Wish Upon a Dog Star
Harry wanted a daddy/Sirius wanted his old friend back, maybe he'd settle for this reason to live?
PROLOGUE
Harry wanted so badly to be anywhere else but here and elsewhere a man wanted something of the past…
POP
Through simultaneous wishes upon the same star the man was named, a little boy came upon his father and a man found a new reason to live.
Who were these fine gentlemen?
Sirius Black, who was currently escaping with a comatose child on his back… and said child was a child meant for great things: Harry Potter
They're journey is a journey which truly began with a wish upon a dog star.
Sirius laid him, despite the blatant fever, underneath the blankets… his mum's corpse still rotting in the foyer, would make for a terrible show.
He gulped.
She had been dead when he had arrived… someone would come and check on her, unless…
"Kreature!"
"Bad master, sullying mistress's home—"
"Give her a Black family burial." He hesitated. "I'll give her the blessing." It was better to get in the elf's good graces… this was for Harry. "Did you hear me?"
"Bad master… bad master is giving mistress the Black's Burial Blessing…" He was shocked beyond words, that much was clear.
Poor Kreature, he thought maliciously… he'd gladly—so very gladly—get a replacement… maybe restart his grandfather's house elf breeding program? Male house elves did breed better when they were miserable. Harry stirred.
"This isn't free. I want Harry treated like a prince whether I'm there or not." He stood, "I am the master of this house now, I want you to clean this place up or I will replace you with something better, get everything ready for…" He hesitated for a moment before swallowing his pride. "For mum."
"Yes, Master."
POP!
The little boy stirred.
Sirius stared at the Black family tapestry, his eyes never once leaving the names… his mum had reinstated him, possibly from the fact that he had gone to Azkaban as the Right Hand of You-Know-Who, the article had been framed…
What shocked him, however, were the names connected to him.
Lily Evans
Beneath that was the name:
Harry Potter
Yes, they had been having the affair since Hogwarts… back at the end of sixth year he had set up a bet to make the final conquest of their year that wasn't family… he had had her once and that proved to never be enough…
Even before her marriage to James Potter, his best mate… had they known the true father?
"I'm sorry, Prongs." He whispered, bowing his head. "I'll raise him as you would have."
Yes, a great Gryffindor as good as Godric Gryffindor himself… he'd have to… to… bloody hell, it hurt to even think about it.
"I'm sorry; Prongs, you'd have raised him as a son…"
"Master, the crypt is being ready." Beneath their house lay the Black Family Crypt, a place he had visited every Yule before Hogwarts to celebrate with the whole family.
A ghastly pureblood tradition.
This year they would add another body to be kept in the confines of his… family's final resting place. He had checked and idly wondered where Regulus's body was.
The annoying little twerp he may have been.
"Alright, what rite did she want?"
"Full Family Passing, master." Great, so Harry would have to be here.
"I want you to prepare my son, he can rest all he wants after this."
"Of course, master." He looked at her, marveling at how much older she looked from back when he was sixteen. She hadn't been much of a mum to him, but at the end of the day she still was. "Master, young master is being ready but being really sleepy."
"Of course he is, he is recovering from a nasty case of dragon pox." A few simple immunizations would have fixed that. He grabbed his godson's—no, his son's—hand and walked him forward. They were the last who would bear the surname Black. His father had walked him through all of the basic traditions at the age of five.
He'd have to have patience.
"Master, Kreature is being ready to begin."
"Of course." He cleared his throat and straitened Harry's—it would be for now, since he couldn't go to Hogwarts under that name—posture and began with his wand pointed over the bitter old woman's corpse, "Harry, this is your grandmum, today we bury her in the name of the Black family. I have very few kind words. She was the one who brought me into this world and the one who made me the man I grew up to be." Silence… "Harry, say something nice about her."
"Er… she had nice hair?" Sirius realized that she did in fact have very well cared for hair. He supposed she had given that to him. "She must have been pretty when she was young…"
"Kreature, as there are so few of us… as her prized servant, you will say your praises of the light she guided you with."
An hour later…
"Thus mistress made Kreature clean up—"
"As enlightening as that was, I draw this funeral to a close." He lifted his wand, turned Harry around, and silently cast a fire conjuration spell, one which would made a fire which would fall like a waterfall. "Harry, go upstairs, Kreature, you will put her in the urn when I finish." The barely out of toddlerhood boy obliged as he smelled the foul scent of burning flesh. "Kreature, make a large dinner when you finish."
He walked up the stairs where he caught up to a passed out Harry.
Kreature gave a wail.
"Come on, champion, I'll get the paperwork in the morning."
Now then, to decide on a name…
Chapter One
Procyon Alphard Black would have squealed in delight if he had had the vocal chords for it. His father nudged him towards Madame Malkin's Robes for Every Occasion, the best place to buy Hogwarts school robes and not much else.
Maybe dad would buy him the Nimbus 2000 for Yule.
"Eight Hogwarts school robes." The clerk took one look at the sack of galleons and his father at his side and frowned.
"No dogs allowed." His father stepped out, still in his animagus form. He would watch and wait for him to exit. He was placed on a stool next to a blond boy who breathed the snootiness his father had told him to never express.
"Hogwarts, too?"
"Yeah." He had once longed to play with the children his age and had done so. His past experience with a boy by the name of Dudley Dursley had killed that urge. This boy breathed everything he longed to avoid.
"You're from good stock, I see." He said with a nod towards his informal robes. "I don't know why they let them into Hogwarts."
"Who?" He knew immediately who he had meant.
"Surely you know what I mean. Mudbloods." He whispered the word as the clerk finished Procyon's measurements. Procyon held out his hand.
"I am Procyon Black, heir to the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black, halfblood." It was a make or break moment for the boy. With some hesitation the boy took hold of his hand and completed the alliance.
"I am Draco Malfoy, heir to the Malfoy pureblood bloodline." Malfoy was a family from France as their surname implied. At the end of the day it was he, Procyon, who was from primer breeding stock. His children of a pureblood witch would be pureblood by the standards set by English society.
His father had told him that the children he provided would be loved either way.
"All done, young man!" He didn't look back as he left. He hoped for Gryffindor while Malfoy would surely be in Slytherin.
It would be interesting to see if their alliance would last.
His father was waiting when he stepped out, his bag of robes at his side. Next would be the trunks. He pulled out the parchment with his father's specifications and walked with purpose to the shop. He was nudged in a different direction.
