Chapter 4

Grimmauld Place

I shouldn't have apparated without preparing first.

Harry Potter gritted his teeth as his body became compressed, like he was being squeezed through a tube of toothpaste. This was the result of apparating without proper preparation first. Harry was sure that he could have done this and been fine if he was only apparating himself. However, he'd also taken Sirius Black along for the ride. His magic was now being forced to accommodate for two people, and he hadn't focused his magic as well as he should have—a dangerous combination.

When he finally emerged from his emergency apparition, it was with a loud crack! that echoed across the new landscape like a bullet fired from a gun. Harry winced as his feet slammed into solid ground, his legs buckling from the sudden variance in surface density. Beside him, Sirius Black stumbled to the ground, on his hands and knees, gasping for breath.

"Bloody hell, Harry," the older man rasped, "warn me next time you do something like that."

Harry swallowed the bile threatening to expel from his throat, straightened, then dusted himself off as if to pretend he wasn't bothered by what had just happened.

"There wasn't any time to issue a warning. Had I not acted when I did, then I would be sitting in a holding cell right now, and you would have been sent back to Azkaban Prison."

Sirius grimaced.

"Point taken."

"Now, then, where are we, exactly?"

"You asked for a safe place," Sirius started, standing back to his feet, albeit, on shaky legs. "I couldn't think of a safer place than my families old home, though I loathe the idea of coming back here. Harry," Sirius made a sweeping gesture, "welcome to Grimmauld Place."

Grimmauld Place was a dark and foreboding structure, a series of houses that loomed over them. Walls were cracked, the paint was chipping, and the buildings were in desperate need of re-tiling. Vine crept along the walls like insipid creatures of the dark trying to claw their way through the windows. It needed some serious remodeling. The house that Sirius was gesturing toward had a door with the number 12 hanging on its front.

"Not exactly the most stylish of homes, but it will serve my purposes well enough," Harry muttered before he walked up to the entrance. "Come on, Sirius. We need to begin shoring up our defenses. I wasn't very subtle when I apparated us here, and there's a good chance that the DMLE will be able to follow the trail of magic I left behind. We need to have this place set up before then."

"Um, right." Sirius nodded and followed Harry to the door. Because the door was magically sealed, Sirius had to open it for them. Harry followed Sirius into the house, the entrance opening into a dark hallway that was covered in a layer of filth. He wrinkled his nose in disgust as Sirius turned around, arms spread wide in an all-encompassing gesture that seemed both grand and sarcastic. "Here we are, Harry. Welcome to the Black Ancestral—"

"FILTH! BLOOD-TRAITOR! I'LL NOT HAVE YOU STAINING MY HOUSE!"

"Shut up, you old ding bat!" Sirius whirled around yelled at a portrait hanging on the wall. Harry blinked as obscenities spewed from the portrait in return.

The lady within the painting looked a lot like Sirius; black hair, purple eyes, and aristocratic features. However, that was where the similarities ended. Unlike Sirius, who looked in control of his mental faculties, for the most part, this woman's eyes gleamed with the taint of insanity. Her ugly snarl marred whatever beauty she might have possessed. It was weird. She reminded him so much of Andromeda Tonks that he couldn't help but find her appearance unsettling.

This must be Walburga Black, Sirius Black's mother, Harry determined. Having already studied up on the Black family in great detail, he knew every member of the Black family, and which noble families several Blacks had been married off to.

The lady and Sirius continued shouting at each other, and Harry, listening in with growing irritation, decided that enough was enough.

"Silence!" Harry hissed out in parseltongue. Sirius and the lady both ceased talking, their bodies freezing as if his words had trapped them within a pillar of ice. They turned ever so slowly to face him, their eyes wide and their jaws gaping.

"Harry, you…" Sirius started in trepidation.

"You speak the language of the snakes!" the lady in the portrait finished in awe.

"Of course I can speak parseltongue," Harry spat in his best "I'm a noble" impersonation. "Do you not know who I am? I'm the destroyer of that foolish child, Voldemort, who thought himself a dark lord. I am the one who took his power. Now, his power is my power, and you would do well to remember that."

Deafening silence permeating the room. Sirius and the lady continued gaping. Harry gave them both a cold look, then gestured to Sirius.

"Come, there's a lot that we must discuss."

Sirius stood there for several seconds before, with a start, he followed Harry, who walked down the hall to the door at the end.

"You can speak parseltongue," Sirius exclaimed.

"Yes, the fact that I just spoke it means that I can, indeed, speak parseltongue," Harry spoke with a healthy dose of sarcasm as he reached for the door. Opening it revealed a dining room and a kitchen. Like most of the house, the room was covered in a thick layer of dust, but he waved his hand at the table and chairs, vanishing the filth. He then sat down and turned to face Sirius. "Is that a problem?"

Sirius started, then stopped. He hesitated. When he spoke again, it was slowly, as if he was afraid of upsetting Harry. "W-well, I guess not… it's just weird, I guess. You know, hearing a Potter speak snake-language."

"I suppose I can understand that," Harry allowed. "It is not a Potter gift, after all."

"Was it true what you said back there? You know, about stealing the dark lord's power?"

"Of course not. Don't be stupid." Harry almost scoffed at the notion that he, or anyone, could steal another person's power. "You can't steal another wizard's power. No, Voldemort, in his idiocy, ended up accidentally giving me this power when he fired his killing curse at me."

