Disclaimer: This story is fiction. All characters, names, and places belong to their respective owners.

Note: Inspired by Araceil's Newt/Harry story which made me fall in love with this at the same time likely and unlikely pairing and distressed with the lack of any other Newt/Harry stories so I decided to write my own. Critiques and comments are welcome.

CH 01 Strange Life

His was a strange life.

In his waking hours he lived as Lycoris Sirius Black, the second son of Sirius II Black and Hesper Gamp, the middle son of three but by far his parents' favored child. But at night, when he lay his head to rest, he dreamt of a curious world, so familiar in its similarity to the world he currently lived in but rife with adventure and danger. He dreamt of deeds great beyond measure, of evil vanquished and defeated, of death and its cold but comforting embrace.

But perhaps most unsettling of all for the young pureblood wizard from the notorious House of Black were the dreams of friendship, trust, and loyalty that the boy from his dreams, Harry James Potter encountered with the friends he made.

Such things did not belong to a scion of such a powerful and influential dark Family. No matter how much his grandparents and parents doted on him or the camaraderie between himself and his brothers, he had been taught to act accordingly to his status as a Black heir - to be cunning and perceptive, to make allies not friends, to place the Family first. Thus, while he was acquainted with the pureblood children in his Family's social circle and ruled over his peers with an iron fist, there was a lack of fanciful things such as friendship, trust or loyalty, even with the children of allied Families. Lycoris could only experience them secondhand through Harry and even then the concepts eluded him for while he might be privy to Harry's experiences and knowledge, he was only a spectator and could not truly feel from Harry's perspective.

Though, for a long time he had suspicions on the connection between himself and Harry Potter.

For as long as he could remember, dreams of the fantastical and dangerous life led by the boy Harry accompanied his sleeping hours only to settle neatly into the back of his mind, allowing him to draw knowledge and skills from the considerable experiences of one Harry Potter.

Indeed, Lycoris found that anything Harry had knowledge of already, whether they be practical or frivolous skills he had picked up later in life such as languages, the use of a sword, control over wandless magic, mastery of musical instruments, Quidditch, formal dancing, and etiquette, Lycoris found that they all came easily and instinctually to him as if he had gone through the motions countless times already. There was always a sense of deja-vu whenever he looked through a book or practiced a spell that Harry had already read or accomplished.

For a while, Lycoris had worried that the infamous madness known to manifest in his family had decided to show up in himself, though in an unsurprising show of resourcefulness it did not stop him from utilizing Harry's knowledge and experiences for himself. Lycoris had always been an exceptionally pragmatic child.

But then on the morning of his 11th birthday the Hallows appeared, resting neatly on the nightstand next to his bed.

Lycoris might have had suspicions on the identity of Harry Potter as a past incarnation of himself, but it was an entirely different, if relieving, story when given proof by a higher power. Even though he found no answer as to why he could still remember his past life, as most young boys he didn't think too deeply on the matter, other things coming along to take up his attention. From that point on, Lycoris absolved any remaining confusions as he became more adept in delineating dreams and reality, Harry and Lycoris, because while they were essentially mirror images of each other, it would be a waste to constantly dwell within dreams even if they were true.

In this life, he was Lycoris Sirius Black, magically powerful, prodigiously talented, charismatic leader of the younger generation.

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July 31, 1910

Somewhere in Northumberland

The Black Keep

Eleven-year-old Lycoris Sirius Black sat slouching on a plush armchair in the library, intensely engrossed in a massive tome on Chinese necromantic rituals on his lap, while lazily twirling a handsome pine Family wand once belonging to Licorus Black, the great-great grandfather that had partly inspired his naming.

Unlike most members of the House of Black, he was not named for a star or constellation, a family tradition begun by Licorus Black himself. Instead, he was named after a genus of flowering plants in the Amaryllis family that was associated with death and reincarnation in Chinese and Japanese folklore and a main ingredient in various poisons. A scattering of the very same red spider lily decorated his left shoulder, dotting across the expanse of his back to end on his right hip bone.

A most curious and magical birthmark that denoted a born necromancer in addition to measuring his or her potential power in the amount of spider lily blooms that show up on the skin. An old manuscript from the ancestral Black library recorded an instance in which a powerful female necromancer who lived during the height of the Shang dynasty, an early stage of the ancient Chinese civilization had spider lily blooms covering nearly every inch of her skin.