His father wanted ice cream. His father's absolute favorite was lime delight.
"You're such kid sometimes." Had his father been in his human form he would have answered.
"You're such an adult."
Never mind, the look in his eyes said it all.
"Aww…" If there was one thing neither his father nor he would ever turn down it was a big booby lady. "Are you on your own?"
"Oh no, my father sent Padfoot with me."
"A dog, dear?"
"He's really smart, we're buying ice cream; would you like to join us?" She giggled, "I'm Procyon."
"I'm Melanie Edgecomb, are you sure you're safe?"
"Yes." He realized that, as he walked them to Florean Frotesque, that she was of Child Services. "Do you have any younger sisters?"
"Oh no, deary, just a daughter."
"With all due respect, ma'am, my name is Procyon." He had been a shy little boy named Harry Potter once upon a time.
"Now, now, dear, what can you tell me of your father?" He waved his hand dismissively.
"He has business and trusts me enough to go by myself to Diagon Alley."
"Mother, there he is!" He took his chance to order his father's lime flavored ice cream and placed the plate at a random outdoor table as his cousin, Narcissa Malfoy, ran interference with the social worker. His jumped up father dug right in as Procyon motioned the two Malfoy family members over. "Your dog looks like the Grim."
"His name is Padfoot. He was a present from my father a little after I turned five."
"You must shop with us, Procyon."
"It would be an honor to meet the beautiful Narcissa Malfoy." Indeed, though her boobs weren't the biggest, they were wonderfully perky.
"I wasn't aware Regulus had any children."
"Uncle didn't have any children as far as I know and I'm the youngest on the tapestry." Narcissa turned sheet white and looked at Padfoot whose tongue was lolling as he took a break from the half eaten ice cream. "Father would be ever so grateful if this were to remain between our families."
"Mother what is he talk—oh!" The younger Malfoy looked at him, slack jawed. He leaned forward and hissed out quietly: "Your father is Sirius Black."
"That doesn't matter." He stood. "I was going to buy my trunk next would the two of you like to join us?"
"Of course, young man." Narcissa grabbed her still shell-shocked son and dragged him towards the trunk shop.
He was having second thoughts about going to Hogwarts as his smile became more strained.
"Alright, here's your camera!" He put the straps around his father's neck and received a slobbery kiss to the cheek.
"I'll miss you." Sirius Black was world renowned for being a harsh criminal. He released whine as Procyon stood and walked to the train with a purpose.
It was quite simple, yet complex at the same time:
He would make his father proud no matter what! He found an empty compartment and set about reading the ill advised magazine for any pureblood heir, The Quibbler, and listened to the comings and goings of his future schoolmates.
His father often encouraged the runic schemes offered in this magazine—"Hello, we're looking for a toad!"
She was an okay sight, plain even, and her blood status was apparent from the way she was dressed.
"What's your name?" He meant her bloodline.
"Hermione Granger, what's yours?" She walked in, uninvited and held out her hand.
"Let's start again." He said with a tilt of amusement in his voice. "There are certain traditions in our society which are the norm."
"So?" Procyon flinched. "Maybe if this so-called society were to take the steps forward and—"
"Why are you here? Do you view our culture as barbaric simply because a woman who asks for a man's name is implying that she's interested in a relationship or something?" She rolled her eyes.
"There is nothing wrong with progress—" Perhaps ignoring her would get the point across that he wasn't the least bit interested in marriage?
"'Sup, Neville."
"Hey, Procryon. Go easy on her, she's proposed to me, too." He glared at her.
"Are you trying to make a feud, milady?" He stood and pulled out his wand. "I'm afraid we'll have to duel, Neville!"
"Come on, I'm looking for Trevor!"
"Fine, spoil my homemade dramas, you know how he likes little girl knickers?" She was reading his copy of the Quibbler! "Try checking the toilets."
"Why does he—?"
"Panties are the next best thing on earth, Neville." He choked and ran. "May I have my magazine back?"
"What kind of creature is a heliopath?"
"A made up one, this magazine's rune puzzles are to die for, though."
"How do you know Neville?"
"We went to the same tutor together." Among no others, the old man had been a bore and Procyon had had a jolly time trying to make him keel over from a heart attack. "May I have my magazine back?"
"I'm almost done with this article."
"I think I'll get changed while you're here and reading." Her cheeks flushed as he pulled out his trunk and then…
"Take your useless rag!" She slammed it on the seat and ran out. His dad would be pissed if he found out he had been less then gentlemanly to a girl.
He shuddered at the time a girl had pushed into him and he had yelled at her for ruining his clothing.
"Procyon, I found him!"
"Good on you, old friend." Though they knew not each other's surname.
"How do you know where to find him?"
"Toads like water?" He tried before Neville looked at Trevor, while whining sweet nothings.
"You didn't come with Padfoot."
"Dad says I have to earn a new pet."
"Wow…" Procyon had had to earn everything in his life after his father had claimed he was becoming "a pansy of a little daddy's boy". "Well… my Gran is still getting owls from Dumbledore."
"I maintain that you should agree with the Boy-Who-Lived thing."
"But I'm not, everyone knows that it was Harry Potter."
"Neville, your Gran even said it was okay… this is the only thing you've ever said no to."
"She's my Gran and—"
"They say that Harry Potter is supposed to be on the train today!" Procyon shared a look with Neville.
"Wouldn't he—he be sitting in the open?" Procyon jumped to Neville's defense before Malfoy could take offense.
"He has a scar on his forehead and everything, it glows and shoots lightening at the foul and impure."
"He's saying that Potter's scar would have killed him."
"And it would give you like… flower power!"
"That doesn't even make sense!" Procyon rolled his eyes and looked at Malfoy.
"We're debating the importance of flower power. Potter isn't here… make sure you watch out for the muggleborn who is trying to break hearts."
"She just doesn't know our culture—"
"Flower power."
"What—?"
"Your catchphrase would be Lily Wrists!" He contemplated. "Well your move would be—" He struck an odd pose with his arms stretched forward. "You'd have your arms stretched out like this and then you'd have to shout your attack: Lily Wrists!"
Their compartment door slammed shut.
"You're into tomfoolery today."
"Can I sit here? Everywhere else is full…"
"Sure thing." Neville was interrupted by Procyon as he began a greeting.
