Hello everyone! I had a great idea for a HP story and decided to write it because it wouldn't leave me alone! It might contain what some people consider to be cliches, but I'm justifying putting my own version of these cliches into my story because they are cool as hell and I want to play in my own version of the fanon sandbox.

But hopefully, at the end of the day, I'll be able to put enough of my spin on it to make them unique and enjoyable, or at least cool and fun enough that it doesn't matter.

This first chapter is very much a prologue, so I hope it doesn't feel too rushed and bare bones. I really just want to establish a character and backstory, and there will be flashbacks later that cover things in more detail when the narrative requires it. This will be my first foray into the HP fandom, so I hope y'all aren't as rabid is the star wars dudes lol.

Disclaimer: I am a fan of separation of the artist from the art, and love the story of Harry Potter too much to abandon it because of other things. Please refrain from ANY political discussion, as my goal for this is a fun escape, not a political bashing forum.

Wizards don't shit their pants and vanish the evidence, hufflepuff doesn't have regular communal masterbation circles, and everyone has the right to self expression and personal identity.

Oh yeah, and I don't own Harry Potter. That too.

Anyway, without further ado, let's have an adventure in the wizarding world together!

I found myself in a familiar house. Everything looked large, larger than I was used to. I was tiptoeing down the hallway like I had many times before. There was no way of knowing how many times, but the action excited me because I recognized it.

I knew it was important.

Sneaking into the study, I quietly climbed up onto my mothers chair, then stood up on it to reach onto her desk. Idly I found myself wondering if this time I would see what she looked like, but focused on my mission.

I knew Mother had been careful so far about making sure I was never left alone with a quill and inkwell out of fear that I would spill it, and there were anti-theft alert charms on them to make sure I didn't get into mess. But yesterday she had received a gift from one of her muggle friends.

A ballpoint pen. She had set it on her desk without charming it, busy with conversation.

This was an opportunity of supreme importance. I had to write down all that I knew before I forgot it to the passage of time! The knowledge I held would bring me to the tip top of success and maybe even power, I knew it for sure!

Grabbing the pen, I waited for the alarm sound, or at least the near imperceptible pressure wave that I had come to associate with magic.

Nothing.

My face split with a feral grin, one I knew mother didn't like, saying it was more at home on a wolfs face than a child's, but I didn't care. She might have enjoyed the fake cherubic smiles that I did for pictures, but this was my real face. A face of wild desire, excitement, and thirst for adventure.

I fought the urge to laugh like a cartoon villain, instead slipping noiselessly out of mothers office and back into my room.

Once the door closed I crawled under my bed with the pen, using a stolen old wood file for leverage to open up a loose floorboard I had been working on ever since I went from a crib to a bed.

Under the board I pulled out my journal, currently empty. I had made it myself, it was just a few pieces of parchment laced together with spare yarn.

Taking a few calming breaths, I began to write in illegible chicken scratch, whispering the words as I wrote them.

This was it! This was what I had forgotten! I'm sure of it!

"Room… of… req…"

I already knew this part! I had heard it before!

"7th… floor… walk… 3… times… by pic… of… man… with… dancing… trolls…"

Yes! Yes! Almost there!

"Think… of… what… you… want…"

Here we go! This was new territory! I saw myself make a new section, writing down the next step of my plan.

"Next… catch… Scabbers… get… Sirius… a… trial…"

A trial? That's right! He hadn't gotten one! I knew there was more to this story! I remember now! It all makes sense!

"Destroy… all… six… h—" Suddenly, I was interrupted by a horrible BANG from downstairs, follow by a slight pressure wave of magic that made my hair stand on end. Someone was breaking in!

No! This can't happen! I can't watch this again!

Helpless to stop myself, I abandoned my pen and journal and ran through my door to get mother, only to see her already rushing down the hall towards the stairs, her wand in hand.

I wanted to call out to her, to stop her, but my mouth wouldn't open, I wanted to see her face but I couldn't focus on it!

She was halfway down the stairs when the man in the white mask raised his wand, causing mother to cast a shield charm in preparation.

It wouldn't matter.

"Avada Kedavra!" The death eater shouted in a gruff voice, the rushing curse ripping through her shield like wet paper in a flash of green light.