"O-oh," Sirius flinched at the mention of Harry being hit by the killing curse.

"Now, sit down." Harry gestured to the chair next to his. "If we want to keep from being discovered, then I need to ask you a few questions before I can determine what form of wards should be used to fortify this place."

Sirius did as told, probably too shocked to do anything else.

Too bad another person invaded the kitchen before a conversation could truly get underway.

XoX

Amelia Bones leaned back in her chair as she listened to Kingsley Shacklebolt deliver his report. Standing on either side of him was Nymphadora Tonks, who fidgeted nervously, and the stony-faced Alastor Mad-eye Moody.

"So, let me make sure I understand this correctly." Amelia resisted the urge to rub her eyes in irritation. "You didn't find out anything about a jaguar, however, you did discover where Harry Potter had been hiding. However, not only did Harry escape from you, but he also had Sirius Black with him, and you weren't able to follow them. Is that about right?"

To his credit, Kingsley kept his face completely straight. "More or less. We did try tracking them magically, but the room they were in leaked with magical energy and we weren't able to pick up on their trail because of it. Also, we don't really know if the person who was with Harry was actually Sirius Black, but—"

"It was," Moody interrupted. Tonks and Kingsley turned to look at him, but Moody only had eyes for Amelia. "It was Sirius Black. I can say that with absolute certainty."

"Very well, so it really was Sirius Black," Amelia decided to believe Moody. "That begs a question, however: What is Sirius Black doing with Harry Potter, how did he find him, and what are we going to do about it?"

No one had an answer to that question. There was too much uncertainty about the situation. What were Sirius Black's goals? Did he plan on killing Harry? Was he taking Harry hostage? If so, then for what purpose?

There was also Harry himself to deal with. That was another issue entirely. None of them knew what the young man had been up to, and now he was in the clutches of a madman who might kill him, if the madman in question hadn't done so already.

What am I going to do?

Amelia was exhausted. Her shoulders ached, and her joints felt stiff. There was a brittleness to her, which made her feel like she'd aged a decade in the span of a second.

What should I tell Susan and the others?

Susan and her friends had been worried about Harry. Even though they were trying to move past that and enjoy their summer together, it didn't change how worried they were. Every day they would ask her if she'd discovered Harry's whereabouts, and every day she had to deliver them the bad news. It was bad enough that they had lost Hermione, but with Harry also missing, it was like pouring salt and alcohol on a festering wound.

"There's another thing that we need to discuss, Amelia," Moody interrupted her musings.

Amelia heard the tone in Moody's voice, and it took everything she had not to stiffen in her seat. She'd heard that tone before. It was the same tone that Moody used when he was hunting dark wizards. Hearing him use that tone now set her on edge.

"What is, Moody?"

"It's about what we found in Harry Potter's little hideout," Alastor grunted. "I think you'll be interested in knowing what the lad's been up to."

XoX

When Albus Dumbledore received a call from Amelia Bones, he had expected many things—information on Harry Potter's whereabouts, or perhaps news that Sirius Black had been caught. If he was honest, he'd been hoping for the former. While Sirius Black was certainly dangerous, his worry for Harry was paramount. Just thinking about the young man, wracked with guilt and isolated from his friends, made Dumbledore's own guilt threaten to overwhelm him.

If only I had been more proactive.

What he had not been expecting was to find himself standing in what could have easily been a dark lord's secret hideout—if dark lords hid out in muggle apartment complexes. That this hideout happened to be where Harry had been living for the past month made that thought all the more worrying.

The room was brightly lit, though the windows had been sealed completely shut. A table sat in the center of the room, and a large cauldron sat on top of it. The cauldron was empty right now, but Dumbledore's mage sight could see the remains of dark magic wafting from the interior, black miasmatic wisps of vapor that rose from the cold surface. Off to the side sat a desk with notes and books sprawled across its surface.

Dumbledore walked over to the desk and studied the notebooks. They were muggle made, spiral bound notebooks. He flipped through several pages of one notebook and was both impressed and appalled by what he saw there. Alchemy. From page to page, border to border, every single inch of the notebook was filled with information on alchemy. All of it was very advanced, incredibly complex, and extremely meticulously written. Even Dumbledore could not understand half of what was written in there. He knew a little about alchemy but, as his old master had once said, it was not his forte.

Clearly, Harry was the opposite of him in this regard.

However, even if he did not understand everything, he understood enough.

"Homunculus."

The word sent chills down his spine. Homunculi were artificially created beings. There were many ways to create them—potions, large-scale permanent conjuration, alchemy. Different methods of making a homunculus brought about different types of homunculi.

Ones created from conjuration were simply human bodies with advanced permanent animation charms on them. They looked human but didn't act human. They were more akin to robots from muggle science fiction books than people. Albus had made one of those when he was younger once, but because it had been an incomplete casting, the homunculi hadn't lasted very long. He'd never tried to make one again.

Ones created from potions were easier to make, but they were incomplete homunculi. They lacked even the ability to have simple animation charms placed on them. Homunculi created from this method were inert, like a body without a soul, and they would remain so until time rotted them away.