"Say your new catchphrase."
"Oh Merlin…" Neville struck the pose that Procyon had given, "Lily Wrists…"
"That was beautiful…" He turned to the redhead. "My name is Procyon, pleased to make your acquaintance."
He sniggered for a moment, most likely at his name.
"I'm Ron Weasely." A full name given before the feast? His father had told him that Weasely was a surname to be weary of.
They each developed strange obsessions.
"I'm Neville."
"Neville, Trevor is escaping."
"What?" The toad had chosen perfect timing! Neville ran right after him.
"Sit down, Weasely." He knew what his eyes showed, coldness like no other.
"Why?"
"You asked to sit here, so do it." He obliged.
"What's wrong?"
"I doubt that I'll be in Gryffindor and Neville is the only one to ever stand up to me. I want you to watch him and keep him safe. He has the courage to beat all, but he's nice above all else." He glared and stood. "I can admit that he's easy to bully, if I ever catch you hurting him… you'll regret it. I swear it as the son of a Marauder."
"Marauder?"
"Yes, my father was one of the Marauders." He sat back down
"My older brothers look up to them!"
"You'll remember to defend him, right? I was raised by one." But he had never succeeded in pranking him.
"Yeah, can I tell Fred and George?"
"After the feast." Procyon returned to his magazine runic scheme just as Neville returned.
"Procyon." Neville sounded upset.
"Did you throw your Lily Wrists at it?"
"What? No! Trevor won't get off the roof!"
"Sucks to be him, he better remember to hold on!"
"Come on, can't you get him?" He pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Why would I ride on the roof of a train?" He paused, "Actually…"
"You're in better shape than me and you make it sound cool?"
He opened the window and slid to the roof surprised at how close it actually was… marking the room, he looked around carefully he ran at the toad who went the other way.
He caught him while giving a success squeeze.
"Got ya, ya bastard!" He ran to his spot and tossed him into the compartment.
"Is someone up there?!" A decidedly female and geriatric voice sounded.
"No, ma'am, it was just my toad!" Neville was a master liar, never hesitating for a moment to protect Procyon.
"Okay!" Her voice became more cheerful, "That's good since we'll be arriving in another half hour."
And now he had to piss. He did the only thing he could and unzipped his fly and then…
"I'm walking on sunshine, whoa
I'm walking on sunshine, whoa
I'm walking on sunshine, whoa
And don't it feel good
Hey, all right now
And don't it feel good
Hey, yeah!"
"Are you really pissing off the side of the train?" Weasely shrieked in horror.
"Not anymore!" He set himself straight and barely ducked under the bridge that had appeared.
"Are you alive?" Neville called.
"Yeah!"
They passed from under the bridge and he sat up, dangling his legs over the edge.
"Hey!" Procyon shouted as the giant of a man began leading the first years away. "Get me off of here!"
Everyone looked at him, the first year on the roof of the train, his tie wrapped around his head as a sweatband.
He was icky and couldn't wait to take a shower; he probably had sunburn, too.
The man didn't even have the height to reach him, so tall was the train. He rubbed his bearded chin and sighed, "I'mma get a pr'fessor, I'll take tha rest o' tha firsties and be back for ya later."
"Can't ya magic me off?" He was already walking away and made no indication he had heard. Procyon contemplated jumping off but knew better when he was left behind… an eleven-year-old alone in a dark and dangerous train station… he feared for his virtue.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the mirror, contemplating getting in contact with his father.
That would be stupid; his father would demand something stupid like one upping this next year.
"This sucks." He pulled out his issue of The Quibbler and actually began to read the thing.
[***]
"Come along, young man!" A huffy witch snapped.
"I hope I'm in your favorite house, Miss!"
"That will be Professor McGonagall to you!"
"I really see a beautiful friendship blooming from here on out, it starts with me being sorted into your favorite house."
"You have delayed the sorting ceremony enough!" Procyon sighed in an over exaggerated manner.
"We'll have to delay it further for you to tell me the secret of your favorite house."
"You are very fortunate I cannot take points." She practically hissed.
"Ooh, feisty!" Neville openly face palmed as he said the last words in front of everyone. "Don't I get a cold shower first?"
"Enough! I will announce you to the school, get yourselves ready!" He stood next to Neville and pulled out the mirror he'd be contacting his father with. He looked like a schoolyard rebel.
"Thank Merlin I haven't gotten a sunburn!" His hair was sticky against his forehead maintaining the hair that he kept over his scar. Just as father wanted. "I look sexy with a tan…"
"I say that you're insane." Weasely said sagely as the double doors burst open. They stepped forward into the Great Hall as he slipped his two way mirror into his pocket.
"Abbot, Hannah!"
He hoped… he knew she was hesitating to say it.
My name is that of a convicted killer…
"B—Black, Procyon."
"A Black in Hogwarts?"
"What's Dumbledore thinking?"
"I say he's going to be a troublemaker…"
He took his steps forward without hesitation and felt the hat dropped onto his head.
"I see that you only want to make your father proud, Harry Potter, do not forget your mother. From what I see Hufflpuff won't suit you at all, but Gryffindor will stifle you… you have the cunning but not the drive for Slytherin… better be… RAVENCLAW!"
The tie on his forehead surged with magic as it changed color and he handed the hat back to McGonagall with a bow required of a gentleman handing anything to a lady.
He sat at the very edge watching his two potential friends get sorted into Gryffindor.
Neville still liked him at least.
The sorting ended with a wizard named Blaise Zabini and then the Headmaster made a few announcements with a comment on his prank. His new Head of House had stood and whispered to him, "You will come with me to the headmaster's office, Mister Black."
"Yes, sir."
"How do we get in contact with your guardian? He must be informed." Procyon shuddered and looked around wildly.
"Please don't tell him…"
"Mister Black, I assure you nothing bad will happen to you—"
"It's not that, I promise you that… it's just…" He hesitated and sighed, "You'll see." He whipped out the mirror and called clearly into the mirror. "Sirius Black!"
"What happened, my ickle trouble on legs?"
"I'm in the headmaster's office, father."
"Did you steal his commemorative candy plate like we planned?"
"I can't do that anymore."
"Hand it to me, Mister Black." Dumbledore glared into the mirror.
"Hey, Professor Dumbledore, my son has caused some mayhem correct?"
"What happened to Harry Potter?"
