Disclaimer: Harry Potter, it's world and characters are property of J.K Rowling. I don't own anything.
Master of the House
James
Instinct. It was instinct that had moved James to be at the park on Wisteria Walk over an hour before he was supposed to meet Harry there. It was luck that had him looking up at the right time to see a group of wizards flying off on broomsticks.
'Sloppy' he mentally chided. Honestly, what was the point of Disillusioning only one member of a group? The rest were still perfectly visible.
With the turn of a key, the engine on James' bike roared to life. The push of a button sent a cold, tingling feeling up his legs as the Disillusionment Charm built into his bike took effect. Pushing another button silenced the engine. Grimly, James stepped down on a secondary foot peddle at the same time as he hit the gas and the motorcycle leapt into the air.
The group of wizards tried to make themselves hard to follow, rapidly changing directions and altitude, but in the open sky it made little difference for a group as large as they were. Without something to cause a pursuer to loose visual contact (and the group was avoiding going through the low hanging clouds) there was no way to actually shake pursuit. No one left the group to engage him. If they knew he was following, they did not show it.
After an hour or more of zigzagging across southern England, the band of wizards finally touched down in a shady part of London. James circled the spot where they landed. He watched, wondering where they were going.
Then one by one, the streetlights went dark. When the light returned, they were gone.
The tires of the bike squealed when they hit the pavement. James hit the break, and killed the engine. He removed his helmet, set it gently on the seat, and took a few exploratory steps away from the bike. Once assured that the Disillusionment Charm still worked, James carefully inspected the area, looking for clues to where Harry had been taken. A small pile of warm ash lay on the grass square in the midst of the dirty street. James surveyed the area; the street sign read Grimmauld Place. That sounded vaguely familiar, but James couldn't place where he'd heard it before. From where he was standing, he could see number ten and eleven to his left, and number thirteen to his right.
He shrugged and walked into the space between eleven and thirteen, and came to an alley. He turned around and walked back, and came to the street.
"Maybe it's just a muggle mistake and the houses are actually miss-numbered," James mused. "Or there is some pretty strong defensive magic here." James leaned back on his bike, and waited.
Eventually, people began appearing from the gap between the houses. Some strolled out casually as though they had every right to be walking the street in the middle of the night. Others cast furtive glances about before hastily scampering off. James counted some twenty-four individuals. He discretely followed a few of them on foot, until they all eventually stepped into phone booths or up fire escapes and Disappartated.
He returned to his bike, and he waited some more. Pondering a solution to the current predicament, James' eyes never left the gap between numbers eleven and thirteen. Absently he toyed with the Speaking Stone around his neck.
'Nothing cut from the same source can ever be truly separated.' James clenched his fist around the Stone; he felt a pull towards the gap in the houses. James knew he was probably worrying over nothing but he had to know for sure.
"Harry," James whispered, "Harry?"
The Stone lit up, shimmering with a soft white light. "James?" came the slightly echoed reply from within the heart of the Stone.
"Where are you?" James asked. "Are your Aunt and Uncle giving you problems?"
"Huh? Oh, no… not at all. I'm not there anymore."
"Well, where are you?"
"I can't tell you."
"Why not?"
"I just can't, I'm sorry, James. But I probably won't be able to see you again before I go to school."
"Are you okay, Harry? You sound like you've been crying."
"I'm fine. Really. Don't worry about me. Look, I've got to go. Someone's coming."
The Stone went dark. The brief conversation had done very little to reassure James that Harry was not in trouble.
Several times James took a spin around the block on his motorcycle seeking some alternate way to find Harry. He always returned to the un-kept grass in the square of Grimmauld Place.
Dawn came, blushing pink and gold above the black roofs of London. James was tired and cold, but he was not leaving without seeing Harry. With the sunrise came movement in the muggle houses, as weary men and women rose and left their homes to strike out once more into the workforce. To avoid the awkward complications of having someone walk into you while invisible, James momentarily abandoned his stakeout. He stayed away from Grimmauld Place for the better part of two hours before returning.
'Think, where have you heard of Grimmauld Place before?' James toyed with the chains around his neck, fiddling with the Speaking Stone. 'Grimmauld Place, Grimmauld Place, number twelve Grimmauld Place…'
A light went on in James' brain, and not just a little dust covered 40-watt bulb, but a 15 kW high intensity lamp flicked on with such brilliance that James wondered how he could have failed to see something so obvious before.
It all lay in number twelve Grimmauld Place.
"Reg," James said, holding the Speaking Stone by the outer silver ring. The face of his friend swirled into view in the heart of the Stone. "Reg, I need your help. Meet me in the Square by Grimmauld Place quickly." He could see Reg's nod in the Stone before the connection winked out.
Minutes later there was a pop less than a foot away from the front tire of James' bike.
Reg was slightly above average height for a man, he had long, coarse, black hair that he wore in a ponytail, and his strong, chiselled face was covered in thick, jagged scars that ran from hairline to jaw, disappearing under the high collar of his black robes. One of his grey eyes was covered in a plain black eye patch.
"Where are you, James?" He said in a quiet, hoarse, grating voice that sounded a lot like he'd been chewing gravel.
