Harry Potter and the Power of the Past
Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.
Summary: This is a complete AU- Harry Potter is a 21-year-old wizard, who's on top of the world. He's rich, in love, and loved by all, but his life is turned upside down as a spiral of events leads to the ultimate battle between good and evil. Can Harry lead the fight for the light, but yet manage to keep his life together?
A/N: I know, I know, another choppy chapter, but I had a lot written before I started it back up, so the first couple of chapters will be like this. So enjoy, and trust in me that it will get better. Thanks for the reviews everybody. Oh, and review again!
S/N: Sorry for the long wait but I've been on vacation and I had to rework some of my story because, to be honest, Deathly Hallows stole some of my material! So in order to keep it original and fresh, I had to redo some of my plotlines, which took quite a long time. There is, however, a good thing in that I added another character to this story later on that I think you'll all like, because he was just too good in DH that I couldn't pass the opportunity up. Any guesses who?
S/N 2: Now, as for this chapter: you remember way back when, when I said that I changed up a few things about the Black family tree? Well, you'll see it come into fruition in this chapter; I've also taken a few liberties with the Potters, such as their heritage that I happen to enjoy (here's a little tidbit of info: Godric's Hollow is in Wales in my story). And as for this "animagus friend of Harry's", he's pretty integral to the plot, so make sure you remember him because he'll be showing up a lot later on, and he'll be as mysterious then as he is now. In other words, start guessing on who it is because otherwise you won't know till the end. Anyone who reviews and tells me who they think it is will get the next chapter right away, so you might want to try your hand at it. Here's a hint: he has been in Hogwarts during the books (won't tell you when he started, or if he was a teacher, or anything else, just that).
Chapter 8: Welsh and the Tree of Madness
"Well then, shall we?" Sirius clapped, heading towards the door on the other side of the room, which led to the kitchen. The kitchen was medium-sized and dirty, with magical appliances, rather than muggle ones; it had a small table in the corner, which was made out of a dark mahogany. He went straight for another door that was next to the stove, which led to the depths of the house. The basement was mainly used as a dinning room, though there was more than enough room to have other uses for it, as well. "I figured we should work our way up, so we'll start in the basement if that's okay with you."
"Whatever you want, Sirius." Harry admitted, following his godfather with his house elf right on his heels. He reached down and rubbed Zeali's shoulder, smiling brightly. His house elf smiled back up to him, his eyes wide as saucers. "This house has pretty good charm work on it, being that it's a lot bigger on the inside than it looks on the outside."
"Yeah," Sirius agreed, marveling at the work as well. He hated the house that was for sure, but there was a certain majesty about it that marveled him. "Being the ancestral home of the Blacks, not the only home mind you, just the one for the main line of the family, I'd expect nothing less." As he opened up the door that led down the stairs, a wail carried around the whole of the house. It was loud and obnoxious, which allowed Sirius to recognize the voice right away. "Oh, Merlin, her portrait's awake." He cringed, stamping down the stairs to view the picture for the first time.
"YOU!" A woman screamed, pointing a deadly finger at Sirius. Her hair was long and gray, her skin was yellow and pulled tight to her face—she looked as if she was a decaying corpse. "Blood traitor to the Noble and Ancient House of Black! Get out of the house of my father's fathers. Leave now."
"Mother, so nice to see you again." Sirius said, sarcasm lacing his every word. He took out his wand and pointed it at the picture. "Thanks for stopping by, but now is just not a good time." A yellow beam of energy swirled at the tip of his wand, jetting towards the picture once he released it. It hit the portrait dead on, but had zero effect.
"Always thought yourself more powerful than what you actually were, didn't you, blood traitor?" Walburga Black sneered down at her son. The son she disowned many years ago for betraying his own family. "Good riddance you left the family, we wouldn't want a weakling like you to smear our good name."
"Good name?" Sirius laughed, hollowly. He walked over, bearing his mother's constant screaming, and inspected the portrait. "Permanent sticking charm, eh?" He swirled his wand, said a few spells, yet still nothing happened. "Hm." He murmured, running his right hand over his chin in thought. This would be harder than he thought it would.
