On Eagles Wings

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. All recognisable characters, content, or locations belong to their respective owners. No copyright infringement intended.

Summary: In a world where Sirius Black has a lot more to lose, he doesn't act as the decoy secret keeper for James and Lily, and neither does he hunt down Peter after the latter's betrayal. In ways that are not always or immediately obvious, these changes have a profound effect on the life of Harry Potter, and on the lives of those that surround him. Or, alternatively, that AU in which our hero lives up to his potential. AU. OOC. OC's. Established SB/OFC. Book 1 of 4.

Rating: T for language, violence, and character death.

Author: tlyxor1.

On Eagles Wings

Chapter One

When Harry earns his black belt in Judo, it is a solemn occasion. It's taken him near seven years of weekly lessons, of countless hours of training and sparring, and more blood, sweat, and tears than he cares to contemplate, but he's managed it, and it feels like the end of an era.

In some respects, it is. The ranking ceremony is the last of Harry's commitments before what is sure to be a long, memorable Summer, and he isn't returning in the Autumn. There won't be anymore youth football or rugby games, no more Judo, Tae-Kwan-Do, or Karate classes, no more private piano or cello lessons. He won't miss the latter, admittedly - musician, Harry is not - but all the same…

Harry has always known, abstractly, that he wouldn't continue most of his activities beyond his 11th birthday, but somehow, he had not anticipated that he would be sad to see them go. Instead, his thoughts have always been on Hogwarts, on all that he would experience there, and some way, some how, it has never occurred to him to consider what he would be leaving behind in the process.

"You can always come back later," Sirius reminds him, "Work through the black belts. They go to 10th Dan, don't they?"

Sirius is mostly clueless about the specifics of his children's - including Harry's - martial arts classes. He'd enrolled them in the classes in question to offer them an edge up in magical duelling and combat - stamina, agility, strength, and a martial sort of awareness of the human body - but he'd never made an effort to learn about the traditions and differing philosophies behind Judo, Karate, or Tae-Kwan-Do.

He's too busy for it, really, managing the Black and Potter estates in his stead as the Lord of House Black and the Lord Regent of House Potter, but he's always encouraged them to do their best, and even at Leo's most belligerent, he'd never let them quit. Not the Martial Arts, not the sports (to teach them social skills and teamwork, about health and fitness, and about the non-magical world), not the music lessons (to improve the dexterity in their hands and fingers, to teach them to be patient, and also to listen).

That said, Sirius has obviously picked up some details over the years, and he is even right: A black belt isn't the be all and end all of Judo. Disregarding the fact he's still a blue belt in Karate and Tae-Kwan-Do, Harry still has a lot to learn.

"I don't think I'll have the time to manage it," Harry reasons. He runs a hand along his new obi, attempts a smile, and adds, "I'm just being stupid."

"You're not," Sirius assures him, "You've spent a lot of time here, and saying goodbye; embracing change? It's not always easy. It's okay to be upset about it."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"Did it?"

"Not really."

"Are you ready to go, then?"

Harry sighs to himself, takes one last glance around the dojo that has become so familiar to him, and nods. "Yeah, let's go home."

Once Harry tugs on his shoes, Sirius offers him a sympathetic smile, gives his shoulder an encouraging squeeze, and leads him through the front doors. The afterparty is drawing to a close, Harry's peers and their parents are leaving, and Sirius and Harry have already given the appropriate and obligatory farewells to everyone they need to. As such, there is no more reason for them to linger, and neither of them are inclined towards outstaying their welcome.

Outside, evening has fallen over London. The streets are filled with commuters headed to locations unknown, and Sirius guides him into the throng, homebound.

"Leo should be home by the time we get there," Sirius muses, "Are you looking forward to seeing him?"

"I suppose," Harry answers, though he isn't quite sure. Leo is 12 years old now, and if the Yule holiday is anything to go by, he doesn't have much interest in spending time with his younger siblings. Moreover, with Vega and Virgo usually rapt up in their own things, Harry has grown accustomed to the solitude without his (adoptive) older brother to keep him company. He isn't so sure he wants to let it go. "I'm not looking forward to sharing the bathroom again. He takes forever in the mornings."

Sirius laughs. "You'd better get used to it. Hogwarts is a proud advocate of communal bathrooms."

"Great," Harry deadpans, "Something to look forward to."