With a flick of his wand, James dispelled the Disillusionment Charm.
"I'm right here, Reg. Any closer and you might have landed on me."
"What can I help you with, old friend?"
James pointed across the road.
"Number twelve is missing."
"And you can't get in?" Reg raised a brow and chuckled, an entirely unpleasant sound as mirthful as it may have been.
James sighed and ran a hand through his golden hair.
"You can get in, can't you?"
"The house will recognize its master," said Reg smugly, "Kreacher!"
There was a crack and a cowering house-elf appeared at Reg's feet.
It appeared to be very old and naked except for a filthy rag tied like a loincloth around its waist. Its grimy skin seemed to be several sizes too big for it and though it was bald like all house-elves there was a large quantity of white hair growing out of its bat-like ears. Its eyes were blood-shot, watery grey, and its fleshy nose was large and very snout-like.
At the sight of the pathetic thing cowering on the pavement, Reg's hard face softened, and he knelt on the ground pulling the house-elf into a gentle hug.
"Oh, Kreacher, what have they done to you?" he asked softly.
Kreacher blinked, eyes watering in the glare of the morning sun.
"Can it be? Is it truly? Has Kreacher's old eyes finally betrayed him, his old heart stopped? Has Master Regulus returned from the dead to take his loyal Kreacher away from the filth that has invaded his Mistress' house?" said the house-elf in tones of quiet awe, reaching out with dirt encrusted fingers to touch the side of Regulus' face, his eyes wide in disbelief.
"No, I've not returned from the dead Kreacher. I've returned home. Am I still Master of this house as my father's rightful, chosen heir?"
"YES! Yes! Yes! Master Regulus is master! Not filthy, treacherous shame to my Mistress' flesh that poses and defiles and – "
"Enough, Kreacher, you will not speak of my brother that way."
"Yes, Master, whatever Master wishes, Kreacher will do."
"Good." He scooped Kreacher up in his arms as he stood, carrying the slight house-elf in the crook of one arm, much the way a mother might carry a child. "You always were loyal to me, Kreacher."
Regulus looked across the road at Grimmauld Place. The black door and dirty stonewalls of the ancient number twelve now loomed up between numbers eleven and thirteen.
"I can see it now, James. As ugly as it ever was."
Regulus
The ancient magic that bound the house to its master was powerful, developed by the powerful, paranoid pureblood families of old. In a way it was akin to the magic that bound a house-elf to the land, the land to the house, and by that right, to the master of the house. Regulus didn't quite understand it but once someone from inside the house recognized him as the true Lord Black there was no spell strong enough to keep him out of number twelve, Grimmauld Place.
"You'll have to wait here, James. Being Lord Black will get me in but I can't take you with me," Regulus said.
"And what am I supposed to do?"
Regulus shrugged, "Relax. Have a smoke."
James glared.
"How will I know which one of them is Harry?" Regulus asked.
"You'll know him when you see him," said James with certainty.
Regulus nodded, and with Kreacher in tow crossed the street.
The battered black door unlocked at the touch of Regulus' fingers and opened with a sound much like a pleased sigh.
Standing in the entry hall Regulus' looked around slowly; surveying the dank walls, the moth-eaten velvet curtains that covered the portrait hall, the rickety furniture, and the serpentine decorations.
"Kreacher is sorry that he has been lacking in his cleaning but Master was gone for so very long. Kreacher has been all by his oneness – "
"It's all right, Kreacher," said Regulus, "I understand." A clatter from the kitchen alerted Regulus to the presence of others in the house. He nicked up the stairs and into an empty room. Though a crack in the door he watched a short, plump, matronly woman with fiery red hair loosely secured in a sloppy topknot make her way up the stairs.
Regulus looked questioningly at Kreacher.
"That's the bossy one," Kreacher snarled. "Oh, she is shouting and ordering always. Thinking does she that she is mistress? Oh my poor mistress! If she knew the scum he had let in, oh how she would weep. What would she say to Kreacher? Kreacher knows what she would say. She would have Kreacher throw them out with the rubbish. Insulting to Master's house it is. Her and her brats messing up everything. Cleaning she says. If she wants to clean up the master's house she should leave and take her filthy blood-traitor brats with her. "
Regulus nodded in silent bemusement. "Who is she?"
Kreacher snorted, "A Weasley. Filthy, sneaky, double-crossing blood traitor. She wants the Master's house, she does. Kreacher sees it. Treats it like her own already she does. Rabble of her sort always want better than they ought. Oh, it is well known that the Weasleys were once – " Kreacher hissed " – respectable but no more."
Regulus winced. "How many people are in the house right now?"
Kreacher paused to think for a moment, "Eleven. Mostly Weasleys."
"Not including you and I?"
Kreacher nodded.
"Do you know their plans for the day?"
"Purpose they do, to destroy the drawing room! No respect for the effects of my mistress! Poor Mistress! Cruelly treated, prisoner in her own house! Like poor Kreacher. Kreacher is used to it. Mind, Kreacher has always – "
Regulus held his hand out to silence Kreacher as footsteps descended the stairs. The Weasley woman came down followed by several teen-aged children, mostly redheads. Among them was a thin boy with the most awful round glasses obscuring his brilliant green eyes. An erratic mess of raven hair barely concealed the thin lightening shaped scar above his right eye. Harry Potter looked for all the world like the man who had saved Regulus' life so many years ago.