Alchemically created homunculi were considered "complete homunculi" in that, aside from being compositionally identical to a human being, they also contained what was known as a modified soul. By taking the magic of the one who created it, a homunculi gained a very limited form of sentience. They could act in a manner that was somewhat human, but this ability was also very limited. They could talk and walk and perform simple actions, but they couldn't feel emotions and couldn't make decisions on their own, making them twisted parodies of real people.

While the creation of homunculus hadn't been banned, that was only because the Ministry of Magic didn't know what a homunculus was—and so few people knew how to create one that it didn't really matter. It wasn't necessarily dark magic, but Dumbledore considered the making of life to be dark in and of itself. Simply the act of trying to create life was wrong, a step into the realm of arrogance by those who wanted to try their hands at playing god.

Seeing these notes, learning that Harry was trying to create a homunculus, was worrying. What was he hoping to accomplish by stepping into a magic that men weren't supposed to wield? What did he plan on doing? Dumbledore worried about the path that Harry was taking.

And now Sirius Black is with him.

That was another worry. Harry wasn't dead, that much was certain. However, Dumbledore didn't know what Sirius Black wanted with Harry. The fact that he hadn't killed the boy suggested that there was something he needed from Harry—something that only Harry could do. That Dumbledore didn't know what that something was was cause for concern.

"Albus," Alastor called him over to a shelf filled with vials, "come here and take a look at these."

Dumbledore walked over to where his friend stood. The shelf was lined with numerous vials and tubes, all of them filled with various concoctions, liquids of many different colors, some of which glowed and others that bubbled. One thing about them remained the same.

"These are all fairly complicated potions," Dumbledore mused. "Aging potion, Veritaserum and its antidote, Polyjuice, Draught of the Living Death… all of these are above NEWT level potions."

"And more than half of them have been banned from being made by the Ministry of Magic unless you have a license," Moody growled. "I don't like this, Albus. Potter's getting into some dangerous magic. Might not be bad or dark, but it will only take a single step before he crosses the line he seems to be straddling right now."

"Much as I'd like to dispute you on this, I must agree." Dumbledore felt like he'd aged one-hundred years just by saying that. "I am also worried about the direction Harry is taking. That is why it's imperative that we find him."

"Aye," Moody said.

Amelia and Kingsley entered the living room from another door. Both of them looked a little haggard, but neither seemed injured.

"Did you find anything?" asked Dumbledore.

"No," Amelia shook her head, "we didn't find a single clue about, well, anything. All of the other rooms are remarkably clean, almost as if Harry had barely used them. The bathroom has a few products in it; soap, shampoo, and conditioner, but that's about it."

"So, in short, all we have is what we see here," Moody groused, looking less than satisfied. The gnarled man was clearly upset at not being able to find any clues about Harry's and Sirius' potential whereabouts. Dumbledore understood his frustrations.

"It does appear that way," Dumbledore tried to look on the bright side. "We did find a lot of good information here, however. These notes are quite meticulous, as expected from someone like Harry. While I doubt these will give us a clue as to his whereabouts, at the very least, we can learn what he was trying to accomplish here. Amelia, do you mind if I take these notebooks with me?"

"Not at all," Amelia replied. "I was going to have some people from the Department of Mysteries look at those notes, but it might be a good idea to have you go over them as well."

"Thank you," Dumbledore said graciously. "Once I'm finished scouring through them, I'll pass them along to the Department of Mysteries. I know that Croaker would love to get his hands on these."

"True."

Dumbledore waved his wand at the bookshelf. The potions floated into a bag case that Amelia brought with her. With nothing left for them to do, the group left, somewhat disheartened, but also hopeful that they might find a way to save Harry Potter—both from Sirius Black and from himself.

XoX

Harry discovered that a magically screaming portrait wasn't the only nuisance in this house.

"Filthy master… blood traitor master… brings his filthy half-blood into the great House of Black, he does…"

"Oh, great," Sirius groaned, "I almost forgot about him."

Harry stared down at the tiny house elf, who looked nothing like any of the other house elves he'd seen before. While all of them were short, skinny, had long noses, floppy ears and big eyes, this one appeared almost emaciated. He walked with a noticeable stoop. Both his posture and gait betrayed his apathy. Beady black eyes stared up at them, glaring with a tepidness that Harry recognized as the look of someone who'd given up on everything. This was an elf who had nothing to live for.

"Who's the elf?"

"That's Kreacher," Sirius answered with a sigh. "The foulest, most loathsome little thing you'll ever meet."

"Such kind things filthy blood-traitor master says to poor Kreacher…" Kreacher muttered, wringing his hands together. "Mistress would be so displeased by the company filthy master keeps…"

"Mistress?" Harry glanced at Sirius.

"Remember that portrait you shut up back in the hallway? That was Walburga Black, my dearly departed mother and the 'mistress' that Kreacher's talking about."

"He seems awfully devoted to her."

"Well, considering that portrait was the only person he had to talk to for several decades, I imagine he would be."

"Does that mean he would do anything to please her?"

"Uh," Sirius appeared taken aback by his question, "I-I guess so."

"I see," Harry murmured before turning back to the elf. "Kreacher! How dare you shame your mistress!"

Kreacher stopped mumbling mid-sentence, his eyes going so wide Harry thought they might fall out. "Shamed mistress?"