They reach their home on Grimmauld Place as dusk turns to night, and Harry shuffles inside after Sirius, his thoughts on dinner. He can smell it wafting up from the kitchen, roast beef with all the trimmings, buttered mashed potatoes, steamed vegetables, gravy, and Harry's stomach growls it's appreciation.

"Shower first, Harry," Sirius reminds him. Harry frowns, disappointed, but his godfather is unrelenting. "You know the rules, mate."

"No stinking up the dining table," Harry dully intones.

Sirius suppresses a laugh behind a smirk. "Exactly."

Reluctantly, Harry retreats upstairs to clean himself up. Leo's nowhere in sight - presumably trapped in one of Laurel's interrogations about his school year - but Harry doesn't take his time in the bathroom. He's starving, and the sooner he has a plate of food in front of him, the better.

With that in mind, once Harry is dressed in a comfortable, worn-in pair of jeans and a T-shirt he may or may not have borrowed from Leo, he wanders into the basement kitchen. It serves as the family's informal dining area, and mercifully, it sees a lot more use than the formal dining room on the main floor.

Sirius has horror stories of formal meals growing up,morning, noon, and night, every day of his life before Hogwarts, and Harry's pretty sure if he'd had to endure that, he'd have stabbed himself with a salad knife years ago. As is, the once-a-fortnight hoopla they each suffer begrudgingly, formal clothes, formal etiquette, and formal table settings are bad enough, and Harry's not sure how Sirius and Laurel manage them - formal meals, that is - on a regular basis. The entire prospect seems terrible.

"About time you showed your ugly face," Leo greets him, "Did you drown in the toilet or something?"

Leo hasn't changed much since Harry had last seen him. His face is a bit thinner, maybe, but he's still tall and lanky, still the spitting image of Sirius, still the same prat Harry had always known.

"Nice to see you too, git," Harry answers. He drops into his usual seat across from the older boy, helps himself to a bread roll, and bites into it with relish. He chews rapidly, gulps down a mouthful of water, and continues, "I'm well, thanks for asking. How are you?"

"Glad to be home, now Mum's stopped interrogating me."

"Don't be so dramatic, Leo," Laurel chides. With a flick of her wand, she levitates a dish of steamed vegetables onto the table, and follows suit with another dish of roasted potatoes and pumpkin, "It was hardly an interrogation."

Because she's behind him, Laurel doesn't see the face Leo pulls, and neither does she see the accompanying roll of his eyes, but Harry does, and he smothers his grin in another mouthful of bread.

The roast beef and the boat of mushroom gravy join the rest of their meal on the dining table, and Laurel exits the kitchen to gather up the rest of their family. Peggy, the family's house elf, hums to herself as she washes up the pots and pans, and Harry drums his finger on the tabletop, impatient.

"You look hungry."

"Starving," Harry confirms, "It smells so good."

"Ugh, tell me about it; I haven't eaten since breakfast."

Sirius trots down the stairs then, drops heavily into his usual seat at the head of the table, and then produces his wand from a holster on his wrist. He points it at the roast beef, and before Leo's and Harry's eyes, the roast starts to carve itself.

"Mum hates it when you do that," Leo reminds Sirius.

"Maybe," Sirius concedes, "But carving it by hand is terrible."

"Your funeral." Leo slouches in his seat, only to receive a light stinging hex to the shoulder for the trouble. It's courtesy of Laurel,, who returns to the kitchen behind Vega and Virgo, neither of whom appear pleased to be there.

Vega and Virgo are identical twins, with Sirius' ink black hair and Laurel's light blue eyes. They've recently turned 10, they're polar opposites, and they are the best of friends. They're also brats of the highest order, but Harry doesn't remember a time when that wasn't the case.

"We're not even hungry, Mum," Vega scowls. Leo doesn't pay attention, to busy pouting over the lingering sting in his shoulder. He's sitting upright though, back straight as is expected of them, and Harry tries not to laugh at the expression on his face.

"You'll eat dinner, and you won't complain about it." Laurel doesn't leave room for them to argue. She shepherds them towards the table instead, and then makes herself comfortable in the seat adjacent to Sirius'.

Vega and Virgo share a glance between themselves, share a sigh of the truly put upon, and make themselves comfortable in their usual seats. Leo rolls his eyes again, and he and Harry busy themselves with loading their respective plates up with food. Sirius, as he does the same, attempts to make the twins laugh, but they're stubborn, and determined to ignore both adults completely.

