Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

A/N: A few things to keep in mind –I am American and I readily admit I do not know enough about the U.K. or British vernacular to adapt my writing, so you may see quite a few inaccuracies. This fic will be AU and will delve into a few common fanon ideas, so if that doesn't appeal to you, you may want to stop here. (Some of these will include Noble and Most Ancient Houses, Lordships, the possibility of multiple marriages, magical bonds, goblin abilities, family magic, etc.) I will eventually loosely follow canon events (the story starts pre-Sorcerer's Stone and stays there for a long while), with some diversions due to the AU universe and the different characters involved. (Ron and Hermione will not be major players –personally, I do like Hermione, at least, but she didn't fit into the dynamic here.) There are time jumps throughout, but dates/ages should be clear as we move forward. No character bashing.

Exchange rate used: 1 galleon = approx. 5 GBP = approx. 7 USD (numbers are rounded to neared whole amount, ignoring inflation, amounts are in 2021 values)


Harry Potter and the Winter Solstice

Prologue

On the 22nd of December, 1987, at approximately six in the evening, seven-year-old Harry James Potter laid awake on his cot, studiously ignoring his grumbling stomach. Harry had dropped a plate while washing the lunch dishes –it had slipped between his dripping fingers, crashing to the floor and breaking into pieces. His Aunt Petunia shrieked in horror and immediately sent him to his cupboard, telling him not to come out until it was time to cook breakfast.

Now, Harry was bored. He was not allowed to turn his light on because Aunt Petunia did not want him playing with his broken "toys" during his punishment. So, instead, he stared into the darkness. He found, if he squinted at the space above his head, he could just make out the shape of the stairs and the single dusty bulb suspended above his feet. And if he listened carefully, he could follow the TV program his cousin Dudley was watching down the hall –he thought it was a Christmas Special, not that Harry had ever seen one.

Today had been Tuesday, the second day of his winter holiday from his muggle primary school –though Harry did not yet know what a "muggle" was. He did know that his relatives, the Dursleys, wished they did not have to send Harry to school. He was pretty sure Aunt Petunia would prefer he worked on her prize-winning garden instead –at least then he would be spending their time and money on something useful.

Harry also did not know that today was a special day in the magical world, –which, incidentally, he also knew nothing about –the Winter Solstice. Above all, Harry did not know that his short, unfortunate life was about to change drastically.


Meanwhile, many miles away from Surrey, in a very different house, a very different family had just finished their Solstice Rites.

The Weasleys, generally known as blood traitors to those who bothered with those types of things, were gathered in their cramped, pleasantly lived-in, family room to –"Finally!" according to nine-year-old Fred, or was it George? –celebrate the 17th birthday of their oldest son, William Weasley, and the 15th birthday of their second son, Charles. The boys, better known as Bill and Charlie respectively, had just returned from their boarding school, Hogwarts (along with their 11-year-old brother Percy, who was a First Year), and had not seen their parents or young siblings since September 1st. Although Bill had turned 17 on the 29th of November, and Charlie 15 on the 12th of December, they had agreed that there was no better day than the Solstice –one of the most magically charged days of the year –to celebrate on.

Most Pureblood wizarding families in Magical Britain would be very surprised indeed to hear that the Weasleys still observed such old traditions as the Solstice Rites. And though their youngest children much preferred Christmas –which their mother sometimes referred to as Yule, though both Bill and Charlie knew that Yule referred to the Winter Festival days, not Christmas Day itself -the Weasley parents were both from old families themselves and understood the magical power of certain days and would most certainly not be squandering it.

All young Fred and George wanted at the moment was to try the cake sitting on their long kitchen table under a stasis charm, which was in the shape of a lion's head with lots of red and gold icing on top. Bill and Charlie, however, were busy with a very important discussion. Charlie, still unable to use magic outside of the grounds of their school, was attempting to interest Bill in trying a new charm he had found. Professor Kettleburn, Charlie's Care of Magical Creatures professor –COMC being Charlie's favorite class –had recommended a new book to him and he had borrowed it from the school library for the holiday.

"I've read all about it in 101 Ways to Classify Creatures and Animagi." Charlie was saying to his older brother excitedly, "It's a variation on the revelio charm. You've learned that for your NEWTs already, haven't you?" Charlie looked at his brother expectantly.

"Well, yes Charlie, but how can we test an Animagus revealing spell without an Animagus?"

