Growing Up Black

Disclaimer - Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, not to myself. I have written this story for sheer pleasure, not out of any pecuniary interest.

Summary: What if Harry had been taken from the Dursleys to live with a different aunt and uncle? AU.

A/N: Thanks to all my readers and reviewers! Now for the next installment...

Chapter 7

The Christmas holidays were by far the gloomiest that anyone could remember. Lucius's treachery hung like a Dementor over every conversation, every joke. Despite Sirius's best efforts to distract everyone with witty jokes, mountains of expensive presents, abundant food and many, many cases of good liquor, Christmas cheer seemed resolved to stay far away from the Black family that year.

Worst of all was the incessant bickering. Internecine conflict had always been an essential part of a Black Christmas, but in Harry's experience it had always been of the sort that added a bit of flavour (and perhaps even entertainment) to an otherwise good-natured celebration. This year, however, the customary good humour was absent, and vicious sniping became the dominant activity. As Clytemnestra said, it was as though the Goddess of Discord had thrown her golden apple into the midst of their holiday table. Cassiopeia took great pleasure in reminding everyone that Druella's middle name was Eris, inciting yet another nasty hex war.

It didn't help that nearly everything went wrong that possibly could do so. Number seventeen, Windermere Court had a pipe burst three days before Christmas, and Sirius had to host the family at Grimmauld Place instead, which in itself was sufficient to put him in a sour mood. Melania came up from France to oversee the cooking, but she was unaccustomed to the draughty Grimmauld Place kitchen, and her soufflé fell. As if that were not enough to ruin the holiday, Kreacher dripped a bit of yolk into her meringue, and she ended up wasting a dozen eggs. The poor elf beat himself with an iron poker for five minutes before the furious witch, usually so very kind-hearted, told him that he had punished himself sufficiently.

Sirius invited the Tonkses, thinking that Narcissa could use the company of even an estranged sister in her current misery. That turned out to be a horrendous lapse in judgement. Narcissa appreciated the gesture, but Druella and Irma were furious that Sirius had invited Ted Tonks into their home for Christmas. In fact, they were so angry over the inclusion of a 'filthy Mudblood' that they completely overlooked the fact that Sirius had also invited Remus Lupin to join the Black family celebration for the first time. Sirius thought that this latter oversight boded well for Remus's future with the Black family.

When Ted Tonks arrived, most of the family chose simply to ignore his presence altogether, which was quite a feat, given Ted's generous proportions and the narrow corridors of Grimmauld Place. On the other hand, Cassiopeia had always got on rather well with Dora – largely because she was intrigued by the latter's Metamorphmagus abilities – and they spent a good ten minutes chatting amicably before Cassiopeia learned that Dora was in training to join the 'narrow-minded, puritanical, thrice-damned Aurors', whereupon the pleasant conversation rapidly degenerated into a venomous tirade. Cassiopeia's thunderous tones woke Walburga's portrait, thus subjecting the entire family to an hour-long lecture on the 'base treachery and perfidious villainy' of Millicent Bagnold, Barty Crouch and other politicians of the seventies and early eighties.

Andromeda got into a shouting match with her mother, which only ended when Irma yelled at them both to shut up and consider Narcissa's feelings. This, of course, only served to embarrass poor Narcissa. Remus and Dora found themselves under the mistletoe – largely through the machinations of a certain sneaky Animagus – and both blushed as they kissed. Sirius was simply delighted, having made sure to invite Remus and Dora for precisely that purpose, but Ted Tonks glared coldly at Remus afterwards, and refused to speak to him for the rest of the day.

Even Sirius and Abraxas, who usually got on famously, found themselves bickering over England's chances in the World Cup. Harry and Draco got into an argument over the legality of one of Harry's moves in their chess game, which soon expanded to include most of the adults, several portraits and all the chess volumes in the Grimmauld Place library. In the end, no one could quite remember what the original dispute had been about, but Abraxas and Ignatius Prewett had vowed never to speak to one another again.

At the end of the day, Sirius locked himself in his old bedroom with a pack of cigarettes and a large bottle of Old Ogden's, vowing to spend the next Christmas in Majorca.

A couple of days before the New Year Sirius woke Harry very early and took him out for a spin on his brand-new motorcycle. Harry rode pillion and enjoyed himself immensely, though he rather wished Sirius would have worn a helmet, if only so that his long hair wouldn't fly into Harry's face.

They headed straight out of the city and into the country, where they zipped along small roads with utter abandon. Sirius had declared the day a 'Muggle day', which meant no magic allowed. Of course, this hardly stopped him from Confunding a few policemen, but fortunately neither he nor Harry was much inclined towards a legalistic, Pharisaical enforcement of rules, even their own.

They stopped for lunch at a Muggle pub where Sirius ordered them both steak and chips, as well as a pint of ale for himself and a soft drink for Harry.

'Prongs and I used to come here all the time with Moony and...er, with Moony,' he explained to Harry. 'This is where Prongs told us he was going to marry Lily, and it's also where he asked a certain devilishly-handsome young wizard to be godfather to his son.'

