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Chapter 10- A father in all but blood

"That vile and disgusting woman!" Dorea raged as the others tried to calm down desperately.

"A cruel woman like her should never be allowed to live." She went on.

The Potters had been busy watching the memory of Harry's fifth year. The summer of the year began with an attack of dementors on Harry and in the muggle world. How did the Dementors even get to the muggle world?

Harry had witnessed the death of a young man and then Dumbledore went on and locked him up with his relatives and far away from the world. He had none to talk to. None he could open up to. He dreamt of the boy's death every day. He had no peace. It was a wonder he didn't break from all this trauma, but the Potters noticed one thing.

He had grown aggressive. He would bite his lip from retorting to his relatives and showed bouts of aggression. His eyes would flame when he was angry and his breathing would quicken. His jaws would tighten and his face would scream rage.

The weird thing was, as soon as it comes, it goes away. One moment, he would seem like he would slaughter the world, and next, he looks like a tired old boy who has just had enough. It was like a split personality. It all leads to them wondering why Dumbledore didn't have Harry see a mind healer. With every memory they were seeing, they began to understand why Dumbledore was a sore spot to Harry and the man was not becoming a favourite to the four of them.

Harry and his cousin's altercation seemed to be the breaking point to Harry. The suppressed anger seemed to erupt as Harry glared at his cousin. The remainder of the death of the Diggory boy and his cousin teasing him about his dead mother seemed to get to him. And then came the dementors.

This was the most depressing of the four years of Harry's life they had witnessed. The memory was foreboding. They felt the urge to look away from the events. Every event was dull and bland. The fact that the Minister was ready to expel him from Hogwarts and have his wand snapped for something as trivial as underage magic just added fuel to fire.

Charlus was reminded once again as to why he hated the Wizengamot. Any governing body, irrespective of muggles or wizards, had two types of people. Honourable citizens and people like Fudge. Corrupt bastards. There was once a time when the scales, which were never completely balanced, leaned to the side of the honorary citizens. The honest politicians. People who wanted to help. Who wanted to make a difference.

It was the other way around, and he didn't like that. That is the reason he stayed away from that place. He was getting too old for that nonsense. Anybody with a brain cell could see that the trail was a farce. Yet, the young man continued to be discredited repeatedly, and his reputation was being dragged through the mud. People went as far as to address him as an insane person.

His already worse holidays took a drastic turn when he was brought to Grimmauld. Harry reuniting with his godfather brought a smile to their faces. The tension seemed to leave his body. He looked like a huge load had been lifted. It was nice to see the godfather and godson hugging each other.

They could still remember his face when Sirius had asked him if he would come and stay with him. He had just met Sirius, yet he had been ready to accept the offer to go and live in a stranger's house. Sirius did all he could, considering that he was a fugitive. He wrote letters and, despite the threat of being captured on sight, made his way to Hogwarts, met him before the tournament, talked to him, and assured him that he would be alright. It was not much, but for Harry, that was a big gesture on Sirius's part.

The days in Grimmauld were normal. Dorea was surprised to see the condition of her childhood home. She was pretty sure that Arcturus would be devastated if he saw what had become of the Black family home. Cold and depressing. The house reeked of darkness. She could not believe this was the same home she had grown up in.

The Order of the Phoenix did nothing but keep vigilance and follow Dumbledore's orders. It was a vigilante group. They could do nothing but maintain vigilance. They didn't have many numbers; honestly, they had become old. Most of them at least had. Charlus found it difficult to believe this group could be influential. What good is Dumbledore thinking of achieving with this?

Dorea had a small moment of happiness when she learnt of Nymphadora. A metamorph was the most special trait of the Black family, and there had not been one for at least three centuries. Learning that the next generation of Blacks had a metamorph was special. The girl was nothing like how her nieces were growing up. She was bold. The women of her family were always strong. They had to be to manage the men in their family.

This Nymphadora was not something she would have imagined had she been alive to see her. Harry had told her about Andromeda. She was dead set on wanting nothing to do with her family, which was visible in how her daughter had grown up. But the young woman was pleasant to be around, and the house lit up with her. Andromeda did better, considering the rest of her nieces.

The school began, and to their surprise, Umbridge became the new Defense against the Dark Arts professor. Her first speech to the students answered the question that they had asked themselves. What was she doing here?

