Alternate Universe with extended Potter and Black family members. Most names are from the Black family tree and the Potter Family write-up on Pottermore. A lot of the characters who died in canon are still alive. Plenty of character-in-name, secondary, and tertiary characters get shine in this story. Some of their existences have been explained on my profile.

I hope you enjoy (•‿•)

Potter, A History

Tale of the Three Brothers

3 November 1985

"Good evening, Harry."

Gellert Grindelwald had stepped into the room in sweeping, silver robes. He was a tall man with white hair that went straight back and electric blue eyes. His neat, ducktail beard was also pure white and the tip touched his breast bone.

Harry Potter was a small and thin boy with messy, black hair and bright green eyes. He got to his feet. "Good evening, sir."

Harry had been confined to a large, airy room with pastel blue walls covered in gold motifs. The floor was glossy, brown wood in a chevron design. A huge, four poster, covered in pale blue bedding, was in the center of the room. On the left side was a wall of arched windows that overlooked a colorful garden and a lake in the distance.

The two stood face to face. Or as face to face as their height difference allowed. Harry did stare up at the man who towered over him and Grindelwald stared him down.

"Did you bow to Voldemort?" was asked in French.

Harry tilted his head. "Tom?" He laughed. "No."

Grindelwald eyed him. "You are so fearless. Such audacity is admirable and surprising from a child, but it makes you so very dangerous."

"Thank you."

"I have a tendency to eliminate all threats to myself."

Harry nodded. "I know. Barty told me."

"And yet you didn't flee. Why?" When Harry hesitated, he said, "Come. Dinner is on the terrace."

They sat down to eat sauerbraten with red cabbage and potato dumplings.

"We decided you are more useful alive than dead. Well, Albus did. He has a thing about youth and chances, but I'm still uncertain," Grindelwald said as Harry ate. "I'm aware far too many were missing from the houses. I need names."

Harry exhaled. "What will you do to them?'"

"Who did you save?"

"What will you do?"

Grindelwald leaned forward to look into Harry's eyes. "I ask the questions here."

"I have the answers."

"I can snatch them from your mind, but I am attempting to be polite."

Grindelwald attempted to start another staring match, but Harry looked away.

"Oh, you are smart. Well done, Tom." He laughed low and sat back. "Depending on who it is, I may not harm them. However, you will give me a list of names and you will keep me abreast of all the things you do."

Harry tilted his head. "I can leave?"

"I have no wish to make you my prisoner, but freedom will only be granted if you give me names."

Harry sighed. "Regulus Black."

Grindelwald sat up straight. "Black and Potter reunited. Go on."

"Karkaroff, Nott, Ulrich Lestrange and his sons. Evan Rosier, Michael Wilkes, William Mulciber, and Severus Snape. The Malfoys…"

Harry went on to list all he could remember with the exception of one name. When he started naming muggleborns, the vestiges of emotional control abandoned Grindelwald. His eyes widened and his face flushed.

"The majority of the children are half-bloods," Grindelwald concluded. "He bred an army of half-bloods. How was he raising you?"

"Some of the Eaters would teach us. School stuff and how to fight."

Grindelwald picked up Harry's arm to exam the bracelet. "I will ask each school, pre-preparatories and the Elite. He, no doubt, ensured all of you would infiltrate the best of the best," he mused. "Where were you to go?"

"Jixia."

Grindelwald released his wrist. "And who besides Black was your teacher?"

"Bellatrix, Snape, Reg, and Tom." There was one more, but he, again, kept that to himself.

Grindelwald nodded. "Only the best for you. I take it you aren't familiar with Mandarin?"

Harry shook his head.

"Would you like to be?"

He shook his head. "Greek."

"You want to go to Syracuse?"

Harry shook his head. "Athens."

"Syracuse will teach you Latin and peoplehood."

"I don't need to learn Latin," Harry retorted in the very language. "Barty said I'm an athlete and the Palladion is a better fit."

Grindelwald ate some of his cabbage before asking, "Any other special things you can do? Besides throw balls of fire by force of will and utter determination? Crouch hopes to make you into a renowned duelist, I hope you know."

Harry hesitated then decided he needed to be honest to keep Regulus alive so he hissed.

