He watched from his cell, strapped against the wall with Ron and Luna next to him. Hermione was stripped bare on an altar, covered in unknown runes written in her own forcibly taken blood.

Bellatrix Lestrange stared down at her, a manic grin on her face and violet eyes alight in insanity.

"The ickle widdle mudblood!" she cried out. "All for me!" The other Death Eaters in the room jeered and hollered, some with their hands in their pants as they leered at Hermione's virgin body. Bellatrix began to haphazardly cut into her skin, spelling out the word 'Mudblood' with a ritual knife.

Harry screamed at the top of his lungs at Bellatrix, calling her the vilest names he could think of, telling her to hurt him instead. She didn't verbally respond, but he knew by the twitch of her brow she'd heard his screams. She turned to him, her face alight in an unholy trance that spoke of pain.

"So ickle widdle Potter wants to pway? Bella has a great game for you!"

She walked up to where he was strapped down, turned her wand onto his face, pointing it directly at his right eye, and while smiling like a saint she spoke.

"It's called scream."

The wand began to glow a sickly red and she snarled out her spell.

"Diffindo!"

Harry Potter woke up screaming, his singular green eye wide while his magical blue one swirled around the room, trying to find anything unnatural. Without even thinking about it his hand, scarred with 'I will not tell lies' had ghosted its way to his wand.

He let out a sigh, putting his wand down and laid back down on his bed, staring at the ceiling in apathy. He wiped a sweat covered hand over his lightly stubbled face, knowing that he wasn't likely to return to sleep. He stared at the muggle clock on his nightstand, showing the time to be 9:13. Perhaps he shouldn't have stayed up so late working on Regulus's old bedroom?

With a groan, Harry got out of his bed, the mass of blankets surrounding his form billowing about in all manner of directions. Sunlight streamed through the window, and he belatedly noted that he should have pulled the curtains last night. He glanced outside briefly and just let loose a small sigh.

A yawn in his throat, he made his way to the washroom, wand in hand. He looked in the mirror as he stripped his clothing, touching his scarred skin. His eye was missing, his upper body was still scarred from the Dragon and the Basilisk while Bellatrix had been kind enough to even out the scars on his chest with whips to his back.

He sighed once more, removing his magical eye and pointed his trusted holly wand at the tub. With an overpowered "Aquamenti" and a weakened "Incendio" he found himself in a scalding hot bath. He scrubbed at his scarred body, from the Chamber, from the Dragon, from Tom and from Bella. He knew what people would say about him behind his back, being compared to Mad-eye Moody was never considered a compliment if those that spoke weren't speaking of dueling skills.

Harry quickly finished cleaning, he never much cared for long baths; the Dursleys were quick to show him he'd be paying for their extra water bills in chores. He dried off halfheartedly and put on a pair of simple sweatpants and a long-sleeve and bounded downstairs, not even bothering to dry his wet hair. Pigwidgeon was perched on the ledge of his kitchen window, a small pile of letters strapped to the birds leg along with the days Daily Prophet; Harry still wasn't certain why he even let the damned owl past his wards. Pig had appeared a few days after he moved into Grimmauld, and no matter how many times he tried to make the bird return to the Weasley's it would always return to him.

The Weasley's had become a somewhat sore subject for him. He still kept in contact with them, else Pigwidgeon wouldn't even be able to enter his home- but damage had been done. Bill was doing well, and he'd heard rumor that Fleur was pregnant with a girl. Charlie went back to his dragons. Percy returned to the Ministry and submerged himself into restructuring the place at Kingsley's side. George ended up taking over his and Fred's joke shop after wallowing in grief for a long while. Ron…

Well, Ron pulled a Ron. He allowed pettiness to take over once more, this time he somehow got Hermione in on in. Ron had begun to feel inadequate once more, what with Harry having just killed the Dark Lord while he left halfway through the search and returned to barely do anything useful, as he would say. Harry had tried to convince Ron that he'd been useful, that they wouldn't be where they were without him and that he destroyed Slytherin's locket, but Ron was nothing if not stubborn. Then, with his new relationship with Hermione, he felt that Harry's presence just didn't help. He'd been cordial to Harry, blunt and somber but Harry understood one thing- Ron was fickle.

Harry would always cherish Ron, he was his first and best friend, but he just couldn't continually live with letting Ron back into his life only for the guy to walk out when things turned tricky.

