Luna Lovegood was in a tremendously good mood. For the first time in years, she had good friends.

Harry Potter genuinely seemed to like her. She noticed that, even when she spoke about the creatures it seemed only she could see, he listened to her intently, willing to believe, but with a healthy skepticism. He humored her without being patronizing.

He also had become quite protective of her, sort of how she imagined an older sibling. It was heartwarming.

Hermione Granger… though an outsider may think she was best suited for Ravenclaw, Luna could very easily deny the notion. She was certainly intelligent enough, but it was her reasoning that set her apart. Luna had a fixation on magical creatures, to the point where she could see creatures within the aether itself. Hermione was interested in concrete evidence of these creatures, but did not understand that their absence did not indicate their nonexistence.

Though she did have wonderfully fluffy hair, perfect for holding her knowledge!

And Neville Longbottom was very sweet and attentive! He was very soft spoken, but he had a wealth of knowledge about various magical plants, even some of their more niche benefits! He also began carrying a set of trainers in her size, as well as a spare scarf (knit by Hermione, of course) and a cloak ever so slightly too big for her…

Perfect for flapping the sleeves!

And of course, there was the little elf that followed Harry invisibly, though he obviously didn't want to talk, and was clearly on a very important quest.

Yes, she was having a fantastic time. But, it was missing something important. Laughter.

She had noticed the names tossed between Lord Black and Professor Lupin. They were Padfoot and Moony. Given that Pettigrew was Wormtail, and the stories of how close Harry's father had been with the three… James Potter must have been Prongs.

So, they were the Marauders. And they chose her and her new friends to be their successors.

Her thought process had one logical conclusion.

So she put some tainted polyjuice potion into Professor Snape's roast duck for dinner.

The laughter was infectious and brought a broad smile to her face, as Snape roared at the students like a demented cartoon duck. His long hooked nose had melded with his mouth to make a bill, and his greasy locks became downy feathers.

Of course, no one would ever suspect "Loony" Luna Lovegood of pranking the potion master. A perfect alibi, the assumptions of others.

"- I just don't know what to do with myself this year. I mean, Sirius and the Dementors were this year's biggest danger. First year was Quirrell, and by extension… you know. Second year was the basilisk and the diary. What happens next?"

Her ruminations were broken by the voice of her new friend.

"Honestly, Harry, I don't think you really have anything to worry about this year. Maybe for once we can get some proper work done. And I do expect you to actually submit your written assignments correctly!"

"Don't worry, 'Mione. I… I think I can do that now."

Neville swallowed his food.

"Because of Lord Black?"

Harry nodded.

"I reckon you should still be careful… the Black family is old. Older than the Malfoys. Rivals both the Potters AND the Longbottoms. And very, very dark."

"A wise policy to have, Neville. Alice would be proud."

The voice of their subject of conversation broke through. Sirius Black, after a mere two weeks, had returned to Hogwarts.

"Sirius! What are you doing here?"

"A favor for Dumbledore. One that'll benefit you and me both."

He placed an ancient looking tome down in front of Harry and Hermione. It's thick leather binding held the cracks of age, and the smell of dust.

It's title, seeming to be freshly inked, was in the color of blood.

"A Treatise On the Magickes of Mortal Bondes."

"Page 524, Harry, if you please."

Nodding as he opened the tome, the young man fingered ancient pages. Finding the page, he read the title.

"'Blood of The Covenant: The Family You Choose.' This ritual… it's a form of adoption?"

"Yes. The reason you were placed with the Dursleys was for your protection. As it should be fairly obvious now, the time after Voldemort's defeat was still tumultuous, with plenty of his followers still fighting. Any one of them would have killed you, if they'd gotten the chance. So, shortly after receiving you from Hagrid, Dumbledore used a bit of… questionable magic. He created blood wards. These wards are powered by two forces - living blood, and love. Or rather, the intent to protect who you love."

Hermione seemed to understand it first.

"So Harry was sent to live with his last living relative!"

Sirius smiled at her warmly and nodded, his good mood soured, though, when he saw the dejection in Harry's eyes.