Grindelwald stiffened. "You are so very dangerous and so very useful. What a conundrum."

When they finished eating, Grindelwald brought Harry back inside and made him go wash for bed. When Harry reemerged from the bathroom, Grindelwald was still there. Now he sat in a conjured chair holding a book.

Harry neared him and was surprised to find himself lifted onto the old man's lap. He narrowed his eyes. Tom had done the same whenever Harry had to spend a day with Snape and Bellatrix.

"I take it no one ever read you fairytales?"

Harry nodded. "The stars."

Grindelwald opened the book and turned to the back. "The Tale of the Three Brothers. This is my favorite in this book."

Harry settled in as Grindelwald started reading. He listened with a frown on his lips as Grindelwald told the tale of three brothers surviving a river byway of magic and running into the Death. Death gave them rewards that eventually got them killed. Well, except the last brother who recognized the ploy for what it was.

"Do you think they're real?" Harry asked.

Grindelwald nodded. "I believe all fairytales have truth to them. Every muggle fairytale and all the myths are based on our very real magic." He tapped the book. "In fact, it is rumored The Wizard and the Hopping Pot is based on Linfred Potter and his son, Quintinus. We know Linfred aided muggles for centuries and it is rumored that Quintinus' line is more pure than the others, so it is possible."

Harry yawned. "Can you read that one to me?"

Grindelwald indulged him, but Harry couldn't remember much of it. At some point he'd fallen asleep, but the thought of Potters and potions stayed with him. Grindelwald hadn't been the first to mention the connection, but now, since he was free of Snape, maybe he could enjoy them. Or even find a love for them.

••

Bathilda Bagshot

4 November 1985

The next morning, after Harry had breakfast by himself, Grindelwald returned with a guest.

She was a small, ancient looking woman with a low bun full of white hair. She wore flowery, navy blue robes and held her black purse with both her hands.

"Harry, this is Mrs. Bathilda Bagshot," Grindelwald said. "Aunt, this is Harry Potter."

"History of Magic Bathilda Bagshot?"

"Yes," Grindelwald said. He stepped further into the room and waved his wand. Bookcases, along with a desk and chair, appeared on the right side of the room. "She will be continuing your pre-magical education until you go to Athens or Syracuse. Regardless of where you go, I expect you to do as my aunt asks."

Harry nodded.

Grindelwald excused himself and Mrs. Bagshot relaxed.

"You are certainly a Potter." She beckoned Harry over to the sitting area then, when she was seated on the powder blue sofa, pulled out a stack of books from her bag. They weren't big by any means, though. In fact, they were the size of the children's books Taurus and Stephanie had purchased. "I'm told you're fluent in Latin. In due time, we'll work on both. These are in Latin and we'll make our way through them today. We'll turn to Greek in January."

Harry sat on the floor, by her knee, reading through the books. The experience was new and surprising. On the rare occasion he mispronounced a word, he cringed, but she just gently corrected him. A lot of what he read was old, but he was able to ask related questions he'd had after each book he went through.

After three hours, which consisted of a few breaks, she placed the books back in her bag. However, she didn't immediately leave.

"Do you intend to stay here?"

He shrugged. "I might go to my aunt or grandmother."

Mrs. Bagshot raised her eyebrows.

"Black and Rosier."

She exhaled. "You have other family." She hesitated then said, "I believe I know who your mother is."

"I know who she is," he said. "I don't want her."

She hesitated, but nodded. "The Potters are still very much alive. If Lily Evans is your mother, James Potter will have to be your father. Henry is in England, too. They will not reject you."

Harry sighed. "I don't know them an' I don't want to. I don't care about being a Potter or an Evans."

Mrs. Bagshot patted his hand. "They are good people, who will have your best interests at heart, but I will not force you to go to England. I wouldn't even if it was in my power."

"Thank you."

From her bag, she pulled out more books. "Read these in your free time. I won't give you a due date, but I do expect you to read them."

••

Off With His Head

9 November 1985

Grindelwald had Harry on his lap again.

The Acolytes, members of Grindelwald's army who wore purple robes with gold masks, looked at each other. Harry felt Dumbledore's eyes on them, too. He dared to look at him once, but the shock was so great it was hilarious and Harry didn't want to laugh. It would bounce off the walls.

