DISCLAIMER : The characters and past events described in this story are the property of J.K. Rowling. I make no money from this story, which exists as a work of tribute.

The Black Dragon

Part I: The Impostor

1: Mail from overseas

Harry Potter, resident of Number 58, Diagon Alley, London, was leaning back with a contented sigh after he had swallowed the last piece of his breakfast toast. It was a fine morning, with bright beams of sunlight falling through the open window that also let a soft breeze in, little over two years after the grim event of the Final Battle. He smiled at the sight of his redheaded girlfriend fighting off a bothersome insect that was trying to help itself to some of her food.

Rubbing some last remainders of sleep out of his left eye under his glasses, he seized the Daily Prophet that Ginny had put down on the chair next to him and opened it. Harry was still not very fond of the paper after all the lies and defamations it had printed before and during the war, but since Kingsley Shacklebolt had taken up the post of Minister for Magic, the quality of its reporting had improved noticeably.

Shortly after Voldemort's downfall, the freshly appointed Minister had asked both Ron and Harry, as well as the surprise-war-hero Neville (Harry still had to fondly smile at that thought) to step into Ministry employment and help apprehend the rest of those who had – with or without a Dark Mark on their forearms – aided the big snake in his renewed rise to power. They had followed his call gladly. This had been Harry's big task in his short Auror training: due to the outstanding skills he had shown during the war and the huge amount of experience he had collected in the process, the three years of apprenticeship that were usually required in order to become a dark wizard capturer were cut in half in his case, as well as for Ron. Regarding his months-long engagement in the resistance at Hogwarts and the outstanding courage he had shown facing the Dark Lord himself in the final battle, the same offer was made to Neville Longbottom. Yet the once so self-conscious young man who had matured dramatically in the past years had declined in favour of an academic career in Herbology.

Kingsley's interest in cooperation with Harry had not ended with appointing him an Auror, though. The unconventional Minister had also asked Harry to help him reform the Ministry in logical consequence of the corruption and the lobbyism that had hindered its effective intervention in the on-goings of the past years. After all, the Ministry's ineffective organisation had, in fact, already enabled many Death Eaters to escape justice after Voldemort's first downfall sixteen years ago. Of course, Harry was not familiar with political procedures, but he had observed many things over the years, and could thus point out much to Kingsley (they were soon on first name terms) during several conferences that also included other knowledgeable members of wizarding society. After the incapable Fudge, the grim, manipulative Scrimgeour, and the Imperiused Thicknesse, the curious appearance of Shacklebolt with his deep, calm voice, his tall, dark skinned, and quite imposing physique, and his unusual fashion style, including his golden earring, brought a pleasantly fresh breeze to the post of the Minister for Magic.

In the meantime, Hermione and Ginny had returned to Hogwarts to finish their school education together. In June they had taken their N.E.W.T.s, and soon after Ginny had been contracted as chaser by the Holyhead Harpies, whereas Hermione had been given the opportunity for which she had longed – to promote the welfare of non-human magical creatures – by taking up a post in the Department for the Regulation and Control of said beings. There was hardly a Weasley family dinner – those took place almost every weekend – during which she did not elaborate in length on her recent projects until someone managed to (rather rudely) change the topic when her explanations started to tire the people seated around the table. Still, Harry was glad to see his friend so enthusiastic and full of ideas for the future.

The whole of Wizarding Britain seemed to brim with this kind of energy – an atmosphere of departure into a new, bright future. It was as if the country had held its breath in unison during the past twenty-five years, and now that the dark shadow had finally truly passed, it was suddenly inhaling deeply and rolling up its sleeves to make up for the lost time. Granted, there had not been a total standstill in the years between the war. Life had gone on, people had felt safe for a while, even the Quidditch World Cup had taken place in Britain in 1994. Still, these days, wizarding folk was filled with a kind of optimism that could not be compared to anything Harry had seen before. People were making vigorous plans for their futures as if nothing could get in their ways.

Only when thinking of those they had lost two years ago did they halt in their steps. The second of May, the anniversary of the Great Battle, had been declared a national day of mourning.

'I would like to go to the cemetery today,' Ginny declared before sipping her tea. 'It's been a month since I've last visited Fred already, and with all the training and the game next Saturday I won't have time the next week,' she added.

Harry looked up at her, marvelling at the way the sunlight was reflected by her red hair, and nodded. 'I'll come with you.' He looked up at the clock that hung over their fireplace. 'We should be going soon, though, Bill and Fleur have invited us for lunch.'

