Chapter:1

"Bow to death, Harry…"

He shifted in his tiny bed, breathing heavily and sweating slightly. "I won't, I won't…"

"You are a coward. Face me like a man…"

"I will… V-Voldemort"

"Kill the spare…"

"No… I won't… let you… kill him. I won't let you play with me."

"Avada Kedavra!"

He jerked upright as soon as flash of green played in his dream, completely drenched in sweat filled with anxiety and fear. It has been ten days since the disastrous end of the Tri-Wizard Tournament ending with the return of the most dangerous dark wizard since Morgana, Lord Voldemort and his narrow escape with the body of Cedric. His nightmare had not stopped since that night. Every night his dreams are haunted with cruel laughter's and green lights. Again, and again.

I will go insane like this. This need to stop.

He scrambled out of the bed and moved slowly toward his windows. He opened his windows stood on the orifice viewing the night sky. Feeling cool breeze on his face and seeing stars calmed him down slightly. His heartbeat lowered to normal and he started breathing normally. Soon his mind drifted again to that accursed night.

"B-blood of the enemy… forcibly taken… you will… resurrect your foe."

He snapped his eye open and ran his finger through his already messy hair. His eyes were blood-red and puffy with no sleep. His overgrown clothes hung like rags on his thin frame. His skin was pale and his scars were raw. He sighed deeply and went back to his chair and thud down heavily.

He can't get rid of the guilt for his hand in the murder of Cedric. Every time he closes his eyes, he saw the lifeless eye and pale face of Cedric struck down from the green spell. Every time his eyelids droop, he magically returns to the graveyard where he is crucioed again and again and he listens to the catcalls and jeers of the death-eaters. Each time he felt the adrenaline when thirty death-eaters were sending spells after spells after him and only thing he could do was run away like coward.

He felt useless.

His hand rubbed absently on the scar where Pettigrew cut his hand open and took his blood for the ritual. He just went down like a rag with only one spell. He froze up after seeing Cedric death. If he had stopped Pettigrew before the ritual, he could have prevented his return. If he had allowed Sirius to kill him in third year his return could have prevented.

"You have been taught how to duel, Harry Potter?" said Voldemort, his red eye glinting through the darkness. All he had learnt was 'Expelliarmus' from his second year. He was outnumbered thirty to one. He knew he would face the un-block able killing curse, and Voldemort was right, his mother was not here to die for him this time.

There is no one to protect me the next time. My mother's sacrifice and her protection which protected him as infant and in his first year had been forcibly can he protect himself next time?

He felt ashamed of himself.

To think that he wished that his mother wasn't there to save him from the curse. How pathetic he was. If only people can see him like this. Boy-who-lived crying pathetically for his dead mother to be present to die again. He remembered his father's and mother's last moment from dementors. He remembered his mother's begging for his life. She would have felt ashamed to bring such a pathetic coward like him to life. To think that they defied him till their last moments fighting and bargaining for his life.

He felt humiliated.

Facing the killing curse, he saw his entire life ran through him. The cupboard under the stairs, Harry-hunting by Dudley, being ousted as mentally unstable by Dursleys, no friends to play, Hagrid bringing his first gift for his birthday, his ride to Hogwarts, his first time flying, playing chess and mindless chatter with Ron, his Quidditch games, yearly adventures, feeling sorry for himself last year when his name came out of goblet. If only he had taken his studies properly, if only he had properly trained himself last year like other champions rather than moping all around, he could have saved him.

Boy-who-lived was a bloody loser. A bloody arsehole.

Not again…

Never once in his life was, he toyed and played like that. He had known ever since the first year that the return of the Dark Lord was inevitable but he always thought that it will take years before his return. Now he was beyond ashamed of himself for not preparing and lazing around like idiot. His parent had faced that monster with defiance and proud till their end while he pathetically and helplessly was toyed and laughed. His parents were both excellent students in their field. His father and mother were both Head-boy and Head-girl respectively. But what did he do? He just sits on his thumbs barely scraping the passing marks. He felt sick of himself.

Next time if he faced that monster, he will not have only an Expelliarmus in his arsenal. He vowed to himself. He would not run around and hid behind stones. He will face him like a man he was meant to be. He will fight him with all his vigour so that if he faced his parents in after-life he can proudly face them. He will give his all and take him, if possible, with him to beyond.

Things had to change. He had to be better. His classmates had the freedom to do as they want. He hadn't that. His classmates had family safe with them. He hadn't. His classmates didn't have Voldemort himself after them. He was marked as his. They can play, laze around and do whatever they want. He didn't have this opportunity. He had to be prepared otherwise all people around him die.

He had to change. He had to be better, faster and powerful. He had mocked him, his parents and his useless skill. He had played with him. I had to rely on luck again to escape.