Harry grinned. 'I'm glad he did.'

Sirius reached across the table and ruffled the boy's hair. 'Thanks for coming with me this morning,' he said. 'I needed to get out for a bit.'

'Perfectly understandable,' Harry replied. 'It could be worse, though. Aunt Cassie and Aunt Druella could actually be staying in the same house year-round.'

'Good Lord!' Sirius exclaimed in horror. 'What a nightmare that would be. There was more than enough cleaning-up to do after their little tiff on Christmas Day.'

'When are they installing the new wall?' Harry asked, popping a chip into his mouth.

'The Tuesday after you go back to school.'

'Is there anything you can do about the vase?'

Sirius sighed. 'No. It's irreparably smashed. It was a gift from Suleiman the Magnificent too. I think that was actually the last Muggle-made family heirloom we had.'

'I'm surprised Grandmother kept it,' Harry replied with a smirk.

'Well, Muggle-made or not it was a gift from the Ottoman sultan,' Sirius pointed out. 'One doesn't just throw away things like that.' He growled. 'Though apparently it's perfectly acceptable to levitate them in front of oneself just to block a simple Blasting Curse. Damn Druella.'

'Did she even apologise?'

Sirius snorted. 'Her? Never.' He mimicked Druella's high-pitched, nasal whine. '"It was Cassiopeia's own wretched fault for casting the Blasting Curse in the first place."'

Harry rolled his eyes. 'Figures. Has any Rosier ever apologised for anything?'

'Not likely,' Sirius snarled, cutting into his steak with gusto.

'I feel sorry for Draco,' Harry said. 'I mean, the old cow's his grandmother.'

Sirius chuckled. 'It could be worse. Remember, she used to live at Malfoy Manor.'

'I remember,' Harry said with a groan. 'Even Granddad used to go out of his way to avoid running into her – in his own bloody house!'

'Speaking of Granddad,' Sirius began. 'He told me you've been undertaking a bit of research in the Restricted Section.'

Harry nodded and took a sip of his soft drink. 'That's right. I want to train to fight Riddle.'

'Well, I hope you won't ever be close enough to him to have to fight him again,' Sirius said with a smile. 'All the same, I think it's a wise precaution for you to take. I've asked Moony to help you and Draco train this term.'

Harry's face fell. 'Thanks, Dad,' he forced himself to reply. 'That's great.'

Sirius was too absorbed in his steak to notice the shift in Harry's expression. 'I thought you'd enjoy that bit of news,' he said cheerfully. 'Moony's a great fighter, and a brilliant teacher. You and Draco will learn loads from him.'

'I'm sure we will, Dad,' Harry said truthfully, and took another bite of steak.

The lessons with Remus began the second night after they got back, and Harry felt his resentment melt away by the end of the first session. Remus didn't treat Harry or Draco any differently than he had before the incident, and he was an exceptional teacher. Just as in their Transfiguration classes, he took the time to explain the principles behind each spell. They started with very basic incantations: the Disarming Spell and rudimentary shields, but Remus insisted that they learn to cast them nonverbally.

'But we're not supposed to start nonverbal spells until our sixth year,' Draco protested after his twelfth failed attempt to Disarm his cousin.

'That's the classroom, where you don't have anything more serious to worry about than low marks,' Remus replied. 'In battle, however, you need every edge you can get. If you're always shouting your spells, your opponent will be better prepared to defend himself.'

Harry had a disturbing thought. 'What if you're battling a skilled Legilimens?' he asked. 'Mightn't he be able simply to pluck the spells out of your mind?'

'He would have to be extraordinarily powerful,' Remus replied. 'Legilimency takes concentration.' He sighed. 'However, if we're preparing you to fight Voldemort, we should definitely take that possibility into consideration. I'll look into it.' He swished his wand and easily Disarmed Harry. 'For now, however, we should focus on the task at hand.'

As winter slowly melted into spring, things continued at Hogwarts much as they ever had. There were classes, of course, and homework. The extra lessons with Remus carried on quite well, and by the end of March both Harry and Draco were able to cast a few basic spells nonverbally. The Gryffindor Quidditch team was solidly on their way to win the Cup, and Wood was utterly ecstatic.

Right after the Easter holidays, the twins, the cousins and Lee and Dean began a three-way prank war. It was the cousins' first major foray into mischief-making since the terrible events of the previous term, and they were determined to prove that they had not lost their touch. They spent an entire weekend under the Cloak, slipping from spot to spot, layering enchantment over enchantment. On Monday, they lay in wait just outside one of the principal corridors to set their plan in motion.

Professor Snape came bursting up the steps from the dungeons, his robes billowing behind him as always. He set foot into the corridor and froze as a single loud chord reverberated off the walls. The large stone on which he stood had turned bright green. All the students turned to watch him carefully in order to see what he would do. The Potions master narrowed his eyes and took another step. Another chord played – one that clashed rather terribly with the previous chord – and this time the stone glowed bright red.

'I'm afraid that just won't do,' sniffed one of the suits of armour. 'If you wish to cross the corridor, you must first display your patriotic pride.'