The group descended the last of the stairs and continued on to the kitchen. A tall, gaunt man with long black hair and haunted grey eyes emerged from the room across the landing. Regulus held his breath and his brother Sirius passed by. Slowly, Regulus breathed out in a long sigh, closing his eye to blink away the emotion. Regulus was dead to Sirius. He had been so a long time before he had actually 'died'. It would be best to leave that wound as closed as possible and leave without Sirius finding out he was still alive.
Regulus counted out a full two minutes. When nobody else came near the stairs, he darted out of his old bedroom and up the stairs to the drawing room. There he waited, blending into the side of an old wardrobe.
After a time the Weasley woman, Sirius, and the teens entered into the drawing room and started to clean. All the items were sorted through and Sirius chucked nearly everything into rubbish bins as though he could throw out his own memories.
James
Time crawled by. James leaned back against his motorcycle. It was hard to keep from pacing. He had already walked around the block, twice, and Regulus had still not returned. A pair of cigarette butts lay on the ground at his feet and James shook another from the packet. Holding it between his lips he fished a silver lighter from his pocket, flicked it open, and lit the cigarette. Inhaling deeply he closed his eyes, holding his breath for a moment, before exhaling. He looked through the dissipating grey haze. Nothing had changed.
He puffed again on the smoke and sighed. A small shuffle alerted James to the presence of someone else on the street. He turned his head languidly and saw a hunched, battered old man with grizzled grey hair, and a whirling electric blue eye staring at him.
"Can I help you, sir?" James asked, raising a brow.
"You've been standing out here a long time," the old man said.
"I'm waiting for someone," James flicked the ash off the end of his cigarette.
"Move along."
"You gonna call a Bobby on me?" James smirked.
The old man pulled a wand, and held it level with the end of James' cigarette.
James' green eyes narrowed. "Just try it old man."
"Name's Alastor Moody."
"How nice," said James "if you're not going to do anything with that wand why don't you put it away?"
"I've already done something."
James shrugged unconcerned and inhaled on his cigarette. Too late he noticed the odd taste mingling with the tobacco. He coughed, choking on the strange smoke. Moody smiled. A confused look past over James face, smoke escaping from his lips in a slow stream. He looked once from the cigarette in his fingers to the smug smile on Moody's face. Then he blacked out.
Harry
Harry had the funny feeling he was being watched. It happened from time to time, a pickle on the back of his head but whenever he looked nobody was looking at him. Sometimes he thought he heard a voice saying things like, shhh, stay still, and go take a bath.
"What's up, Harry?" asked Fred.
"You're as jumpy as a Jack," said George.
"I just have the feeling I'm being watched is all."
George laughed, then leaned over and whispered into Harry's ear. "Might be Ginny? Think so?"
Harry shook his head. Whatever it was felt unfamiliar. George shrugged and went back to work.
Harry sighed and continued sorting through the desk drawers. "Hey, Sirius," he called, "You want any of this stuff."
"No," Sirius said while trying to pull a large tapestry off the wall. "Bin all of it."
Harry did as he was told and then crossed the room to Sirius.
"Sirius," he said, "Uh… about last night…"
"Don't mention it," Sirius grumbled.
Harry sighed. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have lost my temper like that."
Sirius stopped tugging at the tapestry, regarding Harry coolly, and then he smiled, "Apology accepted. I'm sorry too."
"For what?"
"For letting you down."
"It's alright, Sirius. I'm getting used to the idea that the only person I can count on is myself."
"'Cept for that James fellow," Sirius jabbed with a smile. "You sure took a shine to him."
Harry felt his face heat up and he ran a hand though his hair. "There's just something about him Sirius… I don't know if you'd understand… I don't really know how to explain it… but… he's free. He does what he wants, he doesn't think twice about it, and he never worries about what may happen… he's fearless… and when he's around, I can forget that I'm some unwanted foundling living in my Aunt and Uncle's house, constantly watched… untrusted by everyone… I forget the fear… the anger I feel…" Harry trailed off and shook his head. "Sorry. I'm rambling."
Sirius' face softened. "I think I can understand that." Sirius gestured to the tapestry, "Look at this, Harry."
Harry looked. The tapestry looked immensely old; it was faded and looked as though Doxys had gnawed it in places. Nevertheless, the golden thread with which it was embroidered still glinted brightly enough to show a sprawling family tree dating back (as far as Harry could tell) to the Middle Ages. Large words at the very top of the tapestry read: The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black 'Toujours pur'. As Harry followed the flow of unfamiliar names, he noted that in several places the tapestry had been burned, and names were missing.
"You're not on here," Harry said, looking at Sirius in confusion.
Sirius chuckled dryly. "Nah. I left this place when I was sixteen. The Potters, your grandparents, took me in after I left." He reached out and touched one of the small burn marks near the bottom. "This was me."
"You had a brother," Harry said somewhat wistfully. Embroidered by the burn mark Sirius had pointed to was the name Regulus Arcturus Black, whom had died some fifteen years previous.