She limply collapsed mid step like a puppet with cut strings, her body thumping down the rest of the stairs.

I screamed in fear and grief, even as I inwardly urged myself to shut the fuck up, to hide, to escape!

And yet, like it was destiny, I rushed the masked man in rage, good sense overcome by fury.

With a casual flick of his wand I was immobilized, unable to budge a single muscle, his magic binding me completely.

Slowly, he walked up the stairs toward me.

I couldn't move.

He stepped over mother's body, once again brandishing his wand in preparation for a spell.

I couldn't look away, couldn't even blink, couldn't even scream or speak.

NonononononoNO! Not again! I can't forget! I can't! I can't forget myself! I know too much! Please! I'm begging you! I can't lose this! PleasepleasepleasepleasePLEASENONONONONO!

His voice gruff and low, he whispered the word that would haunt my nightmares for years to come.

"Obliviate."

"NOOOOOO!" I screamed as I woke up.

I sat up in my bed, drenched in sweat, my long black hair plastered to my face and upper back as I breathed shakily.

I ran my hands through my hair, dragging my fingers across my scalp to soothe my aching head. Inhale. Exhale.

I jumped about a foot in the air when a house elf suddenly appeared next to me with a loud CRACK.

"Sir Black has had a nightmare! Does Sir Black be wanting to write in his dream journal? Sir?"

I blinked a few times, eyes blown wide with fear and adrenaline, momentarily not knowing what he was talking about.

Nervous, The squeaky voiced elf continued shakily, wringing his dirty pillow case in his hands. "Dobby only asks, b-because young sir Black be requesting it himself, a-and—"

Suddenly it all clicked for me. "Yes! Yes of course! Thank you Dobby! You've done a wonderful job!"

Tears welled up in his eyes as he blew his nose in the sodden pillowcase. "O-of course sir! Anything for kind Sir Black! Anything at all!"

I grimaced at the tortured reaction, and cursed myself that I couldn't yet do anything about it. "Of course Dobby, I know I can count on you, you're a wonderful and dependable Elf."

His tears blossomed into full on wails, before he disappeared with a particularly uncontrolled CRACK like a gunshot. I once again thanked the enchantment that made this room soundproof, originally put in place so I wouldn't bother anyone with my nightmares.

Rolling out of bed and turning the dial on the magic lamp for light, I got out my dream journal and flipped to the pages I had already written on for this reoccurring nightmare. This time had been the clearest I had ever remembered it being, and I quickly wrote down the notes my past self had on his homemade journal under the floorboards. I don't know why they were important, I just knew that they were. No matter how many times I had been called mad, been imperiously asked how much a three year old could have possibly known, I still searched for the answers hidden in my missing memory. I just knew there was something important I was forgetting, a crucial piece of the puzzle that would explain everything when it was slotted into place. Why so many things were oddly familiar to me, why I sometimes found myself favoring an American accent, or knowing answers to things I shouldn't know.

My missing memories held the answers, I was sure of it!

Sighing, I finished scratching down everything I could remember from the dream.

I had already written down the line about the 'room of req' whatever it was, and the instructions about the dancing trolls, and although I didn't know which 7th floor of what building to go to, I had my suspicions.

But the final piece of information that seemed to always slip my memory was finally written down.

'Next, catch Scabbers, get Sirius a trial.'

'Destroy H'

A sense of elation bubbled up in my chest, even as I failed to comprehend what most of it meant. For a brief moment, I contemplated that I might actually be mad, but quickly dismissed this concern. Even if I was, my delusions were causing me to have confidence in myself and were causing me to work hard and be successful. So whether they were true or not, they weren't negatively affecting my life, so I'd keep operating under the assumption that they were, in fact, true.

If that makes any sense at all. It might be completely bonkers. But I can't bring myself to care.

I looked at the analog clock on the bedside table as it ticked away, and sighed at the time. It was 3:30 am.

I settled back into my bed, but I couldn't go to sleep. Questions kept zooming through my mind. Who or what was 'Skabbers'? What did I have to destroy that started with a H? And what did trolls dancing have anything to do with it all?

Still, one thought kept coming to the forefront of my mind. 'Get Sirius a trial.'