Hermione, however, was another matter entirely. She'd been undergoing what Harry had dubbed the "Honeymoon phase." She'd never been in a relationship before and regardless of who her partner was she was deliriously happy to be wanted in such a way. When Ron claimed that he wanted to get away from Harry for a while, she didn't even question it. She followed him.

He would admit to feeling down more about Hermione than he was about Ron. Hermione had stuck by him through thick and thin, he'd been tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange for her sake, though he would do so again for any of his friends in truth. He would admit that he considered her in a romantic light at one point, but she made it abundantly clear that he was like her brother, that she could never be with her family and instead chose Ron. He accepted her decision, but he couldn't be near her until his heartache passed in full.

Harry sighed once more, his thoughts turned to the true reason for his rift with the Weasley clan; Ginny.

Ever since the Horcrux inside his head had been destroyed, he'd been able to think clearly and more so, gained a unique ability.

Harry, as it turned out, was a natural Legilimense and the Horcrux was stunting that ability along with any hopes of crafting proper Occlumency shields. When it was destroyed the paper thin shields he had formed with Professor Snape had turned into thick walls that had been nigh impenetrable.

He had no idea how to control his Legilimency at first and, without meaning to, would skim the surface thoughts of people he was in mid conversation with. Harry had even attempted to get back into a relationship with Ginny in hopes of forgetting Hermione, but after an accidental Legilimency probe went into her he found her to be lacking. While he was hunting Horcruxes and being tortured she was on her back with her legs spread, allowing people to use her body without preamble.

Upon looking further, he found himself appalled to discover that ever since the end of first year, after the Chamber incident, she'd been subject had mental trauma that was never dealt with. She couldn't understand love, just as Tom who had possessed her couldn't, but unlike Tom, she'd been able to at one point. She substituted that with lust, and allowed her body to be taken when she was just a third year by a seventh year.

When Harry brought this up to her family, Molly Weasley screamed at him, claiming to her family that Harry was spreading lies about their youngest, calling Ginny a whore and such. The reactions went as followed- Arther punched him in the stomach, Bill did nothing because he was perfectly aware what was happening, Charlie wasn't there, Percy followed Bill's example, George was drunk thinking about Fred and didn't bother, and Ron gave him a black eye.

Still, that was months ago, and while he was now cordial with the family, the bad blood had been spilled. Harry headed over to Pig and picked up the bundle of letters and the paper the bird had brought him. He poured some water for the owl before taking a seat at the dinner table. The once hyper bird had calmed down quite a bit and gave a soft hoot before settling down in front of his water dish.

The letters were of the usual sort. Ginny bothering him about marriage, as if he'd consider such a thing with her. Hermione trying to talk to him, he still needed his time away from her and ignored it. Ron trying to figure out why he wasn't talking, Harry didn't much care to read his idiocy. Andromeda telling him of Teddy's growth, he always loved hearing of his godson and found great enjoyment in playing with the kid. He was too young to raise a child, Andromeda was the one to say that, but he made sure to be a part of the kid's life. There was even a letter from Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt himself, asking Harry to join the Auror corps. The man just couldn't seem to leave Harry alone. Aye, he killed a Dark Lord, but that didn't mean he enjoyed what he had to do.

He didn't want to be an Auror anymore, not after he saw the worst of the people he would be fighting for. Britain had forsook him when he was fighting for their freedom, and when he ended Tom they clamored to him like nails to a magnet.

He looked at the headlines of the Daily Prophet and let loose a vocal snarl. The media were talking about him, again. He'd always hated reporters ever since his first meeting with Rita Skeeter, but this was just ridiculous.

Ever since he'd killed Voldemort, the front page of the various British and even a few European papers wouldn't stop writing about him. It had started simple, he was praised and recognized for defeating the Dark Lord by the whole of Europe, but Britain had turned what should have been simple praise into what might as well have been worship of a deity. People were demanding he take up the positions Dumbledore once had and lead Britain into a new age of prosperity!

He hated it all.