Ginny raised her slim eyebrows, which enlarged her beautiful brown eyes. 'Oh? Why haven't you told me that before?'

Harry shrugged, grinning rather sheepishly. 'The owl came yesterday during my shift. I wanted to tell you in the evening, but then you came up with this… erm… pretty nightie and it sort of slipped my mind…' He felt warmth rise to his face, but held his girlfriend's gaze. After the end of the war, they had immediately reunited. The following year was filled with much longing and waiting for holidays and Hogsmeade weekends during which they could spend time together. When Ginny had finally finished school, she had first moved back to the Burrow, which had resulted in some awkward situations… -It was simply not very relaxing to know that the parents of the girl you wanted to get close to were sleeping three floors above you and might pass the door anytime on their way to fetch a drink from the kitchen.

Thus, by September they had made the decision to move together. Harry had so far been sharing a room with Ron in the Auror Academy, a building near the Ministry. He had enjoyed the company and the comforts of being supplied by the Auror house elf that seemed happy to have someone to take care of (in light of Professor McGonagall's words in his career advice session during his fifth year that the Ministry had not accepted an Auror trainee in three years back then, this notion was easy to understand).

When now he had mentioned the house he had inherited from Sirius in their discussion of where they could live, Ginny had shaken her head vigorously, making it quite clear that no ten hippogriffs were able to force her into living in 'that creepy, dark place'. It had not taken much to persuade Harry on that point – the prospect had not cheered him up either. Ginny had suggested selling the house. Deep inside, Harry knew he eventually would, but in some way, it was one of the few things that he had to keep the memory of Sirius alive… -even if the man himself had loathed the place. In the end, it was not as if Harry was hard pressed for money. The contents of his parents' vault would easily suffice to sustain him for the rest of his life, wife and children included, and he had a profitable job. He had not even touched Sirius' vault yet. He did not even know how much gold it held.

Ginny and he had found a nice three-room-apartment over a shop in Diagon Alley. It was a cosy little place in the heart of Wizarding London, perfect for a young couple like them. True, it had its drawbacks. People had ogled him at the beginning every time he had left the house to take a walk. However, that was something he was confronted with at work as well, and by now, about eight months after they had moved in, most witches and wizards had gotten used to Harry's regular appearance in Diagon Alley and had taken to treating him as they dealt with anyone else, albeit especially polite.

Ginny sniggered in answer to his retelling of the previous evening.

They held each other's gaze for a while, reminiscing together in silence. Then Harry returned his attention to the newspaper in his hands. 'They say the Croaking Crows are playing in the Three Broomsticks tonight,' Harry said. 'Perhaps we could go there. We haven't been out in a while. Seems they're having some new songs as well,' he continued while skimming the article. 'And they've got a sitar player, now.'

The fluttering of wings interrupted their breakfast conversation. A common barn owl landed next to the basket that held the pieces of toast. Ginny reached out to relieve it of its letter, but the bird hopped towards Harry, throwing a reproving glance at the redhead.

With an apologetic smile and a shrug, Harry folded the Prophet back together and put it aside to retrieve the letter. The owl stretched out its leg, and he untied it. The Gringotts seal adorned the slim roll, and Harry raised an eyebrow in wonder. What could the wizard bank want from him?

When he unrolled the parchment, his eyes fell on tiny, scrawny, very neat writing.

Dear Mr. Harry Potter,

To our great regret, it was brought to our attention that the inheritance you have accepted in 1996, including an estate at No. 12, Grimmauld Place, and the contents of vault No. 711, might have been given to you erroneously. In order to resolve this matter, we expect your presence at Gringotts Wizarding Bank, Diagon Alley, London, at 15:00h this afternoon.

Please bring the vault key and all other items belonging to the inheritance presently in your possession.

Should you not follow this invitation, legal steps will be undertaken.

Sincerely, Grignok (goblin in charge of the Black family property).

Harry frowned. 'Erroneously given to him'? What did that mean? Was Sirius' testament invalid after all? If so, why were they coming up with this, now, after four years? And who was supposed to be Sirius' heir if he was not? Bellatrix Lestrange was – furtunately! – dead and gone. Andromeda Tonks, her sister that had been disowned by her parents after marrying a muggleborn wizard, was still alive. Well, Harry would not begrudge her the inheritance. The woman was one of those who had paid the most for their final victory – first losing her husband, then both her daughter and her son-in-law. Now she had to bring her grandson up all by herself. Of course, Harry, who was Teddy's godfather, helped her whenever she needed aid, as did the Weasleys. Nevertheless, no person should have to go through what she had had to endure. If now she was granted the inheritance, it was only what she deserved. Yet there was also her sister, Narcissa Malfoy… -Perhaps the Black property would be divided between the two of them, if Sirius' last will proved to be null and void?

