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: My profound thanks to all the readers, and especially to the reviewers! I am profoundly flattered that so many people are enjoying this story. Now for the next installment...

Chapter 9

Remus Lupin walked through the squeaky door into the dingy pub and sat down at the bar. The pub was nearly full, despite the early hour, and every eye turned to look at him when he walked in. A half-blood, Remus had always moved with ease in the Muggle world, and was unaccustomed to such a reaction. On the other hand, he supposed, Little Hangleton was a very insular community.

'I'd like a pint, please,' Remus said courteously, and the barman handed over the ale.

The stares continued. Remus wasn't sure how he would learn anything if the villagers were so suspicious of strangers.

Ultimately, the werewolf had come to this secluded valley because of Dora Tonks's report the night before. It turned out that Lucius had followed a very convoluted set of Floo jumps after leaving Malfoy Manor, but the trail ended in the home of an elderly witch who lived in the nearby town of Great Hangleton. Sirius and Remus had promptly gone to investigate, only to find the old woman dead, and no sign of Lucius, Narcissa or Voldemort. Upon their return to Malfoy Manor, Cassiopeia had pointed out that Lucius's destination was nonetheless most likely somewhere in the general vicinity, and Sirius had launched a massive search. He and Abraxas were combing through Great Hangleton, whilst Cassiopeia was scouring the neighbouring hamlet of Bracksmeade. Remus had been asked to investigate Little Hangleton, though no one thought it likely that Voldemort had chosen this remote, thoroughly Muggle location for his hideout.

'I haven't seen you round these parts before,' observed an elderly man in old working clothes who sat to Remus's right.

'It's my first time here,' Remus explained. 'I was on my way through and I thought I'd stop in for a pint.'

The old man nodded. 'You'll have to forgive that lot for staring at you,' he said, gesturing at the gawkers. 'We've been a bit suspicious of outsiders ever since that funny business up at Riddle House.'

Remus could barely suppress the smile that threatened to spread across his face.

'Riddle House?' he repeated.

'It's the big manor up on the hill,' the man explained. 'Used to belong to the Riddle family. Stuck-up toffs they were, thought they were better than the rest of us. They used to own over half the village.'

'What happened to them?' Remus asked.

'Lots of strange things,' the man replied. 'You wouldn't believe it if I told you. None of these blokes do.'

Remus smiled at the stranger. 'Try me.'

'Well, their problems started with this huge scandal some seventy years back,' the old Muggle began, 'when I was just a lad myself. You see, young Tom Riddle, the heir of the family, and quite a good-looking bloke, ran off with this queer girl. Gaunt, I believe her name was...'

As Remus heard the man's tale, he realised beyond the faintest shadow of a doubt that he had come to the right place. He listened politely and bought the man another pint when he'd drained his first.

'And those murders were fifty years ago,' the old Muggle went on. 'We'd thought it was over and done with. But then, just a few weeks ago, old Frank Bryce went missing. He's the caretaker up at Riddle House. He just vanished one day, and no one's heard or seen anything from him.' He leaned closer to Remus and began whispering conspiratorially. 'But there have been strange happenings up at that house ever since then,' he said. 'Odd lights flashing in the windows, even though no one's lived there for years.' He looked over his shoulder to make sure no one was listening. 'And the other night,' he continued in a voice so low that Remus could hardly make him out, 'my Jack was up round there with some mates of his, and he told me he saw several strange men coming in and out. They were dressed funny, he says. Wearing cloaks and masks and whatnot.'

Remus froze. How many Death Eaters could they be facing? Several months had passed between Lucius's exile and Narcissa's abduction. It was foolish to think that Voldemort had not been using that time to his full advantage. Rescuing Narcissa might prove more difficult than they had hoped. He needed to tell Sirius right away.

He thanked the Muggle and quickly paid his bill before all but running out the door of the pub. He turned down an alley and pulled out a small handheld mirror.

'Sirius Black,' he hissed, and the mirror shimmered for a minute before his friend's face appeared in the glass.

'Hey there, Moony,' Sirius said. 'Any luck?'

'He's here, Padfoot,' Remus whispered. 'Riddle's holed up here in Little Hangleton.'

Sirius's grey eyes went wide. 'Are you sure?'

'Absolutely,' Remus replied. 'I've rather a lot to tell you, and I'd like to do it face-to-face.'

'Understood,' Sirius said. 'I'll gather up Abraxas and Aunt Cassie and we'll meet you back at Grimmauld Place in ten minutes.'

Remus nodded. 'See you there.'

The mirror went blank, and Remus slipped it back into his pocket before turning on his heel and Disapparating.

The room was empty, save the hard-backed wooden chair on which Narcissa sat, her gaze fixed and her posture perfect. Years worth of dust had accumulated on every surface, and the blonde witch wrinkled her nose at the filth. Her arms and legs were bound tightly to the chair with magical rope, and her delicate skin chafed under the pressure.

