AN: I receive no compensation

Chapter 6. A Snake in The Garden

.oOIABBOo.

His narrowed heterochromic gaze cut quite the image on the face of what seemed like an otherwise innocent child, very perplexed by what he saw. A Black, through and through, he was reasonably well versed in the darker aspects of their lives, given a bit of an insider's view as to how this world worked, of course in moderation and what Walburga assumed was important for her heir to know at this time. However, this was very different.

Wide-eyed innocence drew him closer as he used his wand to poke the creature, something Walburga would not have been happy about, but he was a boy. The snake whipped around and stared

"Hey!" It all but yelled.

"What?" Hyperion replied.

It was actually comical to say the least, yet astutely jarring if you happened to walk into this particular garden this particular moment, a boy squatting down, hissing at an injured snake. Even for Hyperion, this was different. Not once had he been told about talking to snakes, let alone that it was even possible, and for this young pureblood, living in the unbelievable realm of the magical world…this was weird.

"Ssstop that!" the snake hissed at the boy angrily.

Hyperion paused mid poke and looked at the tip of his wand. Had he given in to his true desire, he would have simply killed it, but this oddity deserved some investigation.

"How are you talking to me?"

The snake looked at Hyperion mildly confused, or what Hyperion thought of as confusion. "I…I'm not sure." It hissed, it tongue darting in and out. "I have not spoken to any like you before." It paused…"But I have not seen many warm times."

Warm times? Hyperion thought…"Oh…summer?" he questioned. The snake stared at him blankly. Obviously, the concept of seasons was different for an animal so he continued nonetheless.

"You're a baby then?" He questioned.

The snake simply stared.

"You just hatched?" he repeated? "Came from an egg?"

"Yes" it hissed. Very matter of fact.

Hyperion was at a loss. He stared at the creature for a few moments before coming to a definitive conclusion.

"I'm going to pick you up and bring you in. Maybe grand-mère can fix you." He stated.

The snake looked at him, perplexed, somewhat nodding. Hyperion paused before he picked it up…Realization growing on his face as he smirked slightly…"The person bigger than me." He corrected, not knowing exactly how to explain whom his grandma was. The snake remained silent, simply nodding.

Already crouching, he bent down slightly and moved his fingers under the injured snake as it slowly slithered onto his hands, he scooped the snake up as gently as possible, the creature wincing slightly as he did. Standing up, he tucked his wand into his pants pocket and now made his way through the gardens of Blackmoore palace, the crisp morning air filling his lungs as the well-dressed youth came through one of the many French doors and made his way to the parlor his grandmother was in.

Coming in to the room he remained silent as he approached his grandmother, the exceptionally pretty dowager duchess, she remained reading the paper. Her eyes moving across the pages with ease as she sat, relaxed in the chaise, her hair down, legs tucked under her as she sat comfortably in her gown covered by a robe. This was a rare site, Walburga Black, relaxing and otherwise unkempt. Hyperion moved to her side, silently depositing the snake on the table near her.

"Hello my love." She said softly, not looking at her boy.

He looked at the snake, who was surprisingly staying still. "This is my grandma." He whispered to it.

Walburga's eyes slowly widened…Her hands grasping the paper tighter as her breath caught. She turned slowly to the boy, her eyes comically wide now as she breathed slightly through her flared nostrils.

Hyperion's head turned slowly at the site of his grandmas obviously shocked face.

"What. Was. That?" She asked, more whispered, almost silently as she stared at her grandson.

"What?" He replied, completely oblivious to the extremely rare oddity he just made himself.

"What did you just do Hyperion?" She asked, not answering his question. She looked at the snake then back to her boy. This was a revelation. A momentous one. One she did not truly know how to react to. The language of the snakes was an elusive concept. Not spoken amongst muggles, and still rare, almost unspoken amongst the wizard folk, pureblood's to be precise. The language was an homage to one of their ancestors, a blood trait that found its way to very few people.

To say this was a development was an understatement. She set the paper down and turned fully to her grandson, sweeping her silver-streaked hair behind her shoulders as she sat, looking at the snake.

"Can you say something more to it?" She asked him.

Hyperion nodded, turning to the snake. "What's your name?" He asked the snake.

The snake turned to Hyperion, having been staring at the older woman, "Name?" It asked.

"Yes, what do I call you?" He replied.

"My kin called me dark one." She answered, owing to her dark scales. Coming to a realization, Hyperion continued.

"Oh" Hyperion said in English. "Are you a boy or a girl?" He hissed back, totally forgetting that he did not know. The voice seemed feminine enough, but who was he to say that snakes or any animals for that fact could be discerned by something as paltry as a voice.

The snake turned its head, as if pondering. "I do not understand." It began then paused, realization almost lighting its slitted pupils. "I am female." It replied, somewhat mystified by its response. "I do not know how I knew that." It finished, quite confused.