"So I'll have to go back?"

Sirius knelt down, and placed his hands on Harry's shoulders.

"No, Harry. Never again. This ritual will add my blood to yours. You'd still be you, you'd still be James and Lily's boy, but you'd also be mine. All the protections, all the benefits, you'd even become my heir, unless I got shacked up and popped out a new Black or two."

Laughing at his crude humor, Harry's spirit was lifted. He hugged Sirius tightly about his neck. With all of his hardships and all his disappointments, it was often all too easy to forget that Harry Potter was a child. One who deserved, but was long denied, love and happiness.

"So, when can we perform the ritual?"

"Easter hols would probably be best… I'd rather you not spend another day in Surrey, not if I can help it."

"The whole town of Surrey?"

"Honestly, Harry, if I saw the walking larder and the horse with no jockey, I'd probably do something that ACTUALLY warranted my extended stay."

Harry laughed and held tight.

"Easter is still months away, though."

Sirius could not suppress the tears in his eyes and the smile that spread across his face, hearing the excitement in his boy's voice.

His boy. They weren't even blood bound and Harry was already his boy.

Actually thinking about it, Harry had been his boy since July 31st, 1980.

It felt good to have that again.

……………………………………………………….

"So, Lord Black, this is our fifth session, and I'd like to ask how you feel about your progress."

Doctor Henry Shawcross was a muggleborn wizard. He had attained his mastery in mind healing shortly after Hogwarts, though hadn't actually entered the wizarding workforce for about eight years after the fact. He had, apparently, gone to university and obtained his doctorate in psychology.

Though his talents were undeniable, and his methods a seamless integration of mundane and magical means, Sirius was still one of his only clients.

Purebloods stuck together it seemed.

"Well, I still have some depressive bouts, but getting the new flat, and preparing everything for Harry in a few weeks helps take my mind off of things. Remus agreeing to room with me for a while helps a lot."

"The break in isolation and the feeling of purpose and drive is paramount to your healing. But what about your social life? Beyond Harry and Remus?"

Sirius shook his head.

"Most friends are either dead, as good as, or moved on with their lives, having written me off years ago."

"So I take it dating is off the table right now?"

"Would that really be the best thing for me right now?"

"I'll be honest, Sirius… when I agreed to take you on as a patient, I expected the healing process to take months, if not years. You spent over a decade in a prison known for driving inmates mad within the first three years. Granted, most of your time was spent in your animagus form, but still - ten years should have weighed more heavily on your mind. But as far as I'm able to tell, most of your issues stem from your abusive upbringing, followed by entering the war, followed immediately by your incarceration. It's safe to say that, really, what you need now is peace. Taking your godson in will help you cope with the loss of your friends, and it will ease your guilt for being imprisoned. Finding a partner who is patient and understanding of your situation can help you as well, though I don't recommend doing so for that reason alone."

"It could really help?"

"Yes, I think so. Otherwise, what would you do when the Wizengamot is not in session, and Harry's away at school? Sit alone in your flat for months at a time?"

"I could always be an auror again…"

A gentle *WHAP* sounded in the office when a rolled up newspaper struck Sirius gently.

"No. What you need is to settle down. Relax. Being an auror will put you right back into the thick of things."

"Alright… but was that really necessary?"

"Your name is literally 'Black Dog.'"

"Fair enough."

………………………………………………………

"Alright, Harry, even though the Dementors have been pulled from the grounds, I see no reason not to continue these extra lessons. Your progress with the Patronus charm is simply too extraordinary to lose this momentum! So, assume your stance… and… do you have your memory?"

Harry nodded.

"Good… cast!"

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

As the silvery shield expanded and grew brighter and brighter.

Remus's eyes widened as his sensitive ears picked out the thundering of hooves through the mist. Just as the sound reached its crescendo, Harry dropped to one knee, panting and dripping with sweat.

"Absolutely astounding! I think we're very close to finding your Patronus guardian!"

He helped Harry into an old wooden chair that, despite its age, was remarkably comfortable.

"Truly, Harry, your progress is greater than any of us back in the day. Even your father - who really was great at charms, though his passion was transfiguration - it took him months to figure this out!"