Her first class with Harry seemed to show the continual trend between the DADA teachers and Harry. They are trouble. "These defence professors have always been a problem to him. Even the werewolf, and he didn't mean to." Euphemia pointed out. "She has been planted to discredit him and ruse him into reacting. That woman has a personal agenda against him and is baiting him into a mistake." She replied, receiving nods from the others.

When Harry was told to attend detention, none were prepared for what came next. It was alright until Harry hissed in pain. It was then that they noticed his hand cut open and the words

' I must not tell lies', being etched onto them. He gritted his teeth as the wound went deeper, and when he looked up at the woman, her eyes were lit with a crazy glint. Her face displayed pleasure as she watched the boy suffer, and it was visible.

Dorea lost it when she saw that. She shook with rage, her eyes lit like the woman they had just seen, but Dorea's face scared Daphne. Umbridge's expression would have just made you angry, but the madness in Dorea's eyes told her that this woman would murder that toad if she was alive. She shuddered to think what Umbridge would have had to endure if the elderly Potters were alive and were caring for Harry. For that matter, she would have loved to see the reaction of Harry Potter brought up by that couple. If he is anything like his Grandfather and Grandmother, he would have made life difficult for the woman. Very difficult indeed.

Charlus had to restrain his wife, and the man did so grudgingly. He looked ready to kill, but he held himself in control. For once, she wished to see the legendary Charlus Potter's appearance when he was angry. From what she knew, that is not something that one would like to endure. But having heard about him, she wondered if she would get to see that. The Charlus she had been getting to know was excellent at controlling himself. Even better than his wife. Usually, he had to control his wife and not the other way around. On the other hand, she shook her head mentally. Nope. She didn't want to see the man angry. Judging by Harry's temper, she could imagine what it would be like if he lost his cool.

BREAK-

Harry Potter appeared on a deserted road far away from the village. He would have popped over to the required destination had he known what the place was like. He looked back and nodded in satisfaction as he was in the graveyard. The same place where Tom regained his body. The place that indicated the start of the second war. The war went on for many years, and he had an epiphany.

He didn't want Bellatrix to grow up in a war. If anything did happen to him, he had to ensure that none of the Black sisters or Regulus would have to suffer the same fate as before. Whatever happened in his previous timeline, he didn't care, but Bellatrix and Narcissa would not be handed over to those bastards if he had anything to say. James and Lily, if they get together, will not have to die this time. He will not let his family be torn apart.

For that, he needed to start acting. He had to begin his work. The snake-faced bastard had not announced himself yet. That was a positive factor for Harry. He knew his timeline, but he had yet to figure out what happened when the war took shape. He had nothing to tell him about it, and honestly, he didn't care. He had all his younger years reserved for a wraith, a basilisk, a rat bastard who was the reason for the mess, an imposter and a weird homunculus who was baying for his blood figuratively, a bitch who was dead set on proving that he told lies more than the job she had arrived to do, the overgrown bat who was the most unpleasant man he had met killed the Headmaster and sped up the war and then, he kept running from place to place to keep his head on his shoulder.

He shook his head. No use thinking about the past. He had a chance to make everything better. He would be a fool not to take it. The good thing is that he knew where Tom's Horcruxes would be. The bad thing is he didn't know if he had already made his Horcruxes. He had come here hoping that the Gaunt family ring was here and had already been converted into a Horcrux.

He might know the locations of the Horcruxes, but had they already been converted, he knew not. He was counting on his luck on this matter. He followed the path out of the Graveyard, and on his way out, he recognized the tombstone of Tom Riddle Sr. He had come a long way from the scared kid that day, but seeing this place gave him the creeps. Not in the sense of being afraid. The event that took place here was traumatic. The resurrection and Cedric's death played repeatedly in his mind in what was probably the worst summer of his life.

He exited the Graveyard and continued to walk down the path for a few minutes and at an intersection, he remembered Bob Ogden's memory. He followed the path the man had taken, and sure enough, after fifteen minutes, he came across the Gaunt family home, more like a shack.

It was a fairly large land; if the house had been standing, it would have been a sizable place. He summoned his wand and began cautiously walking into the property. Odd. There seemed to be no sign of magic at all. Just how long ago was this place destroyed to remove any sign of residual magic?