"Yeah, he was the favourite. Proud of blood and family, he was," Sirius frowned. "My mum and dad never joined in with You-Know-Who but Reg did. He was just a kid, didn't know what he was in for. He tried to leave… and Voldemort killed him. He was barely seventeen. But this is what I wanted to show you… " Sirius pointed to a name a few generations back. "I know you've said you don't need a family… and I'd be damned if I didn't know that sometimes a family is more hassle than reward… but I thought you might like to know either way."
Harry looked at the name Sirius had pointed to, joined by a double gold line to Dorea Black.
"Charlus Potter?"
"That would be your great-grandfather, Harry," said Sirius quietly and traced down the line to a burn mark. "This should be your grandfather, Richard. I guess he met the same fate as Uncle Alphard for taking me in."
"And Dad got burned off for marrying my mum, right?" Harry said with a smile. There was a burn mark under where Richard Potter should have been, but to the right of that burn was another name 'Lenore Delphia Potter'. "So she is real…" Harry murmured, then louder he added, "Who's this?"
Sirius smiled wistfully, "Little Lenny, your dad's sister. She was a good kid."
"What happened to her?"
"She was sent to Spain, years ago. I don't know why. But she never came back."
Harry smiled slightly. Sirius' story matched what Lenore had written in her letter. For some reason that greatly reassured Harry.
"I was told that the Dursleys were the only family I had left. I gave up hoping a long time ago that I had any other family. Why do you want to get rid of this so much?"
"Anyone worth remembering isn't on here," Sirius paused. "I see Tonks isn't on here either. Maybe that's why Kreacher won't take orders from her. He's supposed to do what anyone one in the family asks him to," Sirius mused. "Nope, Andromeada isn't on here either. Look," Sirius examined the tapestry closely and pointed to a small burn mark between two names, Bellatrix and Narsissa.
Harry said, "Who was that?"
"Tonks' mother. She married muggle-born Ted Tonks so –" Sirius mimed blasting the tapestry with a wand and laughed sourly. Harry however did not laugh; he was too busy staring at the names to the right of Andromeda's burn mark. A double line of gold embroidery linked Narsissa Black and Lucius Malfoy and a single vertical line from their names led to the name Draco.
"We're related to the Malfoys?" Harry quickly traced the line back to his father's burn mark. "Well… it's pretty distant. Not that it matters. Just because there is blood between us doesn't mean I'm like them." He fixed Sirius with a steady gaze. "And it doesn't mean you are either."
Sirius' expression softened and he started to say something but just then Bill came running up the stairs.
"Mum, Sirius, Moody wants you down stairs," he said."
"What is it, Bill?" Mrs Weasley snapped in annoyance. "If it's another one of his paranoid tirades, I'll not have it."
"Actually… it's important," Bill glanced meaningfully at Harry, "but I'm not supposed to say why."
"All right, all right," Mrs Weasley sighed, throwing down her washrag. "Let's go see what he wants."
They closed the door behind them and locked it. Fred and George immediately fished a pair of Extendable Ears out of their pockets. Harry picked up a washrag and threw it at the door. The rag got within three inches of the door and flew away.
"Imperturbed," Harry frowned.
Fred and George sighed and put the Extendable Ears back in their pockets.
"We could Apparate to a different room and let you know what's going on."
"Your Mum will have thought of that. She's probably got another Imperturbable Charm on the kitchen door."
"Perhaps I might be of service," a low rasping voice whispered from the far side of the room. The teens whirled about all with their wands out. A tall, lean, scarred man with an eye patch was strolling towards them. "There is no need to be frightened."
"Who are you?" Harry demanded.
The scarred man didn't answer, just regarded Harry quietly for a long time. There was something about his features that were vaguely familiar. If not for the scars, he would have been an exceedingly handsome man. His single good eye was a dark grey with a lighter grey starburst around the pupil. Harry had seen eyes like those before. They were his godfather's eyes.
"Stop where you are," commanded Harry. The scarred man had circled around the room and now stood near the tapestry. Harry had subconsciously backed away while keeping his wand pointed at the stranger. "Tell me who you are."
The stranger smiled and tapped the tapestry.
"Regulus Black?" said Harry.
Black nodded.
"Aren't you dead?"
Black chuckled, a horrible grating sound like flint on steel. "No."
"Sirius said Voldemort killed you."
Black winced, "Don't say his name, please."
"Fine." Harry wasn't used to people politely asking him to stop saying 'Voldemort'. It was slightly unsettling. "How are you alive? If Vol – er – You-Know-Who – supposedly – killed you?"
"Your father saved my life."
Harry swallowed nervously. He was suddenly very aware that everyone in the room was looking at him. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, holding his wand steady. "Why are you here?"
"On behalf of a mutual friend," answered Black. He moved to the front window, and opened the previously Doxy infested curtains. He scowled, his brows coming together in concern. He beckoned to Harry. Harry looked past him out the window. A shiny red and gold motorcycle was lying on its side in the street.
"That's James' bike," grumbled Harry.
"He was supposed to wait for me," said Black.