Laurel, who is still irritated by the fight to get them to the dining table at all, doesn't seem bothered in the slightest. Instead, she turns her attention to Sirius and Harry, and in particular, the question of how their respective days had turned out.

"Harry's now a black belt," Sirius says proudly, distracted from his self-appointed mission. "He did very well during his test today."

"Good work," Leo offers him a grin. They knock fists over the dining table, and Harry's face burns as he mumbles his thanks. "Now I'll have someone to practice with at school."

"Great,"

Harry's not enthused in the slightest. Leo is two years older than him, so disregarding the inevitable height and weight advantage he has as a result, Leo's always had two years more training and practice than Harry himself. Harry is faster, with quicker reflexes, but against Leo, he's won very few spars. In fact, it's fairly safe to assume Leo has soundly kicked his arse on more occasions than Harry cares to consider. He's not looking forward to more of the same.

"How about we get through the summer holidays before you boys start planning what you'll get up to in September?"

"Are we doing anything interesting?" Leo wonders.

"A couple of weeks in Spain," Laurel replies.

"That's not until August, though," Sirius contributes, "So you have plenty of time to complete your homework."

"Exactly how I want to spend my holidays," Leo deadpans, "Doing homework."

"Might as well get it out of the way," Sirius reasons.

"Yeah, yeah," Leo mutters. He stabs at a piece of potato, half-hearted, and says nothing further.

As the adults start talking between themselves, and as Vega and Virgo ignore everyone else at the table, Harry eats his meal in silence, helps himself to seconds, and tunes them all out. Across from him, Leo does the same, and dinner passes. Dessert does, too, and Harry excuses himself to his bedroom soon thereafter. He's worn out, a bit tired of people, and he's ready to unwind in the comfort and solitude of his bedroom. It's been a long day, spent at the dojo since morning, and he's ready for it to be over.

If Leo's expression as he leaves is anything to go by, he is, too.

-!- -#-

Chapter Two

As Laurel and Sirius proceed with their usual routine, Remus Lupin carves out a place for himself in their children's summer. Leo, whose 13th birthday is in August, grouses that he's old enough not to need a babysitter, but the twins are excited, and they pester Remus with entreaties to play with them, with endless questions, with requests to explore London and all it has to offer.

Harry, who has requested a summer reading list from his mild-mannered, unendingly patient tutor (and sometimes babysitter), spends most of his days in the family's magically expanded backyard, his head in a book, or kicking around a football, or enjoying the refreshing qualities of the family's pool.

Remus' reading list is made up mostly of fiction novels, but there are also a few, easily digestible, introductory theory texts to prepare him for Hogwarts, too. Harry doesn't enjoy the latter nearly as much as he enjoys the former, but they're interesting enough, and Harry makes sure to take his time with them.

Other then reading, Harry plays quidditch, one on one or two on two games with his siblings, and even as he is frequently left to his own devices, even as he is teased by Leo, even as Vega and Virgo sometimes irritate him to no end, he enjoys himself, the summer sunshine, and the freedom from his usual routine. Remus is a lot more fun when he's not acting in his role as he and his siblings' tutor, more inclined to indulging their whims, to feed them sweets, and to tell them stories from his days at Hogwarts alongside his best friends, James Potter and Sirius Black.

On one particular day in early July, Harry and Leo claim the pool for themselves. Virgo and Vega are busy causing havoc inside the house, hardly daunted by the long-suffering efforts of Remus' to contain them, but neither Harry nor Leo pay the chaos any heed.

At this point, they are both very much accustomed to their sisters' very special brand of trouble.

"You know something, Harry?" Leo props himself against the edge of the pool where Harry's made himself comfortable, stretched out under the sun, novel in hand, fruit smoothie by his side.

Harry hums his acknowledgement, distracted and disinterested, and turns a page in his book. He doesn't care much for disruptions when he's reading, and Leo knows that very well.

Knowing and respecting, however, are two completely different issues, and Leo's never been one to appreciate reading for the sake of reading. As such, he is unfazed by Harry's inattention - he seems to expect it, in fact - and says decisively, "I'm going to become an animagus."