He made his way to the half-collapsed door and made to push it. The door disintegrated into dust the moment his fingertips touched them. He peeked inside, and once he was sure that there was no trouble, he crept inside. The roof had given way partially, and the sun rays lit up the place. He flicked his wand and began looking for any indications of magic.

He began walking inside the place and would have given up after a while of looking if he had not felt a faint magic ripple. He was instantly on the alert as he followed the tingling. He could see nothing but a dead end. He knew that there was something here. He could pick up on the tinkling feel of the trace of magic somewhere ahead of him. He used his wand and cast a basic revealing charm. The charm hit the wall ahead of him, and there was no reaction. He frowned.

He stepped closer to the wall and tried touching it. He felt nothing. He was about to remove his hand from the wall when he felt something crumble. He pulled back, and sure enough, a crack had formed on the wall where he had just run his hand. He watched as the crack enlarged and a portion of the wall fell off.

Harry's hand froze in place, and he whirled around, looking at his surroundings, expecting some form of protection to be activated. He was surprised when he found that there seemed to be no reaction. Did Tom place no protection? There should be something to prevent anyone from stealing one of his Horcruxes.

Harry turned back when he found nothing of danger and he cautiously crept his hand into the crack. He felt his fingers brush something cold and metallic. It has to be the ring. His fingers wrapped around the object, and it was the ring. He brought out the ring as slowly as he could, and he noticed the ring properly for the first time. He had seen the ring damaged in Dumbledore's training sessions with Tom's memories. But in the flesh, the ring was truly beautiful.

It was heavier than the normal rings of the same size. The gold had dulled slightly, but the ring remained attractive. There in the middle, sat the crest of the legendary Deathly Hallows. The Resurrection Stone. He scratched softly on the surface of the dark stone as he remembered the last time he had used the stone. The day he spoke with everybody that mattered to him. The day he decided to embrace death.

' Put me on.' Harry looked around, his hand raised, a spell on his lips, when he heard a noise.

'Put me on, Harry Potter.' It was then that Harry looked down at the ring, and he felt light-headed. ' You need me, Harry Potter. You will be so powerful and unstoppable. You will be on top of the world.' He heard the same voice whisper as he turned the ring around, not taking his eyes off it.

' You will have everything you need. Your fiancee, your mistress, your Godson, Andromeda.' He was filled with the vision of his engagement to Daphne. The day he had proposed to her. He remembered the night he and Narcissa spent fulfilling their carnal desires. He could see how he had taken the woman repeatedly, with neither of them giving a moment's respite to the other. He then began seeing his Godson, Teddy, in his head. He was everything that the boy had fought for, and he was his responsibility. He was his Godson. As good as his son. A sight of Andromeda bouncing baby Teddy on her hips, trying to calm the toddler down.

'You need me to protect them, Harry. I give you unlimited power to do as you wish. To help keep yours together.' Harry's fingers began moving to the ring on their own. He was just an inch away when he felt his head pound severely. He felt his ears ring in pain as his hand began shivering. He felt something wet near his jaws, and suddenly, he blinked as he was broken from the trance.

'Merlin." He snapped, dropping the ring down. He watched the ring fall to the ground, his breathing quick and his body burning. He tried to wipe the wetness on his cheek and then identified the cool sensation as bleeding.

"Fucking, Riddle. No doubt he became what he was." Tom Riddle could be considered one of the greatest wizards to walk the earth, all the deeds he committed aside. He was a very powerful and brilliant man. Just a small illusion, but it was cast with such intensity that Harry's head got messed up. A simple confundus had him bleeding and shivering to such an extent.

Harry, assessing the importance and the advantage of Occlumancy had poured himself into learning any and everything possible regarding the particular piece of magic, and he had done so religiously. It was this if there was any branch of magic he had practised more than necessary. He wanted his mind to be his. He wanted his mind to be a fortress. And he created a fortress. He had become so good that he could take on several mental probes, one after the other, without breaking a sweat.

If the soul shard managed to do this to him, he shuddered to imagine what it could have done to somebody else. Now that he thinks about it, Dumbledore succumbed to the attack of the ring and surrendered himself to it, thereby setting an appointment to die. He was glad that he could do better than the man. For all his faults, he was called the Greatest wizard alive for a reason. He could think of one thing as to why Dumbledore bumbled. Ariana, his sister.

He had succumbed to the desire to protect his sister and the mistake he made in his youth. He wondered why a man who was so remorseful be like him. Everything was half-truths and facades with him.