'Harry!' Ginny's rather impatient voice broke through his reverie, sounding as if she had not called him for the first time.

'Huh?' he looked up at her.

'Who's that letter from?' she pressed him for an answer.

'Oh.' He handed it to her. 'Something's wrong with what I got from Sirius after he died,' he replied curtly, not knowing how to phrase it more accurately.

Ginny wrinkled her freckled nose while her eyes skimmed the page, a long lock of red hair falling onto the parchment. She snorted. '"Invitation"! Sounds more as if you were summoned to a formal hearing or something! Goblins…' Her brown eyes looked up and settled on Harry's face. 'So, what do you think?'

Harry shrugged. 'Dunno. I don't really mind giving away Sirius' money as long as someone gets it who deserves it.'

Ginny dropped her gaze once more onto the letter. 'I can't help the feeling that the whole thing sounds fishy. I mean, they didn't really state what's up. Why should they find a fault now, that they have not seen in four years?'

'Yeah,' Harry agreed, 'I've been wondering about that, too.'

'Well, I guess there's nothing for it,' Ginny decided, 'we'll just have to go there and hear what this Grignok has to say.'

.~*~.

The cemetery of Ottery St. Catchpole was a sleepy place, as was the town itself, especially on Monday morning around eleven, when most inhabitants had gone to work in the bigger town a few miles away and the children were still bent over their books. Only two elderly women were tending to graves when Harry and Ginny arrived. They had Apparated into a niche that the church and the wall around the churchyard formed and that they always found deserted and unwatched, and now they walked up the winding path that led over the old cemetery to where the oversized stone remembrall stood that served as Fred's headstone. This day, it stood solid and unmoving – the churchyard was shared by wizards and muggles alike, after all –, but sometimes, when no muggles were around, a selection of Weasley's Wild-Fire Whiz-Bangs burst from the remembrall that then became transparent to show pictures of a widely grinning, freckle-faced Fred that delighted in the sight of his fireworks and waved cheekily at his visitors. Mrs. Weasley burst out in tears every time she saw this, which was why these days, she only visited her son's last resting-place during daytime, when there always was bound to be a muggle nearby.

Ginny knelt down and – peering around to make sure the old women were not looking their way – conjured a vase, filled it with a softly muttered 'Aguamenti', and put in the large bouquet of flowers they had brought. She placed the vase in front of the headstone, where it joined another bouquet and a single sunflower. For a few moments, she remained kneeling and seemed to be lost in thoughts.

Harry had no real mind for cemeteries. He had wanted to visit his parents' grave, yes, but in the end, he had found that he preferred to preserve his memory of the actual living persons by thinking of them in situations that remind him of them instead of visiting the one place that called the hard reality of their death to mind. When Ginny and he had talked about that, Ginny had agreed with him, but she had also argued that the peaceful atmosphere in the churchyard was a reprieve she welcomed every once in a while in between her hectic daily life, and that visiting Fred's grave was also a way of showing her parents that they were not alone in their grief.

The delicate and yet so tough young woman rose and stepped back so that Harry could put an arm around her shoulders. Their gazes rested on the headstone for another few moments; then they turned and slowly walked back to their Apparition point.

They Apparated to the beach near Shell Cottage, where about twenty-six months ago Harry and his companions had arrived after escaping the Death Eaters' clutches at Malfoy Manor. As so many other places, the sandy, windswept shore near Bill and Fleur's house left Harry with a slightly melancholic feeling.

The young couple took off their shoes and socks and walked along the line where the foamy seawater licked the golden sand, feeling it tickle their toes. Despite the fresh wind, it was a warm, sunny day, and they were not expected up in the house for another half an hour.

'I'm actually surprised that Bill has invited us this soon again. We've only seen them last week at the family dinner. Did they mention any special reason?' Ginny asked, while she fought unavailingly to keep the long strands of her hair from whipping into her face.

Harry shook his head. 'Nope. Just said they wanted to use the opportunity, since both you and I have a day off, and Bill has taken leave this week.'

'Hm.' Ginny's gaze shifted into the distance, settling on the sparkling surface of the sea. 'You know, I think I really want to go and see the Croaking Crows tonight.'

