Okay. I've just finished this chapter, and it's ten past eleven in the morning. I haven't been to bed yet. Any mistakes are purely based on that, and the fact that I just embroidered a hair ribbon in between writing this chapter. I have realised that life must go on, no matter what loss is suffered. Updates will still be sporadic – but then, they've always been like that, haven't they? I hope you all enjoy this chapter. Tell me what house you think Harry should go in. Please, cause I've got no clue. Also, if you could give me your reasoning, that would be good.

xx

It was the first of September; Hogwarts day. Harrys first day as a student of Hogwarts. Even if it was only Friday by a few minutes. Last night it had taken a relatively short time to relocate to Sirius' place from the Potters' house. Harry had heard about Grimmauld Place from Regulus. Dark, dank, creepy portraits, an insane elf, musty, decrepit. Harry had stepped out of the fireplace, and wondered what exactly had happened to the house of Regulus' child hood.

The walls were a nice shade of light blue, there were wide windows which let an obscene amount of light in. The curtains had little fishes on them. The only portraits were landscapes, the only photos of the Marauders, of Lily and the kids. Everything in the house, upon first look, seemed to be bright and obscenely happy.

The Blacks would all be turning in their graves.

Not that they weren't already, what with Sirius as the Lord Black, after all.

Harry had actually just finished unpacking, had been on his way downstairs actually, when the fire place had flared. James Potters voice had roared through the house, and Harry had mentally thanked Sirius for temporarily making the floo into a 'fire call' only model. James hadn't been able to walk through.

Harry was kind of glad that Sirius was his father. After all, he liked Sirius better. Sirius was a good man. Sirius was kind to him, respected his no touching policy, and didn't push him to talk in public. Didn't force him to talk in private, either. James was an arsehole, trying to erase years worth of being a dick, a bad father and husband as well as a fame obsessed moron with a couple of months of reverting back to his old behaviour. He wasn't trying very hard, and he completely ignored his previous behaviour like it had never happened instead of trying to make amends.

Harry was glad James wasn't his father.

But Sirius was...

That meant Regulus...

He couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that Regulus, his Regulus, was also his Uncle. Well, he could, but he was choosing not to. Maybe if he ignored it, then it would go away. Except that that wouldn't work. If he ignored it and Regulus came for him – the if being if he ignored it, not if Regulus came for him - then he'd feel as if he was hiding something, and Regulus would know. The man would not be happy to know Harry had been keeping secrets from him.

But if Harry told Regulus, would Regulus shun him? Never want to see him again? Never want to be with him again?

Incest wasn't really that uncommon in the Wizarding world. Second cousins, cousins even, married and procreated all the time. Hell, the Carrows took incest to new heights. It was rare that families condoned Uncle/Aunt – Niece/ Nephew relationships. But, was it really so bad when both he and Regulus were men? They couldn't have children with each other, so there wasn't a chance of malformed, squib children or anything.

There shouldn't be any reason for Regulus to reject him. It wasn't like Regulus was his father or anything, just his Uncle. Oh god, what would Sirius do if he found out? He already had a vague idea that Harry had been ... used ... in that way. His rage had been overwhelming. Things had been broken, blown up, shattered. The things that hadn't been wrecked had only been saved because Lily had stunned him.

Harry could barely imagine what would happen if Sirius found out the extent of what Harry and Regulus had done together. If he found out that it was Regulus who had done it. His own brother, fucking his son.

Wasn't this just like some fucked up, gay version of Days of Our Lives.

Harry sighed, looking at the clock in his new room again. Ironically enough, the room Sirius had remodelled for Harry to have was Regulus' old room. It was the same bed that Regulus had slept in while he grew up. Regulus had muttered to him once, while they were both hovering between awake and asleep, that he'd been so lonely at Grimmauld Place. He'd tried to be the perfect son, and in doing so had isolated himself from Sirius.

He'd tried to get closer to Sirius, and his parents grew angry with him. He couldn't win. He was always alone, and he felt his loneliness even more at night. He'd lie awake and wish for someone to share his pain with. He'd carved things into the wooden bed frame, which Harry was currently tracing with his fingers. Occasionally he'd even tell Harry about the hate which eventually filled him. He hated his parents and everything they stood for but, more than he hated them, he loathed Sirius.

Harrys fingers trailed over a carving; the one word symbolised what drove Regulus, in the end, towards the Dark Lord. More than wanting to please his parents, more than following the values that were ingrained into him since birth, his feelings for Sirius drove him towards everything that his brother opposed. Sometimes, when Regulus spoke to him about his hate, it was like everything but his anger disappeared. He never spoke of his plans though, he'd gloss over them, but it was clear what Regulus longed for.