"That's right!" Harry barked, putting on his best "I'm better than you" sneer as he stared his nose down at the house elf. "Look at how filthy this mansion is! Have you grown lackadaisical in your old age? How do you think your mistress feels living in such a disgusting domicile? Where is your pride as a house elf to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black?! Well?! Answer me!"

"I… I… don't… mistress!" Kreacher fell to his knees, hands gripping his head and a look of absolute horror etched on his face. "Mistress, forgive Kreacher! He hasn't been taking care of you! He's let your house fall into disrepair! Mistress… mistress!"

Sirius stared between Harry and Kreacher for several seconds, as if not quite sure what to make of the current events.

"Uh, Harry?"

"Not now," Harry muttered. "Kreacher, get a hold of yourself! There is still time to do your mistress proud!"

"There is?" Kreacher looked up at Harry, wide eyes staring at him in unabashed hope.

"There is. I need you to listen to everything I say. If you do, then your mistress will be very happy."

Kreacher nodded his head eagerly. "Kreacher will listen to filthy half-blood's words."

"What did you call me?" Harry hissed. Kreacher's eyes widened. "How dare you insult me. Do you know who I am? I am the heir apparent to the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter! Son of James Potter, who was the son of Dorea Potter nee Black, an heiress to the Most Ancient and Noble Black family itself, and you dare to insult me?"

"Kreacher be begging forgiveness, Master Potter-Black." Kreacher bowed low. "Kreacher is not be knowin' that Master Potter-Black is a member of Mistress's household."

"Now you do, so see to it that it doesn't happen again." Harry quickly shifted gears, returning to his calm facade. "Now then, in order to make mistress happy, here is what you must do. First, this house is filthy. Clean it up. Every room in this house should be spotless, as befitting the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black. Second, I am sure that our supplies are running low. I will make a list of items that you'll need to get. Make sure you get them after cleaning the house. Finally, I'm going to need a list of all the mistress's contacts, people she used to know who will be willing to help the Black family rise to power once more. Can you do this, Kreacher? Can you make mistress proud?"

"Yes!" Kreacher cried. "Kreacher will do this for mistress!"

"Good, then get to it."

A loud crack! premeditated the disappearance of Kreacher, who used the house elves' special brand of teleportation to leave the room and begin cleaning. Harry didn't know which room the house elf would clean first, but it didn't matter to him, just so long as the house was cleaned up.

"What are you staring at?" Harry asked when he saw Sirius gawking at him.

"Y… you just convinced Kreacher to clean!" Sirius exclaimed, pointing a finger at him.

Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"Thank you for pointing that out. I would have never realized what I had done if you hadn't told me."

Sirius looked mildly embarrassed by Harry's sarcastic response.

"Sorry. It's just that I didn't think anyone could do that."

"It's not that hard," Harry said. "All I did was appeal to Kreacher's desire to please his mistress. Now, then, we need to begin fortifying this place. Sirius, do you know if the wards are still working here?"

As the one of the Blacks' ancestral homes, Grimmauld Place should have had dozens if not hundreds of wards layered on top of each other. Noble Houses, especially those who held the title of Ancient and Most Noble, would never have a home that could be easily broken into, and noble's like the Blacks were the kind who guarded their secrets zealously. He couldn't imagine them not having a number of powerful wards protecting this place.

Harry became disappointed when Sirius shook his head. "Not anymore. This place used to have a lot of wards, but they've fallen apart after several decades of disuse."

"I see. In that case, we'll need to create our own fortifications. Sirius, do you know how to cast the Fidelius Charm?"

"Um, no." Sirius shook his head.

Harry sighed.

"Very well, then. I'll teach it to you, and then I want you to cast it, since I cannot do so right now." His mother's wand still wasn't working for him, and he couldn't use his own wand because of the trace. "Now, then, the Fidelius Charm is—"

"Wait, wait, wait, wait." Sirius waved his hands back and forth. "Are you telling me that you know how to cast the Fidelius Charm?"

"Yes."

"B-But that's an over NEWT level spell!" Sirius's eyes were practically bulging from their sockets. "Only a charms master like Filius Flitwick, Albus Dumbledore, or your mother could cast a charm that complex!"

"You are asking someone who you've already seen use several complex spells, including an animagus transformation and apparition, whether or not he can cast this spell. Really?"

"Well… when you put it like that…"

"Right. Now pay attention. You need to learn this spell and you need to learn it fast, otherwise the chances of us being discovered here will raise exponentially." Harry coughed into his hand. "The Fidelius Charm is a complex, multi-faceted charm used to conceal a secret inside of a person's soul. It's a highly advanced form of soul magic, even more so than the killing curse. The trick to performing it isn't just waving your wand in the correct sequence of movements. You are literally compressing and imprinting the secret you wish to keep onto a person's soul, thereby extracting information of this secret and hiding it from the very world itself. In order to do this, you need to concentrate on the secret, focus on it with all your being, and think about how you want only the keeper to know the secret. Focus and concentration is the key here. Now, the proper wand movement is—"

"Uh, before we get started on actually trying to cast the Fidelius, there's something you should know," Sirius interrupted Harry, who gave him an annoyed look.

"What?"

"I don't have a wand."

Harry blinked. Then again. Then one more time, for good measure. Then he blushed.

"Oh, that is a problem."

"Yep." Sirius nodded his head.

