A/N: Hey, I'm gonna keep posting, as I've got this fic mostly finished, so it don't matter how many reviews I get, though I DO like to read them…

Oh, and this is NONMAGIC and AU.

For those "Dunderheads" who don't get it, ya know?

R&R!

2

Sir John

Harry grimaced as Dudley shoved him, making him almost fall into a rather deep-looking puddle. His uncle and aunt sneered at him and told him to hurry up with the luggage, and Harry had to bite his tongue to keep from saying something that would surely earn him a sound beating later. He silently heaved the large suitcases onto the back of the cart they'd rented, and saw that he'd have to sit on the small bench there, by himself in the rain, or get smashed into the side of the carriage by his cousin's baby-whale bulk.

Choosing the rain over the potential bruises, Harry hopped onto the bench, standing, and smacked the side twice, signaling the driver. Immediately, the four black horses set of at a fast pace, impressing Harry with their seemingly easy way of pulling his grotesquely fat uncle and cousin, as well as the luggage in the back. The driver glanced back and smiled at him, signaling for him to come forward, a challenge sparking in the older mans eyes. Harry smiled at him, clung to the edge of the carriage, and pulled himself up onto the roof, sliding forward and swinging onto the bench beside the man.

"I'd have sat outside too, lad," the driver told him, baring rotting teeth in a grin; Harry grinned back.

"My name's Harry," he said; the man nodded, snapping the reins to keep the horses attention.

"The name's Elwrick. Joseph Elwrick, but the last name's preferred." Harry nodded and looked around at the town they were passing through. It was horribly dark and dreary, and Harry felt that it would have looked that way if the sun were shining clearly. As it was, the dark clouds, rain, and lightening all blended perfectly with the towns' corpse-like appeal.

"Would you like to steer for a bit, lad?" Elwrick asked; Harry looked at the offered reins, wide-eyed. "They don't bite, lad! Just keep a firm grip and I'll help you get where yer goin'." Harry tentatively took the reins, wrapping them around the palms of his hands, like he'd seen the older man do. "Tha's it, lad. Now, give them a flick," Elwrick said, flicking his wrists to show Harry how. Taking a deep breath, Harry focused on the reins leading to the four gorgeous horses. Tightening his hands, he flicked his wrists firmly; the crack was sharp and firm, and the horses seemed to move closer together and go faster.

"Like that?" Harry asked; Elwrick nodded, smiling. Harry never took his eyes off the horses, scooting a bit so he could brace his feet firmly. The rest of the ride, Harry drove, while Elwrick explained how the carriage worked and showed him how to steer. After that, the older man just told him when to turn, slow down, and speed up. As they approached a large estate, Elwrick patted his shoulder, the signal to slow down. Harry tugged the reins, applying gentle pressure, and the horses slowed to an even trot. Smiling as the carriage pulled up in front of the house, Harry clucked his tongue and pulled firmly on the reins. The horses obediently stopped, and Elwrick whooped, laughing and ruffling Harry's hair.

"You're a natural, lad!" Harry grinned up at him, soaked through with water. His clothes clung slightly, making him look like a wrapped skeleton. Hopping carefully down, the teen hurried to the back of the carriage and began pulling the luggage off the bench, grunting at the weight of the four briefcases. The Dursley's lumbered out of the carriage, complaining and snapping at Elwrick, who scowled and glowered and stubbornly demanded his pay up front. Growling under his breath and purple in the face with outrage, Vernon shoved the required money into the dirty mans hands and stomped towards the doors. Petunia sniffed and Dudley whined, both following Vernon. Harry rolled his eyes at Elwrick when the older man came to help him with the baggage.

"You're lucky," Harry told him sourly. "They're ten times worse in the mornings." Elwrick shuddered.

"I pity you, lad," he muttered, grunting as he took up one bag. Harry grabbed another, and dragged a third behind him, used to the heavy labor. They set them at the bottom of the stairs and Harry grabbed the last one before saying goodbye. Elwrick hesitated though, glancing back up at the house. Seemingly deciding something, he bent down and set his hands on the short teens shoulders.

