Prologue: Part II
The Son of a Madman
Unlike most days, the morning of July 31st dawned with a dramatic rise in temperature. While English summers did get warm, the nights became cool enough for need of a jumper. At five o'clock in the morning Harry felt like he was in a convection oven with the dial turned all the way up.
The sun's rays hadn't even started to peak out from behind the horizon and he was already panting. Beads of sweat ran down his body and his clothes were completely drenched. The ink on the age old parchments he had passed out on had started to smear and a few words became imprinted on his face.
Despite the heat he still trembled. His body was boiling but his nerves sparked and his limbs jolted shooting tremors through out his whole person. There was a persistent pecking on his window, more like a loud clatter or what sounded like an army of owls assaulting the glass. The noise made his left eye twitch uncontrollably.
'A fever,' he told himself. 'Just a little fever,' though peculiar as it was, he had never been sick. Enough times around muggles assured him that he did indeed possess all the right symptoms.
His body felt incredibly heavy and alien. His eyesight was blurred and he could still taste the vomit on his breath from last night. The overall affect was unpleasant and the only thing he succeeded in doing was turning over onto his back. His leg hit the wall, which was a lot closer than last time he lay in that position.
"Maybe if I lay here they'll eventually leave me alone." He croaked, his words sounded raspy and his voice deeper than usual. What he would have attributed to the sore throat now floated uneasily in his memory.
Harry could have sworn he heard Sirius say those words if he hadn't felt them coming out of his own mouth. It was almost a replay of his third year when his godfather was fresh out of Azkaban and unaccustomed to talking.
He grimaced at burning in his throat wishing for something to sooth it. The kitchen was all the way downstairs though, and with the progress he wouldn't make it by his sweet centennial.
Harry inclined his head slightly in the direction of the rustling noise that his owl was producing. Her blurry outline was hopping frantically from foot to foot in a comical way and the very site of him sent her into a frenzy of distress.
"You'll be in danger of becoming Dudley's next dinner if you don't hush your trap old friend." There it was again. That voice, that maddening voice that was coming out of his mouth again. It was the same husky baritone that brought him so much joy during the past two years.
The voice that served to calm the emptiness in his heart did in no way assuage Hedwig's anxiety. Soon Harry found himself face full of feathers and talons while the owl flapped her wings in his face knocking his glasses off.
"Bloody h—I can see?" Mid curse he paused and let his eyes wander. He looked from one article to the next seeing with perfect clarity and finally settled on the quiet snowy owl. Startled by his behavior, she settled herself back onto her perch and watched him warily.
'Lord what's happening to me? Did I perform some sort of accidental magic or is this a novelty of the dead?' He thought groaning and wincing when he shuffled his frame on his side and made to push himself up. A curtain of long black hair fell into his face and the hand that he moved to push against the floor was unfamiliar to him.
It was darker and larger than his hand but it did feel like his own. He could feel the blood rushing through every vessel or the pinprick of every tiny blonde hair on it. But the hand was not his own. The skin wasn't marred by tiny scars that came from childhood accidents. The fingers were longer and slimmer like a pianist's instead of short and thick-knuckled. The nails were different as well. Previously uneven, bitten down, flimsy nails were groomed and healthy. The lines on the hands too could barely be seen as if they hadn't been used before.
'Sirius used to have these kinds of hands; long and elegant, a trademark of aristocracy.'
"So what am I? What have I become?" There was no doubt in his mind that the hand he was viewing belonged to the body he was occupying. A possession was the first thing that came into mind, seeing as he was supposed to be dead perhaps his spirit was able to move onto another body?
He shook his head. Now 'that' was an absurd thought. He wasn't dead, and he certainly was in possession anyone else's body. Therefore, he was either dreaming or hallucinating. Now if he thought about it from a logical perspective he'd wish for the whole ordeal to be a dream, contained in his mind and never to be released again as soon as he woke up. However, considering that he was running some kind of fever, the possibility of hallucination wasn't far from his mind.
