Grief & Hope

Harry Potter never was a person who liked to show his feelings. Years of abuse living with the Dursleys had taught him to bottle much of it up. After all, crying was heavily frowned upon and worthy of punishment. But now, he couldn't help it. Lying in his bed staring at the ceiling, all he could think of was one name.

Sirius.

He had inadvertently led the only man whom he could call family to his death. The guilt Harry felt was beyond anything he had felt before, eating away at him until all he felt like doing was lying in bed and wallowing in self pity. But another emotion much stronger than guilt was beginning to bubble to the surface.

Anger.

Anger at Voldemort and his Death Eaters, for destroying what his life could have been when his parents were killed. For destroying the chance for improvement when Sirius was knocked into the veil by the spell cast by Bellatrix Lestrange. But they were an enemy he knew, an enemy he somewhat understood in a limited way. Their goals were known. However at the moment his anger was directed at someone else entirely, someone he had always looked up to.

Albus Dumbledore.

The man who had sent him back to the Dursleys year after year despite Harry begging him not to, all in the name of his own protection. 'Blood Wards' the old Headmaster had told him. Not that they did anything to protect him from the people inside of number 4 Privet Drive. He was a prisoner in his own home, not that he would ever refer to it as such.

If only this was the reason Harry was so angry at the Headmaster, it wouldn't be so bad. But no, the true reason was written on a letter that lay on the bedside table next to his old bed. Harry had decided to sneak out and take the Knight Bus to Diagon Alley that morning, a small escape from Privet Drive and the chance to revisit the Wizarding World was too much of a temptation for Harry to ignore.

What he did not expect was to be accosted by an angry looking Goblin the moment he set foot into Gringotts. Before he knew it, he was being informed that the Goblin Nation were extremely displeased by the fact Harry had ignored all of their correspondence. Naturally, Harry had no idea what they were talking about and began explaining that to the irate Goblin.

Frowning, the Goblin had taken the young man to a room in the back that was painted with many intricate rune-like patterns on the wall and told Harry to stand in the middle. The Goblin, his name Barefang as denoted by the small placard on his tunic, vacated the room. After a few moments, the symbols on the walls began glowing slightly, before three different runes around the room began flashing a violent red. Harry noted that the rune patterns seemed to be set into tiers, which were surprisingly denoted by roman numerals.

After another minute the flashing stopped and Barefang reentered the room, looking rather annoyed. He quickly informed Harry about the mail-blocking ward tied to Harry, along with a small child-block ward that was meant to have been removed when Harry turned 11 years old. When Harry asked about the third rune that had flashed however, Barefang had looked uncomfortable. Slowly and with almost a small amount of fear, the Goblin explained that he was unsure as to what it was, only that it was extremely dark in nature and seemed to emanate from the lightning bolt scar on his head.

He further explained that whilst the two blocking wards could be removed with ease, the darker magic in his scar would require further investigation. He also recommended taking nutrient potions to assist in healing the malnutrition Harry had suffered over the years. Just as he was about to forget the reason he came to Gringotts in the first place, the Goblin ushered him into an office just off the main hall. Rummaging through his desk, Barefang removed a sheet of parchment from his desk, placing it in front of Harry.

The Goblin then began to go through the contents of the document, which happened to pertain to the will of his Godfather, Sirius Black. Apparently, Sirius had made him his Heir, which now made Harry the Lord of the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Black. From there on, the Goblin began referring to Harry as Lord Black, despite Harry's insistence on simply being called Harry. This left the young man wondering why none of this had been made known to him already, or if his own family had such a title. He was then informed that the Potter family were a Noble house and whilst it was an Ancient family, the title had not been passed on when it should have been, and as such the Lordship declared extinct by the Wizengamot.

Apparently if Harry had made his claim to the title when he had turned 11, this would have been avoided. 'Why didn't Dumbledore, or anyone for that matter, tell him?! Why hide his heritage from him?!' Whilst Harry fumed inside his head with questions he wanted answered, Barefang continued explaining what had been left to him, which other than Grimmauld Place and a substantial sum of money, was not a lot. He was also offered the option to officially change his name, to mark his rise to the Lordship of the House of Black.

At this, he paused. Did he want to change his name? Whilst the Potter title had been declared extinct, he was still the last of the family. But the more he pondered, the more he frowned. The Potter name was now tied to the unwanted title of 'Boy-Who-Lived' and in Harry's mind, that was not an accomplishment, nor something to be proud of. He would have happily traded away that title and all the galleons in the world to have his parents back. Harry then thought about Sirius and his family, of all the times Sirius had told him about how most of them were rotten to the core, yet there were a few he had mentioned in passing that he had loved dearly.

Harry's own grandmother, Dorea Potter-Nee Black, was one of them. Sirius's grandfather, Arcturus, had never truly cast Sirius out of the family, seeing Sirius as his own son. He had made his decision, and declared to the Goblin that he would officially change his name and become a fully fledged member of the Black family, following tradition with his name to be named after the Stars. As such, Harry Potter as everyone knew him died, and Aries Arcturus Black was born.

Thinking back to his present predicament at the Dursleys, the newly minted Lord Black was about to write to Dumbledore to ask him when he was planning on retrieving him to take him to the Burrow, when he heard what sounded like loud engine noises outside of his window- yet it did not sound like any car he had ever heard, if anything it sounded quite like a jet engine. Looking outside, his mouth fell agape. The strangest looking craft he had ever seen was landing outside on the road right outside of the house, causing an almighty racket that was waking up the entire street, if the lights being turned on in the other houses of Privet Drive were anything to go by.

Aries watched in disbelief as a ramp extended down to the ground, and four men in strange, skeletal white armour descended the ramp followed by a man in a smart grey military uniform & cap. 'This must be a dream.' Aries was thinking to himself, but even pinching himself did not seem to wake him from the situation at hand. Once the strange men had exited the craft, they made their way to the front door, at which point the man in the grey uniform knocked loudly.

"Open up, in the name of the Empire!"

Aries blinked. 'Empire?!'