Walburga had been watching the two this entire time. Transfixed on the pair as Hyperion spoke parseltongue. Unbelievable was her only thought. He heart racing. The coveted language of the snakes, spoken only by the heirs of Slytherin. She knew they had ties, old families always did. However, they were ancient, equally as ancient as the Slytherin bloodline; they could trace their lineage through the Peverell's even. However, she was torn between admiration and mild dislike because of the most previous user of the language. However, to believe that their bloodline had a true speaker was amazing nonetheless. Unknown to many, parseltongue was a directly genetic ability, only in the blood. A non-speaker could barely learn it and even then, it was broken, almost unintelligible, and the individual learning could never understand the hisses spoken to it.

"She's called dark one. But I believe she needs a proper name grand-mere." Hyperion looked up excitedly with a smile. "Oh, she's a she!" He added as he looked into his grandmothers deceptively loving eyes. "But she didn't know how she knew what I was asking." He finished confused.

"What do you mean?" She asked him, looking at the snake as she drew her wand.

"She doesn't understand some things I ask, but just now it was like she knew but didn't know how she did." He finished, somewhat confused by what he said.

The creature was oddly still, though Walburga could easily see why. It was clearly injured, so silently she brought her wand to the snake who yet still remained silent and still. Almost as if he understood what she was going to do. Wordlessly, Walburga moved her wand over the creature as gentle tendrils of light danced over the injured portion of the snake. The brake repairing itself as the snake straightened out, almost sighing in relief.

"How did she do that!" it hissed excitedly.

"Magic." Hyperion replied, reverently, still in awe of his grandma's prowess. Completely forgetting his previous train of thought.

It simply nodded in agreement. It understood, though it did not know how.

Walburga looked back at her grandson, and then to the snake. Her sight was clear, clearer than many knew and she subconsciously eyed the intrinsic aura that always remained around her grandson and magic folk in general. She could not make out everyone's, but was acutely tuned in to the members of her family. She lifted her hand as she brought it to cup Hyperion's cheek. "I think…" She paused. "The reason its understanding more than it has, things that it has never spoken of, is because the two of you have unwittingly created a bond." She said.

Hyperion's wrinkled his nose then looked at the snake. "What do you mean?" He questioned.

"I believe my grandson, this young snake may very well be your familiar."

Hyperion looked at the snake, smirking slightly before looking at his grandma and pouting. "But…I wanted an owl." He muttered.

The elder woman almost laughed aloud. Oh the incredulity of youth. Hyperion did not know how rare it was to have an actual familiar, less so to receive a natural familiar. A familiar that was not coerced or bought. A creature whose nature matched yours so well, that their magic intertwined almost effortlessly and seamlessly.

"You can still have an owl, but she will be yours and yours only. Your magic and power will feed her as her's will feed you too. You two will grow together and your bond will deepen. What that means though, I do not know." She finished, leaning forward, sliding her wand into a pocket of her robe.

"Well my love, you will need to give her a proper name and learn how to care for her. " She paused as she stood. "I daresay she will be big, probably bigger than she would have been naturally since the two of you are master and familiar." She paused tilting her head the side as she looked over the snake. I believe he is a viper of some sort, though magic does strange things to animals. His black color and green diamonds are odd to me. "She said standing, though leaning over and placing a kiss on her grandsons head.

"I'm going to get cleaned up. Perhaps you should to; we have quite a bit to do today." She said before leaving the room. Her mind racing a mile a minute with half-formed thoughts, still in disbelief that her heir was a parseltongue.

"A parseltongue in the Black's." She said with a soft smile as she left her grandson in the room, the boy having sat down where she had been.

Hyperion gazed over his new and unexpected familiar. He tilted his head, looking her over. She was a startlingly deep black, muted, matte to be precise. Her triangular yet soft face made it clear that she was young, but her piercing gaze echoed a deep and unknown knowledge. She was dangerous, he could tell, but he was surprisingly reassured, by what he did not know. Green diamonds made twin lines on either side of the snake, starting at the base of her jaw. Her fangs were long, he thought, as he ran a finger over a single gray line on the top of her head. The snake leaned in to the touch, appreciatively.

"I wonder what we should name you." He questioned.

"Do I need a name?" She asked him.

"Well, I can't simply call you dark one. That would be odd. Every familiar gets a name, I think." He finished, not totally sure.

The snake and Hyperion sat in companionable silence for a few moments, both thinking to themselves. "My middle name is Corvus." He spoke. "It's a constellation." He paused, thinking of what he knew. There was a myriad of constellations. His family had an affinity for them, naming the majority of their children based off them. He was named after a moon of Saturn himself. His grandma told him he was named because of how different his birth had been compared to others in his line. His birth was difficult, and he was told that was why he had no mother. She had died during it. However, Walburga thought that his chaotic entrance into the world mirrored the moons chaotic movement around the planet and thus was perfect for the boy. Chaos gave way to calm, and that was what the Blacks needed, power and a calm resolve.

"Ophiuchus" He all but blurted. Excitement framing his voice. "It means serpent bearer, but don't you think it suits us well?" He questioned. "I can call you Phi for short." He finished.

The snake tilted its head to the right as if in thought before turning to him.

"I like it" She resonated.