He closed his eye and leaned in his chair.

"Crucio…"

He snapped open his eye.

Never again.

The dark and dreary house at Number 12, Grimmauld Place was indeed one of the most desolate building spotted in the area. But there is a slight problem in the statement since no one can really see it. The ancient townhouse of Blacks was once a magnificent medieval house. But being deserted for about a decade with a deranged house-elf and a bigoted painting had left its mark on the house. The building was filled with filth except a few rooms.

One such room was occupied by one Sirius Black. A month at the house with a house-elf had transformed him back from a fugitive on run to the pureblood prince he was. He was furiously pacing his room thinking how to bring his godson from his prison at the Dursley to him. He had concluded from his talks that his life at Dursleys was not good. If a boy agreed to move out from his home into others home only after meeting for an hour, then there is definitely something fishy about it.

He had an argument with the leader of the light Albus Dumbledore himself a few hours ago at this topic. He can't think any reason for Harry to remain there when the mansion is already within Fidelius. He had not taken any risk and placed himself as Secret-keeper this time. Why can't he see that he will be safer here than there. Ancient Black wards were already formidable and almost unbreakable. With Fidelius the building was most safe outside Gringotts.

The building was already occupied with the Weasleys. He couldn't think why his godson had to suffer at his relative's place while Weasleys had booked a room each for themselves. Not for last time he thought that what his godson had done in his previous life to suffer like this. Between overbearing Molly and nagging Granger, he was sure that his godson will go mad if he can come here.

Why can't Harry have made friends with Longbottom boy or any other. They are going on with their life like it was one big adventure where they will get glory and riches. Younger Weasley boy was too lazy to do anything and jealous beyond anything. Granger girl had too stubborn streak and competitive nature. Between them and his own insecurities from Dursley, Harry might be downplaying his own abilities.

No this can't remain like this. I will have to think this through. But what can I do? Think Sirius, think. Your godson needs your help right now.

Being on run from the government as fugitive he can't do much. His advantage as an Animagus was also of no use now. He cursed again, for what appear to be a million times, at the damned rat. If only he had not convinced James to change the Secret-keeper at the last moment. If only he had not gone after the rat and instead took care of his godson as he was supposed to be. If only. He shook his head.

This is not the time. Harry needs me. If only I had Black Lordship… wait WHAT! Yes, it can be one of the options to help him. I had to check next thing in the morning with the goblins whether I was cast-off from the family or not.

Slowly a grin appears on his face which Remus can testify as his Marauder face. Plans begin to form on the fly in his mind. If only Dumbledore can see he would had hit his head on the table.

He slowly crept towards downstairs to the twin Weasley's room. In their entire family they were his favourite. Their mischievous streak with their loyalty and ruthlessness remind him of himself and James.

"I am going to apply the spray, George. The doxies will fly toward your side." Fred yelled from his muffled mouth. George gestured him with a 'thumbs-up' as Fred sprayed the potion from the bottle. The mixture made the doozy and soon all the doxies were captured and sealed in a bag.

"And done." George added with delight. "Full sixty doxies in there. There is too much venom for two large barrels of nosebleed nougat."

"Don't forget the samples of extendable ears. We need the skin for that."

"Aye, my twin."

"We can't disappoint our investor, can we."

"Keep the voice down, dear brother of mine. We can't have our mother listening about our investor, can we."

"What Molly can't know, my fellow pranksters?" Sirius asked as he entered the room.

"Nothing, nothing at all, Mr. Black sir."

"Okay." He drawled slowly. "Look, whatever you both are doing is really not my business. But I really need help from both of you."

"What do you want?" Fred asked with seriousness which is not normally present in them.

"I want a distraction for a day from both of you. I had to go somewhere for urgent business which can help Harry in long run. But as soon as I will leave your mother and Hermione will raise hell. So, I want to distract them and act as my alibi for a day."

Fred and George look at each other and a silent conversation happened between them at the light speed. They both nodded at the same time and looked at Sirius with a serious expression.

"We will help you."

"But we have our own request."

"As a marauder you have to give your opinion on our product and bounce some of the ideas in our direction." George solemnly replied.

"And what products are we talking about?"

"Products like found on Zonko's but better."

"Why are you both inventing stuff like this?"

"We have our own ambition to open best joke-shop in the Diagon Alley."

"Well said dear brother of mine!"

"Fine and I will also add my own money from Black vault as either loan or investment too for the joke-shop."

"No"

"We had that investment part"

"We only need a premise"

"Everything else is ready"

"Okay, okay stop already. Your twin-speak is giving me headache." Sirius replied irritably. "So, gents we have a deal."

Twins took both of Sirius's hand and shook vigorously. Sirius shook his head in amusement at their antics.

"You both will distract your mother and her twin harpy in the morning when they call for breakfast and tell them that I am in my room."