"This is about my boy, correct?"
"Albus," McGonagall said in warning.
"Your son rode on the roof of the Hogwarts Express all the way to Hogsmeade Station." Silence as Snape smirked at him, possibly because he expected some anger.
Bark like laughter filled the air and his father began choking as he continued his cackles. After fifteen minutes he had calmed himself well enough to say simply:
"I expect great things from you, my ickle trouble on legs… great things indeed. Try to make the paper next year, okay?"
"Dad!" He whined, "I want to study!"
"No! No son of mine will be a bookworm without malicious intentions!"
"But…"
"Did you make Gryffindor like we discussed?"
"No…"
"And that's why you can't have the early edition of the Nimbus 2001. Listen up, my son, you're going to have to step up your game if you want anything other than a prank for Yule."
"Yes, Father…"
"And I expect another meeting like this if you don't want me to send Kreature to embarrass you like you begged me not to."
"Yes, Father…" He was sagging in depression.
"Hey, son…"
"Yeah, dad?"
"Chin up; I'm sure you'll find a gullible victim within a week. I heard Snivellous is teaching so practice your skills on him."
"He's a professor!" Dumbledore had long since handed the mirror to him.
"You'll never be one of the cool kids who everyone likes for being an arse like I was."
"Why does it matter?"
"You'll never get laid for one?"
"When was the last time you did?"
"I was going to meet up with Linda, why?"
"Dad! She's a dirty whore!"
"Enough!" Sprout took control and snatched the mirror from his hands. "We will find you, Black, and I will see to it personally that you are Kissed!"
"Not by you, right?" Procyon slapped his forehead as his father gave a particularly arse-holish laugh.
"I'm sorry, Professor, he's just a child in a manwhore's body!"
"Yeah!" His father agreed, "Don't let this sexy body fool you, I'm as youthful as ever."
"Bye, dad…" He canceled the call only to have it vibrate again. He shivered and reactivated the call.
"Make the front page next year and I'll let you do whatever you want with your time."
"Yes, father."
"Love you, son!"
"Love you, too." The Professors were agape and Procyon stated coldly, "I'd like to go to my common room now."
His tie was still on his forehead as he received his timetable the next morning.
He approached Gryffindor table and cheerfully greeted Neville.
"Hey, Neville!"
"Hey…" He didn't receive eye contact.
"Did something happen?"
"Get out of here, Black." Two third years, twins by the looks of it, had their wands drawn and ready to strike. He raised his hands and said calmly.
"I'm just greeting a friend."
"We set him straight last night; he doesn't want to deal with you from now on." He pursed his lips.
"Don't eat the treacle tart tonight." He went to the kitchens, knowing the potions to use.
After missing his entire day of classes, he watched the Gryffindor table, patiently waiting…
"What did you do?" A first year boy whispered to him.
"You'll see." The screams came quickly as each of the redheads at the table began screaming.
Shit…
A prefect had gotten caught up in the mind poison he had brewed and asked the house elves to put in each redheaded Gryffindor's bite.
He had learned that house elves became blubbering masses when it came to minor kindnesses.
"Spiders!" The youngest shouted as he began clawing at his face, "They're all over me! GET THEM OFF, GET THEM OFF, GET THEM OFF!"
Whispers would follow him, even as he was lead to the headmaster's office.
"You attacked a family of Gryffindors?"
"Yes, Father…"
"You have some balls, my boy!"
"What?"
"Oh yeah, no one messed with a whole family since they each have their strengths and weaknesses, know how to compliment each other, and have fierce loyalty to each other. Really now, what you did was on epic proportions, you can go without pranking anyone if you don't want to for the rest of the year."
"Thanks, dad!"
"Mister Black, you are—you are…"
"You know what, try to toe the line between suspension and detention… you'll do a great job, I know it!"
"But…"
"A great job for a Nimbus!"
"I'll try…"
"That's all I ask." The mirror went blank.
"So… detention?"
"For a full week." The Headmaster said.
"With me." McGonagall stated.
"I thought you were going to leave me at Professor Snape's mercy or something!"
"That is a thought."
He had gladly bought and copied his notes from his year mates on the first day of lessons and was ignoring the fearful gaze of the common room.
This edition of the Quibbler specialized in Egyption runes! But he was getting sick of the stares by the time he finished and had decided to examine the library.
"Procyon!" He turned with a smile at Neville who looked genuinely worried. "They said that they were going to have your wand snapped!"
"Just detention with McGonagall."
"Are you okay?"
"My dad is being an arse." He admitted.
"Is he really Sirius Black?"
"Yeah." It was bound to come up.
"Oh…" Neville must have felt like an arse.
"What happened in class today?"
"Well…"
It wasn't until the next week he had formally met Professor Snape. Potions was always fun, and his mum had been good at it so that was all the more reason for liking it… he hadn't wanted anything bad to happen in his class and his dad said that the best potions required the basics…
"Mister Black, are you paying attention?"
"I'm taking notes, sir." He stopped scribbling and looked his Professor in the eye. He was too young for Occlumency beyond meditation and was glad that the Professor took the bait… I know you're a legilimens…
He broke contact without hesitation when he felt him reach further in.
Potions was a boring affair as they brewed the potion from a prank his father had given to him after a backfired prank.
[***]
"Flying!" He spread his arms and ran around the common room reminiscent of a muggle flying contraption. "It's about time!"
"He's barmy…" They clearly weren't quite used to his silliness just yet.
"Shut up!" He sing songed, "Today is an awesome day dedicated to flying!"
They had the morning with Hufflepuff and Gryffindor would have Slytherin.
Poor Neville…
"Mister Black!" He leapt soundly over his panicked Head of House. He ran to the wall and stopped, not even winded. He turned slowly and asked his head of house:
"What am I needed for?"
"I was checking on my Raven's, what's got you so…?"
"A little thing called… flying!" He did a handstand, using the wall for support; his under robes were muggle clothing of the highest caliber.
Way more comfy too.
He cart wheeled to his feet as Flitwick clapped his hand in delight.
"Good show, five points to Ravenclaw!"
"If I put on a circus show can I earn a hundred?"
"Of course!" He paused in thought for a moment before pouting.
"Where can I find a crumple-horned snorkack on such short notice?"
"Maybe another day?"
"Hopefully…"
"Alright, first years please come with me!"
Astronomy was a breeze!