There was only one person this could refer to. Sirius Black. A Murderer. A Betrayer. A madman.

My father.

And yet… something in my heart seemed to scream that this was slander. Something deep inside that I couldn't quite grasp seemed to burn with certainty that there was more to this than what it seemed, that there was far more to this than people said.

I may be a Black. I may be a halfblood Bastard, son of a muggleborn woman and born out of wedlock, but My father is not the murderous betraying piece of filth that everyone says he is. I'm sure of it! It can't be true! It just can't!

As I drifted closer to sleep, but not quite managing to fully fall unconscious, I found my mind wandering, reminiscing on my life so far.

The first thing I remember clearly about my life is waking up in Saint Mungo's. When I regained consciousness, the doctors seemed surprised, but happy. They stated that the mind of a child is resilient and flexible, and asked me if I could remember anything.

I couldn't.

This fact often sent me into full blown panic attacks at first, and I often insisted that I wasn't a child at all, but a fully grown adult, which was always followed by the staff having me look at myself in a mirror.

At the time I was three years old, and I looked like it. Short. Chubby cheeks and toddler body. My hair was jet black and wavy, and my eyes were a pale stormy grey. My skin had a slightly olive complexion you'd usually expect from Mediterranean folk, which made my light grey eyes pop quite strikingly. My reflection somehow looked simultaneously right and wrong, as if I was familiar with it, but it was a new development.

This phenomenon, that I sincerely believed I was an adult, was all written down and documented as a trauma response. But I of course, at the end of the day, was a three year old. There could be no other explanation.

It would be a few days until they figured out who my family, and thus my name, was.

Altair Leo Black.

This name was provided by my grandfather, Orion Black, who had apparently rushed to the hospital when he learned of my existence.

The first time I saw him, he struck me as a miserable, severe man on the verge of death. His face was an unhealthy shade of sallow grey, and he looked at me down his nose as if barely stomaching my presence.

His voice was gruff and low, and put me on edge, feeling as if I was facing a carnivorous beast rather than a man.

He quickly ushered me away from saint Mungos, much to the doctor's dismay, and barely said anything on our way to our destination, only pausing briefly to vanish my vomit after we got off the knight bus and I puked on the floor.

He led me into a rickety old house at number 12 Grimmauld place, which only appeared when he informed me of it.

I still hadn't said a word, as his presence filled me with a deep anxiety that I couldn't explain.

After we made it in the house, I was overcome with an extreme sense of deja vu, which was interrupted by embarrassment and fear when I tripped over the troll foot umbrella stand. He still said nothing, waving his wand to fix the umbrellas without even looking at me.

It smelled dusty and old, as if it hadn't been cleaned properly in a long time.

We made it up to his office and he sat behind it, gesturing to the seat in front of the desk that made me feel like I was getting fired.

I thought he would speak to me, but he didn't. He just sat there, looking at me.

Idly I fingered the material of the leather seat cushion I was sitting on, wondering what animal the nobbley surface was from.

We sat like that for a while, tension building as he squinted at me appraisingly, as if weighing his options.

Finally the awkwardness of the situation got to me enough to overcome my fear, but when I inhaled to speak, he interrupted me.

"Do you know who you are boy? Do you know what you are?"

I said the only thing I knew, the truth. The same one I had told the doctors. "No, I… don't remember anything."

He nodded, not seeming concerned at all. "You are a member of the Black family. One of the oldest and most noble families in all of England."

At this I smiled, but this pride was quickly dashed.

"You are entirely unworthy of this noble and pure heritage." He hissed with disdain.

"But… why?" I questioned.

"Because you are tainted! Impure." He rasped, "Your father was Sirius Black, my son, and a pure blood, but your mother was a mudblood whore without a single drop of magical blood in her veins, only a witch through base technicality, wholly unaware of our world until she was 11!"

I didn't understand exactly what he was talking about, but I felt anger as he insulted my mother. "No she wasn't! Shut up!"

He pulled his wand and I went deathly still, my heart pounding in my ears.

"You. Will. Listen. Interrupt me again, question me again, and there will be painful consequences. Do you understand?!"

Gulping in fear, I nodded, my anger swallowed up in panic.