It had been a pleasant shock to his parents and elder family members for while the Black family had been notorious for producing some of the most powerful and dark wizards and witches, even the Blacks would not provoke a true necromancer. That one had been born into the bloodline was a cause for celebration and smug glee among the Family and envy among other dark Families.

Indeed, while he was not the firstborn and thus not the official heir, young Lycoris grew up smothered in his family's spoiling and attention, pampered to within an inch of his life. It was a wonder that he grew up as well as he did, if a little arrogant and snobby. Though the young Black didnt see it that way - he was simply a very confident individual with a taste for both interesting things and company.

And really, when compared with Aurelius Malfoy, any arrogance or snobbishness was barely even noticeable, after all, unlike the Malfoys a Black had class and would never lower himself to boasting. Understated elegance was the way to go in life.

Idly turning a page, the young boy stretched out slender coltish legs clad in silk breeches spun from a magical breed of silkworms, expressly imported from Magical China. They were tucked into masterly crafted boots that laced up to bony knees, made of course, from the shed skin of a particular magical breed of firesnakes. Thrown over it all was a casual silver grey robe of sheer gossamer that had a weightless quality about it, airy and insubstantial.

He was far taller and leggier than his peers, his facial features far more sharper and sculpted. Large heavy lashed eyes an intense and unsettling shade of vibrant green ringed in the hereditary mercury silver of Black eyes dominated a face that was too sharply aristocratic to be called pretty but too fine and delicate to be called handsome. The eyes were the only color in an otherwise monochrome study of elegance. Shoulder length ebony waves blended in with the black high collared shirt underneath the silver grey robe that were the exact shade of the mercury in his eyes.

Lycoris was the quintessential high society pureblood wizard reminiscent of the Old Magical era, carefully raised with all the elegance and grace of an aristocratic noble. But in this stolen moment ensconced in a hidden nook of the dusty library, there was no sign of that in how he was indolently sprawled in an armchair with his legs rudely propped up on the tea table in front of him. If one were to ignore his sitting style his appearance blended startlingly well with the few portraits hanging in the library, giving him an air of being a ghost of some past Black, lingering still.

"Lycoris!" As if a still life painting had suddenly been injected with life, the eleven-year-old startled, before lazily getting to his feet. With care, he balanced the massive tome he had been so engrossed in on the tea table and then absentmindedly flicked his pine wand to banish the creases in his robe.

"Coming Mother!" he called as he strolled out of the labyrinth of shelves, through the library door and down two flights of stairs to the first floor of his home. The large manor, magically-warded to withstand a siege and built in the middle ages somewhere in Northumberland, known as 'The Black Keep' was the place Lycoris grew up in and loved best, as it reminded him greatly of Hogwarts Castle.

It had been the ancestral home of the Blacks for quite a few centuries. It was only until Licorus Black's time that the Blacks relocated to the estate in Gloucestershire, known as the Black Manor, the current home of his grandparents and his uncles and aunts. It had also been the home of Lycoris' parents as well until his birth, when struck by the Black paranoia that their necromancer son would be stolen out of his cradle, the Black Keep had reopened and the family of four, now five, moved in.

Though they kept up regular visits to Black Manor to keep in touch with the rest of the Family neither Lycoris nor his brothers, Arcturus III and Regulus, enjoyed the visits. Arcturus, four years older and current heir to the Black lordship, played the dutiful heir and grandson but Lycoris knew he didn't particularly care for their grandfather, Phineas Nigellus Black. Regulus, one year younger and not of Hogwarts age yet, cared even less as being the third and unassuming son of Sirius II Black, the current Lord Black, he was often forgotten and ignored. But that was no wonder, with older brothers like Arcturus and Lycoris to contend with.

And as for Lycoris himself, despite getting the lion share of the doting from the grandparents, did not care for the visits either as Phineas Nigellus was an overbearing and boring man with a hatred for anything new or Muggle. Both his young uncles Arcturus II and Cygnus II and their wives were equally bigoted and unpleasant individuals. Perhaps the only individuals he cared to visit were his Grandmother Ursula and Aunt Belvina Burke nee Black and her two sons and newborn daughter - Cassius, Julian, and baby Emmaline. Father and Aunt Belvina seem to have been the only ones to take more after their mother than father, thank Merlin in all honesty. He never met his uncle Phineas who had been disowned long before his birth though, he imagined he would have certainly been more interesting, being a muggle loving Black and all. Rather similar to Harry's godfather Sirius Black now that he thought about it.