"We will do our parts as promised but you have to be extra careful otherwise little Harrykins will eat us alive if his dear Godfather was kissed."

Sirius nodded and promised to be careful and went back to his room. He took out a parchment and quill and quickly started jotting down the plan for the next day. All his plans were based on whether he could be Lord Black or not. He thought whether he sent a letter asking Harry to meet him in the park under his invisibility cloak or not. He sighed, tore the parchment and threw it in the bin. He can clearly see the disappointed face of Dumbledore, screeches of harpy, umm… Molly and ranting of Granger. Why can't my life be simpler?

If I cannot sleep then better put the hour to good use.

He looked around and saw Hedwig sitting on his perch giving him pity eye. He rolled his eyes, even his owl is feeling pity for him now. He went and started stroking his feathers. She was the only companion from the magical world who had not failed him yet. Even Ron and Hermione had abandoned him last year when his name came out of the goblet. He had expected it from Ron deep down due to his jealous but he hadn't expected it from Hermione in million years. For the last time he thought whether they were just riding on his fame or not. Now there isn't anything he could do. He has bigger things to do than think about hormonal teens and their jealous streaks.

"Hey girl, here take it." He said while giving owl treat to her.

"You wouldn't leave me, will you." He asked in soft voice in near desperate voice.

"Of course, silly human you need not ask that." Harry interpreted her hoot while affectionally stroking her feathers.

"Yeah I know I can count on you always."

"Go, stretch your feathers in the night. You wouldn't want to fly in the day while here." Harry said while stretching his arm outside the window. He looked for some time watching Hedwig fly and soaring in the sky. After some time, he exhaled heavily, stretched and went to sat down in his chair.

He opened his last year Charms book he was reading. He had already read the book cover to cover three time. He had noticed that after coming back and waking up from coma from his fight in the graveyard a weight had lifted up from him which had always depressed unconsciously him since forever. He can concentrate more readily and his memory recall had increased exponentially. His mind had become more clearer and ever-present buzz had been removed.

He sighed and threw his book toward his trunk. He had already read all his previous years book twice and practiced spells before returning from Hogwarts. It had become a necessity to remain in abandoned classroom all the time since classes were cancelled and he had no one to talk to. So, in his solitude he practiced the spell in his arsenal.

But he had reached a block. He felt that magic in him was flowing more smoothly and was more powerful than before like a block had been removed but his connection to his wand was like broken. His magic had fundamentally changed and his wand seems to stop the flow of magic from his hand for spell to actually work. Performing powerful spell heated the wand and he had to stop regularly to cool off his wand.

He thought to tell about this to anybody. But to whom he could tell. Sirius can't really bring him to wand shop. Professor Dumbledore left a bitter taste in his mouth. He could clearly see his suffering and plight but didn't help previous year. He had been hexed many times from his peers but every time he fought back, he only seems to get the detention. Only a statement from the headmaster would have improved his cheater status from many of his peers. Same could be said about any of his any of his professors.

He decided to visit Ollivanders during his shopping for next year. He reached and drew a book from bottom of the trunk. 'Curses for enemies' was one of the books he had found in an abandoned room on seventh floor. He opened the book and began pursuing through it. The book was filled with illustrious pictures with their respective spells, their wand movement and incantation written clearly. He picked a rod from broken window and started practicing the wand movement of one of the spells from fighting categories.

Ossis Fragmen

Ossis Disfringo

Both spells were powerful and extremely useful during a fight. Bone-breaker could be used to break any bone while its more powerful version Bone-shatterer disintegrates any bone in connected area. Both could be infinitely useful than disarming spell he used in the graveyard.

The again I had really no idea how transfiguring match into needle will help me in any duel.

His mind wandered once again to the graveyard. He had to give it to the bastard, he was in his own league in magic with probably only Dumbledore. Throwing killing curse, torture curse one after one like candies, conjuring fully functioning arm and what not. He thanked to any god listening for his million in one luck that his wand shares the same core as him. Otherwise he would be seven feet under the ground.

He performed the movement repeatedly till it became like second nature. He had several powerful curses and spells now under his arsenal. He had added many curses, hexes, shields and spells since that evening. Several cutting curses, severing hexes, exploding spells, bone-breakers and shield charm. He felt confident now that he could at least do some damage to any low-ranking death-eater. He highly doubt that he could even land any curse on any member of the inner-circle of his followers let alone the main boss himself.

At least I did not have only disarming spell in the face of killing curse.

He chuckled in his hollow voice. He checked the book for more spell but found that all other spells are either prank-related or harmless. His hand absently went towards his wand caressing the wood with his callous hand waiting for the warmth to originate. But it never come. The tinge of magic was absent.

His wand was dead in his hand and he did not know how to fix this.

What the fuck is happening to me?