XoX

Daphne sat at the dining room table, slowly eating a bowl of cereal. It was early in the morning, and the sun still had yet to rise, but she was used to waking up at this time. She'd been doing so for years now and would admit that she rather liked early mornings. No one else was awake to bother her, so she could think without someone else ruining the quiet ambience.

Daphne had a lot to think about.

First and foremost on her mind was Harry Potter, who was still missing. While being with her friends had helped immensely, it didn't change how she still felt like there was something missing in her life. There was a gnawing absence inside of her chest, a part of her that she hadn't realized was there until it was gone. It left her baffled, and also hurt. She knew, however, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that this hole had been caused by Harry.

How did Harry become such an important person in my life?

She could easily trace back the moment in time where Harry had become important to her—that night in the room with the Mirror of Erisad. He'd helped her confront an issue that she'd been dealing with for years, not by showing sympathy or compassion, but by giving her his admiration and understanding. More than anything else, his claim that he admired her strength had given her the strength to, if not get over what happened to her, then at least accept it.

However, even though she knew when she had started thinking of Harry as a friend, she didn't know when she'd started thinking of him as something more. That knowledge eluded her.

Or, maybe I'm just deluding myself.

Daphne thought back to that time in their first year, when she'd danced with Harry at the New Year Galla. She'd never been to the New Year Galla before that. But, she clearly recalled the many other social functions that she had been brought to. She remembered all of the dirty old men that her father had shown her off to, the ones who had sons that he hoped to marry her off to one day. She'd been passed around like a cheap trinket. Her only saving grace was that, due to her young age, none of the old men had asked to "sample the goods." Even in the wizarding world, which she knew from her conversations with Harry was incredibly backwards, pedophilia was a crime punishable by a lifetime sentence in Azkaban.

Harry had saved her from that experience at the Galla. He had appeared before her and spoke with her father. Danielle Greengrass was a cold man, but he was also politically astute. He knew that, regardless of whatever personal opinions he held, Harry Potter had power. Thus, her father had let Harry whisk her away and they'd spent an incredible evening together—one that had actually been, dare she say it, fun.

"Would you hate me if I informed you about how much I long to break your father's jaw against my fist?"

Daphne still remembered his words to her that night. They had not only made her laugh, but they had also brightened her entire world. Those words, while simple and somewhat barbaric, had made her happier than she'd ever been.

That might have been the moment when Harry had become something more—or maybe it was simply the moment where she'd started thinking of Harry as someone who could potentially be more. Daphne didn't know. Even though she had a clear understanding about her place in the world—according to her father—she could admit her own shortcomings. At nearly 13-years-old, how could she possibly understand her own feelings?

"Daphne?" a girlish voice called out, shattering her musings.

"'Stori, good morning," Daphne greeted her sister. Astoria wandered into the room, her eyes half-lidded and her hair sticking up all over the place. She'd clearly just woken up.

"M-mornin'," Astoria yawned as she flopped gracelessly into a seat next to Daphne.

"I'm surprised you're awake so early."

"I couldn't sleep."

Ah.

Daphne understood. Astoria often slept with her, but this time, it wasn't just Daphne she was sleeping with. They were sharing a room with Tracey, Hannah, Susan, and Lisa. Daphne found it odd; why share a room when the Zabini manor had hundreds of rooms? However, Susan and Hannah had explained why sharing a room was essential, something about girl bonding time. Daphne hadn't really understood, but she accepted their reasoning all the same.

"Tracey's snoring wake you up?"

"Uh-huh."

Daphne's lips twitched into a smile. Tracey had some of the worst snoring she'd ever heard. It was like listening to an elephant blowing air from its snout.

A plate of breakfast appeared in front of Astoria, a traditional English breakfast. Astoria's eyes lit up some and her mouth watered. Daphne stifled a chuckle as she returned to her own breakfast.

More people arrived as they ate. Blaize came in first, looking as impeccable as always. Terry and Neville, on the other hand, looked bleary and half-asleep. Hannah and Susan came in next, and while Susan seemed alert, Hannah looked ready to fall asleep standing. Lisa and Tracey were the last ones. Daphne watched as Tracey, upon sitting down, practically smashed her face into the table and groaned like an inferi.

"Tired, Trace?" Daphne asked.

"Nngggg…"

"Thought so."

Not long after everyone started eating, Lady Zabini swept into the room looking refreshed and lovely as always—not a single hair was out of place. Behind her, Lady Zabini's daughter, Celia, yawned in an almost unladylike manner, her bleary eyes letting Daphne know that she was not a morning person.

"I'm glad to see that you're all up," Lady Zabini clapped her hands together and smiled. "We've got a big day today, so I want to make sure all of you get ready once you've finished breakfast."

Lady Zabini's proclamation was met with a chorus of affirmations.

Today, they were all going to Diagon Alley to buy their school supplies. Their book list and their list of supplies had come in a few days ago. Daphne imagined it would be crowded today, since most students would be going as well. She didn't particular enjoy crowds, but she was sure her sister would get a kick out of going.

"What classes were you taking again, Daph?" Tracey asked after breakfast.

"You mean aside from the core classes?" Daphne asked as she put on her black stockings. Tracey nodded. "I'm taking Study of Ancient Runes and Arithmancy."

"Blurg," Tracey made a strange noise. "Sounds like a lot of work. You should have taken easy classes like me."