"Did he ask you to come find me? Why? How did he know I was here?"
"He was worried."
"Harry," Hermione interjected, "What's going on?"
"I'm not sure…" Harry said.
"Who is this creeper, Harry?" said Ron nervously. "Looks sketchy to me."
"My name is Regulus Arcturus Black," whispered Black in his low, gravely voice. "And I am the Master of this house."
Ron flushed, and opened his mouth to say something –
"That's all well and good, but where is James?" Harry interrupted.
Black smiled slightly, and ran his fingers along the bottom edge of his eye-patch. "I don't know. Why don't you go find out?" He pulled a strangely white wand from the sash of his robes, gave it a flick and a swish. The door came open with a soft click.
"What's going on?" Harry demanded.
"I am unsure," said Black softly. "Perhaps my brother will know."
Harry stood rooted to the spot for a moment, then turned and nearly ran out the door and down the stairs. As Harry suspected, the adults were all down in the kitchen, but contrary to his earlier expectations the door had not been Imperturbed. It hadn't even been closed.
Creeping down the kitchen stairs, Harry heard voices deep in discussion just beyond the door. He couldn't see who was talking and waited to listen.
"Why'd you bring him in here, Mad-Eye," groaned Sirius.
"Hrumph," blustered Professor Moody, "He isn't what he looks like. There is something strange about him. Mark my words. He's dangerous."
"Isn't this… that boy?" Mrs Weasley asked.
"It's possible," answered Lupin, "he certainly matches the description we've been given."
"Of course he's the boy," Professor Moody growled. "And he was outside waiting for someone."
"Do you think he meant Harry?" Mrs Weasley asked in concern.
"Of course he meant Harry," snapped Moody. "Unless someone else here knows him. He's obviously after Harry – Harry even admitted that he had been asked to leave Privet Drive by this boy, and now he shows up here. He's obviously trying to get to Harry."
"And so you bring him in here where he can actually get to Harry," Sirius said blandly. "How could you think that was a good idea?"
"Our guards have been chasing this fellow all over Surrey," Moody said. "We've never been able to talk to him. Now, we've got him under our control and we can ask him anything we like."
There was a soft groan and a slight shuffle.
"He's waking up," Moody said. He sounded slightly troubled.
"That is to be expected," Lupin quipped, "And would seem to be desirable, since asking a sleeping man questions is often counter-productive."
"He shouldn't be shaking off the Sleep Sage so soon. He should have stayed down until Dumbledore and Snape got here."
There was another groggy groan, followed by a bunch of shuffling.
"Get his wand," Moody commanded. "Put it somewhere out of reach. Merlin, this boy is a walking armoury."
Harry crept closer to the door, angling himself so he could see most of the kitchen. Mrs Weasley, Professor Moody, Professor Lupin, Sirius, and Bill were all gathered around the table. James was lying flat on his back on the top of it.
James groaned again and slowly sat up. "Ah, my head," he moaned. "What happened?"
Moody reached out as though to grab James, but his hand never got close. James grabbed his wrist and pulled. Punching the heel of his other hand into Moody's nose as the old man was jerked forward. The other members of the Order pulled out their wands as Moody staggered. James pulled hard on Moody, tugging him clear across the table and into Lupin. The blond boy kicked Bill's wand out of his hand. Grabbed Sirius and pulled him between himself and Mrs Weasley like a shield.
"James!" Harry yelled, rushing into the kitchen. "Stop! Everyone! Stop!"
Bill was just stooping to retrieve his wand and Moody and Lupin were picking themselves up off the floor. Mrs Weasley lowered her wand – just a little, and Sirius and James stopped struggling.
"Please, he's my friend… James… it's alright, they're my friends," Harry implored.
James slowly released Sirius and lowered his hands. "Sorry, Harry… it was just a reaction. I didn't mean to hurt anyone."
Sirius straightened and took a step back. "Are you sure, Harry?"
Harry nodded. "I'm sure."
Sirius sighed. "Well, you're entitled to your opinion."
"Sirius… I know James isn't a bad guy. I believe that as much as I believe that you didn't murder thirteen people.
"He didn't?" James asked, baffled.
"No, I didn't," Sirius growled.
"Be that as it may," said a soft, yet strong voice from behind Harry. "We will need to ask our guest some rather important questions."
"Professor Dumbledore!" exclaimed Harry. He was very much relieved to see the Hogwarts Headmaster, whom he was sure could sort the mess out. The elation was short lived as Snape entered the kitchen behind Dumbledore, herding before him the rest of the Weasley children and Hermione. Mrs Weasley immediately herded the children off to the side, where she watched them like a hawk.
"Ah, Dumbledore," Moody said, straightening up with some difficulty. "You're here sooner than expected."
"Unlike many, Alastor, I don't take every urgent message you send me as a false alarm."
"Did you bring the Veritaserum?"
"I have it," Snape said.
James slid off the far side of the table, warily eyeing Bill.
"I thought Veritaserum was subject to strict Ministry control, and was not allowed to be used without a permit and a warrant for questioning," Hermione said.
"That doesn't matter much when you're good enough to make it yourself. The controls only extend to the buying and selling of Veritaserum," Snape replied with a slight smile.