They were in the Throne Room, a vast hall made of gray stone with tall, arching windows and torches that provided dim lighting. He and Grindelwald sat in a chair with dark purple upholstery. Dumbledore's was lavender.

Two more Acolytes dragged a prisoner in. He had long, white blond hair and cold, gray eyes. Abraxas Malfoy was covered in dirt and dried blood.

He was as filthy as he'd always accused Harry of being.

At the sight of Harry in Grindelwald's lap, his eyes widened and the remaining color in his face abandoned him.

"Well, Abraxas, what do you have to say for yourself?" Grindelwald asked in French.

"I apologize for my actions. I knew not what I was about," Abraxas said.

Grindelwald hummed. "Are you implying your mind wasn't your own?"

Abraxas glanced at Harry, who stared back at him. "Yes."

Grindelwald looked at Harry. "Do you think Tom was in control of him?"

Harry shook his head.

"I-I can give you names!"

Grindelwald tilted his head. "By all means."

Abraxas looked at Harry with a smile on his lips, but the malice in his eyes belied it. "Regulus Black."

"I know,"Grindelwald said. "I have already spoken to Mr. Black. And he has agreed to a lifetime of work."

Abraxas glanced at Harry again and bared his teeth. Harry stuck his tongue out.

"The Dark Lord had a number of muggleborns in his service."

Grindelwald tutted. "We have already learned of such information, Abraxas. Tell me something I don't know."

"Severus Snape, Evan Rosier, the Lestranges – "

Grindelwald sighed. "You're wasting my time, Abraxas."

Grindelwald got to his feet as Abraxas shouted, "Augustus Rookwood!"

Out of his peripheral, he saw Dumbledore sit up. Harry turned to Bartemius Crouch. He, too, looked surprised. Grindelwald, however, didn't care.

"You expected to enter this room and lie to me," Grindelwald said. "But I know all. I know everything." Grindelwald placed Harry in his chair. "You opened your home and allowed it to be used as a base and prison," he said as he walked to him. "You willingly followed your old friend and encouraged your son to do the same. You pointed me in Pollux' direction. You made a fool of me, Abraxas, and that I cannot abide."

In a blink, his wand was in his hand. He slashed it like a sword and, indeed, Abraxas' head slipped off his neck. His neck sprayed Grindelwald on its way down and the rest of Abraxas' body hit the floor with a thud.

Harry sat back with wide eyes.

Grindelwald, who had flecks of blood on his face, picked up the head and left the room as a sea of red flooded his floor.

••

Aunt Cass

15 November 1985

Harry made it to Cassiopeia's house the next weekend. He slipped through the front door of the townhouse, which had cream-colored walls and silver trimmings, and paused for a second. He heard voices and wished to distinguish from whence they came.

After tiptoeing to his room and using the bathroom, he went back downstairs and poked his head into the dining room. There he found Cassiopeia, a tall, stately woman with long, graying black hair and dark eyes. She had the same square jaw and angular face as Bellatrix and was just as beautiful. She, along with the people eating breakfast with her, looked at the door upon its opening.

"Salut," he said with a grin.

Cassiopeia inhaled and brought herself up to her fullest height. "Where the hell have you been?"

Harry frowned. "Good morning to you, too, Madam."

A man with silver hair and striking, silver eyes looked at Harry. He looked a lot like Regulus. "I assume this is Harry Potter the Second." When Harry nodded, he said, "Arcturus Black." He then introduced his wife, a round-faced woman with hazel eyes. "Melania and my daughter, Lucretia Prewett."

She was blonde with her father's angular face and mother's hazel eyes.

"Hi," he said as he walked further into the dining room.

"I thank you for keeping my line going and for Narcissa, too," Mr. Black said.

He sat next to Mrs. Prewett and she passed him the toast. "Where is Regulus?"

"He is assisting Headmaster Gorbach at Durmstrang. Next year he will either teach Dark Arts or Astronomy."

So that's what a lifetime of work meant.

"You still haven't answered my question?"

Harry looked at Cassiopeia.

"Where have you been? Celestine has been harassing me and I have a letter for Charlus that I couldn't send."

