To a large majority of those who passed through the narrow street in the London borough of Islington, the space between 11 and 13 Grimmauld Place was non-existent. The dignified, weather-worn brickwork of 11 - home to a young immigrant family of five - smoothly transitioning into 13 - a refuge to an ageing widower seeking escape in the arms of his Vicodin.

To others, a minority, a feeling of dread slowly crept up their backs the closer they came to the area. They often surreptitiously palmed their wands, a curse on the tip of their tongues and eyes furtively searching for would-be attackers. Those with the misfortune of having to pass under the oppressive magic of the area swore to never take the route again, only to inevitably forget having felt anything odd at all...

But to a small minority among that minority, the space between 11 and 13 expanded to fit an entire townhouse. 12 Grimmauld Place was their escape. Their secret to keep. Bought by the Lord Black a century and a half ago, it was the home of the Blacks. A family famous for their infamy and the inevitable madness that dogged its members.

It was a veritable fortress. Ancient Black wards stretched invisibly over an entire city block, monitoring all foreign magicals nearby, the powerful ward-stones fed by a minor Ley line that ran underneath the locality. A Fidelius charm added a few months ago had stripped all knowledge of the house's location from anyone who'd previously been aware of it, its secret now safely stored in the soul of arguably the most powerful wizard on the side of the light. Albus Dumbledore.

The place was also humongous. While the apartment complex certainly didn't look big enough on the outside, runic expansion schemes were carved liberally into the walls and ceilings, giving the complex upwards of fifty rooms. More than half were luxurious personal suites - 'perfect for uppity young purebloods,' Ron had joked, then blushed and mumbled an apology as Sirius had raised an eyebrow at him. Of the five floors in total, the second was Harry's favourite. It housed a gymnasium with an array of weights, a magical treadmill - which was honestly just a circle of floor charmed to be frictionless, advanced duelling dummies, and spell resistant walls. The floor was a seemingly seamless slab of smooth, scarlet stone which was laced with a variant of the cushioning charm that gave it the feel of soft rubber padding.

Next door to the gym was something that made Harry slightly drool when Sirius took the trio for a tour on Harry's second day at HQ. The Black Armoury. A room the size of Hogwarts' Great Hall, except filled to the brim with deadly weapons. Filled, as in filled. A weapons display, it was not.

The room was stocked with weapons from the past several millennia that, thanks to the brilliance of magic, looked none the worse for wear. The unending stacks of swords from various civilizations were quite impressive and earned a well deserved "Morgana's heaving tits!" from a wide-eyed Ron. Unfortunately for the lad, it was in the presence of Hermione, who then proceeded to threaten him with the use of the pointed implements around her in... imaginative ways... if he didn't learn to watch what spewed out of the 'hole you call your mouth'.

Smirking at the antics of his friends as he looked around, Harry's eyes were drawn to the ranged weapons. There were the simple hunting bows, small, light and easily drawn. Then there were the Beasts. Ornately carved bows that stood as tall as he did. When he asked Sirius which people could have handled a bow this large, the man had snorted - "The bloody Vikings, that's who." The crossbows were intriguing too. Compact and easy to use. He made a mental note to try them out at the gym later.

Harry moved to the stands where countless arrows of different sizes were lined vertically. He bent to inspect an arrowhead and traced the smooth metal on its side with his fingertips. Rune carvings. These were magical arrows! He called Hermione to take a look at the Runes, but it was a script she'd never come across before. She did, however, recognize the runes on a different set of arrows. The array was just a basic one that dealt with the durability of the metallic arrowhead.

As he left the armoury almost an hour later with the other three, his thoughts were still revolving around the runic carvings he'd found on countless other weapons as he'd looked for them carefully. He was utterly fascinated by how a simple runic array could deeply affect the properties of the simplest of the muggle weapons he'd seen. His mind, which had quite ironically felt lighter since the dementor attack, was alight with scenarios and ideas as he considered the damage he could do with a good knowledge of runes. Hmm... time to hit up Hermione.

"Hey, Hermione, you DTF?"

Sirius choked. Hermione narrowed her eyes and blushed a bright red. "Harry?!"