He conjured a small box and floated the ring into it before shrinking it. He understood why no protections were placed around the house. The ring would have made sure that the person would not be able to get away with it easily. No matter. He had found what he had come for. He should leave.

He looked around, and after a final glance at the wall, he repaired the crack, and with a final nod, he began to move towards the exit. He had one Horcrux in his grasp. If nothing untoward happens, Tom would remain ignorant of his secret being left intact, and Harry needs that. It was difficult enough to find the objects as it is, and he certainly did not need added attention of Tom towards these objects. If that happened, he would lose the considerable advantage he held.

He heard the rustle of leaves as a gentle breeze blew over the area. He stood at the door and looked around. He could see the lawn opening up to a bigger compound, and a big house stood behind. The compound continued to run acres together. He squinted his eyes and stopped short when he read the name to the side of the gates.

Riddle Manor.

That was Riddle Sr's house. He walked towards the house and stopped in front of the rusty gates. The place was deserted. The lawn had not been mown, and the growth of vegetation obscured the path. The doors to the manor told Harry that it had been ages since the door was last opened. ' Maybe, they moved after Riddle was killed.' He thought.

"Can I help you, young man?" A voice broke through the silence, and Harry turned around and watched as a middle-aged man limped up to him. His eyes widened slightly. He remembered this man. He was killed by Tom when he was a homunculus. The Riddle family gardener.

"Sorry, I was just walking by and noticed this place. I have been thinking of buying a house, and this seemed to do." Harry lied. The man bored into his eyes and huffed slightly.

"You are thinking of buying this place?" Harry nodded. "Do you own this place?"

The older man laughed as he shook his head. "Do I look like a person who owns that place?" He sighed softly. "I am the gardener of this place, and I live on the grounds of the Manor. The owners, the Riddles, appointed me many years back, and I have stayed in that small cottage for some time now." Harry nodded.

"They left it empty?" Harry asked, appearing to be surprised. "It is such a nice place." Harry praised, compelling the man to speak more. "The Riddles are dead, lad." The man grumbled.

"Tom Riddle, the young boy of the owners, went barmy one day." The man said, looking around.

"He went missing for many days, and he finally returned after almost a year. He was not the same young man that the village had known. He kept muttering something about sorcerers and stuff. The parents were worried. They had their son treated by the best of the doctors, and he had begun putting whatever plagued him behind until a year and a half ago, all three of them ended up dead." Harry nodded, listening to the man speak.

"There was no evidence or anything of that sort. One fine day, they just ended up being discovered dead. People have their weird versions, but there are no ghosts in this place, that I can assure you." The old gardener growled. "None wanted this place or anything to do with it, and I was asked to continue tending to it. I haven't bothered with it for the last year and a half. There is just no use. None will come here." Harry nodded, having heard all he wanted to know. It was nothing new. He already knew of this before.

"Well, I will see if I can get my hands on this place. I am looking forward to buying it." Harry snapped his fingers discreetly, and the man's eyes lost focus as he began wiping away the memories of this meeting. He then placed a compelling charm on the man and ensured he would not return to this place and leave. He would become an unnecessary casualty if Tom learned about what happened here.

"Leave the place and move far away." He instructed the still-dazed man, placed a bag of money, and turned away, leaving him to collect his thoughts. He would live a few more days rather than die at his hands.

Returning to the path he had walked down, he retrieved the box from his pocket and opened it after unshrinking it. The ring was beautiful. He possessed the ring and had to do something to remove the taint and keep the ring.

BREAK-

"How is that pack of yours faring, Fenrir?" Lord Voldemort questioned, his voice barely a whisper as he observed the hulk of a man bare his teeth menacingly.

"Ready to hunt. On the stroke of midnight, we hunt." The most dangerous werewolf in the magical world growled as he licked his lips ferally. It was a disturbing sight, and Tom had to smother a twinge of disgust at the man. There was a reason he was considered the most dangerous werewolf on the planet.

He was a savage. He bodied the wolf even when he was not turned. A powerful fighter and a powerful wolf. Alpha, with the support of many other wolves ostracized by society. Tom would never have had to put up with the half-breed if not because he was a killing machine. He would burn them alive the first chance, but he needed them. He needed them until he got halfway through his plans. After that, he would make… suitable arrangements for the beasts. You can never hand over too much control to someone like Fenrir Greyback. That is not very intelligent of you.

