The Ascension of Harry James Potter

Disclaimer/Plot/Author's Note: SEE FIRST CHAPTER

Dedication: I'd like to dedicate this story to Winged Seer Wolf for helping inspire me: my recommended reads are Harry Potter and The Ashes of Chaos, Harry Potter by ACI100, Life of the Independent by sukzee, Trickshot, Damaged Raven and I'm not a hero – Version 2 by JustBored21, Harry Potter and the Prince of Slytherin by The Sinister Man, Right Side of Hell by NeoMare, Harry Potter and the Founders Spirits by Angel N Darkness, Argent Knight of Pendragon by Ronin2106, The Court of Shadows by AlphaPheonix, The Return of the Ancient House of Black by Vahirum, Harry Potter and the Unexpected Friend and Harry Potter and the Unexpected Dogfather by CaskettFan5, His Loyal Pet and To Date A Metamorph by Just a Lonely Lorekeeper, Back in Black by IHateCheddar and Harry Black Book 1: The Hero's Return and Harry Black Book 2: The Rising Darkness by AuthorK

Key Pairing: Harry/Tonks/Luna/Astoria

Other Pairings: To be determined

Normal Speech

'Thoughts'

'Mental Speech'

/Parseltongue/

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Rising up from the floor where he'd made his bed for the night, the man smiled thinly as he whispered, "I'm coming, Harry…and, on Lily and James' graves, I solemnly swear I will do anything to earn your forgiveness for my stupidity…for death is only the beginning."

A soft pop followed his statement as the man, alias Sirius Black, vanished from his squat for the night.

Chapter 3: Harry Potter: Reborn

Changed.

If there was one word that best summed up how Harry felt after the mysterious power of the Peverell Altar had done…whatever it had done to him, it would be changed.

From the moment consciousness slowly returned to his body, bringing with it an overwhelming sense of muscular tension and strain in every bone, muscle, organ and even skin and hair cell in his body, Harry didn't know how he knew, but, somehow, he just knew he had been transformed by the power of the altar and his declaration announcing him as the new Peverell Family Head.

The first real sensation of this change was a weird feeling of disorientation, as well as the aches that plagued every fibre of his being; the second was an even-more unusual feeling of clarity that filled his mind, spreading outwards through him until, as consciousness started to stir physically, as well as emotionally and spiritually, Harry finally did the sane thing.

He opened his eyes.

For a brief moment, he was confused at the fact that everything he could see appeared to resemble looking through a kaleidoscope: disjointed, out of focus and twisted to the point of segmented, like he was seeing the world through a crystal prism.

Out of instinct more than anything else, Harry fumbled for his glasses, but, when he did so, he was surprised to hear a soft, breathless laugh fill his ears before a familiar voice managed to penetrate the thick fog of confusion that seemed to have fallen over his mind.

"You know, I'm no expert, little buck, but I think it goes without saying that your eyes might remember their old strength better if you took off those disgusting things the Dursleys called glasses."

Hearing the warm voice of his sire, or rather, the ghost of his sire, also brought Harry to full wakefulness, as well as clear memory, as he pulled himself up before, doing as James suggested, he reached up with a shaking hand as he pulled off his glasses. This also allowed Harry to view the world as it was meant to be viewed, allowing him to take in the sight of the Peverell Ritual Chamber and, just as importantly, the spectre of his Father, James Potter, who seemed to be somewhere between smiling with relief and amazement as he looked down at his son.

"Dad…" rasped Harry, but when he did so, he was surprised to feel a strong burning sensation ravage his throat.

Seeing his son's discomfort, James held up a hand as he told Harry, "Hey, it's all right, Harry: take it slow. Your body's been through…a really big, deep and powerful process."

"H-H-How?" croaked Harry.

Before James could answer, a soft pop announced Mira's arrival, complete with a glass of water for her living master; as she handed it to Harry, who took it thankfully and downed the contents in several gulps, James smiled softly, silently thanking Mira for realising without needing to be told that her new Master needed her, before he cleared his throat as he answered his son's question.

"The magic of the Peverell Family and, with it, the Potter Family, accepted you and then some: normally, when the new rightfully-recognised Head of the Family makes the declaration that you just did, the magic of the House envelops them and, over the course of a few hours, magically-infuses itself with their core, heightening their magical prowess while, at the same time, it…well, I think the right term would be regenerates them into a form and force worthy of the magic they've just embraced."