"Well, that's why I want to try it, it isn't clear what happens when the spell is used on a regular animal –magical creatures will still glow when the magic from the spell interacts with their signature, but I want to see how it affects non-magical animals!"

"And this can't wait until the holidays are over?" Bill watched his little brother, amused at his eagerness –Charlie only ever cared about one class.

"No! Please Bill? I think this will make a great OWL project; I just want to see if I am on the right track so I can start researching."

"Oh, alright." Bill turned to another red-haired brother, "Percy, grab Scabbers for us, will you? We'll settle this quickly and then Mum can finally cut the cake."

Upon hearing this, Fred and George cheered and ran about the room, grabbing Ron and Ginny as they went. All four children ran rings around the family in an impromptu game of tag, causing their mother to sigh in exasperation and their father to chuckle under his breath. As Percy came back down the stairs, he was nearly bowled over by little Ginny trying to keep up with her big brothers.

The look of sheer indignation on his eleven-year-old brother's face made Bill smile. "Thanks Perce," he said, taking the fat rat, affectionately called Scabbers, from Percy.

"OK, so the incantation is revelio anima, and it's a simple point spell, more about intent than wand motions," Charlie told his older brother.

The rat started to squeal in Bill's grip. "Revelio anima," he said strongly, pointing his wand at the squirming animal. There was a sudden blue-white flash and Scabbers froze midair.

And turned into a man.


At 11:59pm on the 22nd of December, 1987, on a dreadful little island in the North Sea, a woman disembarked from a small, wooden boat, nodded to its operator and began to trek up to the Azkaban fortress. The woman's name was Head Auror Amelia Bones, she was thirty-two years old (the youngest Head Auror in the history of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement), and had been tasked with collecting a prisoner for trial. This particular prisoner, unbeknownst to the majority of the wizarding public, had been awaiting his trial for over six years. Amelia conjured her Patronus, a glowing white cat, and let it light her way through the oppressive darkness. She hurried straight to the main entrance to check in with the warden.

"Orders for prisoner 63892, signed by the Minister, immediate release to Auror custody for trial," she said quickly. Amelia handed a sheet of parchment to the warden, who ran his wand over the page, verifying the magical signature of Minister of Magic Millicent Bagnold and nodding to himself.

"They sent the Head Auror for a simple prisoner transfer?" he inquired curiously, usually a team of two general aurors supervised all transfers. Amelia did not respond; and, seeing her reluctance, the warden continued on, "Let's see, prisoner 63892…" He flicked his wand casually at the large tome lying open on the welcome desk. Amelia knew from her Azkaban rotation during Auror training that the pages held the records of all prisoners, dead or alive, incarcerated since 1718, the year the Wizengamot established Azkaban as a prison. The pages quickly flipped themselves until they reached the entry for 63892. "Black?!" he yelped.

"Yes," she responded without elaboration.

The warden's hands shook a little as he read the page. "V-very well, very well. He's on the upper floor, Block A, Cell 16." She watched him cast a quick wordless tempus charm. "The dementors should be moving on to Block B in a moment," he murmured, "the way is clear."

Amelia nodded to the warden and entered the gloomiest place on Earth.

On the cold, damp cement floor of Cell 16, a large black dog lay whimpering. His paws kneaded at the floor and his ears twitched as he fell into a restless half-doze. The dementors had finally left the floor for a few hours and he had only just begun to rest his mind.

A loud crash sounded at the floor's entrance as the gate was opened, jerking the dog awake. In moments, a man lay curled in its place. His dark, midnight black hair reached halfway down his back and was matted and dull. His once strong physique had melted to skin and bones and when he looked you in the eyes, his own were haunted, his gaze bleak. His pale skin was sallow and bruised.

"Sirius Black."

The man looked up blearily, no one had spoken directly to him in years, his only company had been the rattling breath of the Dementors and the obsessed screaming of the criminally insane. The brilliant white Patronus at Amelia's side warmed him enough to attempt to speak.

"Auror Bones," he rasped, his voice but a whisper on his tongue; his lips twisted into a smirk as he recognized her thin face and wide, blue eyes, "How lovely of you to visit my humble home."

Despite herself, Amelia smiled warmly at him, though she replied formally, "Prisoner 63892, by order of the Minister, you are being relocated to a Ministry holding cell to await your trial in one week's time."

The man's face twisted into the grimace, and black fire raged in his steel gray eyes for the first time since the 31st of October, 1981. "Did you find the rat?" he asked hoarsely.

Amelia grinned widely. "Oh, yes."

"Merlin."