Entering the first floor sitting room, Lycoris pressed a kiss on his mother's cheek and ruffled Regulus' short ebony curls, ignoring the younger boy's indignant protest. He grinned at Arcturus who was sitting prim and proper in an armchair, "Congratulations on having been made prefect, Arcty."

Arcturus rolled his eyes at his brother's usual needling but was still pleased. That didn't stop him from arching an imperious brow, however, "For your sake, I do hope you do not call me that in front of people at Hogwarts."

Lycoris grinned wickedly, "No promises. Besides, I know I can take anything you serve my way, Arcty."

Before the brothers could break out once more into their usual bantering, their father Lord Black swept into the room. "Ready to leave for Diagon Alley, boys?"

"Ready when you are, dear. We have much to celebrate today, what with it being Lycoris' 11th birthday and Arcturus being made Slytherin prefect." Hesper Gamp smiled proudly at her two eldest.

Indeed, after years of dreaming about Hogwarts, Lycoris was finally going to be able to make his own experiences there.

Pressing the arm that held both his pine wand and the Elder Wand strapped in a specially designed demiguise skin holster to the pocket that held both the Resurrection Stone and Invisibility Cloak, Lycoris hid a small smile.

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Diagon Alley

Ollivanders'

What Lycoris looked forward to the most after turning eleven, aside from being able to attend Hogwarts, was perhaps receiving his own wand. While he was already a master of two wands in his short life, neither of which had belonged first and solely to him and as a result, did not count in the young boy's mind. Lycoris had always been possessive and particular on the subject of his belongings, never using things that weren't absolutely new, his two current wands being the only exceptions. The idea that he would even sniff at his two powerful wands would appall those who heard it, after all, to even be able to own two wands required a license from the Ministry, let alone three. Not to mention, it was highly difficult to find multiple perfect matches thus most wizards only possessed one wand.

The Blacks, however, have a tradition in matching up their young wizards and witches to Family wands belonging to some Black ancestor to act as a backup wand in case of emergencies or the need to clandestinely commit illegal acts. The Blacks were paranoid and cunning in that way.

And even then Lycoris was unique in that his old title earned as Harry Potter had carried over to his current life, allowing him to master three wands simultaneously. Most wizards would be very lucky to even get a glimpse of such powerful wands steeped in history as the Elder Wand and the Black Family wand.

Thus, standing in the familiar dusty little shop, soon to receive a wand that belonged solely to him in every sense of the meaning, Lycoris couldn't help but shudder slightly in excitement.

"Good afternoon." Lycoris did not jump though he did roll his eyes and twisted around to the source of the disembodied voice, not sure why he was even surprised. Though based on dreams of Harry's own unsettling experience with the wandmaker, Lycoris should have expected the wandmaker's annoying habit of creeping up on his customers.

"Ah yes, Lycoris Black." The silvery blue-eyed man who could only be Mr. Ollivander spoke enigmatically. "I have been expecting you." Then he glanced at the two adults and one teenager. "Lord Black. Twelve and a quarter inches, alder and dragon heartstring, rather rigid." He then turned to Hesper Gamp. "Lady Black. Ten inches exactly, laurel and unicorn hair, swishy." And lastly he looked at Arcturus. "Twelve and a half inches, elm and dragon heartstring, slightly springy. I trust your wands have served each of you well?"

The three Blacks named murmured affirmations and praises to the inquiry.

"It is a most excellent wand, Mr. Ollivander," Lord Black said politely, "but enough of that; I have another son in need of a wand."

"Well then, young Mr. Black." Mr. Ollivander said softly. "I do wonder what wand you will bond with, dear child." The way he said that gave Lycoris the distinct impression that the old man knew he technically had two, arguably very dark wands in possession already.

"Let's start with rowan and unicorn hair, nine and a half inches, springy. Go on and give it a wave."

Lycoris obligingly waved the wand, taking care not to point it towards anybody. The wand ignored his efforts entirely and Mr. Ollivander snatched it back.