Revenge.

This was, more than likely, the most awkward things he had ever experienced. Sirius was sitting on the other end of his bed, an equally uncomfortable expression adorning his face. Lily had forced him to go and talk to Harry, see how he was talking the revelation that he wasn't a Potter, but a Black. Actually, thinking about it, Harry was the Black Heir. In the event of Sirius' death, Harry would be first in line for the Lordship rather than Regulus. Then again, Regulus had been legally declared dead around the time that Harry had been born.

Still, even if he wasn't 'dead', Harry would still be the preferred candidate.

"So, uh, do you need to vent about the current state of upheaval that you must currently be going through at the moment because of the thoughtless way that I blurted out the truth about me being your birth father." Sirius was so experienced in being forced to speak to people that Harry barely even noticed his eyes flicking towards the palm of his hand. Harry rolled his eyes.

"How long is she making you stay up here with me?" Harry whispered, and Sirius shrugged.

"Until you release the pent up emotions so obviously held within you, under a tight leash." There was a moment of silence, before both Sirius and Harry sniggered. Sirius reclined on Harrys bed, the teen still in his pyjamas (because it was nowhere near eleven and Harry could sleep in – or, as much as you could sleep in when you only fell asleep at five in the morning).

"But if you do have a problem of the Sirius kind, or even a serious problem, you know you can talk to me, right?" Harry thought about confessing about how he now felt like vomiting after that disgusting Sirius/serious joke, but decided on a simple 'I know' instead.

"And now are you ready for the really awkward part?" Sirius asked, and Harry leant back slightly, raising an eyebrow. Could he escape before he Sirius opened his mouth again? No, probably not.

"As a young man, I know you're going through many changes. You'll start to feel urges. I myself, as a young man, felt many urges. And many women. The only difference between then and now, actually, is that I only feel one woman. And she feels really, really nice." Harry reared back, slamming into the headboard of the bed, with a horrified expression on his face. Sirius didn't not just say that (especially not about Lily).

This was not happening.

"You will start to notice women, where you did not notice them before. Breasts will suddenly go from seemingly unimportant, squishy female bits, to all important fun bags where – if you're lucky – your face will spend many joyful hours. You will also be discovering the use of your own hand, for when fun bags suddenly become unavailable, tempting items of seductions used by witches everywhere to get men to do what they want."

Harry wasn't sure whether to laugh, or curl up into a tight ball and cry until it all went away. He didn't need to know about women's 'funbags' or why he would use his hand. Sirius opened his mouth again, probably to say something else that would mentally scar and make Harry grope in frantic pain for the mind bleach. Harry cut him off.

"Sirius! Stop talking. I don't want, or need, to hear any more." Sirius raised an eyebrow, shaking his head.

"Harry, Harry, Harry. Compared to the sex talk I had with my father, this is a walk through a rainbow filled park." Harry was horrified to think of what Sirius' father, Harry grandfather, had said.

"He walked into my room when I was thirteen, gave me a stern look and said, 'the penis goes into the vagina. That's how sex works. That's what you do.' And then he turned and left. I shit you not, that was my sex talk." Harry did laugh this time, his head thrown back as he howled out his mirth. That was a beautiful, beautiful story. Eventually, he calmed down.

"Well, that wouldn't have gone down well with me." Harry said, not thinking, as he gave a little chuckle. Sirius tilted his head to one side.

"Why not?" Harry stopped chuckling. Well, this would be the first father son trial, it would seem.

"Because I'm gay. There's no vagina for the penis to go in." Sirius nodded, his mouth making a small 'o' as he took this in.

"Okay." And that was it. No 'have you ever tried being straight?', no 'really? You sure? Really?' Just acceptance. Harry smiled. Sirius still seemed a bit confused, though, and Harry decided that it was time for a bit of payback.

"Would you like me to give you a little talk, Sirius?" Sirius shook his head, but didn't get any words out before Harry ploughed on.

"When two men love each other, or at least was to have sex, then there is obviously no vagina. However, this problem is easily solved -"

"Stop! Okay! I get it. No more sex talk. We shall never bring this up again, because you're my son and I love you. I never want to think about you having sex, and I don't want details. And I don't want to know any specifics about gay sex because I am perfectly happy with fun bags." His hands were held out is a defensive position, his eyes squeezed shut and he had a perfectly horrified look on his face.

