Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven.

-Anne McCaffery

All the Weyrs of Pern, pg. 400

1. Blood Oath

Trelawny cackled, gin bottle in hand. Truthfully she was fully intoxicated, but this time on a job well done. Previously she would drink the night away, crying over spilt tea. No one was looking to hire a Divination Mistress, especially one that had yet to have a vision. The only person willing to hire her was trapped in prison.

She snorted at that. Grindelwald was a rather peculiar person. He had a difficult life, one plagued by misfortune and malice towards muggles that poisoned his brilliant mind. He wanted to save the world from itself. Translating basically, the more muggles tainted the blood of wizards the more diluted the magic would become. But unlike the rest of the wizarding community, Trewlany knew better than they. She also knew that Grindelwald was not insane like it was believed; her orders proved that.

A month ago she had visited the German prison in which he had been sentenced to. She was allowed visiting rights by claming she was his cousin, having been given the proper papers three weeks earlier. She was led by two high security guards to a room with two chairs and a table. Occupying the far chair was the muscular Grindelwald. His hands were handcuffed; his hair sprawled about his head in a mess of a mop. What was most shocking was his eyes.

They didn't hold the hatred they used to. Her brown eyes met his hazel ones, a shiver running down her back. His eyes had always changed colors, never the same two days in a row. Today his eyes were cat-eye yellow. She sat on the other chair as the guards stood post at the doors. They exchanged their normal greetings and she had informed him of the actions of the wizard government and Dumbledore. His eyes hardened when Dumbledore's name was mentioned.

He leaned forwarded and whispered into her ear. "Trick our manipulating lover. 'Neither can live while the other survives.'" He paused to chuckle softly, playing the part of the insane prisoner. "Get into the school and make sure you stay there." She probed at how she should complete this task. He smiled at her before shaking his head in reply. He dismissed her soon after. A teacher, why hadn't thought of that job possibility? To be able to influence the minds and inner eyes of the young would make the task more possible.

She grinned into her gin and released an insane giggle. How her lord would be so pleased to hear of her achievements. To fool a true insane man was near impossible but Grindelwald would be glad. After all it was for the greater good. When she met with Dumbledore earlier this very day she played it out to seem like a normal interview. She could feel in her gut that if she didn't seize the opportunity now she would never have the chance again.

She had taken on a foreign voice and spelled her eyes to glaze over. She rambled off what sounded like a prophecy would sound like and ended it with a dramatic gasp before canceling the spell on her eyes. She had shaken herself before asking poor Albus where she had left off. His eyes had widened, the stupid twinkle in his eyes shining brighter than normal. He interviewed her a few minutes longer before offering a position at Hogwarts. She accepted immediately.

Clearly it was easier to fool the old man than you would think and Grindelwald knew it. A maid entered her room, muttering furiously about magical bedspreads with a handful of sheets levitating in front of her. She stopped suddenly, noticing the drunken woman in the room.

The maid looked her up and down as if accessing her danger level. Trelawny grinned, her breath billowing the smell of gin. "He fell f'r it, the… stupid… ol'… Codger…" She stopped to release a frightening, manically insane burst of laughter. "How he wil'l… be… so pleas'd, how easy tis w's to fo'l n' insane man." The maid gave her a rather cautious look before shuddering and sliding out the room. As the maid left, Trewlany sat on the newly made bed. She laid back, took a long swig of the Gin. "He will… love me… now."

Her hand relaxed sending the Gin bottle to the floor. Moaning, she fell into a deep, alcohol induced sleep, dreaming about being in the arms of the one she loved.

He knew what had happened the moment the Marauder's ward was breached. Prongs was now battling for his life and the lives of Lily and Harry. He regretted the fact that he had not taken the position James had offered. He had refused to be Potter Manor's secret-keeper in fear he would be tortured in to spilling the beans, so to say. So instead, Wormtail became secret-keeper and commended the Potters to death. That traitorous Rat!

The minute he could get these damned magical ties undone he was going to head directly to James' house and hope for the best, and expect the worst. Then he was going to murder Wormtail for his betrayal. Turning his attention back to the magical bands across his arms, he tried to wriggle enough to where he could reach his silver saple wand. Leaning as far as he could, he could feel his fingertips graze the smooth wood. Curling his fingers, the wand rolled into his hand. Muttering 'finally' he grasped the wood, feeling the warmth from the magical core. He had been trying to reach his wand for hours now. He supposed it was his own carelessness that had landed him in this situation. Stupid intruder bands! How could he have forgotten about his own wards?

Leaning backwards, he pushed himself into his original position. Wand in hand, he muttered a few words and flicked his wand sharply. Immediately he was released, for the bands would only release its victims if it was told to by hiswand. He could remember the day he walked into the wand shop in Knockturn Alley. The young woman who ran the shady store had a wondrous way with wood and animals. His own wand was made of fairly rare elements. The silver saple was grown in Greenland as was the provider of his wand's core. Mrs. Calyor, the woman in the shop, had coaxed an extremely rare ice phoenix out of its nest to ask for a tail feather. She walked away with a wounded pride, several bites and some scratches but immensely proud for she would be one of the few wand makers to use a feather from an ice phoenix. He, Sirius, treasured the silver wand as his heart.