"Okay, she's annoying." Harry muttered, as he and Zeali cleaned up some stuff in the corner. Whipping out his wand, he barked out his spell, and the witch went silent. You could still see she was screaming in her portrait, but nothing was coming out of her mouth, as if she were a movie with no sound. "There, much better."
Around ten minutes later, Sirius sighed, dropping into the seat across from the portrait. Walburga was still trying to scream her lungs out, but thanks to Harry's charm, she was as quiet as a sleeping baby. That, however, wouldn't stop her from trying to scream at her supposed blood traitor of a son. "I'm out of ideas on how to get the picture down, Harry."
"Dobby will do it, sir." Dobby said, appearing out of nowhere with a crack. He spun around, stared pointedly at the portrait and snapped his fingers, almost lazily. The portrait dropped to the floor immediately, and Walburga's eyes went wide with a mix of fear and astonishment. "Where should Dobby put the portrait, Sirius, sir?"
Sirius cocked an eyebrow; surprised Dobby got it down so easily. "Um, the garbage? I don't care where it goes, just get it out of my sight." Dobby nodded, and again snapped his fingers, making the portrait disappear with a puff of smoke. "Thank you, Dobby." Dobby smiled up at Sirius, proud of himself.
"Dobby will put his things underneath the sink, okay, Mister Sirius, sir?" Dobby said, picking up the satchel of items, mostly yarn and needles, and various pieces of clothing that he had made over the years, that was lying next to him.
"Underneath the sink?" Sirius laughed, shaking his head. "No, you're not living under a sink, Dobby." He replied, looking down at the elf. "You won't allow me to give you a room upstairs, will you?" He questioned, watching as Dobby's eyes went wide, and he started to shake his head vehemently, as if the thought was absurd. "Fine, you won't take a room upstairs, and I won't allow you to live under a sink…so what do we do?" Sirius thought out loud, glancing around the room. Then, seeing a door in the corner of the room, he smiled, remembering just what it was that was behind the door. "How about a room in the basement? It's not as big as a room upstairs, but…it's not under a sink, either." He gestured for Dobby to follow him as he walked over to the wooden door, throwing it open and allowing the dust to flow out. "It'll need some cleaning, but what do you say? It was a sewing room, or rather it would have been if my mother sewed."
"Dobby has never had his own room before, Sirius, sir." Dobby cried, tears welling up in his eyes. Even with having only known Sirius for barely an hour, the elf had already grown affection towards the wizard, proud to be serving such a good and noble man. "Dobby's honored, sir."
"Good, then it's yours." Sirius smiled, waving his wand and cleaning the air inside the small room. Thrown around the room were pieces of furniture, and sets of robes that had long since been discarded, making the room appear clogged and cluttered. The elf placed his satchel on one of the racks that was in the room, turning and closing the door with a soft click, and then heading over to Harry and Zeali to help them clean. Sirius' eyes flicked over to Harry, who was casually cleaning the dirt from the corner of the room. "Harry, I want to know something. How did you become an animagus by yourself? I mean, it took me and James three years to do it, and we just barely managed it."
"I only did about ninety percent of the research by myself." Harry replied, keeping his back towards Sirius. "Even still, it took two and a half years." He said, not missing a beat with his cleaning.
"Ninety percent? What about the other ten?" Sirius questioned, intrigued now. If he only did ninety percent, then how was he able to turn into a beautiful, strong, and majestic white Bengal tiger?
"I was caught when I first tried to transform." Harry said, shrugging a little. A small smile crept onto his face, remembering the day during his sixth year when he was writhing around on the floor of a room he thought no one else knew about; which turned out to be a thought that was wrong. "And then my friend helped me the rest of the way, and I helped him become one as well."
"Cedric? Roger?" Sirius asked, wondering which one of his friends was also an animagus. He remembered his time researching the spells to transform; it was long and tedious work that most wouldn't even have the patience for, let alone the skill to actually go through with it.