"I am Harry James Potter." He whispered firmly. "I am Harry James Potter, son of Lily and James Potter, godson of Sirius Black, sworn enemy of Lord Voldemort, nephew of Petunia and Vernon Dursley, cousin of Dudley Dursley, best friends with Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. I am sixteen years old. I was born July 31, 1980. I am a wizard and I am alive."
No matter how many times he would utter those words, each time they seemed farther from reality, for each time he would picture his certificate of death flashing in his mind. The ministry seal and St. Mungo's seal imprinted at the very bottom of the document leaving no room for denial.
His hip cracked and he winced. His arms were shaking with the effort to push himself off the ground and his breathing was becoming uneven.
"Yesterday I was able to do 200 push-ups and now I can't pick my sorry arse up off the dirty ground."
Despite what he wished, if he didn't get up and let the owls in soon they'd fly back to the owners he'd have the Order on his doorstep. If it could be helped he'd rather they didn't see him like this, or in his fondest dreams, at all. Besides, mingling with the Order meant mingling with Dumbledore, and there was no knowing what he'd do to him if he found out the old man knew about whatever predicament he was in.
While in the position of being on all fours he felt a sharp pain in his stomach. He'd never felt a knife going through his gut but strangely he imagined it would feel just like that. The pain froze him in his place. The next few minutes felt like years.
He was once again knocked to the floor and this time an invisible scythe was being driven up his spine. 'Don't scream. Don't wake the muggles.'
He gritted his teeth and stood as still as possible. Every breath of air he inhaled hurt just a little more and every move he made sent the sharp stinging pain further into his body with more ferocity.
He began to feel a tingling along his skin, like tiny pinpricks were poking him. He allowed his eyes to move to one of the unfamiliar arms that held the rest of his body up. There on the lightly tanned flesh black hairs started to sprout exponentially until they resembled fur.
There was a pain in his hands and they began to change shape. They became smaller and thicker until the bones transformed completely and his skin was covered in black fur so thick that he couldn't see his skin. If he ignored the pain he could have considered it the strangest feeling.
His fingernails lengthened and began thick black claws. And while the rest of his body was changing his hands became large wolf-like paws in front of his eyes.
In a matter of minutes Harry Potter would become the creature that haunted cemeteries in children's worst nightmares. He would become the grim.
The hulking form of the grim stood in the smallest bedroom of 4 Privet Drive. Eyes that were once been a jade green became a bright emerald green and the last enchantments that two sets of parents provided the child with melted away.
A magical current created a wind that scattered the parchments on the ground and a particular text situated itself over the others. It was jagged at one edge giving the impression that it had been ripped out of a notebook. If anything it was one of only papers that didn't look official.
August 10, 1980
The news of young Harry's death fell on all of us like a tidal wave. Twenty- three minutes they said. Only twenty-three minutes old. A shame, that's what the medi-witches and wizards called it. It wasn't just a shame; it was a tragedy in all our lives. Lily whose whole pregnancy went smoother than any other woman's I've ever witnessed; not that I've witnessed many mind you; is laying in a catatonic state in St. Mungos. James doesn't know who to grieve for first, for the loss of his son or for the state of his wife. Right now he's so lost that he missed his own son's funeral. It was a small service, Remus, Peter, and I all were there to pay our respects and watch the little casket get lowered into the earth. Sometimes in my worst nightmares I imagine Lucien's little body doing the same. And sometimes in my best dreams I imagine the same thing but this time Manon is at my side. I love Lucien and I would sooner go into the cold ground than watch him do the same, but I loved Manon also.
I don't know who to grieve for either. The loss of my own wife whose corpse the ministry would not let alone until it was cremated due to her 'ailment' hit me hard. Her last words were those of naming our son and giving him every last drop of magic inside her body. I can still see the light in her silver eyes burning away as she left us. Her platinum hair lost its luster and the magic that made her less than human diminish and left her looking like the rest of this lowly race. In ensuring our son's life, she brought about her own death. Her love for him was so great that she would leave me, and I couldn't help but hate the boy. I could not look at the blonde little boy in the medi-witches arms while she tried to hand him to me. Fear and awe was evident in her eyes as she held the child that ought to be classified as a dark creature. His bright eyes so much like Manon's. I was lost and in a fit of anger I did the something completely selfish. I changed him. He was my carbon copy within one second and the nurses were 'obliviated' in two. There was no longer any evidence of his mother and I found myself much like James right now. The only difference being that I had no Prongs to distract me, no Moony or Lily to take care of me, and no Peter to bungle around in the background.
