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Chapter Four:
"That was a disaster." Bill muttered to himself, collapsing on the couch of his appartement. Eight hours, it had taken them eight hours to get all of Harry's First Year equipment thanks to the ridiculous crowds and reporters.
It had been announced that Avalon had been unsealed and that the Prince of Avalon was in Diagon Alley that day... Unfortunately, Charlus Potter was also in Diagon Alley that day and all the reporters thought it was him, their numbers had been tenfold the usual and Bill had barely been able to navigate the street.
Harry had almost been trampled a couple of times, until Bill set him on his shoulders and had it done with.
But it was over now.
Harry sat beside him quietly, taking a book out of his bag and opening it, settling down quietly to read, reminding Bill all too much of a young Percy stealing his own books.
Taking care of Harry was... A learning experience. He was always expecting to be punished or sent back to the Potters, though that was likely to happen soon, he was only really watching over him because the Potters left no contact means other than owl and they couldn't risk the owl being intercepted when it had such sensitive information. The boy didn't eat much, forgot to drink, didn't understand the need for him to have medical treatment, and was quite content to just sit and read, as he was now.
Though, he seemed happier to have some books of his own rather than that Morgana book.
Bill yawned, looking down at Harry for a moment before he stood up, stretching, ignoring the way Harry watched in fear.
"Lasagne for dinner?" He suggested, heading for the kitchen. While Bill himself couldn't cook much more than ramen, his mum had been sending him meals
Harry nodded absently, and Bill went to prepare the meal. He knew the Goblins had contacted Sirius Black today, so hopefully, the man would be able to take over care of Harry for now.
Bill may adore the kid, he was such a sweet boy, but he was most definitely not equipped to care for a young traumatised child like Harry Le Fae, even with the extra money from Gringotts to do so. A kid like Harry needed stability, somebody who knew him well, not somebody like Bill who didn't know any other eleven year olds (not well, at least) except Ron, who was more than happy to eat his feelings.
Snorting at the thought of Ron probably doing that right this second, Bill cast some heating charms on the lasagne his mum had sent, wincing when one of the bowls caught on fire and the other began to emit an alarming amount of steam.
And of course, an Ifrit had to appear as he tried to put the fire out, the little messenger giving him a disgusted look then turning to the fire and making it disappear with an irritated tap on the side of the bowl. Bill filtered the steam out of the window and looked at the Ifrit with a sigh.
The pixie-esque creature flicked her fiery hair over her shoulder, remarkably human looking other than the unnaturally dark skin, the colour of charcoal, and the odd clothing, made of metal, with a sword of her back and her little wings of fire settled on her back. Ifrits were odd little creatures, originally a type of powerful Jinn from the Middle East, enslaved and shrunken by wizards, and were used to send messages concerning Avalon, where they were common. In fact, they had offered to aid Gringotts in matters concerning Avalon, in return for information on their new Prince.
The Ifrit hissed at him then held out a scroll, which he of course took. She promptly disappeared with a puff of smoke.
Bill opened the scroll, watching it enlarge, and read through the contents. Sirius Black had agreed to take Harry and would be accompanying Harry to Avalon on the twentieth, in three days.
Bill breathed a sigh of relief. He was to take Harry to the bank after a meal to be sent to his godfathers.
Reassured, Bill checked the lasagne was properly heated and not damaged from the fire (it wasn't, thanks to the Ifrit) before carrying it out to Harry with a relieved smile on his face.
~
Sirius Black had been called many things in his life: a playboy, a philanthropist, a mini-Death Eater, a bullheaded Gryffindor, a no-good Marauder... But this was new.
"Traitor!" James hissed through the Floo connection, heated rage in his eyes. "How dare you, you thieving traitor, taking my son, my blood, away from me!"
"Prongs-"
"Don't call me that!"
"James," Sirius corrected with a sigh, "I was asked to collect him as you weren't responding to the Goblins. I have to hold Guardianship until his meeting on the twentieth, and then you'll have him back. We've been over this."
His godson was asleep upstairs in the Heir's bedroom of Black Manor. Bill Weasley had brought him to Gringotts hours earlier and after signing a few papers, Sirius was the official guardian of the eleven year old - if only temporarily.
"Well you can have him!" James bellowed, somehow missing the entirety of what Sirius had said, a remarkable talent the man had culminated from years of disobeying professors. "We don't want him! He's dark! He's corrupting our Charlie!"
Sirius blinked once. Then twice. Then sighed, too tired to deal with his friend when he was like this.
"James, get some sleep. We'll talk about this in the morning, don't do anything rash." Sirius said, feeling distinctly like Professor McGonagall breaking up another fight in the Gryffindor common room.
He ended the Floo call and grabbed a bottle of Firewhisky, drinking straight from the bottle. How had he gotten himself in this mess?
James had gotten harder and harder to deal with over the years, especially concerning his godson. The man seemed to listen to Dumbledore as if the man was God and cared far more about Charlus than poor Harry. He had never understood James' attitude towards the dark, considering Remus was classified as a dark creature and James would never dream of rejecting Remus, but he hated his son with a passion because he was dark and because of the strange scar on his face.
The Mark of Morgana, as he'd called it. The forks of lightning were starkly pale against his godson's darker complexion (much to his father's irritation) clear as day and oddly beautiful in a way, almost artistic. If his research was right, it was a mark of powerful magic, but beyond that there was no information on the mark. Until Harry's blood results came back.
It really had something to do with Morgana, to the point that Harry had been able to adopt her name, Le Fae, which was practically unheard of in the Wizarding World. The Le Fae line had long been extinct and had been destroyed every time it resurfaced, either by jealous dark wizards or 'righteous' light wizards, and the family had never been anything but dark, much like his own...
The thought terrified him, Harry being branded as dark as he was, and he feared what would happen if the boy wasn't sorted into Gryffindor like he was. James for starters would flay him alive if the boy ended up anywhere other than Gryffindor, but Dumbledore he worried about. The man preached about the end of days and the end of darkness, specifically, and now Sirius couldn't help but wonder if his godson would have to be 'ended' as well in Dumbledore's world.
He could only beg the Fates to protect his son.