On their way through the garden of Shell Cottage, Harry laid down a flower he had nicked from Ginny's bucket on the red earthed mound of Dobby's grave.

A minute after that, he was pulled into a big, companionable hug by Bill who ushered him into the house. Seconds later his arms were filled up by Fleur and Victoire, who rested on her arm. Bill and Fleur's little daughter had been born little over a year ago. 'It eez zo good to zea you!' her mother greeted him.

Silently, Harry wondered when Fleur was finally going to lose her heavy accent. She was living in Britain for years, now, after all. Sometimes he thought she might actually cling to it on purpose, fancying it more elegant than the brisk English manner of speaking.

'Zeet down,' she prompted the pair of them. 'Ze Minister must be 'ere any moment as well.' With that, she turned back to the hearth to tend the meal.

'Kingsley's coming?' Harry asked Bill who joined them at the table.

Ginny's eldest brother shrugged. 'Met him this morning when I paid a short visit to the Ministry to hand in some papers that they urgently needed before my holidays. He was just going to owl you concerning some important matter, but I said he could join us for lunch and talk to you directly.'

Harry frowned and pushed up his glasses. 'I was stupid to think taking a holiday on a Monday was a clever idea. Now all kinds of people want to discuss business on my ione/i free day off this week…'

'All kinds of people?' Bill enquired interestedly.

'Harry's received a letter from Gringotts today,' Ginny chipped in. 'You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?' After all, Bill worked at the Wizarding Bank.

Her brother shook his head, however, which made his fang earring (that he still wore even after founding a family and pursuing a respectable career in a noble, ancient wizarding institution) dangle around and collide with his neck. 'What is it about?'

Harry shrugged. 'Something seems to be wrong with Sirius' inheritance.'

Once more Ginny rose to speak. 'Is it usual procedure to double check such things after four years?' she questioned sceptically while she lifted Victoire onto her lap.

Bill shook his head again and pulled the corners of his mouth down in a manner of saying 'No idea why that would be happening' while Fleur put a pot of tea on the table. 'The only reason I can think of for reviewing an inheritance transaction is for someone else to make claims.'

'But who would make claims on Sirius' property?' Ginny asked.

'Well, the people who'd have been entitled to it are his cousins, Andromeda and Narcissa Malfoy. I can't imagine Andromeda wanting the inheritance, and even less going to Gringotts behind my back…,' said Harry.

'And Mrs. Malfoy surely would not be so malevolent after everything you've done for her family!' his girlfriend added in outrage, which earned her a surprised look from the girl on her lap. 'Without you, there'd be no Malfoy left outside the walls of Azkaban!'

'They did change sides in the end,' Harry reminded her for she tended to still carry bad feelings towards the pureblood family. After what Ginny had had to go through during her first year at Hogwarts due to Lucius Malfoy's scheming, Harry could not really blame her, though. For himself, he had made peace with the many unpleasant encounters he had had both with Malfoy junior and Malfoy senior, but he could not find it in him to like them either.

'I still think it's fishy that they were freed of all charges, Harry,' Ginny emphasised. 'But don't worry,' she added, seeing Harry's weary face, 'I'm not going to start that discussion again. It's done anyway.'

Just as Harry smiled at her gratefully, green flames burst to life in the fireplace and Kingsley Shacklebolt's tall frame entered the small kitchen of Shell Cottage. He shook out the rim of his long robes that had caught some ash and greeted them warmly in his dark, booming voice.

After the same hearty greeting that Harry and Ginny had already gone through, he took a seat while Bill assisted his wife at setting the table.

'Bill said you wanted to talk with me?' Harry asked him straight forward.

'Yes,' Kingsley admitted. 'I'm sorry to disturb you on your day off, but something has been brought to my attention that might interest you.' He leaned back to give Bill room to put the plates on the table and arrange the cutlery.

When Fleur had carried over the diverse bowls that held the warm food, the hosts settled down as well.

'So, what is so interesting?' Harry demanded to know while he poured sauce over his potatoes.

'It seems there has been sent an appeal to the Wizard Registry this morning' – the Wizarding Population Registry was a newly founded office that Kingsley had set up to divide the citizen registry from the law enforcement under which it had been handled up until a year ago – ', an appeal from someone who claims to be your godfather's brother.' Kingsley took a bite and watched Harry's reaction.

'Sirius' brother?' Harry asked in disbelief. 'Sirius only had one brother, and he has died over twenty years ago!'

