, Harry did as well. Still, the boy took several deep breaths and bravely stepped back, nodding.
"Let's get you all packed up," Regulus suggested. "Do you own anything else other than what's in this cupboard and on the trolley next to you?"
"No," said the boy, staring at the floor. "This is everything I own."
"I see," he said. "Well, that makes the journey lightweight, doesn't it? At least, it would be, if Hagrid had gotten you the proper supplies. Merlin, what is this nonsense? No matter, I suppose we'll sort it out later."
He waved the wand and muttered a few choice spells. Harry was so lost in his thoughts that he hadn't realized the trolley was no longer next to him. Nor were there any clothes or drawings in the cupboard. Everything was neatly stowed away in his trunk. Regulus had even folded his socks into perfect triangles.
"Blimey," the eleven-year-old cried. "That's amazing!"
Regulus modestly smiled before handing him his wand.
A moan suddenly made Harry remember that they were not the only conscious members of the house. Aunt Petunia and Dudley were still in the living room, the former standing protectively in front of the latter. They had, of course, been there the entire time but had both been too petrified to speak or move.
Aunt Petunia finally inched forward, her eyes fixed on Regulus. "Y-you're supposed to be dead."
"And you," said Regulus coolly, "are supposed to be a formidable guardian. I suppose, somewhere down the line, we both ended up failing."
"Y-you don't understand," she whispered, sweat pouring down her pointed face. "It's not like I could stop him. What was I supposed to do? What was I suppo-?"
"Mum?" Dudley asked nervously. "Mummy?"
All at once, the blonde woman fainted. Regulus charged forward and wrapped his arm around her around the waist, keeping her from slamming into the ground. Dudley began to scream and punch the man's shoulder.
"What did you do?" he wailed. "What did you do to her?"
"I didn't do anything," Regulus said, resting his hand against the woman's forehead. "She's burning up. I'll help her but I can't do that if you keep punching me."
Dudley didn't seem to hear him.
Harry then did something amazing. He stepped forward and rested his hands on Dudley's arm. His cousin was so shocked that he immediately let it go limp.
"D-did you do this?" Dudley asked with watery eyes. "Was it you?"
"I-I don't think s-"
"This isn't Harry's fault," Regulus said firmly. He carried the fallen woman over to the couch, setting her down a bit more briskly than was necessary.
He then turned and asked, "Harry, can I see your wand again?"
The boy handed it over and Regulus set to work. Harry watched him with a heavy sense of trepidation. He wasn't fixing Aunt Petunia. Instead, he was repairing the house, taking away the dents and holes that had been caused by the recent fight. It took all of the man's strength to pull Uncle Vernon out into the hallway.
He raised his wand and Dudley let out a loud shriek. Harry flinched too.
Regulus looked up and quickly said, "Boys, I'm not going to harm him, though I dare say he would deserve it."
He flinched as he realized that it was the wrong thing to say. The cousins were holding onto each other, both terrified and miserable, the bespectacled one even more so.
The former Slytherin took a deep breath before saying what was best for the situation: "I will not harm him. I promise. I am merely going to modify his memory."
He certainly didn't want the man to retaliate for everything that had happened. He was going to do everything within his power to make sure that Harry never had to come back but he couldn't keep his eyes on the boy every second of the rest of his life, no matter how much he wanted to. Vernon Dursley was clearly an abusive monster, perhaps even more dangerous than the man Regulus had once vowed to serve. His arm prickled at the mere thought.
He raised the wand and set to work. A few spells ensured that Vernon Dursley would never remember this night. As far as he was concerned, Hagrid took Harry and the boy never returned. Which, Regulus thought, should have been the actual case.
And what about the blond boy?
Regulus had never intended to help another child. His only goal had been to get Harry out of there as quickly as possible and he had clearly failed. But he couldn't leave this boy in the horrid man's care.
And what of Petunia?