After all, none of them knew what really happened to me in France, but I can see it in their eyes that when I came back they didn't like the new Sirius Black.
I come around every day after work and force Prongs to eat and sleep. Moony comes about too and watches them for hours. Sometimes he stares into space without blinking and the striking similarity between him and Lily becomes remarkably frightening. Peter has only gone to see them once and his presence hasn't brought any comfort.
I can't stay and watch them like this. Lily worries me because I'm afraid she'll meet the same fate Manon did. I can't leave James bereaved of both son and wife. I'm prepared to do something entirely selfish again. I'm prepared to go against every wish Manon would have had. I'm about to forget my son and reintroduce the newly born Harry James Potter. In a day the tombstone of baby Harry will read my son's name and Lucien will no longer be my copy but James'. I can't take care of Lucien by myself no matter how much I love him and I know Lily and James would give him a better life than I ever could.
I've gone and taken every record available on him and I have doled out more 'obliviate' curses in one day than I have in my entire lifetime. His mother's documents in France are within my care, his grandparents know nothing of Sirius Black or Lucien Black and only that their daughter had run away and gotten killed. Counterfeits of everything I've taken have been made. Most importantly, the department of dark creatures has forgotten everything about my wife and me. I've made sure they won't chase my son in the future. A week ago I even went to see the greasy git and under threat acquired the correct potions from him that would last Lucien several years before I have to replace them again in about a decade and a half. Hopefully I'll still be around, and much as I loathe saying, I hope Snape is too.
Tonight I'll have finished everything and by tomorrow my best friends will emerge from the hospital with a child and I will be alone again. If I ever am to die I'll probably have this sent to Albus or, to my utter displeasure, to Snivellus. I don't know what will happen when the enchantments wear off, but I'm taking a guess in saying that he will receive many of the talents Manon and I have had. The potions will no longer shield him from the creatures within us. And he'll hate me for this.
Right now Lucien is giggling and playing in his little crib blissfully unaware of everything that's happened to him. Sometimes I look into his eyes and see accusation before I realize it is my conscience working on me. Other times I see Manon's face despite the enchantments on him. And there are times when I see my cousin Narcissa's face in his own haunting me or Manon's cousin Lucius. What if he follows the Black and Malfoy legacy and becomes a dark wizard, or even worse, a Death Eater? All I know is that the Potter name will be his saving grace and I am prepared to make my sacrifices.
Adieu Lucien Marlon Black and forgive me. Welcome back Harry James Potter and good luck.
-Sirius Black.
Down below the original entry were a few lines of ink that seemed to have been written at a much more recent time.
I see you now. A scar marring James' face, an ancient expression in Lily's eyes, and the awareness of an old man in a young boy's body. I have changed you, I have wronged you but in the end you turned out just like me. Tortured, alone, and grieving. I lie awake at nights sometimes and wonder what it would have been like had I kept you, if I accepted your grandparents' help in raising you. Every time I look at you I feel so proud and at the same time my heart breaks all over again because I know somewhere under there is my and Manon's son. You're beautiful, whether Lucien or Harry. Know that I loved you and still do. Know that I would sacrifice my very being for you. Know that now you are reading this I am able to be with your mother once more. And know I am very proud of you, whatever your choice is.
Before I go however, I must give you one last piece of fatherly advice. Your enchantments will wear off soon if they haven't already. I don't plan on telling you what to do as I have no right. I lost that right the day I gave you to Lily and James. But know this. If you go to Dumbledore he will preserve your innocence for as long as possible and he will protect you. If you stray from Dumbledore you will be free from your chains and from his manipulations. However, no matter what you do you will never be free from the threat of Voldemort as long as you live. He'll find you, I don't know how or when. But if you are Potter enough you will find him before he finds you, if you are de Sade enough you will sneak underneath his defenses and into his good graces, and if you are Black enough then you will beat him at his game and survive.