He spread raspberry jam on his toast. "Berlin."

That brought her up short and she didn't ask him another question until they were alone. He was on his bed reading Titans of Tartarus, a book of Mrs. Bagshot, when someone knocked on his door. He looked up as she entered.

"What did you do?"

He closed his book. "Nothing."

"You did something in exchange for Regulus."

"Not really," he said. "I just had to give names and I sorta told on the muggleborns." He shrugged. "Whatever."

She rubbed her arms. "And you must go back?"

Harry shook his head. "Can I stay here? Draco is at the garden."

"You may come and go as you please? You are not required to live with Gellert Grindelwald?"

Harry shook his head. "No. Can I stay here?"

"You have family."

"All in France."

She sighed. "You have family in England. People who look like you. Very much like you. Do you not wish to find your mother?"

"No," he spat.

She exhaled. "You have never asked to stay here before, but if you wish to stay with me, you will meet Charlus."

"Papa's father?"

"Yes, if you can give comfort to Celestine, you should at least go meet with Charlus." When Harry looked doubtful, she said, "He is a distant cousin by birth, but your eponym has considered him a son for most of his life. Henry took him in much like Taurus did with you. He is lonely, miserable, and grieving. Pay him a visit and give him the letter in your bag. If he turns you away, you may return here and have nothing to do with them."

Harry huffed. "Fine."

••

Charlus

22 November 1985

Bartemius Crouch, who he'd met for lunch in Paris, gave him a port-key to Greece.

"It would be prudent to meet with Charlus or Henry," Bartemius had said.

Harry, who'd had a croque monsieur in his hand, had said, "Fine."

"I'm not arguing this. You will go see…did you say fine?"

"Yes, and since you're bossing me around, can I have a port-key?"

So, that Friday he landed outside an iron gate somewhere in Greece. It was tall with antlers framing the lock. Harry took out the pen knife Arcturus had loaned him and stuck it in the cylinder. To his amazement, it clicked open.

Beyond the gates was a white villa with pale blue roofing. The door opened a hair, but no one came outside. In fact, it shut quicker than it had opened. It was no matter for Harry stuck the knife in the lock and that, too, unlocked.

He entered a house with cream-colored walls and a honed, beige limestone floor. The tall, white vases were full of yellow orchids and the portraits of men and women who looked like him had golden frames.

A dark-haired woman dressed in royal blue robes looked him over critically. She had a sword in her hand and a shield on her back. "And who are you?"

When he told them he spoke Latin and French, she repeated herself in the former.

"Harry Potter."

Her eyebrows skyrocketed and she looked over at another portrait. This one was a thin man with messy, black hair and the same stormy, gray eyes as her. His, though, were behind a set of rectangular glasses. "Who do you belong to?"

"I was told James Potter is my father by birth and Taurus in spirit."

"I'm Hardwin Potter," the man said. "Linfred and Evadne's firstborn. That's my sister, Nichola, eldest after me. Welcome to the family." He pointed straight ahead. "Charlus is down there. Don't let him offend you. Much like Quintinus and the rest of his children, he's an acquired taste."

Harry exhaled. "Thanks."

With one last sigh he turned down the hall and kept walking until he met a living room. It had a wall of glass windows and a door that showed a pool and beach not too far in the distance.

A broad-shouldered man with large arms looked at him. He had brown hair and a thick, wild beard that covered half his face.

His bloodshot, blue eyes met Harry's. "Who the hell are you?"

While he got the gist of that, to save himself some trouble, he said the same thing to Charlus that he said to Nichola and Charlus repeated himself.

"Harry Potter."

"You are not."

Harry snorted and walked forward. "Am, too."

"What fool named you that?"

Harry opened the front zipper on his backpack then removed an envelope. "Taurus." When Charlus just stared at Harry, the latter said, "Aunt Cass said to stop being a miserable arse for five minutes and read the damn letter. Her words. Not mine. I'm just a messenger."

Charlus took the envelope. "This is his hand." He ripped open the envelope and read the parchment inside. When he finished, he said, "I'm not your grandfather. I mean, you have a grandfather."

Harry nodded. "I know Grandpapa Laurent said I can come by anytime, but Aunt Cass made me come here.