Her mouth was dry and sticky – she would have given her right arm for a glass of water – and her stomach rumbled. She had seen no sign of her husband since he had brought her here two days before. He had given her neither food nor water, and she had sat up in that horrid chair the whole time. Narcissa was exhausted, starving and filthy, and to make matters worse, she hadn't the faintest notion of why Lucius had done this.

Her relations with her husband had always been cordial, and, at times, quite affectionate. Even after his shocking behaviour towards their son and his consequent dismissal from the family, she had not wished to lose contact with him. She had sent him owls, even offered him money, but Lucius had made no reply to her generous overtures. Narcissa had believed that he wanted nothing more to do with her.

But now he had abducted her and brought her to some secluded Muggle house – at least she presumed it was a Muggle house, as she had seen no sign of magic on her way in. In any event, the house had clearly been long abandoned. It made no sense to her at all.

The lock clicked, and Lucius stepped through the door, carrying a pewter plate, on which sat a large crust of bread, and a small cup of water. He set them down on the window sill.

'Untie me at once, Lucius,' Narcissa demanded. 'How dare you presume to abduct me and keep me prisoner? I am your wife.'

Lucius raised an eyebrow. 'As far as I'm concerned, you lost all privileges associated with that title when you and my father took Black's side against me.'

'You used our son as a weapon against his best friend and tried to kill my cousin,' Narcissa reminded him. 'How would you have me respond?'

'I would have you submit to my decisions like an obedient wife and trust me when I say that I have acted for the best,' Lucius replied.

'Trust you?' Narcissa laughed bitterly. 'I shall never trust you again.'

Lucius ran a hand along her cheek, and the witch shivered.

'You're quite right, I'm afraid,' he said quietly. 'There can never again be trust between us. You have betrayed me, Narcissa, and I can never forgive that. However, I will permit you to earn back some small part of what you have forfeited through your actions.'

'My actions?' Narcissa snapped. 'How dare you?'

'Temper, temper, my dear,' Lucius said smoothly. 'I swear you sound more like your mother with each passing year.' He Levitated the chair over to the window, then untied her left hand with a flick of his wand. 'Eat, drink and be merry, Narcissa,' he said. 'You must recover your strength before the Dark Lord admits you into his presence.'

Narcissa turned very pale. 'The Dark Lord is here?'

'Naturally,' Lucius sneered. 'It was He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named who commanded me to retrieve you and bring you here. He has plans for you. Do not worry, my love. Once he is done with you he has promised to turn you over to me, and we can resume our lives of wedded bliss.'

His wife tried to spit at him, but she didn't have nearly enough saliva to manage it.

'Tut, tut, Narcissa,' Lucius said disapprovingly. 'That's not very lady-like. The wife of Lucius Malfoy must maintain her dignity at all times.'

'You can do what you like to me,' Narcissa replied in a cold voice, 'but as far as I am concerned you are no longer my husband.'

Lucius shrugged. 'The Imperius Curse may yet change your mind,' he said. 'We will be a family again, Narcissa. One way or another.'

The witch's pride made her want to refuse the bread and water Lucius had brought, to throw them back in his face, but her empty stomach and parched throat persuaded her otherwise. She drained the cup in a single draught, then began nibbling at the bread. When she had finished, Lucius flicked his wand again, freeing her feet and tying both her hands behind her back. He forced her to stand, then led her down a dark corridor to a musty room, lit only by a small fire.

There, sitting in a high-backed armchair, was the Dark-Lord-possessed former Defence master.

Narcissa thought fast. Once again her highly-developed Slytherin instincts did battle with her pureblood pride, and once again her wish to survive won out. Narcissa decided to do what she knew best. She dropped into a low curtsey.

'My lord,' she said in a docile voice. Even with dishevelled hair and both arms tied behind her back, the witch cut quite an impressive figure. Lucius looked at her strangely. The cold cackling that Narcissa knew all too well emanated from the back of Quirrell's head.

'"My lord", Narcissa?' Voldemort replied. 'I was under the impression that you were now consorting with my enemies.'

Narcissa laughed, doing her best to imitate her eldest sister. 'My lord, I am afraid that Lucius has lied to you. I am as loyal to your cause as my unfortunate sister. Had Lucius made even the slightest effort to persuade me by more gentlemanly means, I should have flocked willingly to your banner.'

'Lies,' Lucius growled. 'My lord, I told her that it was at your orders that I gave the Black brat the diary.'

Narcissa sniffed. 'And why should I believe you under such circumstances, Lucius?' she said, her haughty voice dripping with the scorn that only a Black could summon. 'I know that you have always been jealous of your nephew's power.'