You will live through this war and despite everything that's been done to manipulate your life you will take it back from others' hands.
Adieu my son.
--Your father Sirius Black March 15, 1994
P.S. You're probably confused and maybe in pain right now. The potions and spells that are wearing off will do that to you. I advise you study up on Animagi because that grim form is quite painful until you change the way of transforming. It's a trait of a breed of Vampires that I unfortunately ran into when I was a child. It's sort of a half vampire half werewolf deal going on. Although you can control the transformation just as long as you do it at least once a month.
Authors Note:::
So sorry that it took me this long to update but school had me going crazy. Now that I'm finished with it I'll be able to update regularly. I know the prologue is sort of long but bear with me. (Maybe I should have just made it the prequel?) Anyways there's one more part to the prologue and its already half way done and chapter 1 will be following shortly. Well have to go now. Please review.
P.S. I'd like to thank my reviewers for boosting my ego just a tad more. I've had to jam a football helmet on my head to keep it from expanding but its still much appreciated. I hope you like the rest of the story as much as you did the first part and maybe even more. Much thanks to::
Dracoz-sexc-hunni: Thanks so much dracoz! Yes, I am a very twisted person therefore that merits a very twisted plot. lol. I would be very wierded out if something like that happened to me.
Adore: Hehe. You are much too kind Adore. Though Goddess Zhemshug doesn't sound too bad does it?
Angelbratt: Don't worry Angelbratt I fully intend to continue. Keep checking for updates. Thanks for the review.
Bookworm2003: Thank you, thank you. I will continue.
Star Lizard: I'm very glad you like my story and your curiosity makes me want to write more and at the same time delay the update to keep you wondering. lol. I know I am quite cruel. I hope you're getting the answer to your questions.
Natural-mystic: Thank you natural! I'm glad you like the fic. Keep checking for updates. (
Lonlyheart: I'm happy to know that you enjoy reading my work. I'll keep updating.
Unlike most days, the morning of July 31st dawned with a dramatic rise in temperature. While English summers did get warm, the nights became cool enough for need of a jumper. At five o'clock in the morning Harry felt like he was in a convection oven with the dial turned all the way up.
The sun's rays hadn't even started to peak out from behind the horizon and he was already panting. Beads of sweat ran down his body and his clothes were completely drenched. The ink on the age old parchments he had passed out on had started to smear and a few words became imprinted on his face.
Despite the heat he still trembled. His body was boiling but his nerves sparked and his limbs jolted shooting tremors through out his whole person. There was a persistent pecking on his window, more like a loud clatter or what sounded like an army of owls assaulting the glass. The noise made his left eye twitch uncontrollably.
'A fever,' he told himself. 'Just a little fever,' though peculiar as it was, he had never been sick. Enough times around muggles assured him that he did indeed possess all the right symptoms.
His body felt incredibly heavy and alien. His eyesight was blurred and he could still taste the vomit on his breath from last night. The overall affect was unpleasant and the only thing he succeeded in doing was turning over onto his back. His leg hit the wall, which was a lot closer than last time he lay in that position.
"Maybe if I lay here they'll eventually leave me alone." He croaked, his words sounded raspy and his voice deeper than usual. What he would have attributed to the sore throat now floated uneasily in his memory.
Harry could have sworn he heard Sirius say those words if he hadn't felt them coming out of his own mouth. It was almost a replay of his third year when his godfather was fresh out of Azkaban and unaccustomed to talking.
He grimaced at burning in his throat wishing for something to sooth it. The kitchen was all the way downstairs though, and with the progress he wouldn't make it by his sweet centennial.
Harry inclined his head slightly in the direction of the rustling noise that his owl was producing. Her blurry outline was hopping frantically from foot to foot in a comical way and the very site of him sent her into a frenzy of distress.
"You'll be in danger of becoming Dudley's next dinner if you don't hush your trap old friend." There it was again. That voice, that maddening voice that was coming out of his mouth again. It was the same husky baritone that brought him so much joy during the past two years.