Charlus twisted his lips and stared at Harry. At last he said, "Alright, you little shit. You may claim me as a grandfather. Biological or not, I will not be outdone by Laurent Rosier."

"What if I don't want to?" When Charlus looked insulted, Harry shrugged. "I don't know you."

Charlus sat up. "What the hell did you come here for?"

"Barty and Aunt Cass made me come here."

Charlus leaned forward. "Barty and Aunt Cass? Bartemius Crouch and Cassiopeia Black?"

Harry nodded.

Charlus looked over the letter again. He shook his head. "Who are you?"

"Harry Potter."

Charlus rolled his eyes. "Where did you come from?"

"Malfoy Manor and Delphinium House," Harry drawled.

Charlus furrowed his brow. "You're James son with that muggleborn." He closed his eyes. "Evans. The little girl with the green eyes. Lavender or Lilac or…"

"Lily."

"Where is she?"

Harry shrugged. "Don't know and don't care." He sighed. "I'm here 'cause someone made me. You want me to leave? I will and I won't come back."

Harry didn't know if he wanted to be thrown out or not, but he'd live either way.

"I'm not allowed to do that," Charlus said. "Least of all because this isn't my bloody house."

"Where's Darius? Last I heard he was alive."

Charlus raised his eyebrows. "Ianus?"

He rolled his eyes. "Harry."

"You locked the closet?"

"Unfortunately."

Charlus' eyebrows skyrocketed. "He doesn't like you."

Harry nodded. "And I don't like him. He was teased for being a Potter and wants to be a Rosier, but Evan is going to kill him for it."

"And in less than ten minutes you've answered every question I've had," he said. "Who was with Evan?"

"Snape, Wilkes, and Mulciber."

Charlus rubbed his face. "Who is Snape?"

"His mother is someone named Eileen Prince."

Charlus inhaled deeply. "Well we earned this, I suppose."

"I didn't, thank you very much."

Charlus rubbed his forehead. "Malfoy Manor and Delphinium House? I imagine Tristan gave you hell? And Abraxas, too?"

"Yes," Harry spat.

"And Cassiopeia rescued you from the townhouse?"

Harry shook his head. "Reg and Bella."

Charlus paused with his fingers against his forehead. "Regulus and Bellatrix Black rescued a half-blood from their cousin's house? Why not the blood? No offense, but this is strange."

"I'm valuable to Tom Riddle and I didn't give a damn about your grandson."

"That's not very Potter of you."

Harry shrugged. "I'm not a Potter."

Charlus waved the parchments around. "Not according to this birth certificate. Your name is Harry James Potter born the thirty-first of July. You look like that side of the family and sound just as annoying."

"I don't know those people."

"Would you like to?"

Harry shook his head.

"Why?"

Harry shrugged.

Charlus stared him down then nodded. "You don't really want me to throw you out. Sitting here doing your best to be nonchalant." He moved his head mockingly. "You'll probably cry outside if I tell you to leave. Laurent and Celestine have probably accepted you, but you still feel out of place at the palace."

Harry stared at him.

"If they're constantly inviting you over and asking you to prolong your stay, I promise you're not a bother," he said. "Take it from one stray to another." He pointed to the ceiling. "You can take a bedroom upstairs or occupy the villa over there," he said as he moved the finger to the doors. "Meals are over here, though. There's a tunnel in the cellars that connects the houses. Don't want you running through the rain."

Harry exhaled, but bit his lip. "Do you have a vanishing cabinet?"

"Why?"

"Grindelwald wants me to meet with Bathilda Bagshot for tutoring so I can go to the Palladion when I'm seven."

Charlus stared at him with his mouth slightly open.

"What?" Harry asked.

"You have one hell of a story to tell and I want to hear every detail."

••

The Dawn of Potter

23 December 1985

Charlus did have a vanishing cabinet. Or someone he knew did. Either way, Harry used the cabinet to travel to Bathilda Bagshot's home in England every week day from eight-thirty to eleven her time.

Grindelwald also port-keyed Harry to his home once a week.

"He's not going to keep this up," Charlus told Harry one evening. "He wants me and, more importantly, Henry to know he can exercise control over you at anytime."