"You mean I should have taken useless classes like Divination and Muggle Studies?" Daphne rolled her eyes.

Divination and Muggle Studies were, in her opinion, two of the most useless classes known to wizarding kind. Anyone with an ounce of intelligence knew that only witches and wizards with seer's blood had the power to divine the future. Daphne had also studied the course syllabus for Muggle Studies. From her conversations with Harry and Hermione, she had learned that wizards had a very skewed perspective on their non-magical counterparts. They knew next to nothing, which meant anything she learned in Muggle Studies would likely be untrue.

"Hey! They're easy classes! I can get O's in both of them without even trying," Tracey defended herself.

"What a lazy girl," Lisa muttered, half-sarcastically, half-fondly.

"Oi!"

"I'm guessing you're taking the same classes that I am?" Daphne said to Lisa, who nodded.

"Of course. I'm not in Ravenclaw for nothing, you know. Terry and I are both taking Ancient Runes and Arithmancy."

"What about you two?" Tracey asked Hannah and Susan.

"I'm taking Arithmancy and Care of Magical Creatures," Susan answered.

Everyone looked at Hannah, who flushed a bit. "Divination and Care of Magical Creatures."

"I wish I could take electives," Astoria pouted. Daphne smiled and gently rubbed her sister's head.

"You're still going to take a lot of interesting classes," she consoled the younger blond. "Besides, they don't give first years electives because they want to ease you into the learning process. If you were taking two electives on top of your core classes, you'd be overwhelmed."

"I still don't think it's fair."

Daphne gave her sister an indulgent smile.

After getting dressed, the group of girls met up with the guys in Lady Zabini's private receiving room. The boys were already there when they arrived. Neville and Blaise wore their best outfits, though Blaise looked considerably more ostentatious in his green silk robes. The Longbottoms had never been big on extravagant clothing. Terry looked sadly normal standing next to the other two in his muggle-esque outfit.

Lady Zabini and her daughter were also their. Even Blaise looked plain and ordinary compared to those two. Lady Zabini had chosen to wear her hair up in an elegant bun, a few strands left purposefully undone to frame her face. The robes she wore looked a lot like a muggle dress, black, with a low-cut back that revealed her olive-colored skin, and a slit running up the side that allowed tantalizing glimpses of bare leg.

Daphne didn't want to admit it, but she felt a hint of envy when she saw how the dress wrapped around the woman's torso. She looked down at her chest and felt the pang of slight jealousy grow.

I wish I would hurry and grow up. Susan has larger breasts than me.

She wondered if that was a natural thought, to want bigger breasts. Was she thinking this because of her own personal desire, or did she want to seem more appealing to…

Don't think about Harry right now, Daphne. You can't afford to do that.

"Alright, everyone!" Lady Zabini got their attention. "We're heading out now. Ladies, you go first. Men, you come after us."

"Come on, 'Stori." Daphne held out her hand, which Astoria grabbed. When it was their turn to use the floo, Daphne grabbed a handful of floo powder, threw it into the fireplace, then stepped in and called out, "Diagon Alley!"

Daphne's breathing was even as she looked straight ahead, already knowing better than to turn her head. She didn't stay still either. Walking forward, one hand holding her sister's, she moved closer to the fireplace on her own gumption. Upon reaching the floo, Daphne gracefully walked out with her sister trailing behind her.

The Leaky Cauldron was a busy place, even this early in the morning. People sat around the tables, chatting and laughing. One group sat around a long table next to her, large cups sloshing with liquid gripped within their hands. A trio of witches sat huddled in one corner of the room, smoking from a large pipe. Daphne's nose wrinkled just a bit as the odorous scent of several dozen people hit her.

"It's so loud!" Astoria had to shout to be overheard. She probably wasn't used to so much noise, Daphne realized, since she'd never used the floo to travel to public places like this.

She opened her mouth to reassure her sister—

"It's so cool!"

—when a smile lit Astoria's face like a lumos spell.

Daphne shook her head and smiled. Of course her sister would love noisy places like the Leaky Cauldron. This was her sister, after all, the same one who was loud and easily excited by new things.

When everyone had exited the floo, Lady Zabini ushered them to the back, where they left the Leaky Cauldron. There, she took out her wand and tapped the brick wall, which glowed briefly before sliding apart and revealing Diagon Alley.

"Come along, children. Our first stop is Gringotts."

They moved forward, into the throng of people. Daphne kept a tight grip of Astoria's hand so they wouldn't become separated. Susan and Tracey walked on her left, while Blaise, Terry and Neville strolled behind them, chatting about something they'd read in the Daily Prophet. Lisa and Hannah were up front. Daphne couldn't hear them, but form the way Hannah laughed, she assumed Lisa was poking fun of Tracey, especially since her raven-haired friend was red-faced and fuming.

"Look at that, Daphne! It's so large!"

"Don't go wandering off, 'Stori," Daphne called as the girl tried to pull away.

Astoria merely laughed.

"It'll be alright, Daph! Don't be such a—"

Astoria couldn't say anything more as she ran right in front of someone who, surprised by the girl's sudden appearance, was unable to entirely avoid bumping into her and knocked the poor girl to the ground.

"Ouch." Astoria rubbed her sore bum, then looked up to glare at the person she'd bumped into. "Hey! You bumped into me!"