The voice that served to calm the emptiness in his heart did in no way assuage Hedwig's anxiety. Soon Harry found himself face full of feathers and talons while the owl flapped her wings in his face knocking his glasses off.
"Bloody h—I can see?" Mid curse he paused and let his eyes wander. He looked from one article to the next seeing with perfect clarity and finally settled on the quiet snowy owl. Startled by his behavior, she settled herself back onto her perch and watched him warily.
'Lord what's happening to me? Did I perform some sort of accidental magic or is this a novelty of the dead?' He thought groaning and wincing when he shuffled his frame on his side and made to push himself up. A curtain of long black hair fell into his face and the hand that he moved to push against the floor was unfamiliar to him.
It was darker and larger than his hand but it did feel like his own. He could feel the blood rushing through every vessel or the pinprick of every tiny blonde hair on it. But the hand was not his own. The skin wasn't marred by tiny scars that came from childhood accidents. The fingers were longer and slimmer like a pianist's instead of short and thick-knuckled. The nails were different as well. Previously uneven, bitten down, flimsy nails were groomed and healthy. The lines on the hands too could barely be seen as if they hadn't been used before.
'Sirius used to have these kinds of hands; long and elegant, a trademark of aristocracy.'
"So what am I? What have I become?" There was no doubt in his mind that the hand he was viewing belonged to the body he was occupying. A possession was the first thing that came into mind, seeing as he was supposed to be dead perhaps his spirit was able to move onto another body?
He shook his head. Now 'that' was an absurd thought. He wasn't dead, and he certainly was in possession anyone else's body. Therefore, he was either dreaming or hallucinating. Now if he thought about it from a logical perspective he'd wish for the whole ordeal to be a dream, contained in his mind and never to be released again as soon as he woke up. However, considering that he was running some kind of fever, the possibility of hallucination wasn't far from his mind.
"I am Harry James Potter." He whispered firmly. "I am Harry James Potter, son of Lily and James Potter, godson of Sirius Black, sworn enemy of Lord Voldemort, nephew of Petunia and Vernon Dursley, cousin of Dudley Dursley, best friends with Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. I am sixteen years old. I was born July 31, 1980. I am a wizard and I am alive."
No matter how many times he would utter those words, each time they seemed farther from reality, for each time he would picture his certificate of death flashing in his mind. The ministry seal and St. Mungo's seal imprinted at the very bottom of the document leaving no room for denial.
His hip cracked and he winced. His arms were shaking with the effort to push himself off the ground and his breathing was becoming uneven.
"Yesterday I was able to do 200 push-ups and now I can't pick my sorry arse up off the dirty ground."
Despite what he wished, if he didn't get up and let the owls in soon they'd fly back to the owners he'd have the Order on his doorstep. If it could be helped he'd rather they didn't see him like this, or in his fondest dreams, at all. Besides, mingling with the Order meant mingling with Dumbledore, and there was no knowing what he'd do to him if he found out the old man knew about whatever predicament he was in.
While in the position of being on all fours he felt a sharp pain in his stomach. He'd never felt a knife going through his gut but strangely he imagined it would feel just like that. The pain froze him in his place. The next few minutes felt like years.
He was once again knocked to the floor and this time an invisible scythe was being driven up his spine. 'Don't scream. Don't wake the muggles.'
He gritted his teeth and stood as still as possible. Every breath of air he inhaled hurt just a little more and every move he made sent the sharp stinging pain further into his body with more ferocity.
He began to feel a tingling along his skin, like tiny pinpricks were poking him. He allowed his eyes to move to one of the unfamiliar arms that held the rest of his body up. There on the lightly tanned flesh black hairs started to sprout exponentially until they resembled fur.
There was a pain in his hands and they began to change shape. They became smaller and thicker until the bones transformed completely and his skin was covered in black fur so thick that he couldn't see his skin. If he ignored the pain he could have considered it the strangest feeling.
His fingernails lengthened and began thick black claws. And while the rest of his body was changing his hands became large wolf-like paws in front of his eyes.