Hyperion and Ophiucus…master and familiar. Though an acutely odd situation in and of itself, the Blacks were opportunists at the very least. And this union gave way to a myriad of opportunities, what those were, Walburga was still pondering.

Hyperion was an enigma if one thought about it. Behind closed doors, he was very much a child. Questioning, full of wonder, even if it was a curiosity sated by some dark and morally ambiguous answers. He was still young.

However, now, as Walburga and her charge prepared to leave the palace, Ophiucus (Phi) his familiar somewhere in the house having been given free domain, Hyperion's face reflexively returned to his aloof and greater-than-thou guise. The young pureblood gripped his grandma's hand as she twisted on the spot, the pair vanishing with little more than a subtle crack.


This was not good. Not at all.

The anger this young boy possessed surprised her. It rolled like the ocean during a storm, vibrating the walls and making the dishes and silverware dance angrily.

Petunia knew how this happened, and she herself was mad. However, nothing could be done about it at this moment; all that mattered was getting Harry calm. She' deal with Marge later.

She pressed herself against the window behind her, squinting her eyes as she dodged yet another flying toothpick. The wind blew her hair in her face as she rose her hand to brush it off. Looking to the right she saw Dudley had made his way behind the counter and was hiding behind it on the floor, back against the cabinets. Looking the other way, Vernon was under the table, arms covering his head and neck, his jaw clenched tightly, eyes closed and hoping this would end. Marge and ripper were pressed against the dual windowed doors that led to the back/garden. The dog was off of all four legs, yelping and howling in fear as it writhed against the unknown force that held it aloft. Marge was not faring much better. Her eyes were wild as she clutched at her chest, gasping for air as the same unknown force pushed her comically overweight and diminutive form further up the door. The pressure on the hinges made clear with each creak.

Their ambivalence during the verbal assault Marge peppered Harry and his deceased parents with had been too much for her to take. Something in her mind snapped and she realized that there truly was no love here. There was no comfort. The man whom she loved was not who she had thought him to be. Her son was no better, possibly worse even. He willingly sought pain on those helpless around him. She had meant to react, meant to move, but her nephew's reaction made hers seem like little more than a tantrum.

Little Harry stood opposite all of them. His hands were clenched into tight fists, his hair dancing around malevolently. His eyes were screwed closed and jaw clenched tight, teeth showing. He had a few small cuts on his face where some of the kitchen utensils had gotten him. The wind seemed to emanate from him and it ebbed with each breath. Petunia took a breath and closed her eyes, pushing her form against the oppressive force, she managed to repel from the window to the table, where she clutched a chair before pushing against it and making her way to the same bar Dudley was hiding behind. She dropped to her knees and used the height of the table as a barrier as she crawled to within 5 feet of the boy. Covering her face with the crook of her arm as she now braved the torrent that came from the boy.

Hissing in pain as a few toothpicks embedded itself in her exposed forearm, she pressed forward until she was now in front of Harry. Opening her arms, she wrapped the young boy in a tight embrace and braved the true malevolence of his magic.

It was almost instantaneous. The pressure vanished and the wind died. Marge and Ripper dropped to the ground, collapsing on their haunches as Vernon slowly peered through his fingers, looking around. Dudley's head popped over the bar as he surveyed his surroundings wide eyed.

A small breath and slight whimper forced her to open her eyes as she reflexively whispered. "It's okay Harry, it's okay."

The child in question relaxed into Petunia's grasp, she could feel his heart racing, the heat coming from him. She felt his form shake slightly as he tried to keep his emotions in check. "I'm sorry." He whispered, so soft, almost fearful. She pulled him away gently and took a hand, whipping the tears from his face, as she looked him up and down, inspecting him for any serious injuries.

"Don't apologize." She said firmly, though soft as she brought him back into an embrace.

"S-she just said so many bad things." He whispered, face pressed against petunia's chest.

"Never apologize for standing up for yourself and the people." Petunia replied, kissing her nephew on the top of the head. "God knows I should have done it long ago."

Vernon for his part had no idea what was going on as he stared at his wife and nephew. Not once had he seen her embrace the offending child, not once had he seen her comfort him, so what in the hell was she doing now?

"Petunia…" He began, but was cut short by a single look as her head turned to him, her eyes blazing with anger and fury. Something he was not used to seeing directed at him.

"What…what happened?" Marge muttered as she shifted her impressive girth forward and rested on her knees, stroking her comically silent and wide-eyed dog. She was dazed, Harry's magic was potent, to say the least. To lesser people and even more-so weak willed muggles, the power he possessed could pose a threat. Vernon and Dudley were protected from it by proxy.

Vernon crawled to his sister silently, taking a knee in front of her before he fell over silently.

Three flashes of light and Dudley, Marge, and Ripper joined him. All slumping over as Petunia turned to the doorway, Harry following suit.

Minerva stood in the doorway, wand in hand. Just behind her was a smaller woman, silent, also wand in hand. It was Pomona Sprout, clad in a myriad of greens.

"By Merlin's beard Minerva, a child did all of this?" She asked in awe

"Yes Pomona, a child, but not just any." She answered as they made their way in.

"Grandma Minerva?" Harry questioned.