She had clearly fallen ill, no doubt as a result from betraying a very powerful magical source. If Regulus was a betting man, he would have given everything in his vault to the notion that Petunia Evans Dursley had only now realized just how severely she had gone against her sister's wishes. The resulting shock mixed with a bit of obscure magic he couldn't quite trace resulted in the woman falling unconscious.
He couldn't leave her in the same house as Vernon. Regulus had never cared for her, having seen her in King's Cross every summer and the few times when he and the Potters had tried to be civil. Still, his distaste in her tacky way of life certainly didn't mean that he wished her harm. The fact that she had knowingly stayed with an abusive ma-
No.
Regulus couldn't do that. He couldn't blame her. She might have had her part in Harry's pain and for that, he would never forgive her. Still, he knew exactly what it was like to find oneself trapped in a situation where an abusive, evil, masochist could harm or kill you if you dared to leave. Oddly enough, Sirius had been the one to get him out of that situation. Well, SIrius had been the one to get him out of the lake after he had so foolishly tried to get himself out of the situation alone.
Nobody should have to get themselves out of that situation alone.
"Merlin, help me," Regulus whispered.
He looked from the unconscious woman to the boy who had been a clear victim of child abuse to a boy whose condition was unclear but had, at the very least, suffered from several nasty shocks. A trip to the hospital was definitely in order. But not St. Mungo's. He couldn't afford anyone in the wizarding world seeing him; not yet.
No. A Muggle hospital would have to do.
"Boys," Regulus said, channeling every part of Slytherin within him, "I know that you have both been through alot. I want to hear everything and I promise that I'm going to help you. Yes, yes, I'm also going to help her. The next few days are going to be confusing and scary but I need you to trust me. I was Harry's family once. I want to be again."
The blond boy and Harry exchanged glances. It was the former who finally asked, "How do we know we can trust you?"
"Excellent question."
Regulus brought up his hands and a golden light wrapped around him.
"I, Lord Regulus Arcturus Black, Heir of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, do solemnly swear on my blood, my magic, and my wealth, that I will forever protect you, Harry James Potter, and you-"
He looked at the blond boy who glanced at his father before saying, "Dudley, um, Evans."
"-Dudley Dursley who wishes to call himself Dudley Evans. You have the word of a wizard as well as a lord."
The golden light wrapped around the boys as well and though they both screamed at it, and grabbed at each other to boot, they were unharmed. A strange wind tousled their hair and clothes. At last, the strangeness disappeared, causing all of them to let out deep sighs of relief for reasons unknown.
Regulus stared at the boys, waiting for their reactions.
The two exchanged glances.
"Lord?" Harry asked.
"Heir?" Dudley asked.
The man chuckled before suddenly noticing something, providing a question of his own: "Dudley, why exactly do you have a tail?"
CHAPTER THREE
Regulus was exhausted.
He watched the boys who were now in his care. They each had their own bed in a private section of the Great Ormond Street Hospital. It had been a pain and a half getting them there. He had known that Apparation and Portkeys were out of the question. He had eventually used Harry's wand to Confund the next door neighbor, who had taken them all the way to London in her minivan. Dudley and Harry had sat in the back, both too deep in shock to say anything. Regulus had sat in the middle, carefully holding an unconscious Petunia. The housewife had sat in the driver's seat, cheerfully singing showtunes as she sped along.
As soon as Regulus had carried the unconscious woman into the hospital, with two scared boys at his side, he had cried, "Protectio trahit subjectionem, et subjectio protectionem."
The staff had set to work at once. The code had immediately told them all that the present company consisted of those who were magical. Many Muggle doctors, nurses, and orderlies were informed of the wizarding world very early on in their training. While St. Mungo's was the best option for any wixen, there were times when said hospital was not available. As such, the Muggle hospitals were often prepared to deal with the strange physiology and conditions that wixen faced.
Several nurses had ushered the boys into an examination room. Another one had taken Petunia. Though the hospital normally didn't specialize in treating adults, they had decided to make an exception. Thus, she had been moved to her own wing where the few doctors certified in adult care began closely examining her.