"Is…ahem…is that why I can see without needing the glasses?" asked Harry.

"For starters," replied James, looking down to Mira, who also seemed to be in awe of her new Master's reborn form as he asked, "Mira, can you conjure a full-length mirror, so Harry can see what he's become?"

"Yes James," said Mira, her use of his first name only emphasising the fact that Harry was now the Head of the Family, though there was still an air of respect aimed towards James, much to Harry's relief.

Even so, when Mira conjured the mirror and Harry saw what had become of him, he was definitely surprised: the first thing he noticed, rather-embarrassingly, was that the ritual's power had all-but shredded his clothes, leaving him naked as the day he was born. However, this also allowed Harry to see the full effect of the ritual and what it had done to the once-malnourished, unappreciated, scrawny little orphan from Little Whinging.

One thing was certain: he was not malnourished, scrawny or little anymore; thanks to the ritual, Harry would estimate he had shot up by at least a foot and, instead of ribs that almost showed the bones through the flesh, he was now lean, attractive, but pale, with an almost-elflike, supernatural glow about him that even he was willing to admit would turn a few female – and probably the odd male – heads when he went back to Hogwarts.

At a guess, Harry would put his height at being somewhere close to, if not taller than Fred and George Weasley, which would probably intimidate a few of his Housemates, not to mention anyone who thought they could look down their noses at him.

'I'm almost counting down the days until I meet a certain blonde prat again, if not his arse of a Head of House, that's for sure,' thought Harry, allowing a smile to cross his face while he was also impressed by the glow of new life that seemed to fill his emerald-green eyes, making them shine in a way that, to his slight discomfort, reminded him of the green flash he'd often seen in his nightmares.

At the same time, his hair was still wild and shaggy, but now, it seemed to have an air that made him look devilishly-handsome, especially with his bangs framing his green eyes in a way that almost seemed to make them stand out against the dark colouring of his hairstyle.

"Bloody hell," whispered Harry, though, as he did so, he also blushed as he remembered his Dad was there. "Oops, sorry, Dad."

"Harry, ghost, remember?" asked James, pointing to himself with an almost-comedic, if not sarcastic air as he added, "I can no more scold you for bad language than I can spank you for being a little brat, not that I would if I were alive. Trust me, cussing teenagers are about as normal as wand waving and silly incantations, to quote Snivellus."

Harry didn't know whether to be amused or surprised by that response, though, before he had a chance to make any sort of retort, he stiffened suddenly when a new magical force washed over him. At the same time, a loud bell sounded from somewhere over his head, making Harry look up while James smiled thinly.

"It's just the warding bell, kiddo; it means someone's come onto the island and seeks entry…and if it's who I think it is, you'll forgive me for wanting to scare the living bejesus out of him, but he's definitely someone who's got some 'splaining to do."

"Why?" asked Harry, looking to his Father as he asked, "Who do you think it is?"

"The Prisoner of Azkaban," said James, folding his arms while he smiled smugly as he added, "Mind you, Harry, if you're going to receive him, you might want to do yourself a favour and put some clothes on."

Even as Harry blushed at the reminder that he was still naked, James couldn't help but chuckle as he made one final remark about his point.

"After all, if my old friend gets a look at you, he might turn Slytherin-green with envy when he sees what you're packing."

Ascension

'I knew it. He is here.'

This was the thought that ran through Sirius Black's mind as he stood outside the large, black-iron gates that admitted one entry to the grounds of the Hallow House – as James had once told him it was called – the rest of the island outside the perimeter made up of sandy beaches and thick, dense forests that allowed only one path into and out of the grounds.

Namely through the gates themselves and, once inside, Sirius knew that the grounds' magic gave a perfect, scenic view of the world beyond the gates, using warding magic that many others – read: Malfoy – would have been jealous of if they knew of its existence and how to master it.

But, of course, they didn't: Peverell Magic was unique to the Peverells and, from what Sirius had felt when the Magic had touched him – though, if he was being honest now, it had felt more like that magic had skewered him, as though it was displeased with the stupid choice he'd made twelve years ago, and it had every right to be pissed in Sirius' honest opinion – this Magic was far greater and just more than any other before them.

And, rightly so, this Magic was in the hands of the only one whom, if anyone asked Sirius, he would have sworn any and all vows possible that this was the only one whom had any right to have access to such power.