Snape scowled and took another step, only to be hurled back to the staircase. For the next two days, students and teachers alike tried to cross the corridors, only to be thrown back violently. The professors all reacted differently to the barrier, but none of them were able to remove the enchantments. Most everyone tried simply to go by alternate routes, even though this easily doubled the time it took for them to get anywhere. Fred and George tried to fly through on broomsticks, only to have the stones respond the same way as if they had stepped on them. Harry and Draco didn't want to show anyone else the way through, so they made use of numerous secret passages to get from place to place.

Remus was the first to figure out the prank. He stood on one side of the corridor for a whole hour, watching as everyone tried their luck at making their way across. He himself had not set foot in the corridor since the prank began, preferring instead to watch carefully and learn from the others' mistakes. Eventually he smiled, and hopped across the corridor easily, jumping from stone to stone and playing 'God Save The Queen'. Once he crossed the corridor successfully the suits of armour applauded him and launched into a chorus of 'Rule Britannia'. The amazed students joined in the applause. Remus bowed graciously, then flicked his wand and cancelled the enchantment. Professor Lupin had permanently sealed his reputation as the coolest professor ever.

Daphne stood over the stove, keeping careful watch over her omelette. Harry stood beside her.

'I think the bottom's set,' she said.

'All right,' replied Harry. 'What do you do now?'

'The cookbook says to flip the omelette.'

'So do it.'

'I don't know how,' Daphne said. 'I'm scared that I'll break it. Could you show me how to flip it?'

'No,' Harry replied casually.

'That's not very nice!' Daphne snapped. 'How am I supposed to learn if you won't show me?'

Harry flashed her a wry grin. 'I've never managed to flip an omelette without breaking it myself.'

'Oh.' Daphne's cheeks turned slightly pink. 'What do we do then?'

'Think about it,' Harry said. 'Why do we want to flip the omelette in the first place?'

'Because the recipe says we're supposed to,' Daphne replied automatically.

'Daphne!'

'Sorry,' the girl replied. She thought for a second. 'To make sure both sides are cooked.'

Harry smiled. 'Excellent. Now, can you think of any way of cooking the top without flipping the omelette?'

Daphne frowned, then squealed with delight as she figured it out. 'I know! We can use a Broiling Charm over the top.'

'Go ahead then.'

Daphne took out her wand and cast the Broiling Charm. Moments later, a perfect omelette was lying on her plate. She cut it in two and offered half to Harry. He accepted it graciously.

'So what's the key lesson here?' he asked as he took a bite.

'Don't worry about the recipe so much,' the girl replied. 'Focus instead on the results you want to achieve.'

'Precisely,' Harry said. 'All the processes they teach us in Potions are simply the best way they have found to achieve a certain result. It's not necessarily the best possible way. Sometimes the books even purposefully teach you an inferior method because they assume that the best way is too difficult for children to manage. So, once you understand why the ingredients interact the way they do, you can use that knowledge to find better ways of doing things.'

'I see,' Daphne said. 'I'd never thought of it like that before.'

'The omelette is perfect, by the way,' Harry observed.

Daphne beamed.

On a lovely afternoon in early May, Narcissa was sitting quietly on the terrace sipping a cup of tea and reading one of her favourite books. The emptiness of the house still bothered her, but she expected that to improve once Abraxas and Draco came home from school at the end of term. In the meantime, Sirius was taking great pains to ensure that she didn't wallow too long in self-pity. Narcissa smiled softly to herself. Her cousin had matured very well, she thought.

The chime indoors signalled an arrival via the Floo network. Sirius had come rather earlier than she had expected. Moments later she heard the sound of a wizard's resolute footsteps across the stone of the terrace. Narcissa put her book down, but did not turn around.

'You're early,' she said. 'I wasn't expecting you so soon.'

'Really, my dear, I should have thought you would have expected me to come much sooner.' The voice was cold, and definitely not Sirius.

Narcissa gasped and turned around slowly, only to look directly into Lucius's blazing blue eyes. She reached for her wand, but Lucius seized her arm roughly before she could grasp it.

'Let go, Lucius,' she said quietly. 'You're hurting me.'

The blond wizard smiled cruelly. 'Whatever makes you suppose that it was not precisely my intention to do so?'

Narcissa opened her mouth to call for Dobby, but no sound came out. Lucius must have cast a Silencing Charm. She struggled against his grip, but her husband was physically far stronger than she.

'Come now, Narcissa,' he whispered in her ear. 'Soon we shall all be a family again, united once more in the service of the Dark Lord.'

He dragged her back inside to the fireplace in the drawing room. Narcissa managed to grab hold of a heavy statue with her left hand and swing it at Lucius's head. He dodged easily out of the way, and she succeeded only in angering him.

'You will learn your place, woman,' he snarled, and grabbed her roughly by both arms. In desperation, Narcissa knocked over a table with her foot, shattering a priceless crystal vase. Dobby appeared moments later, just in time to see his former master drag his mistress through the fireplace.