"Down to Futhark?" he clarified. "I wanted to get a crash course on Runes, you mind pointing me in the right direction?"

Hermione, still sporting a blush, got a slightly... manic? glint in her eye that worried Harry. He was unceremoniously dragged into the library by the bushy haired witch. A stack of books five feet high was plonked on to his desk with a stern "Read them exactly in this order." And so Harry's fate was sealed - but for the first time, he was looking forward to having his nose buried in a book.

The week after Harry's arrival at 12 Grimmauld Place was eventful... to say the least. Dobby and Winky were recruited - against Hermione's adamant protestations, of course - and had taken to the job of cleaning the townhouse with their usual gusto. Two days after the cleaning had begun, Dobby popped into Sirius' study, where the Marauder and Harry were hammering out the plans for the Muggleborn extraction teams.

"Master Harry Potter sir, please come with Dobby."

Harry noted the usually exuberant elf's solemn voice.

"What is it, Dobby? Is everyone alright? Is it Winky?"

"No Master Harry, it be Kreacher. He haves evil necklace. Like the black book from Dobby's old master."

"The Diary, you mean?"

Dobby nodded, as he led the two downstairs to the basement, where the elves had their quarters and handled the laundry of the townhouse. At Sirius' questioning look, Harry briefly explained the events of his second year.

"Harry," Sirius' voice had an undercurrent of urgency. "Tell me exactly what happened when you stabbed that book."

The two stopped at the first-floor landing and a restless Dobby waited a few feet away, wringing his little hands.

"Uh.. well, Tom seemed really afraid at what I was about to do. The book started bleeding when I stabbed it with the fang and I can almost swear I heard a scream from both the book and Tom's projection or whatever he was. I repeatedly stabbed it and as the book fully bled out, Tom's image finally vanished with a scream. And then Ginny woke up."

"And this... image of... Tom, he held your wand and performed spells? He was not a ghost or a wraith?"

"Not a chance. He used my wand. I heard his footsteps. He was there. I'm sure of it."

"Shit. That paranoid son of a bitch. God damn!"

"What is it, Padfoot? What's wrong?" Harry asked, wary and palming his wand. His godfather was never one to lose control. And when he did... well... a 12-year stay in Azkaban followed.

"It wasn't a memory you saw that day, Harry. An enchanted object, no matter how powerful, can't do all of that. It was him."

"Of course it was him, Padfoot, I just told y..."

"No, Harry." Sirius gripped his godson's shoulders. "The person you saw, it was actually him. Not a memory. Not a projection. It was his soul. The diary was a container for a piece of his soul... called a Horcrux. When it was given to Ginny... it began to take over her body and soul, consuming both to provide him with a body. The Black children were told horror stories of Herpo the Foul and his quest for immortality, and how he was driven to madness by splitting his soul to create a Horcrux. Even with the depravities that the Blacks dabbled in, they never even considered creating Horcruxes."

"And there's another of those things here?" Harry asked, his eyes widening.

"Dobby! Let's go." Sirius urged as the three practically sprinted down the staircase to the basement.

The house-elf quarters were miniaturized, spartan rooms. Kreacher lay on a small bed in a body bind. A Golden locket and its chain lay on the floor next to the bed. Sirius shrugged off his thick dragonhide coat and levitated the locket carefully into it before wadding the coat up into a ball. The trio stood next to the bed unconsciously relaxed, the dark aura of the locket cut off by the magic resistant dragonhide.

Dobby snapped his fingers and released Kreacher.

"Kreacher! I order you to tell me about the necklace." Sirius bit out, his patience hanging by a frayed cotton thread.

Kreacher looked mulish but was forced to comply by the magic of his bond to the House of Black.

"Great Master Regulus stoled the locket from the Dark Lord. Master was dying... and he gave Kreacher the locket and told him to destroy it but Kreacher could not! He tried and he tried but... Kreacher tried fire and... and to break it... but..." the wizened house elf was wailing by this point, clearly distraught. Harry directed Dobby to watch over Kreacher to ensure he didn't hurt himself. The little elf nodded soberly.

"Kreacher is rude elf. But he is loyal to his master. Dobby will help Kreacher."