"Beech and dragon heartstring, 11 and three quarter inches. Nice and flexible." He pushed a new wand into his hand, but this was unresponsive as well.

"Hmm, try this. Elm and phoenix feather, thirteen inches exactly." Lycoris sensed something then, but the wand maker snatched it back before he could even wave it with a mutter, "No, no, not right at all." The old man then hurried off to find more wands looking rather energized.

It seemed in fact that there might not be a suitable wand for him in the shop, given that nearly half an hour later Lycoris was still waving wands. Mr. Ollivander seemed positively ecstatic at the challenge though and was smiling gleefully as he handed him wand after wand.

"Tricky customer eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere - I wonder - well why not - yew and phoenix feather, thirteen and a half inches." A slightly ominous bone white wand was thrust into his hand. Lycoris nearly dropped the wand when he realized exactly who would be its master in the future but grasped it anyway and felt the prickling heat in the hand that held it.

"Oh, so close!" Mr. Ollivander exclaimed before snatching it away and bustling towards the very back of the shop. "It was a very close match but let's see if we can find you a perfect one."

Rubbing his still prickling hand against his robes, Lycoris didn't know whether to feel relieved or not.

Not long after, Mr. Ollivander returned with another simple black box, the longest wand he had seen yet. Opening it, the wandmaker gently took out an equally pale wand, but rather than an ominous bone white, it was an elegant ivory with intricate swirls carved with silver accents.

Even before touching it, Lycoris knew that this was the wand for him, both the Elder Wand and pine wand humming and vibrating within his wand holster. Gently flicking the wand tip, he smiled as out bloomed thunderclouds, filling the air with the smell of ozone. Both his parents and brothers applauded gently, wide smiles and shining eyes in stark contrast to the restrained behaviour.

"Oh, wonderful! Yes, very good indeed. Aspen, fourteen and a half inches, with a thunderbird feather core, quite a powerful combination. I created it when I was traveling in the Americas as a young wandmaker with the assistance of Shikoba Wolfe. I had nearly forgotten about it! It would seem, young Mr. Black is destined for quite the danger and adventure and this wand will assist you along your way. I expect great things from you, dear child, for this wand is for the likes of revolutionaries." Mr Ollivander gently took the wand from Lycoris and placed it in its box, then wrapped the box in brown paper, still lost in his musing.

Aspen wood was one of the more coveted wand woods but rarely chose a master. The proper owner of the aspen wand was often an accomplished duellist, or destined to be so, for the aspen wand was one of those particularly suited to martial magic. Lycoris remembered reading on an infamous and secretive eighteenth-century duelling club, which called itself The Silver Spears, and how it was reputed to admit only those who owned aspen wands. Aspen wand owners were generally strong-minded and determined, more likely than most to be attracted by quests and new orders, thus known for being a wand for revolutionaries and adventurers.

The thunderbird feather core, while powerful, was also one of the more difficult to master wand cores. Nevertheless, it was equally coveted in wands due to its curious property to sense danger and cast curses on its own. Lycoris could see the sense in pairing aspen wood with thunderbird feather core seeing as aspen wand owners were likely to be attracted to dangerous things like quests or revolutions and the thunderbird feather core could go a long way in keeping its master alive.

Lycoris' Family wand, pine and fourteen inches exactly with a phoenix feather core, had liked him instantly and wouldn't let any other of the Family wands get near him. The pine wand enjoyed being used creatively and was highly useful in spell creation and potion invention. He had already tested out those attributes many a bored evening at home. It was also accepted, no matter how reluctantly, by the Elder Wand which made things convenient. The fifteen inch Elder Wand, being a dark and powerfully superior wand could destroy wands of lesser calibre during duels and was highly possessive of its true master, the Master of Death, as Lycoris learned through the dreams of Harry's life. Truthfully, Lycoris had mixed feelings on it, and not for the normal reasons. He just couldn't help feeling exasperated at the wand's possessive and overbearing ways. If wands could be likened to toddlers, the Elder Wand was definitely the bully of the playground. A smug one at that.

All in all, Lycoris was fairly pleased with his wands and predicted using both the aspen and pine wand regularly. As for the Elder Wand, it was probably best to reserve it for when his spells need a little more power or viciousness. Or for when he felt like exploring his necromantic powers, as at its core the Elder Wand was a necromancer's wand.