Harry rolled his eyes and stretched out on the sofa. "Can I ask a question?"

"Yeah?"

"How come you can live in a house like this? Why didn't Grindelwald take it?"

Charlus snorted. "You see that portrait on the wall? The Palladian house?"

Harry nodded.

"That's Dawn Park. It's in Stinchcomb. Gloucestershire, England. The first Potter, Lindfred, was born in a small village there," Charlus said. "He had seven kids and made a lot of money. Enough to leave each one wealthy in their own right when he died." He held up a finger. "Edmund went to New Zealand. Evangelina went northeast with her husband to Finland. The two youngest, Diana and Theocles, went to the states. Hardwin, Nichola, and Quintinus stayed in England."

"And they built that house?"

Charlus pointed at him. "No!"

Harry rolled his eyes and laid back on the couch.

"They built a nice, simple manor house for us just outside Stinchcombe and we lived there, building a fortune, for centuries. Almost five hundred years," he said. "It was a sizeable piece of land and we were content there. The house was smaller than our neighbors', but we were richer and had homes in other places for holidaying." He held up his hands. "This is old, but wives like to renovate."

Harry took out a bag of jelly slugs from his backpack. "Where else?"

"There's a villa on Lake Como. Frederick has it now. A marriage gift some time ago. We like to unite the families every century or so," he said. "We're distant enough, so we can pretend it's not inbreeding. There's a few in the West Indies. A nice one in Turks and Caicos." He waved his hand around. "Let's just say if we traveled some place and liked it, we were able to purchase a place to stay so we could return."

Harry nodded. "Nice."

Charlus inclined his head. "Anyway…we were in that house for well over four hundred years marrying wealthy neighbors, muggle and magical, except one! And building a fortune largely through potion-making, herbology, and, admittedly, dueling and gambling. Until the Statute of Secrecy."

Harry frowned.

"Let's backtrack a little. Our closest magical neighbors were Gaunt and Nott. They weren't that far from us. Rookwood was a little further away, and Gamp and Prince were further away – inside Stinchcombe – and up the hill."

Harry looked at him. "Prince?"

Charlus nodded. "In the late seventeenth century, right around the time the Statute was being enacted, Richard Potter was dating, and in love with, Ophelia Prince," Charlus said. "She was a squib."

Harry sat up. "Merlin…"

"As a magical person, it was difficult to marry a non-magical person during the Statute years," Charlus said. "Initially, you couldn't even perform magic in front of them. You pretty much had to separate yourself from the magical world. People had to place their wands under lock and key. Richard didn't want to do that."

Harry just stared in amazement as it was all coming together.

Charlus nodded. "So he walked away. Naturally, Ophelia didn't like that. And neither did her father. One evening, Erebus Prince went down to a muggle parish in a neighboring village. He told them about a family practicing magic on their estate."

Harry gaped.

"Muggles rode their horses by the house. We had a nice working relationship with our neighbors. We helped them out and they left us alone, so we weren't in a rush to protect ourselves. The muggles from the village over saw little Dawn in her garden levitating a flower. One afternoon, she went down to the village with Richard and never returned. They found her burned body attached to a stake the next morning and the doll she loved was blackened in her hand."

"You took the Princes' stuff and made them poor," Harry concluded. "But that doesn't answer my question. Not the one I just asked anyway."

Charlus furrowed his brow. When it relaxed, he said, "Right. What I was getting at, was this house is nothing to the great estates, Dawn Park and Potter Manor, both of which Grindelwald knocked down."

"Oh."

"Ethan, Frederick's son, they're in New York, gave himself over to Grindelwald much to his father's dismay," Charlus said. "They have their land and the house has been rebuilt. Henry on the other hand is one, in Dumbledore's territory, and two, chose to save the fortune. The New York branch is and has married wealthy, but he's from one line. Henry is pretty much in control of Hardwin, Nichola, and Quintinus' shit, though he's given a lot of the latter to me."

Harry nodded. "I get it. No one bowed because you never felt like you had to and you can live here 'cause no one knows about it. But wait…he killed Abraxas?"