Panting with a weak smile, Harry choked out his words.

"I have to say Professor… you seem much more lively now… happier."

Remus smiled softly.

"With good reason, cub. I have one of my best friends back, for the first time in years, I don't feel alone! And then, once Sirius and you finish that ritual, I'll be able to sleep better knowing that you're somewhere truly safe."

Harry's smile faltered.

"I've actually been wondering, sir… why didn't you ever seek me out? Why didn't you ever visit?"

With a heavy sigh, and the flick of his wand, Remus plopped down into a hastily conjured chair. He ran a hand through his locks, and stared at the crisscrossed scars, before closing his eyes.

"At first, it was guilt and shame… I… I'm a werewolf, Harry."

He heard no gasp, no curses, nothing but the scraping of wood against stone tile before he felt a hand settle on his knee.

Accepting it as a sign to continue, he took a breath.

"The war against Voldemort was at risk of spilling out into the rest of Europe. Giants, trolls, and ogres were swearing fealty to the Dark Lord. Dementors were defecting from the ministry, often joining in on attacks. I was the only one capable of infiltration. I was abroad, attempting to sow discord and disunity among the werewolf packs that were considering joining the forces of evil. I held no contacts with my friends and comrades back home for months at a time. By the time I returned to Britain, the war had been declared 'over' for two months. I was struck by the reality that 2 of my best friends, my brothers, Harry, were dead… because of the actions of the third. And I wasn't here. I failed to protect them."

He shook his head somberly.

"My pack was destroyed. I am not proud to admit it, but the neck several months were a blur for me. Days melded together, and the only way I could tell time was the steadily growing piles of bottles and cans. Eventually, it was Professor McGonagall who pulled me out of it. She reminded me that my friends and I had dreams about life after the war. I was the only one left who could try. And wouldn't that be what they want for me? So… I left. I went abroad, found a Defense Master, earned my Mastery, worked dozens, if not hundreds, of odd jobs in both the magical and mundane worlds. And… I wanted to see you, but I was afraid."

"Afraid of what?"

"Afraid that I'd see your mother's eyes, and your father's unkempt mop, rolled up nicely with Sirius's humor, Peter's gentleness… and maybe even a bit of me. I was afraid that one look at you, and I'd be taking the last look at the Marauders. Though, I guess now, it's a good thing that I don't see Peter in you."

He gave a sad chuckle.

"But, everything else is there, just as I had once feared."

"How's that? I only just recently met… or I guess, I was just reintroduced to… you and Sirius."

"Our upbringings. Like Sirius, you've grown with a family that honestly isn't worth the title of. And like Sirius, you became witty and sarcastic in order to hide your hurt. And, like me, you have an ability. Some would call it a curse, others would call it a blessing, but most of Wizarding Britain thinks it's dark."

"You heard about that, then?"

"Of course I did. It was only last year, after all. Which reminds me!"

Without warning, Remus stood and went over to a bookshelf in the back of the room.

"I know you must be tired of having something that could be useful, but you just haven't the foggiest idea of where to start with it, so…"

He handed Harry a book. Unlike the old Black tome, this one was much newer.

"This is the latest edition of 'Parseltongue: The Serpent's Voice.' I can't read it, as it is written in Parseltongue, but I know it's real on account that I met one of the authors whilst abroad."

Harry held it as though it were a holy artifact.

"There are other parselmouths?"

"Of course! All over the world in fact! Did you know that the Catholic Saint Patrick was a Parselmouth?"

"Really?"

"How else would he have convinced the serpent population of Ireland to leave? Anyways, that right there is the cumulative knowledge that the wizarding world has regarding parsel magic! At least, until more research is done."

"Wow…"

"I bought that for you, you know? Consider it a late Christmas gift."

"Really?!"

"I do expect you to read it through. And read it carefully."

"Yes sir! Thanks, Moony!"

And for the briefest moment, there was James, smiling at him again, just as he had so many years before.

Holding back his tears, Remus pulled Harry into a hug.

"You're welcome, cub."