"Hello my boy." Minerva replied with a smile. "This is a friend, Pomona Sprout." She paused as Pomona waved to the pair. "I've made her aware of everything. There was some damage outdoors, but we were able to fix that before anyone else became any wiser." Pomona stood behind her, her wand already moving wordlessly as whatever was broken sprang to life, fixing itself.

Harry remained in Petunia's grasp, smiling as he watched the magic at work.

"What happened Petunia?" Minerva asked as she crossed the room, helping the other woman stand as the three made their way to chairs. Minerva gently took Harrys' hand and quickly waved her wand over him, helping her locate any injuries, from which she could see none. She turned her wand back to Petunia and quickly healed what small marks marred her form.

Nodding in Marge's direction Petunia replied. "That foul woman wouldn't shut her mouth and spoke very awfully on my sister. I tried to stop her, but she continued, even more so when Harry came in." Petunia's jaw visibly clenched. "I despise her Minerva." She finished, a soft blow of air escaping her nostrils.

Minerva shook her head turning to Pomona, "Obliviation is going to be necessary." Pomona nodded in agreement, as she made her way to the slumped figures.

Looking back at Petunia, she continued. "I think Harry should be moved." She said very matter-of-factly, her eyes hard as she looked at the younger woman. She knew this was a big thing to ask. How could it not be? She was asking the woman to potentially give up her nephew to a woman she knew very little of save there was a family relation and she too was magical.

"No! Why? Not without my auntie." Harry reacted almost instantly, grasping Petunia tightly, burying his head under her chin into the nape of her neck.

Petunia looked up, holding Harry. "Not without me." She finished, to Minerva's surprise.

Pomona stopped too as she turned to look at the three.

"You realize what you are saying Petunia?" Minerva asked softly.

Looking at her son and husband, she replied, "I do Minerva, I do." She sighed gently, running her hand through her hair, lightly resting it on her own neck as she rubbed. "I have to lie here Minerva, every day." She paused. "I don't want to lie anymore; I don't want to pretend I hate a little boy that I love with all of my heart to keep up appearances." Tears were making their way down her eyes. "They are so mean, and hurtful, and spiteful and for no reason!" her voice began to rise. "They have the world! What more could any of them get from hating and being mean to so many people that deserve it? I tried so hard to change it, but after a decade or more, how can I possibly expect it to change?"

The change came in a pair of arms wrapping around her as Harry rested his head on her chest. She looked down at the child and smiled "I love you auntie." He said softly.

She could not help the slight whimper that escaped her trembling lips. That is all she needed. If he could be so positive, stay so optimistic, then there really was hope for so much better in such an awful world.


She looked up at Minerva. "Let's go."

With a faint crack, the noble pair appeared in front of a set of very finely welded wrought iron fences.

An intricate M was split in half between both sets as Walburga did little more than shift her weight and the gate seemed to become almost translucent. With little preamble Walburga stepped forward and through the gate as the metal seemed to dissipate, becoming little more than a fog as the Duchess and her heir made their way through and up the pathway. The gate solidified as they made their way up to Malfoy manor.

As they reached the front door, it opened, exposing a surprised Narcissa standing with a smiling Draco, Lucius behind the pair, hands behind his back.

"Aunt Walburga?" Narcissa questioned only to be stopped by the slightest brow raise from the elder woman. "Your grace." She corrected.

"We need to talk." Was her simple reply, as she made her way forward, Narcissa stepping back to allow her through the threshold, she moved Draco with her, Lucius following suit as he bowed his head to the pair of Black's.

Narcissa turned to look at Lucius with a shrug as they followed the pair through their own home.

Understanding the mind of nobility and the elite of the world took much, but knowing and understanding your place in society went a far way in groups such as theirs. The old ways existed in many forms and with it came a certain amount of respect for position. They lived in a world that still held to the purity of nobility and the like. That being said, understanding Walburga's elevated position forced them to acquiesce to her motions.

"We need somewhere free of disruption and prying ears." She stopped and turned to the Malfoys.

"Here." Lucius nodded to the door nearest them. There was a plethora of rooms to choose from, Lucius knew his home and understanding that such an impromptu appearance must have meant quite a bit. The five of them made their way in. Hyperion remained on his grandmas left, Draco trying and failing to get his attention. Narcissa stepped in after the pair and her son, followed by Lucius, who turned to close the door, quickly brandishing his wand and muttering a few choice words as he locked it and defended the room from prying ears.

Looking around the room, Walburga drew her wand and muttered a few spells of her own, quickly checking the room and warding it with magic and spells of her own. She turned and knelt before her boy. "Go play in the corner with Draco, wont you?" She asked.

Hyperion, however young, knew when he was being dismissed. "Do I have to?" He questioned, looking at Draco through the corner of his eyes. "I don't care for him much." He whispered.

Walburga had to stifle a laugh, especially considering the seriousness with which she had came here. "Only for a short while." She finished.

Hyperion nodded, not answering as he turned away, drawing his wand from his pocket, Walburga shaking her head. She had told him time and time again not to put it there. Narcissa followed suit telling her child to follow the other boy. As the kids made their way to the other side of the room, the three adults sat silently.