Regulus had had the pleasure of meeting one Emily Thompson-a plump woman with curly brown hair, a sea of freckles, and a smile which clearly did not fit in with the bleak situation. She had sat by Regulus' side as a sobbing Harry and an equally upset Dudley had recounted nearly every moment of their lives. In the end, Regulus had been white-knuckled and his teeth had ached from how long he had clenched his jaw. Upon noticing the fearful looks that Harry had given Dudley, Regulus had drawn the boy aside.
"Harry," he had whispered, "are you afraid of Dudley?"
"Erm-" Harry had blushed. "I mean, he used to beat me up a lot but that sort of stopped awhile ago. Lately he's seemed really upset whenever Un-Vernon-you know-"
He had swallowed and Regulus had placed a hand on his shoulder.
"I want him here," Harry had finally mumbled, seeing Regulus' unasked question.
And 'here' he was, lying in the bed next to Harry. Regulus wiped his stinging eyes before walking over and resting his hand on the boy's forehead. He could feel the grooves of his scar against his palm. His heart ached as he tried to comprehend every single thing that the poor child had gone through. It was too much to even think about, let alone live through.
A hand on his shoulder caused him to jump and spin around.
"Sorry," Dr. Thompson cried, throwing her hands up. "I should know better than to sneak up on people."
"No, no, it's my fault," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "War reflexes, you know?"
She gave him a sad smile before saying, "You should get some rest, Mister Black."
"N-no, I'm fine."
"At least sit and eat something." When he hesitated, she added, "Lead by example."
He sighed and stomped over to the rickety chair in the corner. He stiffly sat and accepted the tray of hospital food. It was only slightly better than the catfood he had eaten for the past decade. His eyes drooped long before he expected them to do so. He closed them and thought about all of the families that he had lived with, all of the information that he had acquired before they had run their course, resulting in a misbehavior that had gotten him sent right back to the shop to await another bundle of news-bringers. All the while, he had looked for Harry. He had nearly had a heart-attack when, after ten years, the boy had shown up in Diagon Alley. With Hagrid to boot.
Regulus had immediately seen the signs of abuse. How many times had he and Sirius shown them? He had vowed to stick to the boy, never imagining that he would end up with his aunt and an abusive uncle. The entire wizarding world had searched for the child for years and he had been in a two-story in Surrey?
All at once, a single name crossed his mind: Dumbledore.
Albus bloody Dumbledore had taken Harry on the night that Sirius had died. By the time Regulus and Remus had arrived on the scene, the former in disguise, the wizard had disappeared. Remus had spent years begging him to reveal Harry's whereabouts but had only received the same answer: a werewolf could not possibly be trusted with the whereabouts of a young child.
Of course, Remus had eventually disappeared from the face of the earth, leaving Regulus as the only one left. Ironic as, had the Inferi gotten their way, he would have been the first to leave.
Regulus' drowsily turned his thoughts back over to Dumbledore. He wasn't sure what the old wizard had been trying to pull. A tiny part of him thought that he might have had the child's best interests at heart. Perhaps things had fallen through the cracks. Perhaps this was all one unfortunate accident.
No.
James and Sirius hadn't trusted Dumbledore in the end. Regulus trusted James and Sirius. Therefore, through the transitive property of trust…
Regulus' chin abruptly hit his chest and all semi-delusional thoughts were wiped clean as he finally fell asleep.
Albus Dumbledore was mad.
The silver instruments were screaming at the top of their lungs, practically leaping off of the shelves. He tried to silence them but they broke through the spells to screech and screech and screech some more, each one finding a different way to provide the same warning:
Harry Potter was no longer at Privet Drive.
Well if he wasn't there then where the bloody hell was he?
Where the bloody hell was he?
Regulus gaped at the empty bed where the boy should have been. He had fallen asleep for twenty, maybe thirty minutes, but it had apparently been enough for the boy to sneak off.