"No," Harry said, shaking his head. "You don't know him. And, even if you did, I wouldn't tell you who it was; it's not my secret to tell. Being an unknown animagus helped you in Azkaban, and has helped me escape a few mishaps as well. I can't take that away from him, and risk that something happens and he can't do anything." He turned around, giving Sirius a smile. "I basically did it on my own, though. I mean, I was almost able to do it before he came into the picture, and then after, all he did was make sure I didn't kill myself trying."
"Either way, it's still impressive." Sirius said, resuming his cleaning.
The quartet worked down in the basement for the next two hours. They cleaned, renewed, and chucked things out, completely skeletonizing the room. Most of it, in Sirius' opinion, was junk that had no place in the new house of Black. He would do as Harry had told him and make sure the house of Black was known as an honorable and decent one, rather than noble and ancient. New blood would come into the family, he knew that, for Tonks was a Black herself, plus he planned on finding someone to marry himself.
The two wizards moved up the stairs and began to clean out the drawing room, while the two house elves left to cook lunch. The pair used this time to bond, as each would do something goofy with a piece of trash that was headed to the garbage. "Think we'll finish the first floor by the end of the day?" Harry questioned, banishing a few old and dusty daggers.
"Probably not." Sirius answered, zapping Harry with a tickling charm. "I'm not expecting to be finished within the next two weeks, and that's with house elves to help. Imagine if they weren't here? It'd take a month, and that's at the very least."
Zeali appeared with a pop, bowing his head slightly. "Lunch is ready, Master Harry, sir." He said in his high, squeaky voice that was similar to his father Dobby's.
"Oh," Harry smiled, turning around and pocketing his wand. "Thank you, Zeali, we'll be there in a second." Zeali disappeared with a pop, as Sirius headed towards the kitchen. "It's almost livable, or, rather, the bottom two floors are, at least." Sirius nodded, and the pair entered the kitchen, their eyes immediately flicking to the plate of sandwiches and jug of pumpkin juice that was on the table. "Mm, thanks guys, it looks great."
They enjoyed their lunch in relative silence, each too lost in their own thoughts to make conversation. The silence was peaceful, rather than awkward so neither felt the need to start something. Harry was thinking about the next three months, which would probably the busiest time of his life. He not only had to plan a wedding—although Tonks and Andromeda said they would do most of it—he had to help Sirius with his house, and train for the World Cup that was looming on the horizon. He knew that Viktor would be leaving for Bulgaria in a few weeks to train with his team, so England would be calling him to train soon, as well.
Sirius on the other hand was pondering about his future. Did people still believe that he was a Death Eater? Sure, his name was cleared by the Ministry, but was the general opinion all the same? The only time he had gone out in public was when Remus had taken him shopping. That day everyone was looking and pointing at him like he was a caged animal at a zoo. He hoped that was just because he was found innocent the day before and not from any real fear or hatred of him. It didn't help that people thought the worst of him even before he went to Azkaban just because of his name, either.
Seeing Sirius' frowning face, Harry decided to get his mind off whatever subject the man was thinking about. "It's in Wales." Harry said, hoping that would help. An air of mysteriousness always brings out curiosity, he thought to himself.
"What is?" Sirius questioned, turning his attention to his godson.
"My home." Harry answered with a smirk. "Or, rather, the manor for the Potters that I built."
Sirius cocked an eyebrow, looking at Harry quizzically. "I thought you were waiting till your wedding to divulge any and all information of it?" He questioned, honored by being the first person—or so he thought—to hear anything about the place that Harry had been working on for the last four years.
"Yeah, well," Harry grinned, sheepishly rubbing the back of his head. "I figured you wanted to know." He said, knowing that slowly, but surely, Sirius was filling the hole that was in his life; the hole that no other person could fill.
"The Potters are from Wales, you know." Sirius told him, taking a sip from his pumpkin juice. He didn't know if Harry knew anything about his parents, he assumed Remus had told him at least something, but if the man didn't, then he would supply whatever information Harry wanted. "Your father was Welsh."
"Gwybod." Harry replied, wondering if Sirius would understand it.
"You speak Welsh?" Sirius questioned, surprised. He recognized the language, but didn't know what it was that Harry had said.