"Okie dokie then. You can continue to be perfectly heterosexual, and I shall continue to be perfectly homosexual. And we shall never speak of this again, or of this conversation, or of any topics covered – agreed?" Sirius nodded, and they both relaxed. The silence was broken when the clock hit nine forty five. It was time for Harry to get up and showered and dressed.

He was already packed, so he wasn't running around like a headless chook being chased by a large, scary thing.

(Lily.)

xxxx

The first half of the train ride was rather pleasant. Nice scenery, he had a good book, Hermione was also reading, and they shared a bag of freddo frogs, and some chocolate frogs as well. But then came the second half, most of which was pleasant – it was only slightly marred by idiocy. Their carriage door was slammed opened, and William Potter was standing in the doorway, Ron Weasley to one side of him, Ginny Weasley to the other side.

Harry had seen them only occasionally through the summer. They didn't seem too bright and apparently liked William. The two facts might be connected, though. His twin – but somehow paternally different, he'd have to send Lily a letter about that – sneered at him, not even looking around the carriage to see who else he'd just disturbed.

"Oh look, it's the illegitimate Black spawn." He said, and Harry rolled his eyes, looking back down to his book. His peaceful train ride had been ruined. Harry wasn't actually illegitimate anymore. Sirius had officially recognised him the previous night, after James head had exited the floo. While it was good for his standing in the Wizarding community, and the doors it would open when he got older, it was another hit to his relationship with Regulus.

He had always been a bit sore that, after Sirius had walked out at sixteen, his father still hadn't disowned him and made Regulus the heir.

"What; got nothing to say for yourself?" Hermione's eye flicked up at this. Never a William Potter fan, she practically lit up at the opening his stupidity afforded her.

"You are aware that Harry doesn't talk, aren't you? Or are you simply too stupid to understand what mute means? I'm afraid I'd given you a bit more credit than that. After all, you spent the summer living with your brother. I thought maybe your I.Q would have left the negatives purely be being around him. I guess Osmosis only works on single celled organisms. Actually, I can't see why it didn't work." William sneered.

"He's not my brother." Harry smiled at Hermione. She was obviously torn between obvious glee at the constant flow of stupidity that bled from Williams mouth, and absolute horror that someone could honestly be that dumb.

"He's still your brother, as you have the same mother. And he's still your twin, because you were born together. You are merely fraternal, half brothers as well." William opened his mouth, but Hermione held up her hand and he automatically snapped his mouth shut. Harry shook his head. He felt slightly sorry for William. He had it bad for Hermione, who was almost physically repulsed by his presence.

Harry always felt giddy when she talked about his brother. The absolute hate was electrifying. If he wasn't already in love and a complete fairy, he would think Hermione was the perfect woman for him.

"William, I want you to listen closely to what I say." Her voice was deceptively soft, and Harry closed his book slightly, ignoring the hungry gaze of Ginny Weasley roaming all over him. It made him a bit nauseous. William nodded dumbly, his gaze so adoring that Harry felt a bit ill.

"Get the fuck out before I put you out." She ended in a growl, pushing him back a bit and slamming the door shut, drawing her wand and locking the door. She turned and sat down, adjusting her hair slightly and picking up her book again. Harry picked up his wand and silence the cabin, thankful that magic on the train wasn't counted as being in violation of the underage magic decree.

"You amaze me sometimes." Harry said, and Hermione shrugged, eating a freddo frog.

"But do you know how I'm Sirius' kid, but William isn't?" Hermione nodded, swallowing the chocolate. Harry had told her first thing on the train that if she ever referred to him as a Potter again, he would have to hit her.

"You were simply conceived at different times. The sperm from James Potter fertilized one egg, and the sperm from Sirius Black fertilized another. These eggs became William and you, respectively. I heard of one case where a woman was pregnant with twins, but upon closer inspection, when she was nearing her due date, it was discovered that one baby was actually a month or so younger than the other child and not ready to be born." Harry nodded, shrugging. He didn't really think it mattered too much.

"She also had two vaginas." Harry shook his head, going back to his book as he tried to disregard the information. He did not want to know anything about the female anatomy – especially not after his – nonexistent – conversation with Sirius. But Harry couldn't explain that to Hermione, so he just threw another chocolate to shut her up, and they both went back to their books.

xxxx

The sorting was awkward.

Harry didn't get to go into the threstal drawn carriages with Hermione, no. He got to ride across the lake in a rickety little boat, and three first years had been made to squish in with him. Harry got a whole bench to himself, while he forced those three to share a bench. Luckily one of them was waif thin, and another was a petite girl. The last one, a boy, was of normal sizing.