"In Germany," Charlus said. "Henry was in England and spent some years in chains. I'd bet my hand Abraxas thought their relationship in years past would keep him safe. Had he just waited for Dumbledore he might still be here. Dumbledore isn't passive, he just moves slow. He's a strategist who thinks we all have uses." Charlus held up a finger. "He'll kill you, too, but your death will have meaning." He snorted. "You'll die for a 'Greater Good.'"

Suddenly the Jelly Slugs tasted like rubber in his mouth.

'We decided you are more useful alive than dead. Well, Albus did.'

"What?" Charlus asked.

Harry shrugged then laid back on the sofa. "Dumbledore didn't let him kill me."

"Oh…well, yes. Someone as close to Tom Riddle as you were? I'd keep you alive, too." He sighed. "But if you're going to be the protégé of Tom Riddle and Gellert Grindelwald, you have a far better chance at surviving their machinations than the fools who couldn't see the truth in front of them." When Harry didn't respond, Charlus changed the subject. "I'm going to England tomorrow for Christmas and you're coming with me."

Harry day straight up. "What?"

"And you better not run in the middle of the night. Don't make me lock these doors."

••

Who's Your Mother?

25 December 1985

"So…who's your mother?"

James Potter, a tall, lean many with messy, black hair and hazel eyes, swatted his friend's arm. Sirius Black, an even taller man with lustrous, black hair and the same striking, silver eyes as his brother, grinned.

They were in the living room at Euphemia and Fleamont's house. The bottom half of the walls were paneled, dark wood and the top was olive green. A huge Christmas tree, decorated in reds and greens, was in the corner. The adults sat in beige seats. Harry and Simeon, a handsome, little boy with blond hair and big, blue eyes like his mother, were on the floor.

"For Merlin's sake, Sirius," Charlus said. "You couldn't wait to gossip about it later like everyone else?"

Sirius smirked at Charlus then turned to Harry. "Well?"

Harry, who was unwrapping an orange and silver box from Bartemius, peeked up at Sirius. "My mother is Luella."

Sirius' eyes widened as Harry looked at Charlus, who had choked on his tea.

"I – the hell did you say, boy?!"

Harry couldn't answer for he was giggling with his face in the box. When he straightened, he smirked at the unhappy Charlus then returned to the contents of the box. It had a bunch of combat magic related books written in Greek or Latin. A number of Jelly Slug bags were underneath the books.

"Luella is not his mother and I don't want to talk about it," Charlus announced. To Sirius he said, "Shut. Up."

Harry grabbed another box. This one was black and small with a purple bow. Inside it was a pen knife with HJP engraved on it.

"There aren't any Blacks with green eyes like that," Sirius mused. "I imagine he has his mother's eyes, yes?"

Harry looked at Sirius. "You look like your grandfather and you act like your cousin, Bella."

Sirius, who had paled, opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

Naomi Potter, a beautiful woman with long, curly blonde hair and doe-like, blue eyes, laughed.

Charlus tipped his cup. "That's what you get."

"I didn't realize you were still close to the Blacks," Henry Potter said.

He was taller than Sirius and thinner, too. His white hair was messy and his green eyes were behind silver, rectangular glasses. His most notable feature was the long scar that extended from his left ear to his jaw.

"I'm not, but circumstances have placed us in their paths again."

Harry picked up a long box with white paper. A single, red rose went down its length and a red bow was in the center.

"Are you sure Luella isn't his mother, Charlie?" Euphemia asked. She was a kind-faced woman who had the same hazel eyes as her son.

Charlus rolled his eyes as Harry tossed the lid off the box. Inside was a new Nimbus 1500. "Oh, no. You will wait for the sun."

Harry just pouted.

Henry and Sirius, who hadn't met Harry the day before, stared at him all day long. Charlus kept Harry close and did his best to avoid them.

But some things were unavoidable.

Harry was in the bedroom he and Charlus shared when Sirius slipped inside. He closed and locked the door then waved his wand so that the windows shut. Harry also recognized the wand movement for silencing a room.

"Who's your mother?"

Harry looked up from his toy cauldron. "None of your business, Black."

He walked over to Harry then stooped down to look into Harry's eyes. "They don't see it," he said. "They're seeing what they want to, especially James. I can't believe this. Mr. Henry does, but he's probably looking for it. Even he doesn't know who you're mother is, though, but he knows Charlus isn't your father."