Lucius looked at his wife with a mixture of disbelief and amazement.

'Yes,' Voldemort said, cutting in. 'Let's talk more about the boy. He is, after all, the reason I have brought you to my late father's house.'

'What does my lord wish to know?' Narcissa asked, bowing her head.

When the Dark Lord responded, his hoarse voice sent tremors up the witch's spine.

'Everything.'

In the library at Grimmauld Place, Harry fell to the ground screaming. He clutched desperately at his forehead.

'Aries?' Draco asked anxiously. 'What's the matter?' When his cousin made no response, he summoned the house elf. 'KREACHER!' he shouted, and the elf appeared with a pop. 'Master Aries has taken ill,' Draco said. 'Has Master Sirius returned yet?'

Kreacher shook his head. 'No, Master Draco,' he croaked. 'Master is still out searching for Miss Cissy.'

'Then kindly fetch my Aunt Clytemnestra and bring her here.'

The elf bowed and vanished, and moments later the Squib came rushing in.

'Great Merlin!' she exclaimed at the sight of Harry writhing on the floor. 'What happened?'

'I don't know,' Draco said. 'We were just doing our homework, and it was like he had a fit or something.'

With Kreacher's assistance, Clytemnestra and Draco managed to get Harry upstairs to his bedroom. The Squib took a wet washcloth and used it to cool Harry's forehead. He was burning up, and there was a strange, fiercely-red patch of skin just beneath his hairline.

After a few moments, Sirius ran into the room, still wearing his Muggle clothes. Remus, Abraxas and Cassiopeia followed close behind.

'What happened?' Sirius demanded. 'Kreacher told us Aries was ill.'

Draco shook his head. 'I'm not certain. We were working on our homework in the library, and he suddenly put his hands to his head and started yelling.'

Sirius sat down on the bed next to Harry and took over the washcloth from Clytemnestra. After a few minutes, Harry began to stir. His eyes shot open and he sat straight up in the bed.

'I saw Aunt Narcissa!' he exclaimed. 'She and Lucius were with Riddle. Riddle said they were in his father's house.'

Sirius and Remus exchanged a meaningful look.

'It looks like we have independent confirmation of your theory, Moony,' Sirius said. He turned back to Harry and tried to lay him back down. Harry resisted.

'No, we need to go rescue her!' he protested.

'You're not doing anything,' Sirius said sternly. 'You're going to stay here and rest.'

'I don't need rest,' Harry snapped. 'I'm fine. I just had a vision.'

'You passed out, Aries,' Clytemnestra said. 'I think that hardly qualifies as fine.'

Sirius ran a hand through his son's hair. 'We'll take care of this. I promise. Did you see anything else that might help?'

Harry shook his head. 'Not really. They were in a room with a fireplace, and Riddle said they were in his father's old house. Aunt Narcissa curtseyed to him.' He blushed uncomfortably. 'She said she had always been loyal to him, that she would have come willingly if Lucius had only given her a chance.'

Draco and Sirius frowned in confusion, but Abraxas laughed.

'She's a Slytherin through and through, isn't she?' he said fondly.

'What's that supposed to mean?' Sirius snapped.

Cassiopeia gave him a withering glare. 'It's a sensible strategy,' she told him. 'Narcissa is being held captive. She has neither wand nor allies in her prison. It's always wise to play along with one's captor.'

'You think that's it?' Draco said in a small voice. 'You don't think she's really gone over to Riddle's side?'

Abraxas shook his head. 'Of course not, my lad,' he said confidently. 'It's only a strategy. Don't you fear.'

Draco looked up at Sirius for confirmation. His uncle forced a smile and placed a strong hand on the blond boy's shoulder.

'I'm sure that's it,' he said, but both Draco and Harry could tell that he was not completely confident in his own words.

'There's more,' Harry whispered. 'Riddle said that he had Lucius kidnap her because he wants to learn more about me.'

Sirius's expression hardened. 'Is there anything else?' he asked evenly.

Harry shook his head. 'No, that's all.'

'Then you two stay here,' his dad said firmly. 'We'll take care of this.'

Late that night, Jack Miller and his best mate, Michael Lucas, were sitting parked in Jack's car halfway up the hill to Riddle House, watching as several men in cloaks entered the old house.

'See, I told you they'd do it again,' Jack said.

'All right,' Michael replied nervously. 'But do we have to be here spying on them? Let's go down to the pub.'

Jack shook his head firmly. 'I bet they're criminals of some sort. There's probably a reward for turning them in.'

'Are you daft?' Michael retorted. 'You mess with people like that and they're likely to kill you.'

Jack opened his mouth to reply, but stopped at a sudden swooshing sound overhead. He jumped out of the car to see what was happening, and Michael reluctantly followed. They looked up into the sky and gasped. They rubbed their eyes, and gasped again.