"Mister Black!" Professor Sinistra demanded his attention, more like her chest did, but still! "What planet am I pointing to?"
"Mars, it's pretty bright…" Neville was still scribbling the answers from his completed worksheet. "You've moved your hand to—"
"Enough, continue on!"
"How are you so good?" Granger demanded in a hiss.
"His family naming tradition comes from the stars and their constellations." Neville whispered, finishing the answers, Weasely was following closely…
Why did he sit with the Gryffindors?
"Why don't you guys just—"
"Mister Black, five points from Ravenclaw for cheating!"
"Who was I cheating off of, if I may ask?"
"Miss Granger."
"She hasn't even finished."
"Looking at another students—"
"She's the only one still scribbling." He held up his parchment and pointed his holly wand at it. "Project membrana. These are all of my answers."
"Put those answers away now!" There was a collective scribbling and sigh of disappointment when he obliged. "Fifteen points from Ravenclaw!"
Weasely had finished and was helping the next Gryffindor.
"Up!" His was the only one in his hand, his father had already drilled him in everything there was to know.
"Up!" The girl next to him shouted.
"You're being too tense."
"Shut up, Black! Why would I need your help?"
"It could have something to do with the fact that I'm the only one with a broom in my hands."
"Shut up!" Patil's broom smacked her clean across the face before falling limp.
"You've got the right amount of force, I see."
"Madam Hooch, Black bewitched my broom!" Everything stopped and he face-palmed.
"Miss Patil, you're being silly these brooms are so old they can't even be repaired! Everyone keep trying!" Procyon felt pity as he turned to the Hufflepuff next to him.
"Finch-Fletchely, you should relax your shoulders."
"Up! Thanks, mate." Another twenty minutes had passed before everyone held their brooms.
"Alright, mount up and we'll be flying in three… two… one!" She blew her whistle and Procyon was the first in the air.
A series of acrobatics later…
"Mister Black, you will land this instant!" He didn't hesitate mid-corkscrew as he dove and landed right in front of her. "Really now, where did you learn that from?"
"Father."
"Your father…!" She looked so hateful that he actually flinched. She caught herself and cleared her throat. "I don't recall him being much of a flyer."
"He actually trapped me in his pensive and made me watch the quidditch games he'd seen in his lifetime."
"What else did he do?"
"He said he wishes I were more like a chaser instead of a seeker."
"James Potter was a chaser."
"I know." The hatred was back but he trudged on. "Father never did receive a trial."
He wanted to be able to walk through the public without his father in Padfoot's furs.
"Mister Black, everyone knows he was—"
"He's my dad and I believe in him." Procyon knew she was refraining from several choice words and counted himself lucky to be her student rather than a stranger in the street.
All first years had the day off and Procyon was flying a good distance from the Gryffindor-Slytherin flying practice.
Ravenclaw Quidditch Chaser, Roger Davies, was watching him. "Sucks to be that kid."
He looked and gaped, "Bloody hell!"
"Where are you going?"
"Madam Hooch might need someone to watch, that's a sprained wrist right there." He was proven right when both he and Davies landed. "Will he be alright?"
"Just a sprained wrist, Davies, I put you in charge until a Professor comes out here. Come along, Longbottom."
"Look here!" Malfoy, a boy he had managed to avoid since the day he went shopping with him, began a ruckus. "Maybe if he had had this when he fell, he'd have remembered to fall on his fat arse!"
Davis put a hand on his shoulder, snapping him back into logic.
"Give it here, Malfoy!"
"Why don't you come get it?" He kicked off and Davis let him go immediately after.
"In honor of our alliance I—" Malfoy really was a spoiled little shit…! Malfoy took off flying as Weasely joined them.
"There's no talking to the spoiled—"
"I'll handle this." He took off and didn't look back.
"What happened, Black, are you upset that your boyfriend broke the wrist he wanks you with?"
"Yes, actually, but it's more like the fact that you have four extras." He needed to dull his tongue a bit. Never had they stopped flying. Weasely had caught up. "Give me the ball."
"Go get it!" He didn't hesitate and flew into the branches of the whomping willow.
His father had one in the backyard far older and wiser than this one, and had made him fly against it to punish him the first and last time he had been rude to a girl…
He dodged with practiced ease out of the branches as McGonagall called for him to land along with Weasely and Malfoy.
Procyon bowed to McGonagall and held out his hand where the remembrall lay.
"Suspension!" His father shouted through the mirror, "Do you know how hard it is for one to maintain a social life with kids around your house?"
"Father—"
"What did you do?"
"I—"
"Mister Black interrupted the afternoon flying and instigated a fight between himself and Misters Malfoy and Weasely." He glared at her; they had pushed everything onto him! "He recklessly flew into the whomping willow and—"
"I'd like to hear it from my son, Minnie." He hesitated, "Go on, boy!"
"I was only trying to save Neville's remembrall… I tried to ask Malfoy to give it to me but he just flew off… Weasely didn't do much, even when Malfoy threw it into the whomping willow." He looked at his father's incredulous face.
"You risked your wellbeing for a remembrall. Why didn't you just wait for it to smash so you could give him one?"
"It was a gift from his Gran!"
"That's very lion like of you, my boy!" He blushed and glared.
"Aren't you supposed to be discussing my punishment?"
"I'm proud of you, but at the same time disappointed that you disobeyed me."
"I understand—"
"Mister Black, your son will not be suspended until we finish getting the stories from all of the other students."
"Just detentions?"
"We shall see when Filius finishes with the chaser." The door burst open in allowance to Flitwick.
"Mister Black, you will receive a detention for each school night until October. You have the option of being in reserve for the quidditch team as well."
"He says absolutely yes!"
"Dad!"
"You see? He's agreeing with me."
"Ey bol'shoy tranzhira!" [1]
"Are you in a strip club?" The woman's voice was a thick Russian accent and it had only taken him a moment to realize what she had said.
"Yes, I actually just got in." He didn't hesitate to cancel the connection lest his father reveal his location.
"Mister Black, you are dismissed." He left the room without hesitation.
The Nimbus in his hands he idly wondered if his teammates wanted one—"My dad could buy—"
"We don't want your money, Black."
"Sure thing." He wouldn't let their coldness ruin his good mood, nope, nope, nope! "When does practice start?"
"Gryffindor hasn't finished." Davies was the only one talking to him out of the whole team and even that was coldness.