"Summon Lucrezia." She said with an air of authority that surprised Lucius. He knew the woman had never cared for him much. Even less after the death of her husband, son, and imprisonment of her eldest, Hyperion's father. So for her to be here, what did it mean? He did as he was instructed going to the fireplace with a pinch of flew powder. Tossing it in as the fire came to life.

While Lucius did as he was told Narcissa turned back. "Is anything the matter?" She asked.

"In due time." Walburga replied.

Lucius made his way back to the pair of women. "She's coming." He said, as he took a seat next to his wife.

With a sudden gust and roar of green flame, an undeniably attractive woman stepped through, followed closely by a cute little boy who coughed lightly, wiping ash from his face.

"Mum?" He questioned. Lucrezia turned to Blaize and smile, wiping his brow. "Go find Hyperion." She replied.

Blaize smiled, wide. He had not seen his best mate in quite some time. He turned his head and only had to look for a moment before finding the raven-haired two eye colored boy. He wove his way through the room and Lucrezia joined the three.

"Lady Walburga." She greeted, nodding at her elder. "Narcissa, Lucius. What's going on?" She questioned as she stood and waited for Walburga to sit before the remainder of them did.

Without any delay Walburga spoke. "Recent news has come to light. Two things. The first is that I have it on good authority that Harry Potter will be joining us in the wizarding world. How and with who I don't know, but a petition for a change of location, a new statue of secrecy surrounding the boy who lived and a change of legal guardianship both magical and mundane has been requested via sealed envelope. All senior and ranking members of the Wizenagamot and Royal Magical Parliament where asked to respond to a midnight inquisition by owl post immediately." She paused and allowed that to sink in.

"Where has he been all this time?" Narcissa asked.

"I don't know, and truly don't care. It is simply news that is privy to a few others and me. But as our association needs it, I've decided that you all need to know and not be surprised when you see him somewhere. However, I am surprised that they would choose to expose him so suddenly. I wonder what the old man is thinking." She finished the last part for herself more than any of them.

Allowing silence to permeate amongst them all. Walburga cleared her throat.

"The second…and this will remain amongst us." Her eyes turned to Lucius, narrowing dangerously, a faint malevolence lingering in that gaze as she stripped him of his worth with little more than a look. The immediate area grew icy for the briefest of moments before Lucius nodded, visibly gulping.

Satisfied Walburga took a deep breath and smoothed out the front of her clothing, setting her hands on her lap.

"Hyperion is a Parseltongue." She paused for effect. "I found out this morning. It only leads me to ask, when Hyperion found out, or if he even knew he was speaking to snakes when he was doing it."

Lucius, the only wizard amongst the witches took this news in stride. More so understanding the look Walburga gave him. He was a dangerous man in his own right, and his hands were in everything. He commanded respect, and sought it. But this was different. The Walburga he knew from his youth was different from this one. Yes, still indignant, she was now a leader. A powerful one that took to her position like white on rice. She did not look at Lucius as a friend, not even an associate, but as an enemy. One whom she knew to keep an eye on, and he couldn't blame her. She had lost so much because of the last war. He thought she would have died to be honest, died broken and miserable. For a time it seemed like it would happen and the Black fortune, sans titles, would be given to his son and wife. But Hyperion's birth gave her a new a vicious resolve. She was a dragon, and Hyperion was her cub. Her reach and influence was unknown, but he knew one thing for certain, that although slim and slender, petite even, she was vicious, and would annihilate any threat to her, her family, and her grandson. So he remained silent, trying, willing himself not to react to this news.

"What!?" Narcissa and Lucrezia said in unison, owing each other a slight glance, before Walburga rose her hand to silence them both.

"Yes. It is just as you heard. More so, on the same day I found out, it also turns out that the boy and the snake inadvertently bonded."

"He has a familiar!?" Lucius asked suddenly.

"Yes." Walburga replied.

The wizard leaned back in his chair. True familiars were hard to come by; they were an intrinsic and natural union of magic between a witch or wizard and a magical creature, a deep bond. You could force a familiar bond, but nothing could mimic or replicate the true bond between natural familiars. Odder yet was that the appearance of a familiar meant something, because only the truly powerful wizards and witches had them. Merlin and his Dragon, Morgana and her Manticore, Grindelwald and his Gyrfalcon, Albus and Fawkes…Voldemort and Nagini….

However, to have one at such a young age…His eyes looked past the group and to Hyperion who sat with the other two children, deep in conversation.

He turned his attention back to Walburga.

"He is a child still, so I expect nothing to come of it now. However, this news will only be shared amongst us. Not even the others need know, for now, though I expect the information will find its way to those whom I would prefer it not to. That is why you all are here. We can disseminate this information appropriately and shield my grandson of any repercussion that can come of it." She paused, clearing her throat.

Narcissa took that opportunity to summon a house elf and order tea and light morning refreshments.