"Harry," he said, utterly serious. "If ever ya need a place ta stay, or maybe ta hide, go ta the Inn in town, and ask for me, alright? I have friends who can help ya." Again, he looked up at the house; its doors were wide open since the Dursley's entered. "This place is a place of secrets and sadness. Cursed," he murmured. He stood and straightened his clothes. "I jus' don' want a nice lad like you falling to it's evil ways, alright?" Harry nodded slowly, unconsciously lifting a hand to fiddle with his talisman.

"Thank you, Elwrick," he murmured softly; the man smiled and ruffled his hair, before climbing up in his carriage and driving away. Harry waved after him, but he didn't look back. Sighing, the sixteen-year-old dragged the last briefcase to the others and trotted up the stone steps. Looking around, he admired the large stone structures and the huge stuffed animals. The Dursley's were shouting and bellowing around farther in so, with a sigh, he tuned that way…

And froze as a dog that was as tall as his chest stood in his way, black fur a little mottled with browns and a splotch of gray here and there. The dog, a hound of some sort, growled at him; Harry took a deep breath and spread his hands away from his body, palms facing away. The dog stepped towards him, lips pulling back, sniffing.

"Easy," Harry murmured, taking a careful step forward. The wind rushed in at his back from the open doors, blowing his scent toward the dog. "My name's Harry, what's yours?" He asked, feeling a little silly, but he knew it wasn't his words that mattered, but the sound of his voice, quiet and soothing. The dog stopped growling and tilted his head, seemingly confused. Harry carefully held out his left hand, so if the dog bit he'd still have his right. The dog sniffed it warily, then whined and licked it. The teen smiled and moved his right hand slowly forward, and was relieved when the dogs' tail wagged and he ducked his head, bumping the hand. Harry carefully scratched him behind the ears, petting him.

"You're a good dog," Harry told him gently. "Such a good dog, boy, growling at strangers. Have you met my relatives, boy? They probably smell horrible and there are two really fat ones, and one who looks like a stick." The dog sneezed; Harry laughed softly. "I know, I hate saying their related to me, but you can't pick your relatives, can you, boy?" He whined at Harry, who leaned down and kissed his head, before starting once more towards his family. The dog stepped in by his side, staying there, so Harry idly set his hand on the large dogs neck, humming softly under his breath.

A new voice met the Dursley's, as Harry got closer. Turning into a room, he paused. His uncle was purple faced and glaring at three men. One was obviously foreign and old, with lots of gray in his long, black beard, and kind eyes, though he was obviously trying not to glare back at Vernon. Another man was a good six feet tall, with a distinguished tux on. He looked surly and was scowling at the Dursley's, his dark eyes nearly as black as his hair. The last man was shorter by a few inches then the young man, with white hair and beard, and, by their noses, jaw line, and foreheads, Harry guessed that he was the younger man's father.

"You, Petunia," the old man growled out. "Are only here because of Lilly. Otherwise I would not suffer you nor your rather," he dragged his cold blue eyes over Dudley and Vernon, sneering slightly, "distinguished family. You are only staying until the funeral, and in town. When Lilly get's here, you might be moved here, but not until then." Harry spoke quickly, before his aunt could say the horrible words that, Harry sensed, would break something inside this man.

"She's not coming," he blurted; everyone jerked around to stare at him. The dog pressed closer, and Harry was grateful for him, scratching his neck. He met the mans blue eyes. "She died several years ago. I'm sorry, sir," he said simply, quietly, and then turned his eyes on his relatives. "Where should I put the bags?" His green eyes sparked with rebellion, something he almost never had, and Vernon gnashed his teeth, face darkening. Instantly, the dog at Harry's side snarled at him, and Harry gripped the dogs collar before he could lunge forward. "Hush, boy, hush now," he murmured; the dog quieted with a whine.

"Singh, my servant," the old man gestured to the foreign man, who bowed to Harry slightly, palms pressing together. "He'll help you move the bags." Harry nodded politely and turned, moving back towards the luggage, followed by the Singh and the dog. As soon as the door shut, the old man whirled on Petunia, blue eyes furious.