Harry nodded, chewing another bite of his sandwich. "Yeah, when I traveled before my seventh year, I started to pick it up. I consider myself Welsh, which is funny considering I play for the British quidditch team. Remus had told me about the Potters being an ancient and pureblooded wizarding family from Wales, so I began to get in touch with that side of my family. Did my father speak Welsh?"
"Not really." Sirius said, shaking his head. "A few words here and there, but nothing to rave about. His father, your grandfather, did, though. Are you fluent?"
"Yup." Harry answered. "Did he not care that he was Welsh, or just never got around to learning it?"
"A little bit of both, I think." Sirius shrugged, remembering that James never really cared about his heritage. Seeing Harry was finished with lunch, Sirius said, "Come on, I want to show you something." They both rose from their seats, and Sirius led the way out of the freshly cleaned kitchen, and into the foyer. He headed for the stairs, making his way up them to the second floor landing, Harry following closely behind him. "I imagine it's still here." He said, as Harry scanned the floor, marveling at the size of the house. It was dusty and dirty, but the grandeur could still be seen.
"After this, I think I want to take a look around the house." Harry noted, wanting to see what everything looked like. "Where are we going, anyway?"
"Right," Sirius whispered, throwing open a brown wooden door. "Here." Harry's eyes moved around the room, noticing it was a study lined with bookshelves, desks, and couches. He grimaced as he saw the mounted house elf heads on display on the far wall, as if they were wild boars that were hunted down. There were around seven of them, each with a distinctive look. Underneath the heads was what looked to be the centerpiece of the room. It was a large tapestry that had branches and names all over it, with a few scattered burn holes on it as well. "The House of Black family tree." Sirius grunted, pointing to said tapestry.
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 them 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'.
"I haven't looked at this in years." Sirius said, walking over to inspect the tree. "There's Phineas Nigellus, our great-great-grandfather, least popular Headmaster Hogwarts has ever seen. Here, look, Araminta Meliflua, cousin of my mother's; she actually tried to force through a ministry bill to make muggle hunting legal." Sirius laughed, mockingly. "Ah, then there's dear Aunt Elladora, she was the one who started the family tradition of beheading house-elves when they get too old to carry tea trays." He gestured to the head plaques on the wall that Harry had noticed the second he came into the room.
"I don't see you on this." Harry said, studying the tapestry. "Nor do I see Andromeda or Nymphie."
"Oh, I'm there." Sirius laughed. He pointed to a burn hole that was next to Regulus Black, under the marriage line of Walburga and Orion Black. "That's me, you see? Any time the family produced someone halfway decent they were disowned. Of course, my mother Walburga, as you've already met, would take it a step further and blast them off of the family tree." He grabbed his wand and pretended to blast off a few names, showing Harry what he meant. Then he pointed to a few burn marks; one was his; another was his cousin, Andromeda; then another was an Uncle; there were a few other, more distant relatives burned off as well. "Since Andromeda married Ted Tonks, who as you know is a muggleborn, she was immediately blasted off; while her sisters Bellatrix—who is the craziest inmate of Azkaban—and Narcissa are still on there because they married 'respectable', pureblooded men."
"It's strange to actually see tangible proof that Draco Malfoy is Nymphie's cousin." Harry whispered, shaking his head. "I mean, I always knew it, but…it's just weird."
"Yeah, well, most English pureblood families are interrelated in some way or another. Actually, there are just about two different factions or groups of families that like to interrelate; mine and the other which has the Smiths, Princes, Notts, Davies, Diggorys, Hitchens, etc." Sirius answered, shrugging. "Which brings me to the reason I brought you up here in the first place." He pointed to an area of the family tree that Harry had not noticed before. It was a different branch of the family from Sirius', which was the one the pair had been looking at.
Harry's eyes gazed up to where Sirius was pointing to. Underneath the marriage line of Arcturus Black and Lysandra Yaxley was three daughters: Callidora Black, Charis Black, and Dorea Black. Callidora was married to Harfang Longbottom, who happened to be Neville Longbottom's great-grandparents, by way of their only son—they had a daughter, as well. Charis Black had one son and two daughters with Caspar Crouch—that one son being Barty Crouch, Sr.. Dorea Black, which peaked Harry's interest immensely, was married to Charlus Potter, and they had only one child: a boy named James. "Am I…?"