In a matter of minutes Harry Potter would become the creature that haunted cemeteries in children's worst nightmares. He would become the grim.
The hulking form of the grim stood in the smallest bedroom of 4 Privet Drive. Eyes that were once been a jade green became a bright emerald green and the last enchantments that two sets of parents provided the child with melted away.
A magical current created a wind that scattered the parchments on the ground and a particular text situated itself over the others. It was jagged at one edge giving the impression that it had been ripped out of a notebook. If anything it was one of only papers that didn't look official.
August 10, 1980
The news of young Harry's death fell on all of us like a tidal wave. Twenty- three minutes they said. Only twenty-three minutes old. A shame, that's what the medi-witches and wizards called it. It wasn't just a shame; it was a tragedy in all our lives. Lily whose whole pregnancy went smoother than any other woman's I've ever witnessed; not that I've witnessed many mind you; is laying in a catatonic state in St. Mungos. James doesn't know who to grieve for first, for the loss of his son or for the state of his wife. Right now he's so lost that he missed his own son's funeral. It was a small service, Remus, Peter, and I all were there to pay our respects and watch the little casket get lowered into the earth. Sometimes in my worst nightmares I imagine Lucien's little body doing the same. And sometimes in my best dreams I imagine the same thing but this time Manon is at my side. I love Lucien and I would sooner go into the cold ground than watch him do the same, but I loved Manon also.
I don't know who to grieve for either. The loss of my own wife whose corpse the ministry would not let alone until it was cremated due to her 'ailment' hit me hard. Her last words were those of naming our son and giving him every last drop of magic inside her body. I can still see the light in her silver eyes burning away as she left us. Her platinum hair lost its luster and the magic that made her less than human diminish and left her looking like the rest of this lowly race. In ensuring our son's life, she brought about her own death. Her love for him was so great that she would leave me, and I couldn't help but hate the boy. I could not look at the blonde little boy in the medi-witches arms while she tried to hand him to me. Fear and awe was evident in her eyes as she held the child that ought to be classified as a dark creature. His bright eyes so much like Manon's. I was lost and in a fit of anger I did the something completely selfish. I changed him. He was my carbon copy within one second and the nurses were 'obliviated' in two. There was no longer any evidence of his mother and I found myself much like James right now. The only difference being that I had no Prongs to distract me, no Moony or Lily to take care of me, and no Peter to bungle around in the background.
After all, none of them knew what really happened to me in France, but I can see it in their eyes that when I came back they didn't like the new Sirius Black.
I come around every day after work and force Prongs to eat and sleep. Moony comes about too and watches them for hours. Sometimes he stares into space without blinking and the striking similarity between him and Lily becomes remarkably frightening. Peter has only gone to see them once and his presence hasn't brought any comfort.
I can't stay and watch them like this. Lily worries me because I'm afraid she'll meet the same fate Manon did. I can't leave James bereaved of both son and wife. I'm prepared to do something entirely selfish again. I'm prepared to go against every wish Manon would have had. I'm about to forget my son and reintroduce the newly born Harry James Potter. In a day the tombstone of baby Harry will read my son's name and Lucien will no longer be my copy but James'. I can't take care of Lucien by myself no matter how much I love him and I know Lily and James would give him a better life than I ever could.
I've gone and taken every record available on him and I have doled out more 'obliviate' curses in one day than I have in my entire lifetime. His mother's documents in France are within my care, his grandparents know nothing of Sirius Black or Lucien Black and only that their daughter had run away and gotten killed. Counterfeits of everything I've taken have been made. Most importantly, the department of dark creatures has forgotten everything about my wife and me. I've made sure they won't chase my son in the future. A week ago I even went to see the greasy git and under threat acquired the correct potions from him that would last Lucien several years before I have to replace them again in about a decade and a half. Hopefully I'll still be around, and much as I loathe saying, I hope Snape is too.
Tonight I'll have finished everything and by tomorrow my best friends will emerge from the hospital with a child and I will be alone again. If I ever am to die I'll probably have this sent to Albus or, to my utter displeasure, to Snivellus. I don't know what will happen when the enchantments wear off, but I'm taking a guess in saying that he will receive many of the talents Manon and I have had. The potions will no longer shield him from the creatures within us. And he'll hate me for this.