Daphne could make nothing of the figure. They were covered from head to toe in a dark black robe, their face hidden behind layers of darkness. Only their mouth and eyes were visible.

Those eyes. Daphne's breath was stolen from her when, for just a moment, she caught a glimpse of glowing green eyes. The moment passed quickly, however, and the man looked away, his eyes no longer visible to her.

"Apologies," the man muttered before swiftly moving away from them, his steps calm and measured as he disappeared into the crowd.

"That was rude," Tracey huffed.

"He did apologize," Lisa pointed out. "And she did bump into him."

"Yeah, but still…"

"You alright, 'Stori?" Daphne asked, helping her sister stand.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Astoria stood up and Daphne dusted her off. "Thanks, sis."

"You're welcome."

Daphne smiled at her sister, then looked back at where the man had disappeared, her lips turning into a frown.

"Something wrong?" Astoria asked.

"No, it's nothing," Daphne shook her head, and the group continued on their way to the bank.

XoX

Knockturn Alley. Home to the seedier side of Diagon Alley. Here, in this filthy, downtrodden street, where the scent of decay hung thick in the air and the denizens looked like they would sooner stab you than help you, anything you wanted that couldn't be purchased through legal channels was available…

… for a price.

Harry Potter strode down the street, his entire form cloaked in a veil of darkness. Pitch black robes billowed around his body. The spell cast on his hood, a form of wandless enchanting, masked his face and allowed only his mouth and eyes to be seen. He would have also spelled his eyes to glow bloody crimson, but for some reason, magic didn't work on his eyes, just as he couldn't use magic on his scar.

Several people tried coming up to him when he walked in their vicinity, but one glare from his glowing green eyes and they scurried off, their legs taking them as far from him as they could. Snorting derisively, he continued on his way.

Harry's destination was an antiquated shop that had seen better days. Stains covered the front glass window, along with cracks that spread out from a single point, making him wonder how the window hadn't shattered already. Grime covered the walls, blackish and with mold growing along the bottom. A strange scent hung in the air, coming from behind the scratched door, and reminding Harry of decay. He wrinkled his nose.

The door creaked on rusted hinges as he pushed it open. Stepping inside revealed an interior every bit as foul as the exterior. Dirty wooden floorboards groaned as he walked. A cracked and stained ceiling made him wonder if roof might come down on top of him.

The room wasn't empty. Shelves lined the walls, and each one was filled with any number of strange items and artifacts—werewolf hands, a griffin's beak, orbs glowing with dark luminescence. Arrayed around the room itself sat items that were too large to fit on a shelf. A dresser sat in one space, ancient-looking and decrepit, its once glossy finished now cracked and dull. Several feet from him, the remains of what looked like an acromantula lay, inert and unmoving. Harry didn't think it was real—he couldn't sense any magic—but it looked realistic enough.

"Ah," a scratchy voice said behind him, "if it init the youngin'. What can I be doin' fer you today?"

Harry turned around, his cloak swishing, and glared at the man from beneath his hood.

The person who stood before him wasn't old, but he didn't look young either. Lips had peeled back over yellow teeth gums stained black. Sunken eyes peered out from underneath a fringe of muddy-looking hair, their dark irises glimmering with hints of madness. The man walked with a noticeable stoop, his gait halting as if he'd lost a toe and had to relearn how to walk.

"You know why I'm here. Is my wand ready?"

Harry had commissioned this man to make Sirius a new wand. He wasn't as good a wand maker as Ollivander, but then, few wand makers were that good. Ollivander was one of the top wand makers in the world, while this man likely didn't even register in the top 2,000 list.

That was the price one paid for illegally crafted wands. This man was a black market wand seller. He sold wands to dark families who wanted to teach their children how to perform magic before they went to Hogwarts. None of the wands he made were of very high quality. However, all of the wands he made didn't have the trace on them, the magic spell that the Ministry used to detect magic.

"Ah, yes, yer wand is ready. If you'll be waitin' here, I'll bring it right out."

The man lumbered through a door in the back. Harry waited, his foot tapping impatiently. It was a fortunately short wait, and when the man came back out, he was carrying a black box, which was worn and cracked, the wood having long since lost its luster due to age.

"Here ye are."

Opening the box revealed a wand made of dark wood sitting inside. The wood, at least, didn't look to be poor of quality, but Harry could trace the grains and saw that it didn't have the same level of attention given to it that Ollivander's wands had. It wasn't a masterpiece. It was just a wand that would—hopefully—last until Sirius's name could be cleared.

The man closed the box. Harry reached out for it, but he pulled it back, grinning.

Harry narrowed his eyes.

"How much do you want for it?"

"A hundred galleons."

Harry's eyes narrowed further. Most wands from Ollivander's cost around 15 galleons. His own wand cost 150 galleons, but that was to be expected. His had been custom made with some of the most expensive wand components ever. The wand this man was trying to sell him was made from cheap components that wouldn't last longer than six months, and that was if it didn't see any strenuous spellcasting done to it.

Channeling magic into his eyes, Harry stared the man down. Watching. Waiting. He knew the effect his eyes had on people. Everyone who spoke with him commented on how his eyes had a strange glow about them at least once. That visual effect had been enhanced with his animagus abilities. When he added magic to his eyes, the effects were further enhanced, the glow becoming so bright you couldn't even see his pupils.