Regulus cursed his name as he raced into the corridor.
"Dudley?" he called. "Dudley!"
He approached a janitor and asked, "Excuse me, have you seen my—erm—son? He has blond hair, blue eyes, he's about 5′2″, he was wearing a red shirt with some sort of wrestling duo on it?"
The woman laughed. "You mean the elephant who can't stop shoving food in his face? He broke into the cafeteria."
Regulus frowned. He continued down the corridor though he did glance back at the janitorial cart. In a true Slytherin fashion, he jerked his hand, causing the cart to tip, spraying the woman with dirty water. He smirked before heading towards the cafeteria. He wasn't the first one there. Several security guards were being held off by Dr. Thompson, despite the fact that she was a good foot shorter than the stoutest one.
"The boy is having a medical crisis," she said sternly. "If you go in there, you'll only make it worse."
At the words 'medical crisis', Regulus increased his speed until he was practically running. Dr. Thompson looked up and said, "Mister Black—"
"Is Dudley in there?" he asked. "Is he okay?"
"Yes and no."
"W-what's wrong with him?"
"I'm afraid I can't talk to non-family members."
"Well, I'm his aunt's husband's brother's brother," Regulus quickly said, trying to mentally follow the family tree. "Doesn't that count for something?"
She gave him a sad smile and he added, "What about the fact that I'm currently all he's got? Does that count for something?"
Dr. Thompson sighed and asked, "How long have you known Dudley, Mister Black?"
He shrugged. "A few hours."
She gave him a skeptical look and he stared right back. She finally sighed, realizing that she was going to lose this battle. "I'll have to do a few tests, of course, but I think he might have an eating disorder."
"What?"
Regulus pushed his way into the cafeteria and froze. Dudley was sitting on the floor outside the kitchen, helping himself to an entire chocolate cake. His hands were like a well-oiled machine, pushing one piece after another into his mouth.
"Whoa, whoa, hey," Regulus said, racing over and crouching down. "Dudley—"
The boy paused and cried, "What's wrong? Is Harry okay?"
"Yeah, he's—he's sleeping," the man said. "You ought to be sleeping too. You certainly shouldn't be stealing food from a hospital. Petunia might not be perfect but I'd like to think she raised you better than that."
Dudley wiped his mouth on the back of his arm. "I-I came down to get something for Harry and I was just—I couldn't help myself. Harry's going to be okay, isn't he?"
"Candidly, Dudley, at the moment, I'm more worried about you."
"About me?" He looked incredulous. "Who cares about me?"
"I do," Regulus said simply. Dudley went to take another bite but Regulus pushed his hands down. "That's enough. You're going to make yourself si—"
At that moment, the eleven-year-old vomited. Regulus' crisp, white, shirt had the pleasure of receiving most of the mess. When Dudley realized what had happened, he burst into tears.
"Hey, whoa, it's okay," Regulus said. "Wizard, remember?"
He focused and brought his hand up and down. Within seconds, the mess had vanished, though the aftermath was still heavily present. Ignoring the chocolate stains—though secretly deciding that white really wasn't his color—Regulus pulled the weeping boy into a hug. Dudley was shocked into silence, though he did eventually lean against the man.
"I-I'm sorry," he said at last. "I knew I was going to be sick but I really couldn't stop. It was like I was being possessed. Is that weird?"
"You're talking to a man who can turn into a cat and wave a magic stick," Regulus said, getting a chuckle out of the boy. "I've seen weirder. However, I am concerned."
Dudley let out a yawn and the man added, "But we can talk about it in the morning. Come on. Let's get you back to the wing."
The two stood up and, with Regulus' arm still protectively wrapped around the boy's shoulders, walked right past the guards. Regulus didn't let go of the boy until they were back in the wing. Dudley ducked into the bathroom to change into a hospital gown, if only because his clothes were covered with chocolate. He came back out and took a long look at Harry, who barely took up a third of his hospital bed.