"Why don't we do some warm-ups?"
"They're still on their brooms, Black."
"No, I mean physical conditioning." They all looked at him. "You know… running, pull-ups, or pushups?"
"Black—"
"My father said that the professional teams all practice physical conditioning before a good practice." He grinned widely, "It would also give us an excuse to be out on the field."
"Don't fall for it!" A familiar, very Gryffindor voice shouted, "He's a Slytherin at heart."
"Piss off, Weasely."
"Ron, you gave away our position." Procyon slapped his forehead and snapped:
"It doesn't take a snake to be sneaky." His wand out he shot a minor stinger to the voices.
"Ouch!"
"Procyon, we're leaving."
"Finite Incantatum." They're notice-me-not charm cancelled he asked in his most patient voice: "Why are the two of you in women's knickers?"
"Oi!"
"They said that it was all we could wear…"
"They lied, go to the Weasely twins and tell them to give you your robes back, Dumbledore has an invisibility cloak… admit to it and get it, Neville."
"How would you know that?"
"But, Procyon…"
"Listen to me! Both of you are in a bad position… if we wanted we could get you for sexual harassment and invasion of privacy… leave right now and you'll get off scot free." Neville obliged pulling Ron along. He rounded on his teammates. "Let's start with warm-ups."
Procyon finished his last dot on the essay and hid it with the rest of his work.
"Black!"
"Yeah?"
"Are you going to the Halloween feast?"
"No, my mum died today." Chang and Edgecomb shared an annoyed look. "What?"
"Nothing." They left as quickly as they came. He rolled his eyes when he canceled the joke set up by someone.
"Amateurs." He would spend the next few hours in the library if he had his way. He had some exploration to do first…
He was enjoying the shizz out of his cockroach clusters, as stolen from Honeydukes, when…
"AHHHHHHH!" His eyes widened at the sight of the troll, he hoped his girlish screams had no witnesses… "I'mmagunnadie!"
He was dead, since his father had told him trolls ran faster than the wolves they hunted… he threw his remaining cockroach clusters into the trolls mouth. It paused mid stride as it chewed up the supplies. He looked at him and pointed at himself.
"Chunk." He gawped for just a moment when he pointed to himself:
"Procyon." He closed the distance between them and the troll picked him up and asked.
"How to leave?"
"Er…" He gulped and answered, "We're on the third floor. We'll need to head to the first floor and out of the front door." The troll placed him on his shoulder and Procyon wondered what his father would expect next if anyone caught wind of this. "Go straight ahead."
"Black, what the bloody hell are you doing?" Weasely already had his wand pointed and thinking of a spell.
"I just so happen to be helping a new friend home!" Neville face palmed. "Alright, make a right here…"
The two Gryffindors followed all the way to the entrance hall where Professor Dumbledore was asking the teachers—"Have any of you found it?"
"Easy there, Chunk!"
"Mister Black?!"
"And Chunk." He added as he told the troll to walk out the entrance hall. "Is this where you came in from?"
"No, Procky!"
"Can you name anything you saw before coming in?"
"Chunk was forced in sleep before waking up here!"
"I heard there are centaurs here, do you trust them?"
"Firenze."
"What?"
"Firenze is the talking of between species!"
"Is he a centaur?"
"Yeah, Procky!"
"Can you go to the forest by yourself?"
"No."
"Its right there, I kinda need to go back to my—" He shrieked as the troll took off running, effectively kidnapping him.
The next morning he had come back to Hogwarts thanks to the kindness of Kreature II. It had taken him half an hour to think of the young house elf when he had reached the troll camp. He winced at the particularly loud boom made by the Just-As-Bitchy-As-His-Father house elf.
At least this one liked the members of the Black household, him being the only one.
"Master Procyon, sir!" In front of the Great Hall he entered, a great medallion on his neck and a matching studs and rings on his ears, the teen house elf shrieked with joy, "Master is going to be so pissed!"
"Don't sound too happy, will you?" He was smelly, cold, and achy.
Particularly where that female had pierced his ears.
"Master, master, master!"
"What?"
"I is telling Master Black everything!"
"Wha—?!" POP! "Ah, poopie."
"Now then," Dumbledore spoke, "The student that was kidnapped last night is back, enjoy your breakfast!"
He grabbed a single apple, ignored the flinches, and ran to the Ravenclaw common room where a shower couldn't come fast enough.
When dinner came he noted that Dumbledore had a howler sitting in front of him. The headmaster sighed noticeably and opened the letter with obvious sadness. It flew to Procyon and he groaned.
"PROCYON, WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT RIDING ON STRANGE TROLLS AFTER THE LAST ONE TRIED TO KIDNAP YOU?" He wanted to sink away from the world… maybe to the center where no one would find him? Nobody needed to know about that! "OH RIGHT! MAKE THEM BUY YOU DINNER FIRST! IF YOU CALL ON KREATURE JUNIOR FOR SOMETHING LIFE THREATENING AGAIN I'M PULLING YOU OUT OF HOGWARTS!" Procyon slumped when the howler showed a set of hands, and turned to the headmaster… did his father have to flip the headmaster off? Did he have to humiliate him like this? "PROCYON, YOU BETTER HAVE A GOOD REASON FOR THE PEIRCINGS THIS YULE! PADFOOT IS OUTTIE!"
"A classic show from a Marauder everyone!" The sniggers he had been ignoring turned into all out laughter.
"Thanks, dad…" He grumbled.
When Yule did come he went up to the scruffy looking man who was watching him in a less then casual manner, "Are you Moony?"
"Why yes, young man, who would you be?"
"Procyon Black, pleased to make the acquaintance of the man my father speaks so highly of." He waited for the hand to be extended as a show of respect. "Er… I understand…"
"Where's your father?"
"Probably waiting for you to leave, he told me about that spell."
"I see." He sniffed the air and walked with a purpose towards the alley his father had mentioned he'd be hiding in. Shit… the black dog ran out as Lupin shouted for Aurors. "That's Black! Get him!"
He transformed, grabbed onto him, and… nothing happened. "Dad, I'm scared…"
"They have the anti-disapparition jinx up, lad, I'm afraid this is the end our game." One last hug… "I'll always be proud of you."
"Wait!" The Aurors were already prying him off as Procyon held on. "No! Don't take my dad from me!"