Harry was glad, because he'd been worried for a second that the population was getting smaller, or maybe there was a food shortage. But it's all okay, because they're just first years. They tried to talk to him, but Harry didn't talk back. Their obvious anger at being 'blow off' was amusing. He couldn't wait until they found out that he didn't speak. Their whispers were loud and hurtful. If he was five.

Harry had to duck something fierce to get past the low vines and castle wall.

He had been pressed against the pre teen kids in a way that was so very wrong and awkward to avoid falling in.

Then he'd had to wait with them, all the little kids whispering about him as if, just because he was twice as tall as them, he couldn't hear. Then in came the ghosts, who scared the shit out of the first years. That was a good, cathartic moment.

Then they were taken to the great hall; McGonagall giving him a pitying smile. His pain must have been obvious. And then they walked in. Harry could ignore the ceiling, he'd seen it before. It was harder to ignore the other students staring at him, pointing, whispering.

Bloody people.

There was a reason that Harry didn't like to be around people. It was bad enough being in a small boat with three others. God, he'd have to share a dorm room! Hopefully the newness of his arrival would fade, and he could slide into the background along with it. That was wishful thinking, though. He'd be crowded.

He hated crowds.

That was another thing that made Harry think William was stupid. He liked being the centre of attention, as well as large crowds.

Obviously he was touched in the head.

The attention of the crowd continued to centre on Harry, even as the first years were sorted. There was the normal applause from the receiving houses, but nothing over the top – just enough to be polite for the new kids. The children milling around Harry thinned, before finally everyone was gone. And then Harry really was at the centre of every ones attention.

"Harry Black." Harry smiled, a big toothy grin. That was excellent. He hadn't even thought that his last minute, late night name change when he was recognised as the legitimate child of Sirius would be recognised by Hogwarts. McGonagall couldn't believe it either, as Harry headed towards here. Her expression was most confused. It was reflected on the faces of almost everyone in the hall. Harry, who had been previously staring at the floor, looked up at the staff table.

Remus wasn't surprised, and Godric was only mildly surprised – but there was clearly a bit of confusion and anger. Wait, what was Godric doing at the staff table? Harry couldn't remember Godric mentioning it, but he'd only been alive again for three-ish days, and probably hadn't had time to tell Harry that he'd be teaching.

Maybe Godric did mention it, but Harry had been thinking of something else. Or of his tights. They were rather distracting. Harry wondered if the man would wear a proper pair of pants to teach. He hoped not, it was too amusing to watch him prance (It was rare for Godric to walk) around.

Harry sat on the stool, and Professor McGonagall placed the hat down. Harry had a second or so before the hat touched his head to think about the hat itself. For about a thousand years, every student in Hogwarts has had it placed on their heads. Harry wondered how many times the hat had been washed.

'I'm not washed nearly enough, Mr. Black, but that is inconsequential. Let us see what is inside that brain of yours.' It was disconcerting to have a voice speak inside of your head. You could hear it, but couldn't at the same time. There was also an odd kind of echo to it, as if the voice was ricocheting off the inside of his skull.

'Hmm, you have a very strong character – continuing on through the trauma you've suffered. But then, some would call you daft for the way that you adapted. And you're incredibly loyal – unwaveringly so.' Harry didn't think he was that loyal, there weren't many people he was loyal to.

'Ah yes, very selective aren't you. Sneaky, too. Hiding your voice from everyone to get out of what you'd rather not be involved in. Finding entertainment in others stupidity and pain, and yet you are kind.' Harry could almost feel the hat scoff in his head.

'That's really helpful. You're a complete contradiction of character. You'd condemn people for doing something, and then excuse your Regulus for doing the exact same thing. And then there's that tricky problem of the two of you being such close blood relations. You certainly have problems a plenty, and they won't leave no matter where you go. In fact, Ravenclaw is the only house I can rule out off the bat.' Harry wondered if the hat could just choose, because people were still looking at him and he didn't like it.

'Ah, that's more like it. You hate being centre of attention. In Gryffindor your brother could share the burden with you. But it's more likely that he'd ostracise you, point you out and try to bully you. I've been inside his head, and that is his logical course of action. In Slytherin, you could be in the spotlight again, because of your half brother. Or they could accept you because of your Black blood. Both are possible and plausible. It's dependant on the current power plays within the hosue. The Hufflepuffs, however, would integrate you seamlessly. You would not stand out in there. The rest of the world, however, might watch you closely – but they'd do that no matter which house I place you in.' Harry wondered if the hat was trying to make him choose.

'Yes, I am. Now, which house do you want to serve your sentence in?' The hats insidious little voice asked, and Harry shrugged his shoulders.

'Fine. Better be...'

xxx