And... that was that. They finally had the answer to why the Tub of Lard wouldn't. Just. Stay. Dead.

Horcruxes.

Pieces of his soul stored in inanimate objects that would anchor his spirit to the mortal realm. A brilliant idea in some ways. Absolutely bollocking stupid in most others.

Harry worried that they would have to go to the Chamber of Secrets to retrieve a Basilisk fang. But Sirius guessed that it was the venom that had affected the Diary rather than the fang itself. They put the theory to test by suspending the locket in a few hundred galleons worth of Basilisk venom acquired from Knockturn Alley. The outer shell of the locket dissolved slowly in the corrosive venom, but once it did, the venom attacked the Horcrux and obliterated it as it had the Diary. The locket was a charred mess and the soul piece, history. Quite anticlimactic really.

On the heels of the Horcrux business followed a Chief Warlock. He'd requested a private meeting with Harry and Sirius and the two had acquiesced, with the latter wondering what crap the old goat was going to peddle now. And peddle crap he did.

Harry was furious at the revelation that his scar had been host to a piece of Voldemort's soul. That he'd been one of those abominations himself. But Sirius blessedly interjected at this point adding that if Harry had been a Horcrux, he wouldn't have made it past five years of age. Utmost, the soul piece had been a leech, nothing more, nothing less. With a stern look, he ordered Harry not to make a big deal out of it as he would only disturb and unsettle himself.

Thankfully, the dementor had sensed the soul piece that was closest to the surface and had sucked it away, leaving Harry's soul intact and alone. Having to no longer deal with a leech on his life force, Harry realized this was the reason his body and mind were showing a marked improvement ever since. He didn't feel like a new man by any means, he had the same blurry eyesight and the thrice-damned nest of hair. But a foggy weight had been lifted off his senses, blessing him with a clearer and more analytical mind.

It was this mind that told him to stop trusting Albus Dumbledore and to "Kindly level with us and tell us what you know, or please leave. That's the only way we'll give you even an iota of support moving forward. We don't have time for your spy games, Headmaster."

And thus came, albeit reluctantly, the truth about the prophecy. Somehow, Sirius seemed to be more affected by it than Harry himself. But to be fair, Harry had known Voldemort's obsession with him, and that he would always come after him. The only thing that changed after learning the prophecy was the why behind the obsession. In the end, it didn't affect the future, so it was worthless to him. Harry said as much to the Headmaster and advised the man to drop the guard on the DoM and begin focusing on the war against Voldemort. Sirius added that the only people who could touch the prophecy orb were those the contents spoke of. So, if Harry didn't retrieve it, Voldemort himself had to make a personal appearance at the Ministry to take the orb. And in the unlikely odds that it did happen, it would still be a win for the Order, considering that Fudge and Co. would get to meet the Dark Lord up close.

Dumbledore looked calculating and a mite pleased. The vigil at the DoM was taking up too many of his assets. Thanking the duo, he left with a dramatic flourish of his violet robes. He added before leaving that he would be back in a few days to give them the information he'd been gathering about Voldemort's Horcruxes.

Harry was beginning to realize the true scope of just how bad things were going to get for Magical Britain considering its leaders were only good at micro-managing things - and quite poorly at that. It was now the middle of June 1995, a month and a half after Voldemort's rebirth at Little Hangleton. Harry estimated that Voldemort would only begin his attacks by the end of the year, the man was smart enough to use the time that the Ministry spent with its head in the sand to recruit and bolster his forces. And the Ministry wouldn't matter anyway because it was peppered with Voldemort's men in high positions already. Walden Macnair, Thaddeus Nott, Lucius Malfoy... they were just the tip of the proverbial iceberg.

No, Wizarding Britain was well and truly about to be shafted. It was time for damage control. Sirius and Harry once again put their heads together, throwing together a plan to get word to as many honest Ministry officials, muggle-born, and half-bloods as possible about Voldemort's return. When Voldemort returned to the public eye, they would be hunted with a vengeance.