Right now Lucien is giggling and playing in his little crib blissfully unaware of everything that's happened to him. Sometimes I look into his eyes and see accusation before I realize it is my conscience working on me. Other times I see Manon's face despite the enchantments on him. And there are times when I see my cousin Narcissa's face in his own haunting me or Manon's cousin Lucius. What if he follows the Black and Malfoy legacy and becomes a dark wizard, or even worse, a Death Eater? All I know is that the Potter name will be his saving grace and I am prepared to make my sacrifices.
Adieu Lucien Marlon Black and forgive me. Welcome back Harry James Potter and good luck.
-Sirius Black.
Down below the original entry were a few lines of ink that seemed to have been written at a much more recent time.
I see you now. A scar marring James' face, an ancient expression in Lily's eyes, and the awareness of an old man in a young boy's body. I have changed you, I have wronged you but in the end you turned out just like me. Tortured, alone, and grieving. I lie awake at nights sometimes and wonder what it would have been like had I kept you, if I accepted your grandparents' help in raising you. Every time I look at you I feel so proud and at the same time my heart breaks all over again because I know somewhere under there is my and Manon's son. You're beautiful, whether Lucien or Harry. Know that I loved you and still do. Know that I would sacrifice my very being for you. Know that now you are reading this I am able to be with your mother once more. And know I am very proud of you, whatever your choice is.
Before I go however, I must give you one last piece of fatherly advice. Your enchantments will wear off soon if they haven't already. I don't plan on telling you what to do as I have no right. I lost that right the day I gave you to Lily and James. But know this. If you go to Dumbledore he will preserve your innocence for as long as possible and he will protect you. If you stray from Dumbledore you will be free from your chains and from his manipulations. However, no matter what you do you will never be free from the threat of Voldemort as long as you live. He'll find you, I don't know how or when. But if you are Potter enough you will find him before he finds you, if you are de Sade enough you will sneak underneath his defenses and into his good graces, and if you are Black enough then you will beat him at his game and survive.
You will live through this war and despite everything that's been done to manipulate your life you will take it back from others' hands.
Adieu my son.
--Your father Sirius Black March 15, 1994
P.S. You're probably confused and maybe in pain right now. The potions and spells that are wearing off will do that to you. I advise you study up on Animagi because that grim form is quite painful until you change the way of transforming. It's a trait of a breed of Vampires that I unfortunately ran into when I was a child. It's sort of a half vampire half werewolf deal going on. Although you can control the transformation just as long as you do it at least once a month.
Authors Note:::
So sorry that it took me this long to update but school had me going crazy. Now that I'm finished with it I'll be able to update regularly. I know the prologue is sort of long but bear with me. (Maybe I should have just made it the prequel?) Anyways there's one more part to the prologue and its already half way done and chapter 1 will be following shortly. Well have to go now. Please review.
P.S. I'd like to thank my reviewers for boosting my ego just a tad more. I've had to jam a football helmet on my head to keep it from expanding but its still much appreciated. I hope you like the rest of the story as much as you did the first part and maybe even more. Much thanks to::
Dracoz-sexc-hunni: Thanks so much dracoz! Yes, I am a very twisted person therefore that merits a very twisted plot. lol. I would be very wierded out if something like that happened to me.
Adore: Hehe. You are much too kind Adore. Though Goddess Zhemshug doesn't sound too bad does it?
Angelbratt: Don't worry Angelbratt I fully intend to continue. Keep checking for updates. Thanks for the review.
Bookworm2003: Thank you, thank you. I will continue.
Star Lizard: I'm very glad you like my story and your curiosity makes me want to write more and at the same time delay the update to keep you wondering. lol. I know I am quite cruel. I hope you're getting the answer to your questions.
Natural-mystic: Thank you natural! I'm glad you like the fic. Keep checking for updates. (
Lonlyheart: I'm happy to know that you enjoy reading my work. I'll keep updating.