"Parseltongue is a noble language spoken by few, and only the intrinsically powerful. A coveted ability once, its found its way through only the descendants of Slytherin whose blood carried this ability. As we are all Pureblood here and in some way connected by blood we carry the potential, but Hyperion's carried just the right combination of whatever it needed for this ability to come to life." She looked at them all. "Over the years we have all come to understand that this is a darker trait, but the last wizard to speak made it truly viewed as an evil ability. Something only dark wizards possessed or wanted. That may or may not be true, but until Hyperion can defend himself, we will do it for him."

She finished, a heavy resolve emanating from her as she looked at them all, drawing her wand. "I will bind you all to an unbreakable vow now…if you do not agree, I will obliviate you and this conversation and all it carries will be removed from your mind."

She remained silent allowing the group to answer either way.

When nothing came, she extended her wand and nodded, the group brought their arms forward, pushing back the sleeves of their right arms. Lucius did not use his left as the mark was still there, faint yes but there and he did not know what reaction this magic would have with it.

Walburga pushed the sleeve of her left forearm up she extended her hand, the remainder of the adults doing the same as they rested their hands on each other. Looking them all in the eyes, Walburga began. Softly chanting as a faint light manifested and began to weave itself around their arms, forming ethereal chains.

"We are forever bound to keep this information to ourselves. Only death or I can release it." She finished, dropping her hand as the light vanished, the ethereal chains magically embedding themselves in their skin.


It was dark.

That's the first thing he realized.

It was dark and he was in his room. He stretched long, yawning as he did as he looked down at himself. His pajamas were on, but he did not remember when he had put them on. Pulling the blankets off him he moved to the side of his bed and dropped his short legs over, jumping down as he scrubbed his eyes of sleep.

Dudley made his way to the door where he flicked on the light for his room and made his way to the hallway. Turning that light on, he stood at the top of the stairs and looked around. How did he get here? Wasn't he doing something? When did it become night? Had it all been a dream? These questions came in rapid succession as he made his way down the stairs. He could faintly smell food. He came through the house and in to the kitchen where there it was, food on the table, covered by plastic, though it looked delicious. He didn't even bother getting a plate as he sat down and pealed the plastic off, digging in as his stomach growled in confirmation of his hunger.

It only took a few minutes for Vernon to make his way in, followed by Marge and ripper.

The two adults sat with the boy, looking around and then down at the food.

The kitchen was clean, unbelievably so and this food was fresh.

"Where is Petunia?" He questioned, now looking around. The house was silent. He knew she wasn't there, but where she had gone he had no idea. Standing he made his way to the fridge, maybe a glass of water would help. When he opened the fridge, a card that stood upright in a brown cover stopped him, resting on the water jug.

"Whats this he questioned?" Taking the card, It had no name on it or anything.

He turned to look at his sister and son before opening the card. Pulling it out he looked it over. It was a brown card with nothing on it on the outside, but he opened it. In it was neat writing he quickly identified as his wife's.

"Vernon,

I suppose this will come as a surprise, owing to your inability to see the truth. SO I will just come forward and say it. I am leaving you, and I will not be returning. Saying it hurts me deeply, especially when I think that I will be abandoning my child. But I must. There are many out there that will condemn me for this, but he is more your son than he will ever be mine and I am certain he will be safe with you. Love him as only you can and know that I harbor no ill will. I just knew you would never accept nor respect my feelings and decisions regarding my nephew. Harry needs a mother and Dudley needs a father. We can raise them both independently of each other. Marge will help you, I'm certain, but I will be gone. I plan to adopt Harry officially and I know you will not agree to that, so I wish you all the best…

With what love that remains,

Petunia Evans"

Vernon felt a tightness in his chest he had never felt before and looking up at his son it grew. However, he maintained himself, only nodding at Marge, gesturing for her to come to him. His jaws were clenched, fingers trembling as she approached him.

Marge knew something was up, her brothers face had gone visibly white. "What is it?" She asked.

"Petunia's left…" He forced through clenched teeth, handing her the note.

"Are you…" She began but Vernon silenced her.

"Not yet…I'll figure out when to tell Dudley…" He whispered.

"All for that wretch of a boy?" She questioned.

"Yes…" Vernon replied, not even having the emotion to react. "Because a boy with no parents invaded our lives." He finished…eyes staring out of the window above the sink into the night sky.


Minerva stepped through the fireplace of the receiving room of the Manse upon Steppen court, followed by Petunia and then Harry, the latter two coughing as they brushed the dust off themselves. Harry had fallen, but Petunia was already helping him up as Minerva smiled and approached the pair.

"It's been a long day, so why don't you make yourselves comfortable in our home. The house elves will show you each your new quarters, and do not worry, they are close enough. I've given you both, the western wing and the accompanying suites, I have my own as well. We can talk about changing that as Harry grows. This home though, this manor is yours now just as much as it is mine. In addition, you two are my family now; my responsibility and I will try to live to that expectation." She said with a very hopeful smile looking at the pair as they sat.

Harry stood up after Petunia dusted him off and began to wander the house. Saying it was large to him was an understatement. But Minerva knew that here he was safe. She had read all she could about warding, and even more so from one of the many Potter grimoires her familial bond gave her access to. The manor and its grounds were protected by a myriad of magic both old and new, and some potentially dangerous, but in hopes of protecting her charge she would take any necessary action.