He just hoped the new Lord Peverell would be forgiving.

As Sirius wondered how he was meant to start making up for his own naivety and stupidity from twelve years earlier, the so-called Prisoner of Azkaban gasped softly when the gates to the grounds opened. However, before Sirius could step onto the grounds, even he knew he'd need the permission of the Master of the House to enter the grounds or go anywhere near the last, true tie to his oldest and dearest of friends.

Again, not that he didn't admit he had very little, if not absolutely zero right to do so after what he had done.

As if the magic of the House and Family was listening to him, Sirius visibly jumped when a loud pop announced the arrival of a smart-looking elf, but she wasn't alone: with her was a tall, handsome-looking young man whom could have passed for someone of 17 years old. He was dressed in a suit of plain black robes with a darkest-blue-coloured crest shaped like a symbol that Sirius had seen only a few times before: a triangle with a circle and a stripe cutting through the other shapes.

This, Sirius knew, was the Mark of the Peverells – though many also wrongfully associated the symbol with Grindelwald – which meant that the young man standing in front of him, looking Sirius up and down with eyes greener than the Killing Curse and hair that could only belong to a Potter was the new Lord Peverell.

More-importantly, he was the young man whom Sirius had been waiting to see, if only to do what he did next.

Before the man could address Sirius, the Prisoner of Azkaban dropped to his knees, prostrating himself before Lord Peverell as he addressed him with a tone of voice that Sirius had never thought he would have to use because it'd mean his bitch, traditionalist Mother had finally won.

But, for this man…for his pup, he would gladly bare all and submit, even to the Old Ways.

"Lord Harrison James Peverell, I, Sirius Orion Black, put myself at your mercy and plead for sanctuary under House Peverell's banner: in return for this, and in payment of foolishness and debts owed, I vow to be your prisoner, your servant, your slave should you wish it. All I really desire is…"

"I forgive you."

Suddenly, Sirius' eyes widened as his head snapped up to see those green eyes – so much like Lord Peverell's late Mother, but more – looking down at him with a neutral, almost-stony expression.

"W-W-W-What?" asked Sirius, though he remained on his knees before the Peverell Lord as he asked, "W-W-What did you say?"

"I forgive you, Sirius," said Harry, his voice tinged with no small amount of emotion as he explained, "And…and I grant you sanctuary and protection under my House. As long as I am Lord, you are safe within my home until you betray my trust, or I help you acquire your freedom, whichever comes first: this is the vow of a Peverell."

Suddenly, Sirius' eyes widened when he saw a black flash envelop him; when the light faded, Sirius saw he was wearing a white-gold band on his left wrist, which was engraved with the Peverell Crest.

Harry, meanwhile, drew in a deep breath as he asked, "So, are you going to stay down there all day or are you going to get up and give your godson a hug, Padfoot?"

Sirius moved so fast, he may as well have been the living incarnation of Hermes: one minute, he was on the ground and, the next thing he knew, he had his arms around Harry, sobbing into his boy's shoulder as he whispered, "Harry…I…I'm so sorry; I…I promise; if I…if I could take it back…if I could go back and do it all again…"

"You'd be as predictable as you were on the night of my Stag Party," said Harry, earning a shocked look from Sirius as he stepped back before, to the alarm of the Prisoner of Azkaban, Harry's body seemed to glow before a silvery-white sheen bled out of his boy's body, rising up before, to Sirius' absolute disbelief, the silvery essence took on the form of someone whom Sirius had never thought he would see again.

Living or dead.

"P-P-P-Prongs?" asked Sirius, earning a wolfish smile from James Potter as he turned to Harry, who shivered with dread as he looked to the ghost of his Father.

"Brr…I hope I never have to do that again; being possessed is…weird!"

"Put the ring on now, son," said James, watching along with a speechless Sirius as Harry drew a gold ring with a black diamond in its crown – as well as the ghostly image of a Thestral engraved into the heart of the diamond – from his pocket before he slid the ring onto his finger.

"There you go," said James, nodding once as he added, "Now nothing can get in: no ghost, no Legilimens, nothing."

"But…I…you…he…that…you bastard!" exclaimed Sirius, earning a look of mocking innocence from James as the Black Lord snapped, "I nearly shit myself: what do you think you were playing at, you phantasmal prick?"