The man before him quivered.

"Ten galleons."

"N-now just a minu'e here," the man tried to say, "that's—"

"Ten. Galleons." Harry continued staring the man down. He didn't blink. He didn't move. He merely stared.

The man caved.

"R-right. T-ten galleons it is."

"Thank you."

Harry nodded his head, paid the man his money, and then left the shop. He needed to get home soon. There was still so much left to do.

XoX

Harry took the bus to Grimmauld Place. It was annoying, having to ride a bus when he could just apparate, but there was a chance that someone could track magic emissions and discover his location. He'd been very careful to use as little magic as possible while going out. The last thing he needed was someone like Dumbledore finding him.

Upon entering Grimmauld Place, Harry stepped onto a polished wooden floor that literally sparkled. All of the walls had been cleaned of filth and repainted in silver and green stripes, Slytherin colors. The staircase leading up to the second floor also held the spotlessness of having been freshly cleaned.

"M'Lord, I hope your time out was productive," the portrait of Walburga Black greeted him with a curtsy.

"Productive. Yes, I suppose it was," Harry tried not to scowl. He finished his assigned task, but the replacement wand for Sirius was horrible, so badly crafted that he couldn't even call it second rate. "Have you done as I asked?"

"Of course. I have spoken with Nigellus and he has agreed to keep an eye on Dumbledore for you."

"And, what has Dumbledore been up to lately?"

"He is pouring over your notebooks, it seems."

Harry "tsked." In his haste to escape from the aurors, he hadn't been able to grab anything that wasn't immediately on his person—that meant his notebook, potions, and his trunk were all in the hands of others. Fortunately, no one would be able to open his trunk, and those who tried would be in for a very unfortunate surprise. Still, he disliked the fact that his possessions were in the hands of other people.

I'll have Kreacher get those back for me.

He wouldn't be able to do anything about the notebooks so long as Dumbledore had them, but the trunk should be in the aurors office which, due to its public location, didn't have any wards around it. Kreacher should be able to easily sneak in and grab the trunk and anything else of his that they had.

"I thought I heard you come in," Sirius said as he walked in from the kitchen. "Well, how long are you going to stand there? Come and give your godfather a hug."

"Um, no."

Sirius bent over and clutched his chest like he'd been shot. "W-why not?"

"Lord Harry likely doesn't want to be tainted by you, filthy blood-traitor," Walburga spat.

"What was that?" SIrius glared at the portrait. "Listen here, you bitter old hag, the only filthy person in this room is you!"

"I'm not a person. I'm a portrait," Walburga spoke in a tone that said she considered Sirius to be nothing but a child. "So, I can't be a filthy person. Your time in Azkaban must have eroded what little of your filthy blood-traitor brain was left."

"Stop calling me blood-traitor, you misbegotten, codgerous dingbat!"

"H-How dare you insult me, you disgusting mongrel!"

"Bitter old maid!"

"Traitorous miscreant!"

"Ass hag!"

"Filthy excrement!"

Harry rubbed the bridge of his nose as Sirius and Walburga's argument degraded to childish insults. He knew these two didn't like each other, but really, couldn't they be a little more mature about it? At the very least, they should save their petty arguments for a time when it was more appropriate.

"Silence!" Harry hissed in parseltongue. He'd learned that speaking the language of snakes unsettled people, no matter their allegiance to the light or dark.

It worked perfectly with these two. Sirius's entire body seized up as if gripped by an indescribable fear. His wide eyes and pale face lent credence to the terror he was experiencing. Walburga, despite being a portrait, had also frozen solid. Her gaping mouth and wide eyes were almost funny. However, the disturbing gleam within her amethyst orbs was not.

"I am sick and tired of listening to you two bicker like school children." Harry felt a sense of irony that he, a child going to school, was using that simile. "If you two are going to argue, then do so on your own time. Sirius!"

"Y-yes!"

"Here's your wand." Harry shoved the box with Sirius's wand into the man's hands. "Now follow me."

Harry didn't leave Sirius with any choice but to follow him as he made his way into the kitchen. It looked much better now than it used to. Clean floor, cleans walls, and a clean ceiling. The stove and cabinets had also been wiped down, the grime from ages of disuse gone. It was the stove that Harry gestured to.

"Give your wand a try," Harry said. "I want to see if it works before I teach you the Fidelius Charm."

"Um, right."

Sirius waved his wand at the stove. Sparks flew from the wand's tip, making them both wince, but, with a pale flicker, the stove lit on fire.

"Well," Sirius started, eying his new wand warily, "it seems to work… for the most part."

"It will have to do for now," Harry pulled out his own wand. "Now then, I'm going to show you the movements to cast the Fidelius. Afterward, you're going to practice casting it. Our first goal is going to be making this room the secret with me as its keeper. Once I feel like you've gotten the hang of it, you'll cast it on Grimmauld Place. Are you ready?"

Sirius took a deep breath, then nodded.

"Ready as I'll ever be."

"Then let's begin."

Thus began a long day, as Harry strove to teach Sirius Black how to cast one of the most complicated charms known to the Ministry of Magic.

Sorry for not updating this in a while. I had a recent streak of inspiration for Devil Ninja, so most of my focus went there instead. I hope you enjoy this chapter. As always, thank you for reading this story.