Kingsley Shacklebolt, a Senior Auror at the DMLE and a member of the Order, was surprised by Harry's request to meet with Amelia Bones, the head of the DMLE. But he readily agreed, gauging that only good would come out of such a meeting. He was right. Amelia Bones was an absolute godsend for Harry. She listened patiently to his information about the rebirth ritual. She requested a Pensieve memory from him to identify the Death Eaters that had apparated into the graveyard and was incensed to see Department Heads from the MoM grovelling at the feet of the Dark Lord. She promised Harry that she would bring the DMLE up to a war footing on the sly. Fudge might be a coward, but that was no reason why everyone else should suffer for that fact. Harry also dropped vague hints about the innocence of his godfather and when asked, provided memories from that night in his third year. Amelia admitted that with the current political climate, Fudge wouldn't even dream of sacrificing his go-to scapegoat, Sirius Black. But she did promise to keep an eye out for Pettigrew. If he were to be captured, innocence for Sirius would most likely follow. Harry also told her briefly about the Horcruxes and that he was taking up the responsibility to destroy any that were left. Besides, he added, Dumbledore was aware of them, so between the two of them, he was confident he could track them down.

With the meeting - pleasantly productive for both parties - wrapping up, he told her he was leaving the country in a few months with the Grangers until he finished his NEWTs. She had an approving look in her eye.

"Quite right, Mr Potter. Children have no place in a war. I worry about my Susan myself."

"About that, Madam Bones... I spoke with the Grangers about meeting you today. Hermione is close to Susan at Hogwarts and the Grangers wished to invite Susan to live with them in Australia."

"Indeed? That's a most generous offer I must say..." She looked thoughtful.

"Madam Bones..." "Amelia, please, Harry." "Amelia... I think this is a good opportunity for Susan to get away from the war. The Grangers are good people. They have only love for Hermione, and seem to have practically adopted me even though I met them only a few days ago."

"Could I meet them in a few weeks?"

"Certainly, Madam Bones. The place we're currently staying in is... well..." Harry blushed.

Amelia smirked. "Let me guess, the old man's Order?"

Harry blanched. "How did you..."

"Oh come on lad, the Order is worst kept secret in Magical Britain after the Chamber of Secrets. With the Dark Lord back, it makes sense that Dumbledore has started it back up. I don't like it, of course, but I do appreciate having them around while the Minister decides to play hide and seek with the Dark Lord." She scowled at the last sentence, and Harry bit back a grin.

"Yes, well, the place is under a Fidelius charm and is known to only the Order. Please read this, Amelia."

He carefully unwrapped a note and handed it over to her. She memorized it and once she was done, the note burned itself.

"Thank you, Mr Potter. I'll send you an owl to finalize the date of our meeting."

"Anytime, Amelia, we'd love it if could have both you and Susan over for dinner. That way, Susan can meet the Grangers too."

Amelia smiled. "Certainly. I shall bring Susan along. And Mr Potter, I hate to have to ask this of you when you're being so kind. But with my oaths to the Ministry, it's probably for the best that I don't come across a certain innocent man."

She looked chagrined at having to say that.

"No worries, Amelia, that was pretty much along the lines of my thoughts. I would never have made you choose in the first place."

Harry was thrilled as he reached home later that day. The meeting had gone far better than he had ever hoped. With a top Ministry official aware of the Death Eater moles inside the Ministry, the MoM wouldn't be an easy target for Voldemort. Maybe Britain was not completely a lost cause after all.

Speaking of good news, he was immeasurably glad that the Grangers had insisted he come along when they made their plans to shift abroad. He didn't even want to think about separating himself from Hermione. Ron was a good mate that he was glad to be friends with. But the bloke was still a young soul and slave to his emotions of jealousy and anger. His and Harry's friendship still had a long road ahead to becoming one that could maybe last a lifetime. But Hermione, well... she was immature, sure... but the girl loved selflessly. Like with her crusade for the house elves, she would set her jaw and remain stubborn in the face of a thousand berating voices. Harry sometimes wondered what he'd done to gain her trust and loyalty. During the course of his previous year, he'd sworn to himself to never take her for granted. She'd been his only barrier against insanity, a lone voice of support in an ocean of dissent and disdain. And that voice had saved his life.