'Nevertheless,' Kingsley said calmly after he had swallowed, 'there is a person claiming to be Regulus Black.' He reached into an inner pocket of his robes and retrieved a slim roll of parchment that he held out to Harry.

The well trained Auror hesitated. This could be a twisted trick to get to him by one of the few Death Eaters they had not managed to get hold of…

'No need to be cautious. It was properly checked before it was handed to me,' the Minister for Magic assured him.

Harry seized the parchment and unrolled it. Since everyone's attention rested on him, he read the letter aloud.

Wizarding Population Registry

Ministry of Magic

London

England

Dear Mr. or Mrs.,

Following my decision not to endorse the Dark Lord's plans in 1979, I, Regulus Arcturus Black, born on December 29th 1961, was forced to leave Britain and continue life abroad. As consequence of my disappearance, it has come to my attention, I was declared dead three years thereafter. Since it was of uttermost importance that neither the Dark Lord nor any of his followers learn of my whereabouts, for they undoubtedly would have sought vengeance for my betrayal of their cause, I refrained from correcting this misapprehension.

Now, however, at a point in time at which it seems that the Dark Lord has been defeated for good and the majority of his followers have been apprehended and brought to justice, I feel it is my duty to return to my home country to aid it in its recovery from the latest war, and take up the responsibility that is mine as the only survivor of the Black family line.

Therefore I kindly request that you consider the recognition of my identity and the re-entry of my name in the citizen registry.

With highest regards, Regulus Arcturus Black.

Harry peered into the round of people sitting at the kitchen table to catch the others' reactions. Ginny's face wore the same sceptical reaction as it had this morning while perusing the Gringotts letter. Fleur looked indifferent, feeding Victoire.

'Well, this is at least no mere joke. Whoever wrote this is either in fact Regulus Black or a talented impostor. No crook like Mundungus could have come up with that letter,' Bill commented.

Ginny grimaced. 'Yes. You know, this actually sounds like Lucius Malfoy. All this 'serving my country'-stuff and the wording…'

'It does sound as if the writer had been brought up in a pureblood family, yes, or is at least familiar with the pureblood mindset,' Kingsley agreed. 'That, however, could also be a point in favour of the authenticity of the letter,' he annotated.

'So you think it could be genuine?' Harry asked in surprise.

Kingsley moved his head pensively from side to side. 'I am not certain. After what you have told about Regulus Black's demise in your interview' – Harry had given the Daily Prophet a lengthy interview a month after the Final Battle, sketching out his own odyssey and describing in greater detail the heroic deeds of the unknown war heroes (Snape and Black amongst them, but also Dobby) on the way to Voldemort's defeat – 'it is hard to believe he could still be alive…'

'You'll find out the truth this afternoon,' Bill stated.

Harry looked puzzled at him.

'Eetz seemple, eezn't eet?' Fleur threw in. ''oever wants to be recognised as the Black 'eir will do eet for a reason – they will want the Black money. Zat eez why you 'ave received zat letter from Gringotts.'

Notes concerning chapter 1

I am well aware that you don't have to register when living in Britain (I'm sitting comfortably in the heart of Scotland while typing this). However, the Ministry of Magic does need information about its population to control under age magic, after all, so I thought it might well be that they do have a register.

A/N about The Black Dragon

I have long flirted with the lure of writing Harry Potter fan fiction, but in the end I was always too much in awe of the challenge that writing really good fan fiction poses. Last year, I eventually succumbed to the temptation and wrote the first 15 chapters of this story. What I thrive for is a rich, detailed story that pulls the reader right into it. That is, after all, what I look for in fan fiction as a reader, and I would settle for no less as a writer. Do I succeed?

The Black Dragon will consist of several parts.
Part I (chapters 1-4) is an introduction, concentrating on the known characters in the Potter universe and how they've been faring since the Final Battle;
Part II (chapters 5-?) concentrates on Regulus' past after his presumed death and contains quite a bit of Regulus/OC, though in a slowly developing way.
Part III will return to the times two years after the Final Battle. How will Europe develop without the threat of a dark lord? What other groups will come to the forefront, now that Voldemort and his Death Eaters no longer dominate the political stage? How will wizarding society deal with the growing influence of muggle culture? And what can Regulus contribute to these political themes?

I aim to be as much in canon as possible. My way of resurrecting Regulus fits the books entirely. Nevertheless, I do ignore one or two tiny bits of information that J.K. has passed on to us in interviews, though it will not be of importance to the plot.

I love to critically discuss my writing with others - so feel free to contact me through a review or a PM.

Looking for a beta reader (preferably British English).