In order to escape such blatant hypocrisy, since he was well aware that Britain had labeled him as their most wanted criminal the day before Voldemort's death, he moved back into 12 Grimmauld Place. Grimmauld Place had always been a dreary place, but without Kreacher it had been grossly infested with all kinds of unnatural grime. It almost made Harry sad he had killed Kreacher. That damned elf had been the one to bring him to Malfoy Manor after all, and while he would admit to being rash in the way Kreacher died, the elf had earned his ire. Harry needed to vent, and after killing Kreacher he let loose his stomach. Torture was something he didn't have the stomach for. Still, Grimmauld held some of the best wards in all of Britain and it'd keep him safe from both reporters and anyone meaning him harm.

Harry didn't know why he even allowed such thoughts to enter his mind. He quickly pulled out his wand and burned the paper with an Incendio, a spell he'd become quite proficient with during his time in Grimmauld.

He prepared himself quick a batch of bacon and headed into what he called the Dark Room of the house. Harry had plans to make Grimmauld into a proper home that didn't creep him out, and so he'd recently decided to clean out the worst of the place. He cast an overpowered Incendio on Walburga's portrait a month ago, burning down half the living room in the process. He took down the severed heads of the many house-elves of the family and then painted the place from what was a dark green into a light gold.

The Dark Room, however, was the room that the Order of the Phoenix dumped every single object that they couldn't identify, claiming them all as Dark. It wasn't completely wrong, the majority of those objects were in fact cursed in some way, shape, or form – but, many of the objects in that room were perfectly safe and even had a wide variety of uses.

He'd been working on clearing out the room for nearly a month, constantly checking with as many charms and spells that he knew in order to figure out what the objects were.

Recently, however, he'd come upon an item he didn't know existed. Underneath the floorboards of the Dark Room –which broke after a necklace with a gravity curse activated on accident and fell through the boards– was an urn of some form. The urn was almost completely plain, no known curses or enchantments were present on or in it, and the only markings were a full circle with a pair of squares intersecting similar to the Star of David he'd seen those of Jewish faith wear.

Harry had been trying to figure out why the Blacks, a notoriously Dark family, would have such an item in their possession. The only interesting thing about the urn was that magic didn't seem to affect it, and even still, the Blacks likely wouldn't have owned such an item.

Harry dragged the urn, which weighed roughly 150 lbs. into the common room and began to dust the item off. He absently noticed that there was a spec of something on the circular symbol, and when he brushed his finger against the edge of the symbol, he felt his magic drain. The urn began to glow, and what was once a dull tan turned into a brilliant gold and azure light escaped from the lid. A blue fog began to seep out of the urn and Harry hastily backed away.

The blue fog soon encompassed the whole of the house and just when Harry thought he'd accidentally found his death warrant, the fog compressed. Fog turned into mist, and mist turned into water, and water turned into something that Harry would remember for the rest of his life.

No legs were visible, making whatever this was to look like its lower body was made of pure smoke or a mist of sorts, but this thing was most definitely humanoid. A female body, similar in size to that of a giant, appeared from the fog with skin the color of sapphire. Long arms, wrapped intricately in various pieces of golden jewelry extended, with open palms showed Harry a set of unnaturally long fingernails; roughly a foot long each. The woman, for there was no other way to describe her, looked to be wearing a white shawl that allowed her breasts to be exposed, and instead of nipples, on her bare breasts was the same star symbol on the urn. Her face was comparable to that of a veela in the way it was ethereally beautiful, with bright violet eyes, high cheekbones, a lip ring and long pointed ears barely visible from her indigo locks. The only curiosity upon her ethereal face was the vertical line going down the middle of her brow.

Harry gulped loudly, and her attention quickly found him as he hastily pulled out his wand.

She spoke, a voice that rasped and held what seemed like millennia of knowledge, "I am Paimon, Djinn of Change and Sin. Who comes before me to ask for my Third Wish?"

Harry shakily stood up, trying to get a good look at this woma-Paimon that randomly appeared while keeping his wand pointed at her and stuttered out the question at the tip of his tongue, "Djinn?"

She stared at him and he felt his Occlumency shields penetrated without the slightest bit of strain on her part, "What you have come to know as Genie's, Harry James Potter."

He snapped, "Don't read my mind!"

"It is how I determine what is to be The Third Wish. Djinn do not grant frivolous desires to those that find them, only their hearts truest desire."

He stilled, slowly but surely lowering his wand. Harry knew that if Luna wasn't with that Scamander chap at the moment she'd be acting like one of his fangirls at the sight of this being, "Wha- What do you mean by Third Wish?"