While Harry wandered the manor, Minerva and Petunia spoke.

"It's done. Harry is your dependent as much as you both are mine. Like we spoke about in terms of guardianship we will both share an equal amount of responsibility over Harry, but you will have control of the mundane aspects of his life while I will attempt to reconcile the magical side of his upbringing. Though we will work together, I see really great things ahead of us, though it will not be easy." She finished with a warm smile.

"Nothing is ever easy in our lives." Petunia echoed the sentiment.

"For now, let's settle in." Minerva said. "We can talk and figure out more later."

While the adults talked, Harry wandered. His bright green eyes amazed by the sheer magnitude of the place and the present feeling of magic permeating the air. He couldn't help but smile as he walked through the hallways. He had already been stopped by a house elf who wanted to show him his rooms. Rooms he thought, plural. He had more than one room for himself and he couldn't believe it. He asked if it was okay to wander to which the elf nodded excitedly and told Harry to simply say I'm done and she would appear anywhere he was in the house or grounds.

They had done a lot of walking today, a lot of it quietly and in secret. He did not know why, but he had enjoyed himself. He had gotten to see more of the wizarding world, like the Ministry, and it was all quite much. But he loved it. This was home. This was where he was meant to be. As he came around a corner he stopped short as he looked at the massive painting no more than fifteen feet in front of him. It hung regally over a fireplace, resting on the mantle as the flames danced with warm light. In it sat a single male who looked down at Harry, brow raised.

"May I help you young man?" It asked with a deep voice, its Scottish lilt emphasizing his words.

"You can talk!?" Harry replied surprised.

The man in the painting chuckled. "Aye young man, I can." He replied

"Can all paintings talk?" Harry asked, now standing in front of the painting.

"No young man, not all. Only we magical ones." He answered.

"Wow." Was Harry's simple reply. "Do all the paintings here talk?" He followed up.

"Aye, at least the majority of them." The painting replied.

"Are there a lot?" Harry asked.

"Yes, there are quite a few. And we can move freely among the painting." He replied.

"Oh wow. That has to be rather nice, not being stuck in the same place." Harry finished. "My name is Harry by the way. Harry Potter. My aunt Petunia is talking to my grandma Minerva right now." Harry paused and looked up. "I guess they have a lot to talk about, we did a lot today."

The picture nodded in agreement. "I bet you did young man." He paused. "And you're a Potter eh? That makes us related Harry." The man in the painting stood with a flourish. "My name is Lord Mackenzie James McGonagall." He nodded and bowed to the young man.

"My middle name is James too!" Harry said with excitement.

"Aye lad, in the Potter line, it was common for our middle or first names to be James. But I assume after a while it became rather confusing with all those James's running about, so it started to be more of a middle name." The elder man sat in his regal chair in the painting. "My mother was a Potter, Ophelia McGonagall, nee Potter."

Harry had sat on the floor, completely transfixed by the conversation he was having with his ancestor. The warm fireplace helped to just make him all the more comfortable as he continued.

"Wow. I never met another Potter, only my grandma." Harry looked down at his hands. The painting immediately knew and understood what that meant. McGonagall had shared with him what had happened over the past few years, and what had happened to the boy and his family. She had also consulted him when it came to making this decision. He had immediately agreed. No kin of his would be left in such an abysmal state. Left alone to wonder who and what he was. Left to wonder what was happening as his magic reacted and did the most mysterious things. No young wizard should be left to sort life on their own, especially this boy. Because if Minerva were to be believed, his power, already great was growing.

"You're not alone here Harry." Mackenzie said softly. "Never." The painting kneeled to the ground in the image before sitting, for all intent and purpose joining the boy at his level.

"You my boy have a lot to learn, and I will help you as much as I am able." He said with a smile. Harry looked back up, his eyes had gotten a little wet, but he would not admit it, big boys didn't cry. He nodded to the older man bound by the painting. Trust had never come easy, but this was different. This man was his relative and he promised to help Harry. This man could be trusted.

"But sir, how are you going to help me?" He questioned. "You cant really move out of there."

Mackenzie smiled through his short beard. "Like I said, I can move through the paintings in the manse. And the others would be more than willing to help a young member of our family. Besides the knowledge we all posses, there is the library." He paused as Harry's eyes grew wide. "You like to read then?" he questioned.

Harry nodded emphatically.

"Good, because there is a lot of books here." He looked at the young man transfixed on him. "And you are my kin, there is no need to call me sir. How about grandpa Mac?"

Harry nodded again, this time smiling as his glasses slid down the bridge of his nose. He had no idea that Petunia and Minerva had walked in to the room behind him and listened. Mackenzie had simply nodded to Minerva, letting her know the boy was in good hands.

"It looks like he has made a friend." Petunia said with the softest of smiles.

"A good one at that." Minerva replied. "Mackenzie was a good man before his death. A noble man that loved his family. When I told him of Harry, he said for me to bring him here at once." Minerva smiled.

