Warnings: Some language, not as much as the previous chapter.

Chapter 10-A Family Encounter

The first thing Harry noticed when he gained consciousness was how comfortable he was. He racked his tired brain, trying to figure out where he was without having to open his eyes. He had ran away from Privet Drive and fell asleep on a park bench at the bus stop. This certainly didn't feel like a bench.

Green eyes fluttering open, Harry sat up suddenly, the blankets slipping down to pool on his lap. Gripping forward, his fingers found his glasses on a bedside table and pushed them up onto his nose to look around.

He was in a rather spacious room with an entire wall full of shelves with small statues, figurines, bits of pottery, and other trinkets that made Harry immediately think of a museum. There was a desk pushed up against a corner piled high with scrolls, bits of parchment, old tomes, and scattered quills. Large glass doors opened up to a balcony overlooking rolling water, a warm breeze rustling the light beige linen curtains. His bed was teak, carved images in the headboard and posts depicting strange plants and flowers. Harry spotted his trunk pushed up against the wall near the doorway, and his wand was laying on the same nightstand he had found his glasses on, as well as a small pile of letters.

The sight of it so close to him comforted him. It seemed that, whoever took him here was not keeping him captive or try to keep him from running away. In fact, it seemed as if they had simply moved him in for a longer-than-temporary stay. Even Hedwig was here, sleeping on a perch near the balcony doors. She would've mauled anyone who was even potentially a threat to him.

The first thought that came to mind was that it was a professor's home, but he quickly rejected the idea. The way Dumbledore had brushed him off when he went to his office the night before leaving Hogwarts to tell why he didn't want to go back to the Dursleys, he would've either woken up back in his room or in the Hospital Wing where he then would be sent back to the hellhole. In his condition any other Witch or Wizard would've taken him to St. Mungos, not to their home. Unless, they knew who he was and didn't want to cause a commotion. Or they kidnapped him. Still, there was the Hedwig fact.

It was then that he noticed a pair of gray eyes staring at him from the foot of the bed. Harry blinked, looking at the ferret-cat creature. It was the same one that let him out of his room. It was sitting next to a folded pile of clothing- a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, both of which looked something similar to his size. It was at that sight he realized he wasn't wearing anything besides his underwear and clean feeling. The thought of someone having stripped him made him flush for a moment, taking his eyes off the creature as he reached over and grabbed the clothes. They were his size- thank goodness for that. He didn't have to wear Dudley's old baggy rags.

After Harry was dressed and wand tucked safely away on his person, the ferret-cat hopped off the bed and padded over to the door, looking expectantly at him.

"Well, you've lead me to a better place than where you've lead me out of," he said to the creature, opening the door. He did thought before that anyplace was better than the Dursleys, and this place certainly beat that by several leagues. He still had to find someone though. Judging from the fact they left him his things, his wand, and his familiar, Harry doubted he was going to be locked up anytime soon.

Harry followed the ferret-creature out of the door and into the hallway. The walls were full of paintings and art pieces, most he had never seen before. They weren't magical paintings, but he could feel the magic around him, sending a shiver up his spine. He didn't know what to think of this place- it was cluttered with old things, like a museum that had started to run out of shelves to put things. Or a hoarder of old expensive things.

He passed several doors and doorways leading into other rooms as the ferret-cat lead him further and further into a maze of walls and hallways. Suddenly it scampered forward, disappearing through an open door and into the lighted room.

Cautiously Harry crept to the doorway, peering into the room. It was a kitchen, with wall to ceiling cabinets, long dark green granite counter tops, sun filtering in through large windows onto a round claw-footed table with mismatched chairs. Seated at the table was a man with dark brown hair falling to his shoulders in waves, slouched over a steaming mug. He wore silken robes the color of teal with silver trimming- expensive fabric, but of simple design, with nothing flashy or extras added to it to show off the wealth. The man looked up, staring at him with icy blue eyes on an elongated face with high cheekbones and sharp chin.

"Morning, Mr. Potter," the man said, lifting the mug up in greeting before taking a sip from it. He lowered it to look at the ferret-cat, raising an eyebrow at it before looking at Harry. "Seems like you're doing better. You were a mess when I first saw you." He pushed a chair out with his foot, gesturing to him to sit down. Harry did.

"Um, thanks, for healing me."

The man snorted. "That was the old man. I helped, but he did all the work. He's out causing mass mayhem at the moment." He took a sip of his drink- coffee, Harry's mind supplied at the smell. The ferret-cat hopped up on the kitchen counter, its long tail curling about its feet as it gazed down at them from its perch.

"So..." Harry said slowly. "Where exactly am I?"

"This place I like to call the Hoarder's Hideaway," the man drawled, rolling his eyes. "The old man loves collecting and hiding things away in this estate. He keeps all the magical stuff hidden away, though. No idea why. Guess he doesn't like having potential thieves having it easy, although no one can get into this place without his help. Don't know why he bothers. Hungry, kid?"

The man had finished his coffee and had gotten up, opening the fridge to peer inside it. "I can cook toast, and that's about it. Been here for eleven years and still can't cook worth a damn. No house elves, no servants. It's horrible."

"So why stay?" Harry asked. He hoped this wasn't some place people get trapped in and could never leave. It's like some horror story of a haunted house where a group gets trapped and they all die one at a time in dramatic and painful ways.

"Hard to be living out there when you're supposed to be dead," the man said, gesturing out to the window with a wrapped loaf of bread. "And if anyone else finds out, I'd have an army of angry Wizards after my hide. And quite frankly, I don't want to end up like my unlucky brother and get thrown into Azkaban without trial."