"He's going to be okay," Regulus said quietly, leading Dudley over to a spare bed. "And so are you. I promise. I'm not going to let anything happen to either one of you."
"Why?" Dudley asked, sinking down into the mattress. "I get caring about him. It's about time someone did. But why do you care about me?"
"We're family, Dudley," Regulus said with a smile.
"We are?"
"You're my brother's brother's wife's nephew," he teased. "If that doesn't make us family then what does?"
He rested his hand on the boy's forehead, if only to perform a subtle spell that caused his eyes to snap shut. It wasn't long before two sets of snores filled the room. It was only then that Regulus left.
He headed down the corridor just as Dr. Thompson headed up it. Regulus caught her waist and pulled her into a secluded area. Her cheeks grew pink and it was a moment before he pulled away.
Regulus gestured back towards the wing before saying, "Erm, what?"
She sighed. "It's called Binge Eating Disorder. It occurs when children, anyone, really, go through a traumatic experience. They eat uncontrollably as a subconscious attempt to cope."
"Will he be all right?"
"He will," she said, "but it's going to take some time. I'd like to see him for counseling."
Regulus blinked. "You, erm, counsel?"
"I found early on in my profession that treating a child's physical injuries is useless if their mental wounds are left untreated. I work in the pediatric emergency room on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays and the pediatric psychiatry department on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays."
"Blimey, do you ever sleep?"
"Do you?" she countered. "Go on; you need to lead by example."
He stared at her with a raised eyebrow before sighing, trudging back to the wing. She followed him, giving him his own personal escort, just as he had done with the eleven-year-old boy.
"They'll be okay, won't they?" he asked in a voice too small for his demeanor.
Dr. Thompson smiled and said, "You're all going to be fine."
And as the last hours of July faded away to welcome a blazing hot August, Regulus and the boys slept on, moving closer and closer to their new future.
And as the last few hours of July fade away, I end this chapter. I must warn you, though, that the rest of the book will not be published in real time. I have far too much to do. In fact, one might wonder why, when juggling a Senator's internship, another internship, preparation for attending grad school at an Ivy League College at a city seven hours away that I've been to thrice, and actually writing and publishing legitimate books, I would ever consider writing fanfiction. Well, the truth of the matter is, I've missed this so much. It's the perfect way to relax. When you write books for profit, as enjoyable as they are, everything is quite literally 'work'. But with this, I don't have to worry about the typos or the formatting or the copyright issues or the reviews or, well, anything.
With all of that said, let's talk about the fanfiction. As you've probably noticed, it's strayed away from canon from, well, the very first line. (Harry...happy?) I won't bother listing every single thing that I have taken upon myself to change (see the above busy schedule) but I will say that if you read something that you know isn't canon, it's intentional. If you have questions about a certain change, please feel free to leave a comment and I'll try to answer. (Again, see the above schedule.)
As you've also noticed, this is going to be slightly different than most other stories where Harry is rescued from the Dursleys/Dumbledore's manipulations. This isn't going to be a Powerful!Harry story. It's not even going to be an Independent!Harry story. Don't get me wrong, I've been in love with those two tropes for a decade and a half. But even more than those tropes, I love the idea of an adult in Harry's life taking charge and ensuring that he can be a kid. I just got through five years of being an Early Childhood Education Major and I want Harry to be a kid. Not a martyr, not a destined dead-man-walking, a child who is in the safe hands on several loving adults who will fight the entire world if it means he's safe.
As with every fanfiction you ever come across, please consider reviewing. And if you'd like to check out my actual books to give me a few dollars towards an apartment in the aforementioned terrifying city, you're in luck. Two years ago, when I first started publishing, I equipped the Amazon Search to link to my username (marauders4evr). You should be able to find all of my books by searching. I will warn you that the quality isn't as superb as a polished author who doesn't have to follow the aforementioned schedule of events. However, I had a lot of fun writing them and hope you enjoy them.
Hopefully I'll have an update within a week or so.
Until then, Mischief Managed.