"Call it a Marauder-worthy form of payback for skipping out on my boy and chasing your tail seeking vengeance when you had something way more important to do, you clueless canine," insisted James, earning another dumbfounded look from Sirius while James smiled as he explained, "If I were you, I'd consider myself lucky, Sirius Black: after what you did, I'd say that scaring the living shit out of you with a little help from Bambi here was the least I could have done."

Sirius opened his mouth, then closed it again, then opened it again, though not before he smiled as he nodded before, indicating Harry, he laughed as he added, "Not so much a Bambi now, though, is he, Prongs? I mean, look at him: I'd say he looks like you, but, let's face it, you were never that handsome, not even when Lily finally decided to accept your marriage proposal."

"Not now, Sirius," said James, noticing Harry look at him with a questionable, if not smugly-curious air, even as the spectre continued addressing his old friend, "Anyway, now you're here, you can start by having a nice, long bath, changing out of those clothes and then, when you're at least half the decent bloke you once were, you and my boy need to sit down and talk…especially since I know your godfather's oath wasn't what brought you here, was it, Lord Black?"

"Ah," said Sirius, nodding once as he looked back to Harry before, rubbing the back of his neck in an awkward manner, the Prisoner of Azkaban shrugged as he asked, "I guess I should fill in a few blanks there, huh, pup? I mean, judging by the ring and what I can see you've become, I guess the Anointing Ritual did more than just recognise you as Lord Peverell, right, Prongs?"

"We can talk about all that later," said Harry, looking from Sirius to his Father as he asked, "But first, would it be okay if I went and got a couple of hours sleep, Dad? I mean, it is still early in the morning and I haven't slept, if you can call it that, since yesterday and the night before last."

"Go," agreed James, looking to Mira as he added, "Make sure he's not disturbed, Mira."

"Of course, James."

While Mira popped Harry away, Sirius, still shocked and stunned by the prank he had fallen for, looked back to his old friend with a curious air.

"Since when does she call you by your name? Even Lily couldn't make her do that."

Ascension

It was well past sunrise when Harry next made his appearance known, joining his Father and a now-cleaner, more-clean-shaven Sirius Black in the same lounge where James had filled in several blanks for Harry before taking him down to the Ritual Chamber.

Thanks to James' instruction, Sirius definitely looked better-off than before; he was still thin, no doubt thanks to Azkaban's influences, but now, he was more like a normal person, whatever that was. His hair was long and sleek while his beard and moustache had been cut short, giving him a proud, if not noble appearance that almost made him look like some sort of regal leader. (1)

He was also dressed in a loose set of robes while, when Harry walked into the room, he heard laughter coming from the former prisoner as he shared some unknown story with James, judging by Sirius' words, "So, you blame me for being the one to get Lily to turn you down when you proposed in Paris?"

"I seem to remember us having to leave the proposal, and the fireworks, because somebody thought it'd be funny to get hitched to a stripper at the Moulin Rouge," argued James, earning a scoff from Sirius.

"Okay, first of all, she wasn't a stripper: she was the owner's daughter and she was 20 years old; second, I was pissed and…"

"And I'm sure it's a funny story, but we don't have time for it," argued Harry, earning a surprised look from his Father and godfather, while Harry drew in a slow breath as he shrugged, "Sorry: I didn't know how else to get you two to stop reminiscing. Trust me, Sirius: looking back only gets you hurt and makes you remember things you'd rather forget and…well, from what I've heard of Azkaban, I'd think you've had more than your fill of doing that, am I right?"

"As rain, kiddo," said James, shrugging at Sirius' questionable look as he added, "Sorry, Siri: call it the ghost-to-the-house thing, or call it latent feelings about what you did that night, but when it comes to what happened between then and now, I can't disagree with Harry."

"I suppose," agreed Sirius, looking from his old friend to his godson as he added, "And, now James isn't playing ventriloquist, Harry, let me say it again: I am sorry. I know nothing I can say will make up for how you've suffered because I was too stupid and drunk on revenge to make the right choices, but, if you'll let me, I hope what I do from now on can, at least, mend some of the damage."

"We'll see," said Harry, sitting in the same chair he'd been in while he'd listened to his Father's explanations before he asked, "For now, why don't we start with what the hell happened to me down there? You said the ritual did more than just recognise me as Lord Peverell, Sirius?"