He'd lately begun to wonder what a life with her would be like. Beyond the war. Beyond the chaos. Just the two of them. Cuddling on the sofa. Watching a movie. Helping her tame her hair. Making love. He fell asleep at night to those thoughts with a smile on his face and an indescribable warmth in his chest. Just the thought that a future like that was even imaginable was enough for him... for now.

The Weasleys... were another story. They decided as a family to shift to Budapest where Mr Weasley would take up a job managing a Black Family owned business that dealt in the export of enchanted items. Only Molly's adamant fixation of getting her babies away from the war had quelled Mr Weasley's pride at having to receive help. He was further mollified by Sirius letting him know that since the business was beginning to flourish, a trusted person managing it would benefit Sirius immensely. Most of the family were naturally distraught at having to leave the UK but were cheered at the prospect of staying an apparation or two away from their brother Charlie in Romania. Bill had decided to stay with Gringotts UK for the time being. But since his job took him around the world most of the time, he could pretty much work out of any branch, including Gringotts Budapest. The estranged Weasley, Percy, had naturally rejected his family's appeals, but the family was glad that he'd at least be well protected by the Ministry.

The logistics for the job transfer and the shift had initially seemed tricky but came through, the wheels of the bureaucracy greased liberally by the Black Fortune. To access the Black Family riches, since Sirius couldn't simply walk into Gringotts without running into a dozen Aurors first, Harry had acted in his stead and met with their Account Manager for a briefing on the state of the Black Estate. As small miracles go, Lucius Malfoy had been just a Wizengamot vote away from getting his hands on the Family Vault through his son. The properties and the lands, as well as the trust vaults, had long since been usurped by the Malfoys, but the vast majority of the gold, a good two hundred and fifty million galleons, was intact and untouched since the death of the previous Head of House Black, Orion Black, Sirius' father.

As the sole remaining member of the Potter family, Harry also looked over the family's holdings- a decent two million galleons passed down from Harry's grandfather. He signed the necessary paperwork and had the contents of both family's vaults sent to the Australian branch of Gringotts to a new vault registered under the name of the Evans family. It could only be accessed by Harry Potter, and in the event of his demise, Hermione Granger. A silent clause added Sirius Black to the full access list under the alias of Michael Evans.

Harry was worried that there would be exorbitant charges for the transfer of the gold, but it seemed that the Australian branch was more than willing to bear the cost, happy with the sudden influx of gold into their vaults. To appease the irked goblins in the UK, he freely offered any information he possessed on the return of Voldemort, saying that he wished the goblins to be prepared and safe in the coming war. That seemed to go over surprisingly well. He was personally met by the Director of Gringotts UK, who then proceeded to pick his brain for a few hours. Harry left behind a thankful, but highly worried nation of goblins as he left the Bank. Voldemort was extremely bad news for the economy and the flow of gold.

With this work done in the first few weeks after Harry's arrival at Grimmauld Place, Harry and Sirius had then briefly considered meeting Barnabus Cuffe, the Editor of the Daily Prophet, but ultimately decided against it. The man was a bigot, biased against half-bloods and muggle-born. His type would undoubtedly thrive under the rule of Voldemort and would have little sympathy for Harry's story - the validity of said story not even entering into the equation.

Things had not been all easy going. A point of contention between the Marauder and his godson was Sirius deciding to stay back in the UK. Sirius argued that the Grangers and Harry would already be in pseudo-hiding from Voldemort's men. But if Sirius went with them, they would have to hide from the governments too. Besides, he added, there were too many plans in motion in the United Kingdom. He couldn't manage them all from Australia. Harry eventually had to concede when Sirius pointed out that 12 Grimmauld Place was the safest place in Britain for him right now. Even if the Fidelius was compromised, neither the Ministry nor Voldemort's men could move against the location without a large ward battering contingent, and the resulting light show of the flaring wards would undoubtedly draw the attention of muggle police forces from around London.

With the Black Fortune safely stored away and the Headship of the House waiting to be passed down to Harry on his 17th birthday, the Marauder also had plans in the near future to permanently assume the identity of Michael Evans, a distant muggle-born cousin of Lily Evans. He'd come to the realization that while his name might one day be cleared of all charges, the stigma of the crimes would follow the name of Sirius Black for the rest of his life. Sirius revealed to Harry that he planned on changing his face. In the course of listing muggle-born and half-blood wizards and witches in the UK, he'd come across a pioneering muggle-born wizard who had combined plastic surgery with magical healing methods.