Putting two slices of bread into the toaster the man turned, giving Harry a strange look. "You probably don't know my brother, do you? Living with damned Muggles. He's your godfather, after all."

"I have a godfather?" Harry blurted out, staring at the man with wide eyes.

The man snorted. "Figured you knew nothing. Sirius Black. Friend of your father's. Technically we're your cousins, as your grandmother was a Black." He shrugged. "Yet again, in Britain everyone of pureblood decent is related. Quite disturbing, mind you. No wonder we're all so fucked up."

Harry couldn't help but gape at the man. He had a godfather, and he was related to this man? He heard of the Blacks- they were Dark, but their family was extensive. Sirius Black probably got arrested for something Dark, but there were more than just his godfather out there he was related to. Why didn't he get placed with one of them when his parents were killed? And why didn't his godfather get a trial?

"W-why was I placed with my Muggle relatives when I have family in the Wizarding world?" he asked hesitantly, unsure if the man would answer.

A sigh escaped the man near the toaster. "Hell if I know. I suspect someone up top was pulling strings. Knowing your parents, they wouldn't have left you to those Muggles in their will. But, then again, their will was never read." A sneer crossed his face as the toaster popped up and pulled out slightly shinged toast, of which he tossed on a plate and set it before Harry.

Harry picked up a piece to nibble on. He had worse and he didn't know how long he had been asleep.

The ferret-cat blinked gray eyes at them during their conversation before it had hopped off the counter and disappeared. Harry watched it go, almost disappointed that it was leaving.

"It does that," the man said, noticing Harry's look.

"But I don't even know what it is," Harry said, before looking up at the man. "And I don't know who you are, either."

The man leaned against the counter. "That's a genet, and you can call me Regulus. No 'Reggie' business. I'm not five. The old man's Gereon, but he'd probably want you to call him Lodo, or Vico, or Lodovico, or some other bizarre name."

Harry nearly dropped his toast. "Gereon?"

"Had the fun in meeting him already?" Regulus smirked as Harry scrambled for his toast. "He's a bit off the wall at times, but he's friendly. He helped get you out of that Muggle place and here to patch you up, after all."

"And I'm glad you are better!" In through the doorway came the graying blond-haired Italian, dressed in a gray turtleneck and black trousers. He beamed over at Harry, giving him a happy wave. "See you're up and about. Oh, Reggie, toast isn't a decent breakfast! He's a growing boy!" He tisked and moved over to the fridge, missing Regulus' scowl. "So what have you two been discussing this fine morning?"

"He's been asking about his family," Regulus muttered, still sulking over his undesirable nickname.

"Hm? The Blacks? Yes, you are related to them, aren't you, Harry?" Gereon closed the fridge with a snap, a carton of eggs and packaged sliced ham in his hands. "I suppose I'm related to you as well. The Gereons married into the Blacks years ago. I'd probably be a distant uncle, I reckon."

Harry couldn't help but gawk at the man. He was related to him too? He snapped his mouth shut with a click, frowning. Things were getting more and more mysterious with his placement and family relations. He would have to check up on his family background sometime in the near future.

"Is this your home, then, Mr. Gereon?" Harry asked, looking up at the man as he busied himself at the stove. He noted that Regulus was taller than Gereon by a few centimeters.

"Yes it is. It's the old Gereon Estate, but it's been dubbed the Hoarder's Hideaway in recent years." He shot an amused look to Regulus, who had seated himself at the table again. "Apparently my tenancies to keep things has become something of notice." He pulled out a whisk from a drawer, wrinkling his nose at some red sticky substance Harry couldn't identify clinging to the metal brackets before he tossed it into the sink and pulled out a cleaner one to beat the eggs with.

"Why did you help me?" Harry didn't understand why they suddenly had swooped in and picked him up like that. One minute he was sleeping on a bench, the next he woke up to a bed. "I mean, I don't mind the help, but what do you get in all of this?"

"Frankly, I was worried," Gereon said, as he cooked up the eggs and ham together. "Severus had told me of his suspicions of your... conditions... and when I saw you, I was quite appalled that he didn't stick his beak-like nose into your business sooner."

"But he's too busy with his head up his arse," Regulus added in. "He hated your father, James, so he just related that hate onto you."

Gereon sighed and nodded. "He's quite childish about this grudge. But anyway, Umbra- that's the genet- Reggie and I went and picked you up. I wasn't going to just leave you there and let them throw you back to those dogs! You were quite a mess. I knew then that Dumbledore had to know of your home conditions, and that you would enjoy a few days of peace while watching him and the entire English Wizarding world squirm at your absence. What can they do without their Savior-Boy?" He made a face while Regulus snorted. "It's pathetic, really. No wonder England's so backwater compared to the rest of Europe. Pinning fame on a twelve year old boy for something no one know what happened when he was naught but a babe..."

Harry let the man mutter under his breath, a grin blooming on his face. Leaving the Dursleys was the best decision he ever made.

Notes:

The Gereon's related to the Blacks, who are in turn related to the Potters. It makes them all one dysfunctional family. Also Regulus' alive! Shenanigans!

The ferret-cat's a genet. A common genet to be exact. The wiki page gives a lot of info, if you're curious.

Lodovico thinks that Harry's fame is a load of crock. Harry agrees with him.

This chapter's much more mellow than the last one. Can't promise on the next one, though.

(This chapter was posted on April 1, 2014)

Next Chapter: Three Men in Different States of Panic.