Petunia continued to do the same. In the span of a day everything had changed. Her life had changed. She had left the muggle world behind and joined the magical. What that truly meant, she did not know, but if Harry was happy then how could she not consider it? With her last name restored to Evans, she was free to pursue the best life for her and Harry, whom she had adopted as her own. She peered at Minerva, a feeling of hope coming over her as she watched her elder. Minerva was what they had needed, and would need. She could trust this woman, even if she was only related to Harry, she had opened herself and her home to them and that garnered her respect and trust. She could see that Minerva loved Harry, and for that she knew that they were both safe here.


Narcissa remained silent. Walburga and Hyperion had left, as well as Lucrezia and Blaize. She assumed that the four of them had gone back to the palace, but she remained home. By Merlin, this was a lot to take in. A parseltongue in their family. Harry Potter in the magical world. Things would change in the coming years as the wizarding world continued to build since the last war.

Walburga's side was the side she would choose in the coming months and years. Why would she not? They were invariably linked and although she knew that Walburga harbored some dislike and resentment towards her, she still knew the woman appreciated family above all.

"What are you thinking Narcissa?" Lucius asked as he joined her in the room sitting across from her.

"I am thinking Lucius that we cannot mess this up. Regardless of what you think or feel, you can tell nobody anything. Even covertly. If I know my aunt that binding spell may have appeared simple enough but pressing it could have terrible repercussions." She paused and looked at her husband in the eye. Their relationship was anything but easy, a necessity opined by her family. Maybe then it had been viable but as news of the Darklord and his demise spread shortly after his defeat it had made her wonder where she stood. She was desperate for a way back in to the Black fold and if keeping Walburga's and Hyperion's secrets was the path she would take it and give it her all.

Lucius though knew this was easier said than done, but knowing the Black witch, Narcissa was right. Going against her directive could have deadly repercussions. For now, he would respect them both and allow this to play out.


Hyperion sat in his room. The young boy enamored by the stories his young familiar told him of her upbringing. Somehow, her level of understanding and speech had grown since they had been apart. He had asked his grandmother how. She did not know but had a few ideas, she said she needed to study on this and left him alone, heading for the palace library. Hyperion had gone back to his room to talk to his familiar more.

That had been hours ago.

Now the boy was laying on his stomach, his chin resting on his arm as Phi told him of her last hunt here on the grounds.

"I do not know why, but I am faster." She said, having curled up on herself and faced Hyperion, her tongue darting in and out of her mouth quickly.

"Maybe it's our magic?" Hyperion questioned.

"Maybe." Phi replied turning her head towards the window. "It does feel good. Being here and safe. Out there, I had to always be cautious and careful. Especially while I am still so small."

"Yes you do." Hyperion resonated.

"But I feel so much more powerful." His familiar said in what was clearly excitement. "Like no other snake can compare to me." She finished.

Hyperion smiled. Owe it to his ego, but he thought that was a correct sentiment. He received the best, so it was only right that his familiar would be the best.

While the pair spoke, Walburga was busy reading. She had found a comfortable place in the library and deposited the stack of books on the floor beside her. Narrowing her eyes as she read through the third tome in her stack she paused, eye growing wide for what seemed like the millionth time in the day. She brought her finger up to trace the outline of the image before her, a dry chuckle escaping her lips.

"Why am I surprised?" She questioned, looking at the image of the snake in the book. She had become curious about her grandsons familiar, even more so when she noted that the snake seemed familiar, but she didn't know why.

Now though, she knew why, as she continued to read, her fingers tracing the line she was on:

"Indigenous to the African and Asian contents, these snakes are best described as long lived. Though their actual life span is unknown as the last recorded one was killed somewhere in the Sahara desert. To say they are poisonous is an understatement as their bite is guaranteed death. But that is not their only weapon, no, these already formidable snakes can grow to immense sizes of up to and perhaps surpassing fifty feet with heads the size of a massive boulder. Though they have many weapons at their disposal, they have one attribute it's lesser cousins do not. It's eyes are guaranteed and instantaneous death akin to the Avadra Kedavra curse. Though their color is typically shades of green with yellow eyes it is hypothesized that Basilisks can have many color variations, though that is not known as there are few who have survived an encounter, I myself am having this written, owing to the fact that I am a ghost. Though young basilisk have a very distinct pattern on their heads and bodies despite their coloring."

The book went on to describe Ophiuchus in detail. Giving perfect examples of Hyperion's familiar. She leaned back, running a free hand through her hair. No wonder it had seemed familiar. She had read about the years ago.

A baby basilisk.

Luck was on their side it appeared, or fortune, though whatever it was she didn't care. She could not let this opportunity slide by.

The Blacks were on the move, and Walburga was their driver.


A/N: Its been a while for me. I have a few more chapters thought of and roughly written out for this story, Abysmal, and Whiskey Accident. As always, reviews are welcome, I will see where this will go since its been quite a while since I posted and the ideas for this story has changed. Harry and Hyperion are still two sides of a similar coin. I'm going to speed up some things because I want them to be in Hogwarts within the next few chapters.