He shrugged off the bands and leaped the stairs three at a time. Stopping shortly at his room, he slammed the door open. His footsteps echoed loudly on the hard wood floor. He tore apart his closet's doors before shedding his thin house robes for a much thicker traveling cloak. Twirling around, he stalked out the room and was outside before you could say quidditch.

The air was brisk as the door slammed behind him. Swearing softly, he tugged his cloak around himself tightly as he mounted his motorcycle. Driving the clutch, he injected the engine and turned the key.

The engine hummed to life as he pressed the gas petal. The motorcycle pulled out onto the magical runway. Once the cycle was churning along at a steady pace, he flicked an electric blue switch. Lurching harshly, the bike launched into the air. The bike glided roughly for a few moments before leveling out and taking a more peaceful pace.

He hadn't flow for more than two minutes before he finally put two and two together. He would not be able to reach the Manor in time. A fleeting thought struck an idea. He had never apparated in the air but now was a fine time to try. Lifting his wand, he concentrated on Potter Manor before twisting the bike around. He felt an uncomfortable tug on his nasal before shifting between the in-between of the space-time continuum. He felt the cool October air rush into his face and he knew that he had succeeded.

He had arrived above the sidewalk in Godric's Hollow on his motorcycle, which was still fully intact and running. Tipping the handles slightly, he drove the bike onto the cement before cutting off the engine. He hadn't dared look at the Manor yet for fear of what he already knew what was there. He swung his leg over the bike and took a deep breath. Looking up he could feel his insides churning.

What he found when he dared to look up at Potter Manor was heart-wrenching. The first immediate thing seen was the dark mark twisting and churning in the night sky. An unwanted shiver ran down his back. He mentally readied himself for what he knew was awaiting him inside the Manor. His gaze drifted from the dark mark to the Manor itself. It was in ruins. The entire right side of magical house was ripped from its foundation. Cautiously moving forward, Sirius tapped his wand on the cast iron gates.

It opened willingly, granting him entrance. He rushed inside and scurried up the path leading towards the where the front door would have been. Tenderly he stepped through the doorway, into the hall. Seeing as how the left side of the house was still standing, Voldemort and his death eaters must have destroyed the door. Dreading what he knew he was going to find, he soundlessly stepped up the stairwell towards Harry's and Lily's and James' rooms were. He stopped abruptly when he saw a motionless figure in robes. The body was in front of Harry's room.

He fell to his knees at James' side. He knew that James would have been murdered. In fact he was murdered by Lord Voldemort himself. Pounding a fist onto James' chest, he willed his Gryffindor friend to life. He was crying now, something which he rarely did. A tear fell and landed on James' shirt before he could muster the strength to enter the room which Prongs, or should I say James, was protecting.

Sorrow was plastered to his face like a mask when he saw Lily motionless in front of a crib. Once more he found himself on the floor. He grasped Lily's delicate hand as if to comfort her and found she was still warm. She must have been murdered less than twenty minutes ago. His other hand fell to her shoulder. Softly he shook her, as if trying to wake her from a deep sleep. Sighing, he abandoned the attempt that he knew was pointless. He stood and turned to look within the crib to see a motionless Harry. But instead he found one sleeping boy with an etching of a lighting bolt on his forehead.

"Sweet Merlin!" the words were whispered out of his mouth before he could think.

James son was alive! He bent over and scooped Harry out of the crib. With the one year old in his arms he turned to James and Lily.

"I made a Blood Oath when I promised that I would raise your son as my own."

A gold mist materialized and drifted over the four bodies in the house. He knew that in order for the babe within his arms to be raised as such his name and appearance would have to be changed. Well, at least until he came of age. Then he would be able to choose whether he wanted to keep his new image or the image of one Harry James Potter.

"Harry James Potter, from this day forward until you come of age you shall be known as Damien Velon Black." He muttered the words loud and clearly with a deep voice.

The golden mist fell over the babe, now Damien once Harry. Sirius imagined how Damien would appear, not really basing it off of any specific person. Before the mist had lifted he remembered Amaya and made her features the base of Damien's appearance. The babe's features shifted. The most noticeable change was the placement of the ugly scar left upon his brow by Lord Voldemort. Now it was placed over his heart, where it could be easily hidden. He would have removed it but unfortunately it was laced together with dark magic and he couldn't tamper with it without bodily damage to both him and Damien.

The gold mist surged and flew into each of the participating bodies. Sirius glanced warily at the dead Lily and James. "I promise to avenge your deaths."