Overhead, silhouetted against the half-moon, was what could only be described as a witch. An old crone was flying on a broomstick, her pointed hat perched on her head and her long black robes flowing behind her. If only her skin were green, she would have looked just like the Wicked Witch of the West. She cackled gleefully as she swooped down towards the house.

'CONFRINGO!' she shouted, and the two young men looked at each other in confusion. Then there was a terrible explosion, and their eyes swerved back to the manor house, where a small fire was now burning on the rooftop. Several of the men in cloaks came rushing back out, brandishing sticks in their hands. As they waved the sticks, strange lights shot out in various colours.

There was more cackling overhead, and four more witches came zooming in on broomsticks. Three of them were dressed much like the first, but the fourth wore a T-shirt and jeans, and seemed to have spiky pink hair.

'Blimey,' Michael breathed. 'Do you reckon we're drunk, Jack?'

Jack nodded glumly. 'I think we must be.'

Cassiopeia Black was in her element. The wind was rushing through her robes and curses were flying madly. Battlelust overtook her in a way she hadn't felt since her days in Grindelwald's service. She swooped down towards the Death Eaters, slightly put out that she couldn't see whom she was fighting because of their blasted masks. She raised her wand and sent a spurt of Fiendfyre towards one rather portly wizard. He managed to jump out of the way, but that only cleared the Fiendfyre's path towards the wizard standing behind him. Cassiopeia smiled when she heard his screams. That was Crabbe, she thought. Irma would be annoyed.

Irma and Druella were locked in duels of their own. The two women might annoy Cassiopeia to no end, but there was no doubt they could fight, and fly too. Druella dipped and swerved as she dodged jets of green and red light, and then fired off several Bone-Breaking Curses, two of which reached their targets. Irma flew very high in the air, and then dived straight down to the ground at breathtaking speed, Cruciating the Death Eater who stood below her. He passed out shortly before she hit the ground, and she managed to pull up at the last second.

Andromeda and Dora were focussing their assault on the house itself, firing Blasting Curses one after another. The wards that had been put up were most impressive - what else would one expect from Him-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named? - but the two witches' goal was not so much to destroy the house as to keep the Death Eaters distracted above ground, whilst Sirius, Lupin and Abraxas tunnelled up from below.

'Stupefy!'

Cassiopeia executed a perfect roll and barely dodged the curse. She quickly scanned the ground to see who had attacked her. It was the fat wizard.

'CRUCIO!' she shouted, then shifted her wand a bit to the left and whispered, 'Avada Kedavra.'

As expected, the foolish man stepped neatly out of the way of the Torture Curse and directly into the path of the Killing Curse. It was very tidy. Cassiopeia only regretted that it was so quiet - she had no idea who the whale of a wizard had been.

Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, Cassiopeia saw one of the Death Eaters raise his wand at Dora. The old witch's grey eyes gleamed as she twirled around in the air and swept towards him. She levelled her wand directly at his chest.

'Sanguiferveo,' she whispered, and the wizard cried out in agony.

Nott, she thought with a smile. I owed him.

Meanwhile, within Riddle Manor, the Dark Lord himself sat ensconced in his armchair, with Lucius standing at his side and Narcissa kneeling at his feet. He had little concern for the fight going on outside. After all, his wards were impenetrable.

'I'm very disappointed, Narcissa,' he wheezed. 'After your protestations of loyalty, I should have thought you would be more honest with your master.'

'I have been, my lord,' the witch whispered, her expression desperate.

'Do not lie to Lord Voldemort,' the evil sorcerer replied dangerously. 'I can see into the depths of your heart and read the treachery that is written there. You have been lying in order to protect your nephew. What powers does he possess that you have yet to reveal to me?'

'None, my lord,' Narcissa said in a faint voice.

'CRUCIO!' Voldemort shouted, and the witch began to writhe in pain on the floor, screaming.

Miles away, back at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, Harry cried out as well.

'It's your mum, Draco,' he gasped. 'Riddle's figured out she was lying to him. He's torturing her.'

His cousin went white. 'We've got to rescue her, Aries.'

'Dad and the others...,' Harry began.

'Might be too late,' Draco finished. 'It could take them hours to break through the wards, if they get through at all. As soon as Riddle decides that Mum isn't going to be any more use to him, he'll kill her!'

Harry paused, then nodded curtly. 'You're right. We've got to do something.'

'Shall we fly?' Draco asked.

Harry shook his head. 'That would take too long, and it wouldn't help us to break through the wards.' His eyes glinted. 'I have a far better idea.'

He sat down cross-legged on the floor and closed his eyes, whispering in Parseltongue and concentrating on Voldemort and on his wards. His forehead began to ache, and Harry knew that he had made the connexion.