She stilled, her head cocking ever so slowly to the side as she closed her eyes and let loose a bone chilling hum, "Djinn grant Three Wishes to those that find them and those that share their blood. In exchange, we may finally die. An example you would be intimately familiar with are the Deathly Hallows and the Three Unforgiveable Curses."

Harry couldn't help but goggle at that. His eyes darted past her and at the safe near the kitchen where his Cloak of Invisibility lay.

"The First of the Blacks, the patriarch, found my urn millennia ago, and after reading his thoughts I knew what kind of person he was. He was a man wrapped in the claws of Envy, always desiring to become somebody else for the smallest of reasons.

"And so, the First Wish was granted, and the Blacks were given the blood trait of envy, now known as Metamorphmagus.

"The Second Wish came some four centuries or so after the First. The one that found me, hidden by the First Wisher, held a truly heart of darkness, wreathed in Greed. He desired power, the ability to control the very being of his kin, and yet was not sure of himself. To match his dark heart, and I granted the family now known as Black the magic to match his heart. And yet, use of such magic comes at a price, for when those that are Black of blood call upon Darkness will find their minds cluttered in madness; in insanity. Such is the price of Greed."

Harry shuddered silently, still in awe of the Djinn in front of him, and was eerily reminded of Bellatrix Lestrange.

"And now you, Harry James Potter, Grandchild of Dorea Iola Black, come before me. What shall be the Third Wish?

"What will free me from my shackles in this realm of Pride?"

Before he could answer he felt his Occlumency shields not only penetrated but ripped open completely. He felt like his mind was on fire, and he let out a loud scream in agony.

"You desire normality. And yet, you know that you can never be normal. You are Harry James Potter, the one who slew Tom Marvolo Riddle, a being born to a woman of Lust and nurtured into the embodiment of Wrath, and because of this you are destined never to be permitted normalcy. Should you run, you would be chased by those that claim to love you, and should you retaliate you would be slandered by those very same people for the rest of time.

"You, Harry James Potter, were marked by Focalor, Djinn of Fate and Spirits, before your conception and yet, you wish to break free from that which you perceive as chains."

Harry's screams were torturous, the feeling in his mind was akin to that of the Cruciatus on his body as her Legilimency bombardment emboldened.

"You desire to no longer be Harry James Potter, to escape all that you are and have ever been. Such is the path of Sloth. You desire to no longer be Harry James Potter, and yet, you hope to reunite with your love ones from beyond the grave. The Resurrection Stone gave you closure, but you will always want to be near them. With the removal of the Horcrux upon your brow, the sliver of Wrath from Tom Marvolo Riddle, your Envy of what you consider normal peoples has defined your very being."

Harry was still clutching his head as the battering ram that was Paimons Legilimency receded. He wasn't looking at her, his eyes were shut, but as he listened to her speak he couldn't help but agree silently. Loathe as he was to admit.

"I, Paimon, am bound to the blood of Black. Yet, your wish would turn you from what held that blood through Dorea Iola Black into that which is not. This cannot be done, for if performed I would not be permitted the release of death, and yet you would be. You desire normalcy, and yet you cannot live without magic, for it is the first love you have ever truly felt.

"The Third Wish shall be granted. You shall no longer be Harry James Potter."

The strange line on her brow opened to show an eye with the same symbol on the urn and her breasts. She let out a loud scream and Harry found himself trapped in the same azure fog that originated from the urn. He couldn't move, he could barely breathe, and as his magical eye stared at Paimon he gave extra attention to the newly opened eye on her brow that glowed the same color of a curse he was intimately familiar with.

She smiled, a soft smile that shown elation at Harry, "The Third Wish shall be granted. You, Harry James Potter, will be no more. And yet, you must be of the blood of Black for such a wish to be granted.

"You will soon no longer be Black of blood, and yet, you shall now forevermore be Black of blood."

She inhaled a large breath and screamed the six syllable phrase that has haunted Harry for the entirety of his life.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

Cold air hit his body and Harry let out a shiver. He didn't know what Paimon did for certain, but he knew that the feeling of not being able to move his body as he'd like was not something he enjoyed. His vision was blurry, far worse that it was without his magical eye, but for some reason he could feel his right eye once more.

He felt wrong.