That definitely catches Harry's attention. He knows what an animagus is, of course - Sirius has never made an effort to hide his canine form from them - and Harry's often wondered what his own animagus form would be, too. He's dreamt of flying through the skies without a broom, or running wild and free on four legs. He's pictured himself as a stag, like his father, or a dog, like his godfather, and he's even done a bit of research into the topic, as well.

He'd not learned a lot, just that the process of becoming one is lengthy, complicated, and difficult, but regardless, Harry hasn't quite given up on the idea. Rather, it's been set aside, to return to when he's more practised with Transfiguration - and magic in general, really - and Harry hasn't thought about it much, since.

He hasn't forgotten, though.

"Why?"

"Because it'd be really useful," Leo explains, "And I guess if what Dad says is true, and he's going to return one day, I'd definitely like to have every advantage I can."

Harry doesn't need any more explanation then that, really. Sirius has never doubted his certainty that Voldemort would return one day. Consequently, he's spent the last ten years preparing his family for that eventuality, because although he doesn't expect them to fight, he's also fairly certain they'll each be dragged into the conflict anyway, willing or not.

With that in mind, the prospect of having as many advantages against the monster who killed Harry's parents?

Why, it's only practical.

"How very Slytherin of you," Harry quips.

Leo's entirely unabashed. "I was sorted there for a reason."

"I remember," Harry answers. Leo's expressed those reasons often enough, and Harry has no interest in hearing them again, "I'm wondering why you're telling me, though."

"Because I need someone to know, and since you'll be at Hogwarts with me…"

"All right," Harry acquiesces, "I'll supervise, and get help if you need it, but only if you do the same for me when the time comes."

Leo nods once. "You have yourself a deal, little brother."

Harry rolls his eyes. He'll never not be annoyed by the 'little brother' moniker, but Remus had once advised him to pick his battles, and honestly, Harry just can't be bothered. There are better ways he could be spending his time. "I'll hold you to that."

Leo nods once, wordless, Harry mirrors the action, and until they arrive at (or return to) Hogwarts, they don't discuss it further. After all, it's not worth the risk of getting caught before they can even start.

-!- -#-

Harry's Hogwarts letter arrives on the 20th of July. It's early still, and a Saturday, and both Sirius and Laurel haven't yet left the breakfast table. They're relaxed, lingering over tea and the puzzles in the Saturday Prophet.

And then an owl flies in through the high window, and alights on the dining table.,

Harry doesn't notice the commotion, at first. He's focused on his breakfast, on the ricotta pancakes, the few rashers of bacon, sliced fruits, and honey milk served by Peggy, and he's enjoying his meal too much to allow himself the distraction of what else is going on around him. Vega grabs his attention with a ridiculously sharp elbow to his ribs, however, and Harry glares at her, affronted.

"What was that for?"

"If you'd quit stuffing your face for a second, maybe you'd notice."Vega points towards the centre of the table, and Harry follows her finger, perplexed and still irritated. His ire, however, evaporates with the first sight of the barn owl in front of him, and in particular, the parchment envelope the owl carries in it's beak.

"It's here?" He asks dumbly.

"It's here," Sirius confirms, an easy, indulgent smile on his face. "Are you going to open it, then?"

Harry knows better than to snatch his letter from the bird's beak - not only would he earn the owl's wrath, but Laurel's, too - but it's a near thing. He trades it, instead, a handful of owl treats from his pocket - Harry's been awaiting this day for weeks - for the letter in question. He holds it reverently, studies every detail of the wax seal, of the hand-written address, of the parchment itself.

"I can't believe it's here," Harry marvels, "It's actually here."

Harry doesn't notice, but Leo silently returns to his breakfast. He's already experienced the arrival of his first Hogwarts letter, and it's not nearly so exciting from the other side.

"Congratulations, Harry," Laurel says. She reaches over and combs an affectionate hand through his sleep-tousled hair, "I'm sure you'll do wonderfully at Hogwarts."

"We're happy for you," Sirius contributes, "Though I'm not sure how Remus will cope without you to balance out your sisters' chaos."

"Hey!" Vega and Virgo protest, in chorus. Sirius smirks at them, unapologetic.

"I'm sure he'll do fine," Laurel quips, "He's put up with you for all these years, hasn't he?"

"Hey now," Sirius pretends to be disgruntled, "That was uncalled for."

Uninterested in their banter, Harry opens his letter, and reads through it slowly. It's identical to Leo's, barring the addressee, but it's his, and that makes all the difference.