"Listen, kid, we don't want to hurt you… but he killed the Boy-Who-Lived and his family."
"He didn't!"
"Procyon…" Sirius Black had a pleading look about him, something which hadn't happened since the day they had met. "Don't!"
"A little after my fifth birthday, Sirius Black escaped Azkaban with me on his back… I was the reason he escaped." He spoke quietly as his father told him to stop, begging. "Once upon a time there was a sad little boy who lived in the cupboard under the stairs. One night he dared to escape and look through the trash for extra food. He was caught, beaten, and thrown outside like a bad dog!"
"Please, my boy, they won't—"
"Yes they will, dad, they'll send me back!" He didn't hesitate as he continued. "When he looked to the sky he wished for family, somewhere far away a man had a wish quite like it. I don't know how it happened but I was there… that little boy is me…" He hesitated… he father had told him once… "He told me if I ever admitted to who my mum had named me to be I'd be back in that cupboard so I took the name he gave me and left the sad little boy behind!"
"SHUT UP!" His father shouted in a desperate manner. "YOU WON'T GO BACK!"
"I've had this for as long as I can remember." He lifted his bangs to show the aurors the scar. "I'm Harry Potter!"
POP! POP!
Two apparitions later they were somewhere definitely not his home.
As he looked at his father he knew… Sirius Black was pissed.
"We'll be pulling you out of Hogwarts. I'll see about moving us out of the country… were you going to tell them about how your mum cheated on James with me?"
"No!"
"You may as well have."
"I couldn't let them take you…" He closed his eyes to hold back the tears as they leaked out. "You're all I have."
"Don't get sappy with me." He looked up in shock. "I had plans laid out with Gringotts that made it so that you'd be emancipated if I were to be captured, killed, or Kissed. You would be your own man right now, you'd have a fortune to squander, and you'd even be able to give me a proper burial."
"I don't want that, you're my dad!"
"Kiddo, I'll always be with you," His father pointed at Procyon's heart: "Here."
"Now who's getting sappy?"
"Shut up, you're the one who's crying!"
"You're the one paraphrasing crappy muggle films!"
"Hey now, ET was a bitchin' story!" His father laughed suddenly, "It's good to have you out of that girlishness."
"Where will I be going?"
"I was thinking France, Beauxbaton allows everything with two legs that can use a wand."
"What about Durmstrang?"
"No, their headmaster is a convicted Death Eater."
"Oh…"
"We're going to speed up your French lessons and teach you more etiquette since that's big there… so get ready… tomorrow we depart for France!"
"Oui!"
"Master!" They both looked as the female elf, Kreature II's mother, continued crying. "Take Winnie with you!"
"Okay, anyone else want to come?" The other two agreed, Kreature and Kreature II. "We're going to that old vacation home off of Italy's shore, the one in Malta… too bad about Beauxbaton, I heard they allow Veela."
"Atlantis seems cool!"
"Ah… another school with potential. Let's hope that they assume the big ones are where we go." He paused and spoke sharply. "Den asteía epicheíri̱si̱, eímai katálava?" [2]
"Nai, o patéras!" [3]
"Okay, those potions have better work their magic, we all speak Greek to Procyon, am I understood?"
"Nai, ploíarchos!" [4] The house elves each chorused.
He hoped he could pull this off.
A few weeks later, he had made it to the tunnels to Atlantis in Greece.
His Greek was clumsy by his father's standard, but he saw pride when he had less then elaborately snapped a simple screw you right back at an insult he didn't quite get.
"Alright, Mister Black." The Greek that flowed from the woman's mouth was sweet to the ears. "You are new so we will go through the rules. There is no casting in the tunnels, no casting without supervision outside of the stone arenas, and all curses cast are registered within the arena. I hope you understand… if a tunnel breaks we will all be flooded!"
"I understand perfectly."
"The libraries are in the stone arenas, there are a few lazing areas, and you should know that your dormitory is in the singular division since that was all we have left. All students brought to your room will be logged by way of a tracking spell on the door… if you would please come with me?"
"Yes, madam." She brought him to his room and handed him a key-card.
"It is replaceable if you lose it but please notify staff as soon as you do since we need to find it before someone steals something from your room. Spell casting is allowed within your room as well, but please refrain from combat spells and stick to charms, transfiguration, and enchantments." The room was built like a hotel. "You've brought your own house elf?"
"I'm allowed?"
"Yes, summon one of them right now and they will be in charge of your things. If you do not have one then you will be in charge of keeping your things organized."
"Kreature II!" His father had given the thing to him as a seventh birthday present. "You are my personal elf, you will be attending my needs."
"Yes, master."
"Where do they stay?"
"There's a cupboard within each single for house elves." Ahh… he was within the rich child section. No wonder his father wanted him within a dormitory! He didn't say anything as the woman explained that his books would be given to him in his classes. "If that is all, here is the complete rule book with guides and maps of our school. Remember: No Elopement!"
He blushed hard as Kreature II sniggered… the woman left and Procyon rounded on the elf.
"Do you think you can do this?"
"I is following master wherever you is going!"
"Good, make sure that no one enters except for me, I saw a dame I for one would like to see." So he was curious of the opposite sex, who cared if—oh, she had a boyfriend. He went closer anyway as she spoke too fast for Procyon to understand.
"I love you!" The boy proclaimed in a girlish voice before rounding on Procyon. "Honey, can I help you with something?"
"I'm new and was hoping to say hello."
"Aww…" The caramel girl cooed. "Well, this is Agapios, I'm his twin sister, Aziza!" She shot him a stern look, "You're not here to make fun of him?"
"No… I was hoping to… talk?" He shot her a pointed look and she shooed her brother away. "I think you're pretty."
"I'm a lesbian." He flinched back when she burst out laughing. "That's the worst way to turn a guy down, don't you think? I was talking with my brother and he suggested that I do that to the first guy that confesses interest in me… well, I think it's funny, don't you? My brother should be around the corner laughing, I know it!" Her nattering was kinda cute. "Well, I gave you my name!"
"I'm Procyon Black." She didn't exactly ask, but it was implied. She knew enough about basic customs. He liked that.
"Black, isn't that an English word for a color?"
"It's my surname."
"Ooh, you're the English boy?" Her tone changed as she leaned forward and he could swear her pupils became cat like slits for just a moment. "Let's get to know each other more."
Her brother came right back over.