"Yep," said Sirius, popping the p cheekily as he leaned back in his own seat, James seemingly content to hover between them as he explained his point further. "You see, Harry, James'll tell you this himself and so would anyone else who knows me, but I'm not really the sort that wanted to settle down, get married or even condemn anyone to having to join my olden-days-obsessed, blood-purist, uber-traditionalist dicks of a family."

"Hear, hear," remarked James, earning a faint smile from Harry while Sirius went on.

"So, when Lily and James made the decision to name me your godfather and had me take my vows to never harm you and always try to do right by you, I took it one step further and, with permission from your parents, I Blood-Adopted you, making you my son and heir to the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black."

"Wow!" gasped Harry, his eyes as wide as saucers as he asked, "So…so you're sort of like my adoptive Dad, huh?"

"And you, right from the moment I first held you in my arms, have been and always will be the son I never had," agreed Sirius, earning a snort from James, which made Sirius scowl as he added, "Don't call me a liar, Prongs: I know the choices I made might not make it seem like I have the right to be any sort of father, much less godfather, to your kid, but it's true. Not a day went by in Azkaban where his cute face, bright eyes and innocent laughter didn't fill my ears, making me remember what my stupidity had cost me. And, when I broke out, I had two goals: get my boy back and, once I was sure he knew and understood that nothing would keep me from his side again, get my name cleared…by getting my paws on Pettigrew!"

"Wormtail?" asked James, earning a confused look from Harry, even as James asked, "But, I thought the rumour was you'd killed him, along with twelve Muggles and all that they could find of him was…"

"A finger," finished Sirius, nodding firmly as he exclaimed, "The dirty little coward cut it off himself and then blew apart the street, not even caring about the Muggles or anything else: all that mattered was that the filthy rat could scurry away to find a new hole…and he did."

Here, Harry's eyes widened when Sirius produced a clipping from the Daily Prophet from his pocket, which he then handed to Harry as he told him, "You're not going to believe me, Harry, I know, but…there is the reason James is a ghost and Lily…Lily is lost…"

Even as Sirius sniffled, Harry looked to where he was pointing.

When he did so, however, his eyes widened again while, to James' unease and Sirius' surprise, a great wave of cold, dark-tinged magic seemed to fill the air as Harry looked at the spot where Sirius was pointing.

Namely the image of Harry's best friend, Ronald Weasley.

Or, to be more-specific…

The toeless form of Scabbers sitting on Ron's shoulder.

"Scabbers…" whispered Harry, rage and disbelief in his voice as he asked, "Scabbers…is…Pettigrew?"

"Alive and squeaking," said Sirius.

"But…but he's been in the same room…the same dormitory as me for…for two years now: why…why didn't he…how come he didn't try anything? If he was less than five feet from me, how come he's not tried to make sure the job was finished?"

"And risk breaking cover?" asked Sirius, scoffing in amused disbelief as he glared daggers at the picture in his hand.

Though not as coldly, deathly or with promises of absolution as those in Harry's Avada-Kedavra-coloured eyes as he stared at the reason his parents were dead and he'd been forced to put up with the Dursleys for twelve years, while Sirius went on, "I told you he was a coward, Harry…that's why we have to make sure he doesn't get away again."

"He won't!" growled Harry.

As he did so, Sirius and James both gasped as the flames in the hearth suddenly turned an eerie, almost-ghostly shade of blue, almost as though the magic within them was responding to the ire of the Master of the House, as said master went on.

"I'm going to find him, Sirius, I promise you: and when I do, he's going to be sorry…when I do, I'm going to kill him!"

Chapter 3 and it looks like Harry's going to make absolutely certain the traitor knows what happens when you think you can defy the Peverell Family and get away with it, but, unlike canon, will he make good on his promise?

Can Harry Potter actually kill someone and make sure they realise they should have made sure they stayed dead?

Keep Reading to Find Out

Next Chapter: Sirius gives Harry a little more insight into his new role as Lord Black while James makes a surprising discovery about another addition to his boy's arsenal; also, it's time for the inevitable: Lord Black meets those who are subservient to him, but when said subordinates realise who their new Lord is, who will take the knee and who will run the risk of tickling the sleeping dragon?

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AN (1)

So, as strange as it'll sound, as devilishly-handsome as cleaner Sirius was in OOTP, when I imagine Sirius with a real clean-up, I imagine Gary Oldman's legendary role as Count Dracula and how he looked when he was in the UK making the moves on Mina; weird? Maybe, but that's what I imagine…