"That boy," he said slowly, pale with fury. "Has my daughters eyes." Petunia sniffed, sneering slightly.

"The boy has been nothing but a nuisance since they dropped him on our doorstep fifteen years ago!" She snapped. The old man actually trembled with rage, and then the younger man placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Father," he said quietly. "You need to calm yourself, if only for the boys sake." The man glared at the Dursley's, then met his son's eyes, and saw the same rage, barely held in check, in those dark eyes. Taking a deep breath, the man nodded, and glared at the three in front of him.

"You'll get two rooms down the hall, only for the night, since it's almost dark and no carriages come at night since the killings started." He whirled around and headed in the direction Harry and Singh had gone. The younger man glared at the Dursley's, sneered, then turned and followed his father. The Dursley's reluctantly followed. They reached the parlor in time to watch Harry and Singh come up the steps, each with two bags and laughing slightly. The dog remained at the boys' side, watching him with doleful eyes. As soon as he set the bags down, Harry turned and ruffled the dogs' ears, scratching his neck gently.

"Good boy," he said simply; the dogs' tail wagged and he jumped up slightly and licked Harry's face, making him laugh and wipe the slobber away, shaking his head. Looking up, Harry froze, seeing the two men from before, as well as his relatives. Looking at his uncles purple face, Harry quickly straightened and wiped the entire smile from his face, giving them a serene and blank mask.

"Where shall I put these, sir?" he asked calmly, eyes turning to the old man, who stared at him silently.

"Singh will show your relatives to their rooms and move the luggage there later. Which one is yours?" Harry reluctantly patted his tattered side-bag, tightening his hold on the strap.

"I've all I need in here, sir," Harry replied, thinking and all I own. The man stared at him in disbelief, as did his son and Singh. Harry fidgeted nervously, and the dog growled at the room at large, pressing close to the boy. The old man gave him an odd look.

"Samson," he said sternly; the dog stopped growling, but remained tense. Harry scratched his ears gently.

"Samson," he tried, the dog looked at him, and Harry smiled slightly. "Calm down, boy." Instantly, the dog sat down, huffing. Harry turned his eyes on the old man, who was now watching him consideringly.

"What's your name?" the old man asked; Harry blinked.

"Harry Potter, sir," he replied automatically; the man smiled slightly.

"I am Sir John Talbot, Lilly's father. This is her younger brother, Lawrence Talbot." Harry stared at them both, taking in their features hurriedly. This was his grandfather and uncle! His family, more so then his aunt's. He hoped that they were nicer, as well. "You have your mothers eyes, you know, Harry," Sir John said; Harry touched his cheek, uncertain, hungry to know more about his mother.

"I do?" he asked hesitantly; Sir John nodded, coming forward. He leaned down and met Harry's eyes.

"You do," he said, smiling slightly. "And while you might have your fathers hair, I don't know, but you definitely have a Talbot's." Harry's eyes darted to the mans hair, and saw that it also pointed in every direction, though it was thinner. Harry swallowed and stared into the mans eyes.

"Does this mean you're my grandfather?" he finally asked uncertainly; Sir John blinked, and then straightened with a laugh.

"I suppose I am, my lad," he said, amused, looking over at Lawrence. "And isn't that just a shock, hmm?" Lawrence smiled slightly and nodded. Sir John set his hand on Harry's shoulder. "Come, my lad, and tell me about yourself. Lawrence! You come as well." He announced, leading Harry to the stairs; Harry glanced at his relatives warily and pressed a little closer to his newly discovered grandfather when Vernon glared at him, hands clenched into fists. Sir John tightened his hand slightly and gave Vernon a cold look, something dangerous flashing in his eyes that had the obese man taking a step back, most of the color draining from his face. Lawrence gave them a cool look, following his father up, toward the parlor.

Harry looked up at his grandfather, and back at his new uncle, and found himself smiling slightly.

He was really beginning to like Blackmoor.

A/N: Yay, go Sir John! Whoot! (Loved that guy in the movie. Anyone else know that the actor was Hannibal Lector? O_O I didn't until the very end! NEAT! XP) R&R!