"It will not be necessary," Professor Dumbledore said with a warm smile.
"Well," harrumphed Moody, "How then are we going to get the answers we want?"
"We shall first attempt the polite method," said Dumbledore. He pulled out a dining chair and sat down facing James, "and ask."
"What do you want to know?" James said quirking a brow. He did not relax, but shifted his weight from foot to foot. His eyes darted around the room.
"Let's start with the basics. What is your name?"
"… It's James."
"Just James?"
"That's all you need to know."
"Stag," Harry supplied, "His surname is Stag."
James shot Harry a look.
"Well, Mr Stag," Dumbledore continued, "I suppose the next logical question would be, why are you here?"
"'Cause the fellow whose nose I broke did something funny to my smokes," James deadpanned.
"I mean," Dumbledore said indulgently, "Why did you come to London when by all accounts you were in Surrey last?"
"I followed Harry," James said, "I went to the park to meet him after dark and I saw a large group of wizards fly off with him."
"He was Disillusioned," Moody growled. "You couldn't have seen him."
James rolled his eyes. "Not specifically him, but an unattended broomstick flying off on its own under heavy guard? Who else could it have been? That was a sloppy manoeuvre at best."
Moody glared. Lupin looked like he was trying very hard not to laugh.
"James, when you called me last night, you asked where I was… why'd you do that if you already knew?" Harry queried.
"I wanted to know if you knew where you were, and by that extension if you'd been taken against your will or not."
"Why do you care so much about what happens to me?" Harry asked in disbelief.
"Because I do," James sighed, "Because… I…"
Harry frowned, "Because what?"
James swore under his breath and ran his hand through his hair. "It comes down to the whole truth, or another lie," James eyes never left Harry, "so the question is… can I tell you the truth?"
"Of course," Harry said.
James took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "I know I should have never kept this from you, it was selfish of me… it was stupid… but I wanted to get to know you… to really know the young man you've grown into in my absence. I should have told you right after the boggart, but I couldn't… you gave me an out and I took it… this isn't the way I wanted to tell you, but I don't have anymore time. I was going to tell you… I just wanted more time… to find the right way... I didn't like lying to you… " James sighed, "My name is James… but not Stag." He struggled to continue meeting Harry's eyes. "I'm… that is… ah… hell… if I had a wand I could just show you…"
"Show me what?" Harry asked.
"Rimovere Transfuermo," rasped Regulus Black from behind. Harry turned to look, the youngest Black was carrying Hedwig on one arm, and the other held his wand outstretched towards James.
"Oh!" exclaimed Hermione. She was pointing over Mrs Weasley's shoulder at James.
Harry turned back quickly. A golden glow surrounded James, growing in intensity as the boy began to change. Black flooded James' hair, bleeding out from the roots to the tips. The teenaged boy gained several inches of height, until he stood just taller than Sirius. His shoulders broadened significantly, his chest deepened. His long delicate fingers grew thicker and square-nailed. His nose broadened and lost its fine point, his jaw squared off slightly. His face lost its youthful softness and the green in his eyes darkened to a rich earthy brown, but the golden flecks remained unchanged. It was like looking into an older, dark-eyed mirror.
Harry couldn't believe his eyes. He shook his head. He opened and closed his eyes several times. All around him, the others were suffering from similar reactions. There was that familiar tension in the way James stood, like a deer about to bolt. Then inexplicably, Harry started to laugh. It was not a joyous laugh, but the laugh of someone who had been strained to the point of breaking.
"Harry… are you okay?" his father said softly.
"Prongs… Stag… holy crap how did I not notice that?" Harry laughed. "Your patronus is the same as mine… I never even thought…" the rest of Harry's words were lost in strained, nearly hysterical laughter. He leaned on the kitchen table for support. "We'll see you soon, she said…"
"I'm sorry…" James said softly, gingerly he placed a hand on Harry's shoulder.
Harry slapped it away. He felt hurt, like he'd been betrayed in some deep way he didn't quite understand.
"Why now?" Harry yelled. "Why are you here now that I don't need you anymore? Where were you when I needed you?"
"Where? Why?" James chuckled bitterly, "That's a long story, Harry. Fourteen years of hell. Not to belittle what you've been through, but my life hasn't been a rose garden either."
"You have no idea what I've been through!" Harry yelled.
"Yes, I do," James said calmly, "because you've told me."
Harry stood shaking, dashing angry tears from his emerald eyes.
"Which, case in point, was the reason for deceiving you in the first place," James continued. "You say you don't need me, but, I can help you. I can teach you how to fight, how to survive. I may not always be there to protect you – damn I wish I could be – but I can show you how to defend yourself. Whether against one opponent, or many." James replaced his hand on Harry's shoulder. "But I can only do that if you let me. I don't want to loose you again, Harry. Please, let me help."
It was too much. Harry's mind reeled. He felt like he was drowning and falling at the same time. There was nothing to support him, and everything was closing in. He did not know what to do and he could think of nothing to say. Desperately he looked at Sirius, only to find his godfather looking like he was feeling. Dazed and confused. Except that Sirius keep looking back and forth between James and Regulus Black. Lupin was much more collected. Calmly he walked up behind James and pulled out his shirt collar on the left side. Lupin smirked, and walked back to Dumbledore, whispering something in the old wizard's ear. A general murmuring arose from the crowd.