The twins talked.
A lot.
Like more than necessary. He kept Aziza and her flamboyant brother out of his conversation with his father the next day when they spoke through the mirrors.
"Any friends?"
"Not much."
"You're still new." His father let him go soon after as he set about heading to his first class: Charms 1.
Classes were simpler and they learned a spell each lesson.
Apparently the first half of the year was dedicated to theory for first years and he had come here just in time.
"It must be fun!"
"Huh?"
"You learned spells in some of your classes the first day?"
"Yeah."
"What was it like?"
"The most interesting one was changing a matchstick into a needle and changing it back again."
"Wow." She said amidst giggles. Aziza began leading him to one of the libraries, this particular one was one he had avoided since the start of his time here. "Come on, there's nothing to fear."
"I won't practice the Dark Arts." He insisted, stubborn as ever.
"That's just a label. It doesn't matter when you do the ritual of cleansing."
"Great so there's a ritual you have to do?"
"Magic is neither cruel nor kind, magic is magic."
"With some aftereffects." He added, stopping short as she struggled to pull him in. "My father wouldn't approve."
"He doesn't have to know."
"He'll know." His father knew when he was keeping something from him. He had pried the information of his friends and the fact that not all of them were completely human. He approved of Aziza, at least. "He knows me better than anyone."
"I'll show you the ritual before we practice any spells, I just need a book."
"I'll wait for you here." Her cheeks puffed in that cute way of hers as she went in and left not a minute later.
"What's the ritual?"
She smiled.
This thrill…
"Black!"
Do it again…
"Nu—"
"Stupefy!" He parried with ease and froze at the shock on his friends' faces.
"Okay, don't practice any spells without us, you're too natural!" Agapios shrieked cheerfully while clapping his hands.
"What does that mean?" His wand hand was shaking.
"Let's do the cleansing ritual first." He hesitantly went to the circle in the middle and tapped the bowl with his wand. It shook and refilled. He poured the water over his head and the urges were gone like that. He dried himself with the magic he had learned here with well practiced ease.
"Dark Magic is your best suit, Black." Salem, his academic rival and a werewolf, said with mirth in his voice. "Are you sure you want to keep your creature within you secret?"
"My dad is pureblood."
"Your mum?" Aziza queried.
"I—I…" He hesitated. Everyone had pureblood relatives who kept them in here. "She was… I don't know the word for it here."
"She was a mud child?" It was said as though it were an insult. He glared at Agapios for his next words. "He's fully human!"
"Hn…" Salem looked down his nose at him, and his adopted sister, Dallas, covered her mouth with what must have been horror. "I knew there was something off about him."
"Enough!" But he was already walking away as Aziza jumped up to shout at them. She was their leader; she decided what they did… if she was defending him he didn't care since he had classes to study for anyway.
"Enough on you!" Someone shouted right back.
Friendship was a fickle thing; maybe he should have stuck with his friends in Hogwarts anyway? He completed his final pull-up that morning as Aziza watched. He had ignored them all and the school seemed all the more cold when word had spread.
"I told them to be nice." She said finally. He switched to pushups. He had been neglecting his health for these friends who had turned their backs on him not three days ago. "It's a shame that my brother is a bigot with all he puts up with his preference." He completed the final pushup and flipped over to do crunches. There was silence as she was steadily ignored. He had yet to speak to his father… he really needed to mention that. "Black, I want you to look at me and only me from now on."
"What's that supposed to mean?" He looked at her and saw the odd look in her eyes, he liked it. Her eyes were their cat like slits when she looked at him this time. He loved the way she licked her lips. "Well?"
"I want you." She pounced onto him with grace and then they—
Were interrupted in the most embarrassing way ever!
"No elopement!" The Headmistress shrieked at them, "There is to be no elopement in this school!"
"It was just a kiss." He was pale… would they call his father in? Oh… that would just be embarrassing. His father would probably make silly joke after silly joke.
"I would never expect such a thing from you; your father was our most impeccable student!" The fireplace burst to life as his father stumbled out.
"What's the rush?" He asked in perfect Greek. He looked at him and Aziza and gave him a thumbs up. "You chose well, my son."
"Dad!" He sat in the chair next to him as the fires lit again allowing in a tall pale man and a caramel woman.
"I'm just saying, she's adorable and—" He switched to English here, "Her mum is great shagging material."
"We will be speaking of marriage, correct?" The father spoke before his father could keep going.
"No way!"
"My daughter is not a two bit slag for your son's amusement!"
"From what the letter said your daughter was on top."
"That doesn't matter, she may have been under a potion!" The woman rolled her eyes and stared her daughter down.
"Oh no, I just think he's a good first time." Procyon would have fainted but his father pinched him.
Hard.
"Don't say such things, my princess!"
"I mean it. I want to be like auntie!" The father only choked as Aziza's mum spoke up.
"Darling…" Her hair was oddly shaped on the sides… like ears… oh! They twitched, "You really think you can control hormones with choice words?"
"Your mother is in charge of you from now on!"
"Please…" Aziza didn't seem the least bit fazed.
"I'd like to rent a chamber?"
"Free of charge." A keycard was handed over and she turned to his father. "Your boy was not at fault so I will not put a mark on his records."
"I can go?"
"Yes, sir… but!"
"But?"
"I want to commend you for raising a model student!" She smiled brightly as Procyon received a glare. "He will make a fine candidate for the advanced placement program next year."
"What's that?"
"He learns fast enough to skip certain areas of study and of course, Aziza is able as well, sir."
"My son?"
"He will be left behind."
"I see I'm sure that…" Aziza was looking bruised and battered while her mother had not a hair out of place. "Aziza you will be placed in advanced placement with your beau, don't mess things up."
"Ye—yes, father…" She flinched when her mother pat her head, smiling dotingly.
[1] Hey big spender!
[2] No funny business, am I understood?
[3] Yes, Father!
[4] Yes, master!
The translations of each thing used according to Google translate.
I have a total of seven chapters including this one. I didn't like it a little before fifth year, it all went to shit when I threw in Fleur Dalchiene Delacour. I never made it past fifth year, I will only share the details with someone who wants the whole thing (please give me your e-mail address so that I can send you the files) or someone who wants to continue it.
Let me know in a PM either way. If you want to review with a bit of critique please let me know so that I may better my writing skills.
Thanks for taking the time to view this.