He gripped Damien tightly and stepped over Lily and James. Damn be it if Damien would not be allowed to have something of his birth parents. He gently tugged on the handle to James and Lily's room. He felt uncomfortable, as if he was intruding on something special. Well that was true. The bed was slightly disturbed, as if they were just about to get in bed before going to Harry. The room itself was in fashionable hues of crimson, a touch of Lily. A nightstand was at the head of the bed. It held a lamp and a bookmarked novel. A dresser was pushed against one of the walls. A small pearlesent box was resting on a shelf on the mahogany dresser. It was in fact, a jewelry box.

He unlatched the catch and propped the lid up. Inside were several rings, about ten necklaces and four bracelets varying from gold to silver to ebony. He pulled out one of the rings. This ring in specific was treasured by Lily. It was engraved with a snake and a panther. The snake had a red ruby for an eye and the panther had an emerald green. The panther was ebony traced in gold, every little detail outlined in the silver of the ring. It was a man's ring, passed down from generation to generation.

Sirius moved Damien to one arm as he looked at the ring. He now couldn't get the thought out of his head that Lily was not just a muggle-born witch but a descendant of a powerful wizarding family, perhaps through a squib's offspring. He hooked the ring around his little finger and ran his fingers on the bottom of the box. He traced the outer edges of the box first, working his way slowly and efficiently towards the center. His fingers came to a halt at the touch of a small lip, barely noticeable but yet, there.

He could not muster enough energy to smile at his discovery; the deaths of James and Lily were too strong. But he curled his fingers, his nails just long enough to pull the lip up. He reached inside the small conclave with two fingers. He could feel the harshness of cold metal as he lifted the contents out. He pulled his hand out of the box and closed the pearly lid.

He tilted his head forward and his black hair drifted into is face, his eyes looking over his find. In his hand was a simple gold chain with a catch at the ends. The other thing was probably the most significant of the two for it was the Potter's Gringotts key. The gold glittered even without light. He clenched his hand tight before shoving his hand into his pocket to place the three treasures into the robes.

Blinking softly he turned his head slowly to the closet where he knew James' possessions were held. He reached the walk-in closet within four steps, not really as he was quite tall. It was more like three long strides. The doors automatically opened for him, recognizing his magical patterns. He stepped inside and walked to the rear of the clothing closet. There he found the door which he knew held all of James possessions that were treasured beyond all reason. Well, at least in item form, he did truly love and treasure his family or he wouldn't have died for them.

He tapped his wand on the panel of wall and watched it slide open. There laid the Marauders Map, the invisibility cloak and a golden snitch. Apparently James had refused to allow Dumbledore to take his cloak the night before. Smirking slightly he was proud of James for that because Dumbledore seemed too… words can't describe it, just manipulative.

He gathered the cloak into one of his larger pockets, letting the edge of it hang out so that he could use it when needed. The map was next. If anything, it was the most significant piece of work that they had created in their Hogwarts school days. He pocketed the map before fingering the snitch. Its golden surface was smooth and rough at the same time. It was engraved by what must have been magic for no knife could carve it. He decided to leave the snitch; it would not aid Damien at all.

Taking a deep breath he tried to get the last smell of James and Lily that he could, knowing that he would never smell anything as such again. Perhaps it was he, reluctance to let them go, that made him do it. Sighing, he took Damien in both hands and made his way past James' pale body down the stairs. He suddenly got a fleeting thought; the invisibility cloak. What if Dumbledore sent someone to retrieve 'Harry'.

He whipped out his wand after putting Damien in his left arm and transfigured one of the sheets on the crib upstairs into a baby shape that took the shape and appearance of the Harry that was no more. He did all this downstairs. How much his magical ability had grown since school years where he had difficulty turning a tea cup into a rat. It was exactly how wine aged. If it was sharp and bitter when it was young then it was only going to improve with age.

His eyes were dark as he draped the cloak from James' room over himself and Harry. It was for the best. He walked out the front door and down the pathway where he could see his motorbike still standing. At least no one tried to vandalize his property this time. Last time he had taken out his motorcycle he had to scrub muggle spray paint off by hand. It had taken about three weeks to remove all the traces of the paint. He could still feel the pain of having to hand scrub it. He internally winced at the memory of the pain in his hands after that chore.

He cast a silencing charm and a disillusionment charm on the bike and swung his leg over and sat on the leather seat, then took off the invisibility cloak and cast another disillusionment charm upon himself and Damien. His heart wrenched as he shoved the cloak into his pocket.

The leather was cold and damp with midnight dew, but he could care less. He twisted the key and with a violent shake, the bike was humming soundlessly. He pressed the accelerate petal and zoomed down the street, knowing that no one would be able see him and his bike zooming down the road. He flipped the blue switch to inject the engine with magical fuel to allow flying. Within a minute the bike, Damien and Sirius were in the air.

Before he could apparate to his own house he saw the looming shape of Hagrid, apparently ordered to check the Manor. Smiling sadly he knew that Harry Potter no longer existed. And with that, the bike and its riders zipped into the in-between.

A/N: Ok, I wasn't going to post this yet... but I felt the need to post something.

I would appreciate some criticism. Good, bad, I truly just want to know what people think. And... I think I am going to bring Regulus into this story. ^^,

-Hand Steroids