Hedwig alighted from Regulus' arm and landed on Harry's shoulder. Her weight was solid and her presence reassured Harry. He ran his fingers through her soft feathers. Sure, everything was topsy-turvey, but it would all work out in the end. After all, Harry had survived more terrible and troubling ordeals than finding out his father was still alive.
"Ah, there you are, Wisp," James said with a smile, extending his hand to Hedwig. He smiled softly at Harry. "You see, Harry, we didn't abandon you. Some of us have been closer than you'd think." To Hedwig he said, "It's time."
The owl hopped off Harry's shoulder and landed on the floor. Then she began to grow, shooting upwards at an alarming speed. The feathers of her wings shrank and melded into soft-skinned arms, long human fingers slipped into James' outstretched hand. From her talons emerged human feet encased in tight tan boots that stopped just below her knees and the hem of a pure white dress. Raven dark hair fell to her waist. She tottered on her feet, and then she fell forward into James' arms.
"Oh, Daddy, I've missed you," she said in a whisper.
"Me too, baby," James murmured, "me too."
Then she turned around, and Harry was once again confronted with the feeling of looking in a strange mirror. She had his eyes, his mother's eyes. As he stared into her eyes, the realization dawned in Harry's mind, their mother's eyes.
Absently she swept a lock of hair back over her ear. It was separated from the rest of her dark locks and had been tightly braided with beads that were inscribed with ancient runes, a snowy owl feather hung from the end of it. She smiled at him. Harry smiled back.
"I know you," he said with certainty.
"Of course you do," she laughed, and hugged him. They were the same height. "You knew me the moment you saw me in Eeylops'. You just didn't know what you knew." She held him at arms length. "Please don't hate us, Harry. I don't think I could bear it if you hated us. I'd rather spend the rest of my life as an owl than have you hate me."
Harry could not think of anything to say, and a palpable tension filled the room. Tension which was broken – surprisingly – by the appearance of Kreacher.
"Hee hee hee," Kreacher cackled, rubbing astonishingly clean hands together in glee. "The Master has returned. Now you will all pay for how you have treated poor Kreacher. Pay for trespassing in the Master's house. Disrespecting the poor mistress, Shame on you all. The filth will be cleaned, oh yes, it will. It will be mudbloods and traitors that will be tossed out with the rubbish."
"Shut-up you lousy little – " Sirius growled.
Black took Sirius feet out from under him and sent him sprawling on the floor.
Kreacher cackled.
"Do not disrespect your family, Kreacher," Black growled. Kreacher stopped laughing and his bat-like ears drooped. "Do not dishonour me. Remember why I bear these scars."
"Kreacher begs a thousand pardons, Master Regulus," Kreacher whimpered, wringing his hands. "Kreacher will punish himself – "
"You will do no such thing."
"But Kreacher has wronged his master! He must be punished!"
"No," Black dismissed the notion with an imperious wave of his hand. "I forbid it."
"Yes, Master. Of course Master. Kreacher will do whatever Master says. Kreacher would not think of disobeying the master," Kreacher bowed so low his nose nearly touched the floor. "Is there anything Kreacher may do for the master?"
Black gazed about at the grand assortment of people standing in his kitchen. Some were quiet, others thin lipped in fury, some were more baffled and yet others intrigued. "Perhaps lunch and tea for our guests. We have much to discuss." Black smirked at Kreacher, "And don't bother doing it the hard way."
"Yes, Master," Kreacher bowed and bustled off towards the dirty cupboards and massive hearth. With a snap of his knobby fingers years of accumulated soot and dirt disappeared. As Kreacher began to hum a jaunty tune, the cupboards opened, pots, pans and kettles came floating down from the ceiling. Kreacher hummed and snapped his fingers at the water pump. It began pumping water into a kettle on its own.
While Kreacher hummed, snapped and bobbed around in the kitchen, Black turned to the crowd.
"Please, sit," he gestured to the table. "It will be a short time until lunch is served. My dear," Black rasped, extending his hand to Hermione, "You are the child of muggles are you not?"
"I am," Hermione replied coldly. Ron growled.
"Then you must be my honoured guest," Black said with a smile. "As the first such child to enter this place."
Hermione smiled smugly at Ron. She took Black's offered hand, and allowed him to lead her, as though she were a grand lady, to the head of the table. He sat her at his right hand.
"Thank you, Regulus," Dumbledore said, tucking into the table. "Lunch sounds wonderful. Come, everyone, sit down. Let us eat and proceed with calmer heads, and fuller stomachs."
One by one, everyone else took a seat at the table.
"So," Harry chuckled, sitting down by the girl who until recently had been Hedwig, "What's your name? Your real name, that is."
"It's Wistaria," she replied. "Although Mum and Dad call me Wisp, and Reg calls me Feathers. I'll probably still answer to Hedwig. That's been my name for the majority of the last four years."
"I can understand Feathers, but why Wisp?" Harry inquired.