"A new face. A new identity. I'm going to be perfectly fine, Harry."


"Good morning everyone!" Harry greeted as he entered the dining hall, which was maintained as immaculately as always by the elves.

"Good morning Harry!" A chorus of voices welcomed him from around the smooth, oblong table.

The Weasley Parents were looking a little weary. They'd been working around the clock packing up the Burrow and getting ready for the move to Budapest. The twins were their usual boisterous selves and were quietly making plans to set up a joke shop in Budapest - Harry might or might not have slipped them the lease to a small market front property in the magical district. Ginny seemed subdued. She had quite a few friends in Hogwarts that she was leaving behind, but having experienced Voldemort's tactics in her first year, she was glad to be leaving Britain - at least for the time being. Ron seemed the worst off - moody and pensive. He was pissed at having to be separated from Harry and Hermione. While he was uncharacteristically tactful in expressing that sentiment, but it rankled him nonetheless.

The Grangers were sitting in a group, discussing their plans for the move to Melbourne. Hermione was secretly thrilled. She was looking forward to the new school she would be attending with Harry. Hogwarts, for all its... posturing... as the best magical school in the world, was sub-par in many subjects. And the student to teacher ratio left much to be desired. The Melbourne School of Magic had seemed very promising in that regard.

The final member at the table was Sirius Black. He looked healthier and much cheerier than when Harry had initially seen him after the debacle with the dementors. Sirius claimed that getting to spend time with Harry and finally having a goal to work towards was helping him much more than any potions regimen or healers could.

Harry sat down at the table, helping himself to a plateful of sausages and bacon, giving Hermione a half-hearted glare when she added to it a hard-boiled egg and a bowl of boiled vegetables. She stuck her tongue out at him and resumed her conversation with her parents. The adults, bar Hermione's father, hid a grin at their interaction.

"So, Harry, got any plans today?" Arthur asked amiably.

"Only in the evening, Mr Weasley. We're meeting with Madam Bones and her niece."

"Are you really?" He asked with interest.

"Yes, I'm looking forward to it quite a bit."

"Hmm... Do tell me how it goes, it'll be interesting to have a good ally inside the Ministry. And in such a meaningful position too." He mused.

Sirius, who'd been chewing happily away at a mouthful of bacon, looked at Arthur.

"I remember Bones from the last war. Good fighter, good instincts, and a great arse..." Molly levelled a glare at him. "... nal of weaponized spells."

The teenagers snickered and Harry gave Sirius an evaluating look.

"You've dated her." He stated.

Sirius' eyes bugged out. "How did you know?! Did Remus tell you? He swore he wouldn't. That mangy, flea-bitten-"

"Scourgify!"

The Marauder gagged as his mouth filled with soap water.

"Sorry, Molly..." He glanced at Harry and whispered. "How the hell did you know?"

"I didn't." Harry looked triumphant and his godfather looked indignant.

"You tricked me! Why you little sh-"

"Scourgify!"


Harry and Sirius eventually settled their spat after the Marauder nailed Harry with an overpowered tickling charm while the latter was giving Hermione a hug as she and her parents were leaving for a bit of shopping. Needless to say, leaning on Hermione and roaring into her ears with laughter was not exactly the image Harry wanted to show off to her parents. After a while, the Weasleys too bid farewell for the day and floo'd to the Burrow to finish their packing.

Left alone to their schemes, Harry and his godfather spent the rest of their day putting finishing touches on a proposal Harry wanted to put forward to Amelia after dinner. Sirius wasn't very positive about the idea panning out, but since they already had a contingency under work, he supported Harry's plan. Dinnertime couldn't arrive sooner for the two. Harry, looking forward to his plans bearing fruit, Sirius looking forward to at least being near a certain someone he'd never forgotten - or would ever forget.


Author:

I sometimes wonder why the adults didn't act like adults in the HP universe. But then I realize the story wouldn't be as adventurous. Or would it?