Sirius nodded, putting his hand on Harry's shoulder. "Remus never told you about them, did he? I guess he wouldn't," Sirius mused, smiling fondly. "He always called them Mr. and Mrs. Potter, never by their first names. I doubt he even knew them, honestly. But, yes, Harry, they are your grandparents. We're something like third cousins or even further than that, I don't really remember the terms."
"That means I'm Nymphie's distant cousin, once removed." Harry whispered, a little creeped out. It was wizarding custom to marry second cousins if you wanted to keep blood purity, maybe even first cousins depending on how fanatical the family is, but to Harry it was a little disturbing. And, by the looks of it, some generations of Blacks were stricter about keeping their blood pure than others were.
Sirius' eyes flicked over to Harry. "Don't worry about that, kid. The Potters have only married into the Blacks once, which were your grandparents, who were very much in love with each other. And your closest common ancestor was seven generations ago, who died two hundred years ago. Plus, you two are both half bloods, which just adds to your diversity from one another. It's not that big of a deal, honestly. There's no harm in it; I mean, look at my parents, they were second cousins with each other. Meanwhile, you and Nymphadora aren't even close cousins, so you're fine."
"Oh, I know, I was just a little startled, that's all. Distant cousins, especially ones once removed, are nothing; even muggles don't have a problem with it. We're what, like, seventh cousins, if that close?" Harry replied, shaking his head, and doubting there was even such thing as seventh cousins. "I'm related to Barty Crouch and Neville Longbottom, huh? That's funny."
"I'm actually pretty surprised your great-grandparents, Arcturus and Lysandra Black, are on this." Sirius muttered, biting his lip. "They were actually good people; had good daughters, who married into good, pureblooded families, unlike the Blacks. The Longbottoms, the Potters, and the Crouchs; can't get as good as them. Sure, the Crouchs' had one bad egg in Barty Crouch, jr. but overall they're a pretty good wizarding family. I would have thought my mother, or her mother, would have blasted that whole line off, being that they were 'blood traitors' and all."
"Are you going to keep this?" Harry asked, drawing his eyes away from the tapestry for the first time. It was fascinating to see such dated history as the Black family tree. After all, it went all the way back to the time of the Founders.
"If I do, it won't be shown, that's for sure." Sirius replied, strolling around the dirtied room, examining the different books and devices. "I'm going to make a new one showing the good Blacks, as soon as I get done with refurbishing this house. You've really made me open my eyes, Harry. I want to make the Black name a good one; not only for myself, but just to spite my parents, as well." He opened up a drawer of one of the desks, and out popped Harry's dead body. He stared at it for a few seconds, losing himself in the fear that it represented.
"Riddikulus!" Harry yelled out, pointing his wand at the being, and closing the drawer back up, trapping it inside. "Are you okay?" Harry questioned, walking over to Sirius, whose eyes were opened wide with shock.
"Yeah," He replied, shaking the cobwebs out of his head. "Sorry about that." He turned around quickly, not meeting Harry's eyes.
"I won't die, you know." Harry said softly, putting his hand on his godfather's shoulder. "I've stayed alive for this long, after all."
"It's not only that." Sirius whispered. "You see, I promised your father that I would protect you. I promised him that I would take care of you. And I've broken that promise, and if you do die, I'd not only lose you, but lose my best friend, too. And that…that's something I can't take."
"Like I said, Sirius," Harry scolded. "Me growing up with the Dursleys was not your fault; my father won't hold that against you. What happened is in the past, keep it there, okay?"
Sirius smiled, raising his wand and banishing the boggart filled drawer into an empty trunk that was in the corner. Closing the trunk, he locked it with a spell, sealing the shape-shifting beast in it until they could safely get rid of it. "You want to clean this room up, instead of working on the first floor?" Sirius asked, running his wand over one of the couches, clearing the dust away with a scourgify spell.