"Are you going to start your electives this year?" Leo queries.

"I'm not sure," Harry answers, "I was going to speak with Remus about it, first."

"I'll get in touch with him after breakfast, then," Sirius acknowledges, "I don't think he's got anything planned today, so we'll invite him over for dinner. You think you can wait until then?"

Harry doesn't think he has much of a choice, so he nods, carefully sets the envelope from Hogwarts out of reach of any potential breakfast splatter, and returns to his meal.

"If you do decide to start your electives this year, do you know which ones you'll take?" Leo prods him.

"Ancient Runes, Arithmency, and Care of Magical Creatures," Harry answers, "Remus told me about all of them. They're pretty useful, aren't they?"

"It depends on what career you'd like to pursue," Sirius concedes, "But they're certainly more practical than Divination or Muggle Studies."

"Particularly since the Muggle Studies curriculum hasn't been updated since the 1930's, at least," Laurel concurs, "Three electives would mean a rather demanding workload, though, and remember, you've got your Saturday classes to think about, as well."

"I know," Harry exhales through his nose, "That's why I wanted to speak with Remus before I decide."

"It's doable," Leo contributes, "I've even got enough time for the Charms Club. I'm not looking forward to this year, though."

Leo's due to sit his OWL exams for Ancient Runes, Arithmency, and Care of Magical Creatures. Harry doesn't know much about them, but he knows they're important. It's also not overly common for third years to sit them, but it's not an oddity, either, and Leo won't be the only one of his classmates to take some of them early.

"No need to worry about it now," Sirius says, "Save that for September."

Leo responds with a lazy salute, his mouth full of food, but none of them speak further regarding the OWL exams. Vega and Virgo sulk about having to wait another year until they themselves can attend Hogwarts, and Sirius and Laurel make plans to visit Diagon Alley on the 31st. It's a plan that's part birthday present, part tradition, and part practical, and to Harry, 10 days suddenly seems like a lifetime.

He can't wait.

-!- -#-

Remus arrives promptly at six o'clock that evening. He's not remotely surprised to hear about the arrival of Harry's Hogwarts letter, but he congratulates the (almost) 11 year old all the same, and then sits down with him to discuss Harry's elective options, and to chat about all of his concerns, besides.

"Sirius mentioned you have concerns about your electives?"

"It's a lot of work," Harry explains, "And with the Saturday classes…"

I don't want to fall behind. I don't want to fail. I don't want to disappoint anyone.

Harry doesn't say any of that, but he's pretty sure Remus hears it all, anyway.

"You don't give yourself enough credit," Remus replies, "I've taught you a lot more than the standard primary school curriculum these last few years, Harry, and despite all of your other commitments, you excelled spectacularly. I have no doubt in your ability to handle the workload. And for whatever reason, even if you can't handle all of it, there's no shame in failure. All we ask of you is that you try your best."

Harry nods absently, but he's not sure how much he believes Remus' words. He's spent his life hearing stories about his parents; about how intelligent they were, how gifted, how powerful, and no matter how hard he tries, Harry's not sure he'll ever be able to live up to their memory, or to their sacrifice.

He wouldn't know where to even start.

"Is there anything else on your mind, Harry?"

Harry hesitates, but Remus is patient, his face kind, and Harry slumps in defeat. "What if no one likes me? People only ever want to be friends with the Boy Who Lived."

Remus sighs, unsurprised, but weary. He doesn't reply immediately, and instead takes a sip of his tea, and takes the time to gather his thoughts.

"I can't promise there won't be people like that at Hogwarts," Remus says, "It has always been encouraged as a place to develop ties between families, and as the Heir of the House of Potter, and as the Boy Who Lived, you can and will be a powerful ally when you come of age.

"Not all of your classmates will be motivated by politics, or fame, or power, however. There will be students there just to learn, and to make friends, just like you. It will be up to you to find them, to discern the motivations of everyone else, and to decide whether they're worth developing ties with despite those motivations."

Harry's not the slightest bit comforted by Remus' words. He is, however, comforted by the hug Remus offers him, and by the scarred hand that combs through his tousled hair.

"Those classmates of yours, who approach you because they want something? They'll do so because of your titles. They'll stay because of you."

Harry sighs. "I hope so."

Remus smiles. "I know so."