"-not a screamer, unusual-"

"-there's nothing wrong with him, is there?"

"Oh, not at all, he's a very healthy baby. Perhaps the healthiest I've ever seen."

Baby?! Harry felt himself jostled about, the blurry images that made up the world around him swaying as he moved. Something warm and soft was his landing pad and he soon figured out that it was an arm curling around his body.

"Look at him dear, he's already curious." Wait a second, Harry knew that voice.

Slowly blinking his eyes, and wow would it take time to get used to having two eyes once more, Harry looked up from where he was resting just off the crook of a neck.

Andromeda Tonks stared back with a tired smile. He didn't know her well, she was a secretive woman by nature, but he knew her better than most. He'd spent many days with her getting used to his role as Teddy Lupins godfather.

"He's got my black hair it seems." That was a distinctively male voice, and judging by the context of his words it came from the mouth of Ted Tonks. Harry watched as the blurry form of Andromeda stuck her tongue out at Ted in silent amusement.

His amusement vanished in an near instant. Paimon did exactly what she said she would, he would no longer be Black of blood but would forever more be of such blood. He no longer had a direct blood relation to Dorea Potter, and now his blood was closer to that of the House of Black through Andromeda. With his magic being so young and untamed due to his status as an infant, Harry did the only thing he could.

He screamed.

Magic. The magic that had held with him all through his life surged out from beneath his skin. He had closed his eye, his eyes, and he screamed as loudly as he could, his anguish for everything he'd lost came to the forefront of his mind. His Hermione, his Ron, his Teddy, the Weasley's, all his friends would forever be lost to him. The life he'd built, no matter how aggravating it was at the time, was something he cherished and now he'd lost it all.

Andromeda let out a shriek of surprise as Harry's small tuft of black hair turned Weasley red before laughing loudly.

"Another one! Ted, we've got another one!" she said, her voice was filled with bubbling pride.

"How? I thought they were as rare as they come."

She shrugged, Harry was still crying and screaming his throat hoarse as she tried to comfort him. "I know the Blacks have had a few, I guess our blood needed to be "mudded" as my father put it for them to come back."

Ted jokingly retorted, "Well, I'm glad to assist in trying." and planted a kiss on Andromeda's brow.

"The name Mrs. Tonks?" came a gruff male voice, likely a doctor.

"Altair Edward Tonks. Altair for Ted's house of Ravenclaw, it being the eagle star and all, and Edward after his father. I figured since I took over the naming for our daughter he'd have the son."

Harry just continued to cry.

A/N: Sup folks? Umodin here, back to give a new go at a Harry Potter fic. I have other stories up using the series, but I felt that I was remiss with my interest in them. Out of all my HP fics, The Guardian is my favorite, and while I intend to keep updating it I wanted to focus on a noncrossover as well. I uploaded this about a week ago, but took it down for personal reasons.

So, here's what's going on. Harry was reborn as Altair Tonks, Nymphadora Tonks' younger brother by four and a half years. His birthday is October 31st 1977, I figure the date is poetic in a way since Harry believes everything bad happens on Halloween. He, similar to Nymphadora, is a Metamorphmagus, which means he is a natural shapeshifter. I decided to do this because he is no longer Harry Potter, thus no longer a Parselmouth, but I like the idea of Harry having some kind of rare magical ability, so Altair is a Metamorph instead. This isn't an AU, or at least not at the start. There will be a Harry Potter born on July 31st 1980, just that Altair will be an added character. He's essentially going to get a bird's eye view of how he was as a kid. Originally, Harry was reborn as the son of Regulus Black, but I couldn't really get into that story and chose to rewrite it into what you see here.

It was a little tricky at first figuring out dates, we were never given Tonkses birthday and only knew she was born in 1973. They'll be 5 years apart in school, so when Altair enters Hogwarts as a firsty she'll be a sixth year.

I don't really have much of a plan for this story, it just came to me and I decided to roll with it. But, I do intend to keep it going. My hope is that I can complete a few stories, but I tend to be busy more often than not and don't have the chance to update unless I have some extra free time at college. Still, i've tried my hand at some HP before and I wanted to give it another shot. Oh! And if any of you were curious about Paimon, if you type in her name on Google Images you can find an animated version of what I wrote.

If you liked this please Favorite/Follow and don't forget to Review!