"Ever try to catch a Will-o-the-wisp?" James said.
Harry shook his head.
"It's damned near impossible, same with Wisp. If she doesn't want to be tracked, you can't find her."
Small talk was made until lunch was served. Harry noted that Sirius did not look at his younger brother throughout the entire meal. After the meal was finished James told his tale.
Slowly, methodically, James related the events that had lead up to that fateful Halloween. Starting with his selection of Pettigrew as Secret Keeper, and Peter's visit in the morning, he continued with the poisoned formula, the letters, and the deaths of Lily's parents. His explanation included Hagrid absconding with Harry, the encounter with Bellatrix Lestrange, and finished with his witnessing Sirius' apparent murder of Pettigrew, his conversation with Frank and his own departure to Switzerland.
"Since then, we've pretty much been on the run," James said. "We waited in Switzerland maybe a month, then we received news about what happened to Frank and Alice, along with arrangements for Harry's custody. We were going to return to England right away but there were certain complications."
"What kind of complications?" Mrs Weasley snapped. "What could possibly be more important than taking care of your own child?"
"Making sure he didn't get killed as soon as we found him. Making sure we stayed alive long enough to find him in the first place," James replied blandly. "For some reason or another, while we were in Switzerland, Lily and the girls became the target of a rather vain Witch that was using beautiful young women and children to sustain her own beauty and youth. By the time we'd dealt with that problem, I'd managed to piss off every other Dark Wizard and Witch in the country and well… in the last fourteen years I figure I've probably made enemies with every Dark Wizard on the planet."
"How delightfully unsurprising," drawled Snape in a surprisingly neutral tone, "I see you still have that magnetic personality everyone adored so much."
James shrugged. "I suppose so. Anyway, I was contacted by the goblins when Harry accessed his vault. By that time, Wisp had already gone off looking for him on her own. Since then it's been hit and miss trying to get to Harry until now."
"It is good to have you back, James," said Dumbledore.
"Speak for yourself," Snape grumbled.
"In these troubled times," Dumbledore continued, completely ignoring Snape's comment, "it is expedient that we gather all the allies we can. Lord Voldemort has returned and we shall all be in a great deal of trouble if we do not prepare ourselves for what is coming." Dumbledore fixed a welcoming smile on James, "It is my fond hope that you –" he smiled at Regulus as well, " – both of you, will consider joining our cause."
"Me?" Regulus croaked hoarsely, pointing at himself. "But I was a Death Eater."
"'Was' being the operative word," Dumbledore smiled. "Would this not be a good opportunity to give back what you once took away?"
"I'll think about it," Regulus said uncommitted.
"How about you, James?" Dumbledore asked.
James fiddled with the chains about his neck. "I'll have to talk to Lily about it," he said. "I'm sure she'll agree."
"Can we join too, Dad?" Wistaria asked excitedly.
"Absolutely not," Mrs Weasley snapped. "The Order is no place for children."
"I'm fifteen years old," Wistaria protested, "I'm not a child." She turned to James, "Dad – "
"Wistaria," James cut in, "it's not my decision. It's the Orders."
"You can't seriously be considering letting out child do something so dangerous," Mrs Weasley protested. "It's out of the question."
James sighed, and stood from the table, head down and hands flat on the worn surface. "It'd be no more trouble for her than the life she's already lived. Masquerading as Hedwig may have brought her a reprieve from some things, but it certainly did not exempt her from everything." James looked to Dumbledore. "Wistaria is certainly capable. Even so, I'm not sure Lily would approve."
"Well," Mrs Weasley said, "At least she has some sense."
"But Dad, you could talk Mom into letting me join," Wistaria objected.
"I could, but I won't," James said firmly. "You've done enough fighting for someone your age."
"While your enthusiasm is most appreciated, young Wistaria," Dumbeldore interjected kindly, "I'm afraid that the Order of the Phoenix is for adults only."
Wistaria grumbled.
"Come, Wisp, Harry," said James. "It's time to go."
Harry looked around at the faces of his friends, his father, and his sister.
"Okay, Dad," Harry said. The word felt strange on his lips, but Harry found it rather to his liking.
"It was good to see you again, Sirius," James said, shaking Sirius' hand by the door. "And I'm glad I was wrong about you."
"Yeah," said Sirius, his voice thick with emotion, "You come and visit soon you hear."
"We will," James promised.
"James," said Lupin, "It's good to have you back. It hasn't been the same since you've been gone."
"Thanks, Remus, its good to be back. I'll see you later."
"Take care of yourself," Regulus rasped, "and tell Lily not to worry about me."
"Of course," James said.
They said the rest of their good-byes and Harry walked out the door of number twelve Grimmauld Place and into an uncertain future as a member of a rather odd family.
Author's Notes: This was the hardest chapter to write so far. For the most part this chapter was entirely re-written, and holds very little similarities with the old story. I felt that this particular chapter had the ability to make or break the flow of the story. The characters and their reactions had to be believable and real. There was a major overhaul in the character of Wistaria, Harry's twin, in turning her into Hedwig, some of her personality will change, but much of it will remain in tact. This wasn't a change I made on a whimsy, a lot of thought went into this decision.