"You're annoying like Reg said."

Sirius laughed. It reminded Harry of a dog's bark. "Thank you. Would you like to speak to your mother."

"No! And if you try to make me I'll set you on fire." A ball of it appeared in his hand to emphasize the point.

Sirius held up his hands and nodded. "Lily Evans is definitely your mother – shit!" He was quick. He ducked and doused the fire before it could touch anything. "I should kick your arse for that."

Harry got to his feet with fire in his hands. "Try it."

Sirius didn't, but that, no doubt, was only because Charlus was banging on the door. Sirius waved his wand and the door flew open.

Charlus stumbled inside and shut the door. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"I was about to duel your cousin and Bellatrix' protégé."

Charlus marched over to Sirius. "If you say one word, I will make you so fucking miserable you'll beg for your mother."

Sirius stepped back and rolled his shoulders. "That was nasty and you realize I'm a firstborn whose had his birthright stolen from him, right?"

"You don't even want it, you pitiful swine." Charlus took a deep breath and exhaled. "By all means, go tell your happily married friend and his parents, his bastard is upstairs."

"Oi!"

Charlus held up his hands. "Forgive me," he said to Harry, "but a point needed to be made."

Sirius did hesitate. He looked at Harry, who still had fire in his hands then back to Charlus, who now had his wand in his. "Fine, but only because I'm out numbered. That one is probably more of a challenge than you are. I won't say anything today. It's Christmas, but one of us will tell him and soon." With that, he sidestepped Charlus and headed to the door.

"Sirius," Charlus called as he motioned his wand.

Sirius turned around just as the spell hit him.

"You won't be saying shit." The door swung open. "Now get out."

Sirius raised his wand, but Henry, who was outside the door said, "Now is not the time, Sirius."

Sirius flushed and stomped from the room. "You'll pay for that."

"I look forward to fucking you up for trying."

Sirius left and Henry entered. He closed the door and waved his wand before turning to Harry. "Impressive, but we have fireplaces to keep us warm."

The fire left Harry's hands and sat back down with a scowl.

Henry turned to Charlus. In English, he said, "Would you care to explain?"

"Not particularly."

"This is James' son. With the 'impoverished muggleborn,' yes?"

Charlus looked at Harry then turned to Henry. "I've assumed so, yes."

"Then Sirius is correct, I assume. James will have to be told. I do appreciate your concern over my want of choice, but we cannot deny him his son."

"I didn't intend to. However, by law, he is my responsibility," Charlus said. He summoned some parchments. "He had no papers, so he didn't exist. We assume James is his father. We have no proof and that woman would be a fool to admit she's his mother before a court."

Henry took the parchments from Charlus and looked them over. He blew out a breath. "James will want him."

"And what woman would want her husband's son, who is mere weeks younger than her own, in her home?" Charlus pointed at Harry. "He will embarrass her and her son. Not simply because of who is father is, but because of who he is."

Henry raised his eyebrows. "Who is he, Charlus?"

"By all intents and purposes, he is the protégé of Tom Riddle. He's been tutored by his best Death Eaters, including Bellatrix. He's spent a lot of time with Cassiopeia. He is well acquainted with and has been accepted by Laurent and Celestine. Bartemius Crouch and René Delacour have taken him under their wing," Charlus stepped closer. "Grindelwald wants him and has Bathilda Bagshot tutoring him. He will be at the Palladion or Syracuse the fall after next. If he goes to Beauxbatons or Durmstrang, it'll be a blessing for Simeon."

"Hell of a list," Henry mused. "Two of those men have daughters."

Charlus nodded, but said, "We both know that doesn't make it better. Worse, in fact. We both know Naomi doesn't think highly of Potter. Crouch is on the in with most of Britain's prominent families. When he's Minister it'll be even better for him. The same goes for Delacour. And we know the reach Laurent and Grindelwald have. Coupled with yours, she'll be in her own personal nightmare by the time he's a man "

Henry exhaled. "He must be to told." When Charlus hung his head, he said, "We. Both. Know. That."

"I'm keeping him."

Henry nodded. "Just make sure that feeling doesn't change if Darius decides he wants to be in the picture."