I don't own Harry Potter, this is all based on JK's Work

Jade green, Harriet Potter had decided, was officially her least favourite colour. No matter what it adorned, it forever seemed to spell out trouble. Considering how often she managed to get into that perfectly well by herself, thank-you-very-much, she really didn't need any more help.

The universe, as usual, disagreed, choosing that exact moment to strike two am, dragging her out of her pit of self-pity and back to the matter at hand as various clocks 'bonged' throughout the quiet house.

If one was to be completely objective, then there was nothing fundamentally wrong with the box she was currently trying to open. In fact, it was a beautiful piece of artwork, passed down through her dogfather's family for generations. Each of its four sides were made from thin sheets of jade, with an amber lid held securely down by silver clasps. It seemed to be enchanted too- light moved within the lid, giving the impression of fire trapped and hardened into a sheet.

In fact, it could even be said to be the perfect box for her needs, if she could get the damn thing to unlock.

She sighed again, pulling her wand from where it was holding her hair in a bun. Maybe if she cast some sort of blasting charm on the damn thing? Then again, dropping it from the top of Gryffindor tower hadn't seemed to do anything last semester beyond hurt the flagstone beneath it…

From the corner of her room, Hedwig hooted disapprovingly. Judging by the looks the owl was giving her, she was thoroughly disapproving of her young mistress's attempt of brute force.

'Well, how would you open it?' Harry said, glaring at the cube in her hands. 'Padfoot said it hadn't been opened in centuries.'

The owl hooted again and ruffled her feathers. If Harry was any good at reading her pet's body language, that roughly translated to 'I wouldn't bother, in that case.' Then again, the owl might just have an itch. Really, Harry wasn't entirely sure how much of Hedwig's chattiness was just her projecting.

It was a fair question, she supposed, and one that both her mother and her step-father had asked with increasing regularity and concern throughout the summer. Or, rather, her mother had, and the slithery snake had instead sent her the occasional look that wasn't full of despair at her potion's ability.

Which, considering both her parents' apparent talent for the subject, she supposed made sense. Then again, he had yet to find a shampoo with moved the greasy sheen from his hair, so who was winning between the two of them?

Anyways, her mother's bad relationship choices aside, family. Family was the answer to that question.

Sirius had drawn her aside three days before her fifteen birthday and presented the box to her. Without any of his own heirs, he had quietly explained that the box, traditionally a present to the oldest black daughter, was hers if she wanted it. When she'd taken it with wonder and asked what it was, he'd only given that funny barking laugh of his and said it was a trinket more than anything. According to family legend, though, if she was ever left without answers, the open box could give them.

At the time, she'd dismissed it as another rumour the family had passed down. Heck, knowing the Blacks, it was probably some sort of horrible curse designed to kill her (painfully, of course).

Considering he'd been found dead within a week at the bottom of the stairs with a broken neck, she hadn't exactly had a chance to ask.

Everyone had been very sympathetic. Even Hermione, who refused to like the man on principle due to his owning of House-elves ("House-slaves", the curly haired muggleborn had insisted after discovering their existence) had turned up to Grimmauld Place with enough casserole to feed half of Hogwarts and then some for his wake.

However. Despite what her mother and the rest of the Wizarding World thought of as grief induced paranoia, Harry had only one thing to say on the matter- Sirius didn't have an accident. No.

Sirius had, if you asked her, been murdered.

When you thought about it, death by falling down the stairs was probably one of the exact ways one couldn't die when living in the Black's ancestral London home. Simple common sense said that, after the death of several Blacks due to such 'accidents', the stairs would be charmed against such an occurrence happening again. Experience corroborated, though she doubted Sirius would have ever told Lily Potter he'd dropped her precious daughter down the stairs due to the fact he rather enjoyed having testicles.

He'd also shown her the runes carved into the fucking foundations which anchored the spell.

So, no. Unless Sirius had discovered an especially ingenious (and stupid) method of fooling the safety spells in his own home, there was no way his death was an accident. Suicide also seemed unlikely- when wizards could shoot an Avada straight into their skulls, throwing yourself down the stairs seemed overly dramatic, even for her famously over-dramatic uncle.

Hence, here she was, nearly a year later trying to open a box which could apparently give her some answers. And maybe even some peace, although she thought the edges of that one might always be a bit jagged. Sirius, as well as being her dogfather, had also been the best link she had to her actual father.

James Fleamont Potter had died on Halloween night 1981 when the Dark Lord Voldemort had been lured into a trap. Quite what had happened wasn't entirely clear, but when morning had broken, the Lord's body had been found fried in an electrical substation alongside James Potter with a grin on his face.

Lily- Harry's Mother- did the best she could. But Sirius had known the man longer, and when Snape came along… well, it seemed a bit odd to ask about an ex-husband in front of the new one. So, on all things Potter, Sirius had been the best to ask.

Maybe it was just grief that made her start trying to open this box, then, at least at first. By now, stubbornness had long ago shown up, introduced itself, and made sure there was no way in hell she was going to give up just because it was increasingly looking impossible. She was a Gryffindor, after all.

She sighed again, stretching gently and cursing when the movement caused long strands of midnight hair to find their home in her mouth. If she was tired enough to be inhaling hair again, then it was time for bed. Besides, school was starting in a week, so getting out of her nocturnal habits might be a good idea.

Harry nodded to herself, standing slowly from the window seat and opening the sash window before closing the curtains. A breeze, scented with the peat of the moors surrounding them danced in despite the thin fabric as Harry tucked herself into bed. Despite the night's musings, that made her smile. Peat had always smelled of home, ever since her mother had moved to Yorkshire when she was three.

'Maybe tomorrow you'll open for me, huh?' Harry whispered softly to the box, noting absently that there seemed to be the carving of a snake up one of the legs.

The click that echoed around the room was barely noticeable.

The loud roar and bright flash of light which followed, along with the depositing of what looked very much like a body onto the floor of her bedroom, however, was much easier to notice. In fact, one could even say it was impossible not to notice, especially when Harry did the sensible thing- shrieked, turned the light on and immediately cast a body bind on the lump.

Absently, underneath the shock, she noted that he (because, as unisex as his olde-timey Hogwarts robes were, the stubble on his cheek denoted that he was certainly a He) was wearing a Slytherin tie.

Jade green. Yep, definitely her least favourite colour.

MAJOR AU ALERT

So, not much happens in this chapter. Considering it's a fairly massive AU, I thought it best to set the scene- apologies for all the exposition, but the plot is already going to get long and convoluting-y, so I thought best to start off the bat with a basic overview.

If you recognise some of the plotlines, that may be because you read one of my earlier works- 'The Letter of Conspiracy'. That too had a plotline where history was being hidden, but it too too big and complicated and I did Not Have Time for it. So, I'm bringing that here, because I find it most interesting.

This chapter is also rather short for me- usually they reach the 4000-5000 mark. :) However, I wanted to get this down, so thought I'd shorten it so we can find out who this Slytherin Lump is, what's his deal, and get to Hogwarts, thus ending next chapter nicely.

So, uh, yeah. Tell me what you think, and thanks y'all for reading.