"Very good." He pondered if this would be the right time to enter the wizarding world. The whispers must stop, and the proof of these whispers must make way. It was time for him to come out of the shadows. But on the other hand, he wanted to ensure that his entry would shake the wizarding world. For that, he needs to get their attention.

With just Fenrir, he would not be able to do so. But with the help of Fenrir and his pack, he could just begin to fortify his hold on the wizarding world. Commoners were fools. You make the show grand enough, and they would be entranced. You chop off a few trees, and you can bend the forest to your will. A few attacks, and they will fear him. They had to fear him. Magical Britain will soon begin to change into what he had envisioned, and he couldn't wait to be on top of the hierarchy when that day comes.

"Go, Fenrir." Lord Voldemort whispered. "Go and feast yourself and your pack. Very soon, I will need your services. Magical Britain should know that the new age is approaching."

BREAK-

"What's wrong?" Harry questioned as he sat down on the couch of the sitting room. He frowned at the silence and was met with the gaze of the four of them. Dorea, Euphemia and Daphne's eyes were red, and they had not bothered clearing the tear stains on their cheeks.

Charlus seemed more in control of himself, but his eyes lacked the strength they always possessed. He looked tired.

"What year was it?" Harry questioned as Daphne, seated across from him, joined him on his seat, grabbing his hand and squeezing it tightly.

"Fifth." She whispered, tearing up as she watched his face intently.

"That probably was the worst year of my life. I would never wish that on anybody." He muttered, closing his eyes and sighing softly.

"Sirius was a good man, wasn't he?"Dorea questioned, and Harry's face broke into a grin as tears pooled in his eyes. "I never knew my father. But if he was alive, I would have wished he was just like Sirius. Sirius Black was my father in all but blood, even though it was for a short time." Harry explained as Daphne leaned down onto his shoulder, still holding his arm.

"Losing Sirius was not something that I ever got over. He was my one strength. The person who just gave me everything and never expected anything in return. He was probably the only genuine man I met besides Arthur Weasley and Remus Lupin, and he was my Godfather." He whispered the last word.

"My Godfather." He sniffed as he wiped his eyes.

"Many would have guessed that I fought Voldemort to avenge my parents. While that was true, it was not entirely true. I barely knew them. I know them from the photos and stories, but only in words. I fought that war because I didn't want Sirius's death to go in vain. I fought till the last because I wanted to make them suffer for taking Sirius away from me. I wanted to kill every last one of them for taking away one of the last links I had to my parents before I could go and live with him." He said.

"He promised me a home. He was ashamed that he could not keep the promise and had to escape. He promised that we would be a proper family when all this was over. Like how it was supposed to be. But they took him away." Harry muttered, wiping his eyes.

"Although I have made my peace with it, I will never forgive myself for the death of Sirius. Whatever people say, I was the reason he died. Till the end, he kept me safe and died for me." He declared, his voice rising in anger.

"He wanted that." Euphemia began softly, and Harry looked at the older woman. "Sirius had one objective: to keep you safe, Harry. His eyes told me the love he held for you. You were as much his son as he was your father. And Sirius would have agreed with me. He died doing what he always wanted to do. Keeping you safe. He would be proud of the way he died. And he would do it again and again if that would keep his Godson safe." Harry didn't know when the woman had approached him, but she pulled his head into her lap and began running his hands through his hair. "You can hate yourself for his death, but he is happy now. Knowing that his Godson lived and found what he always wanted to give you. A family." She whispered as she bent down and placed a kiss on his forehead.

She chuckled sadly as she noticed that the young man had fallen asleep in her lap. She didn't move an inch from her spot as she ran her hands through his hair. The tension left his forehead, and his hands loosened themselves as he well and truly slept peacefully.

She looked back at the other three. "No wonder everybody in our family loves him. He is a family man through and through. It is rare to see such men these days. Those who live and breathe for their family. But a boy fighting till the end of his life for a family he never had, nothing can come close to matching that. I am proud that James and his wife gave birth to him. They would have been proud had they seen him grow into what he is today."

She could not describe the joy and pride she felt at the fact that this man was her Grandson. She cursed fate for making his life a living hell but thanked fate for sending him to them.

She could not do much for the young man. But there is one thing she would do without hesitation. Give him a family.

TBC—--

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