"Good. Not only are you a mere half blood, but you were born not from a lawful and magical union, but from a unplanned dalliance, my rebellious son's unfilial rut with a lesser animal. You do not deserve to be the Heir of the Black family."

He continued to stare hatefully down his nose at me, breathing heavily. I clenched my small fist in rage at his words, but remained silent, fearing his wand. Eventually I calmed down enough to speak, a question burning in my mind.

"Well… if all that is true… then why am I even here? Why not just leave me at the hospital?"

He narrowed his eyes, looking at me appraisingly once more. "So your… injury … hasn't completely wiped your cleverness away. That's good." He whispered, talking to himself. He sighed explosively and pulled out a family tree, laying it out in front of me, and I sat up on my knees and craned my neck in order to read it.

"Because…" he began with the air of someone admitting something shameful, "You…" he paused to let out a series of painful sounding coughs. "Are all that is left."

I looked over the long family tree. Nearly all of it was greyed out with the only exceptions being Orion himself and three children. Sirius, who was apparently my father, and the only one of Orion's direct children remaining, had remnants of faint burn marks around him, but had a new and unfaded portrait, as if it had been restored recently.

The other living family members were two women, with the second son of Orion grayed out with the rest of the deceased relatives, and a fifth mark burnt out completely.

"What about them? The three colorful ones?" I asked.

Orion groaned in disappointment. "These two," he pointed to the portraits of Sirius and the woman named Bellatrix, "Are in Azkaban Prison for the rest of their lives for supporting the noble Dark Lord, who was recently defeated in his pursuit of the righteous cause of blood purity. They were overcome by rebellion and madness and failed to hide their support for one reason or another, so they were caught and prosecuted, the arrogant fools."

I nodded, and pointed to the remaining woman, named Narcissa. "What about her?"

He sighed and rubbed his temples in frustration. "When a witch or wizard is married, one spouse takes on the others last name, and by law and magic becomes a member of the new family they married into. Traditionally the witch takes on the wizard's last name, which was the case for Bellatrix and Narcissa. They are, technically by law and magic, Members of the Lestrange family and the Malfoy family respectively, not the Black family. Had I known what was to come, I would have kept one of them free as an heiress, but it is too late. The die has been cast, the Black family received two generous dowries, and lost two potential heiresses. And now…" his voice reignited with rage, scowling at me as if my very existence was an insult, "My only hope in continuing the Black family, in preventing our wards from closing up and our vast knowledge being lost to time, is you! A filthy! Undeserving! Halfblood! Bastard!"

I flinched with every word he shouted, subtly dodging a bit of spittle that would have landed on my hand.

"So…" he continued, brandishing his wand with purpose. "This is what we will do…" he waved his wand with deep concentration, and I began to feel a painful pressure around my head, and Orion's voice gained an ethereal quality to it that sounded important, as if his word was law.

"You will gratefully pursue an heir's education, you will obey my every command, you will never rebel against me or my interests, your only purpose in life will be to marry a pure blood and spend the rest of your days in service to the Black family.

"Blood purity will be of supreme value to you, and you will ensure that any children you have will also marry into pure blood lineages, and your grandchildren and great grandchildren and so on and so forth. You will ensure that your unworthy filthiness is diluted until it is no more and the Black family regains its Nobiliy. You will be nothing more than an embarrassing footnote in history, forgotten by all in the grand scheme of things, swallowed up by the majesty of the greater Black family. Do I make myself clear?"

The pressure increased, and I felt like everything I knew was urging me into saying yes, but I knew instinctively that if I agreed, I would forever be under his yoke, never to escape. As the pressure and pain increased, My resistance was slipping away until suddenly, a vision flashed before my eyes.

An adult man at a card table sitting among laughing friends, a swell of affection in his heart, knowing that though these people were not related to him by blood, he would die for every single one of them just as they would for him. They were his family. His people

The strength of the memory welled up in my chest like a burning flame of hope, shattering Orions compulsion.

I breathed deeply and blinked rapidly, horrified at what almost just happened. Orion's voice broke through my thoughts, "Well?! Do I make myself clear?!" His eyes narrowed in concentration, and I felt a slight pressure wave of magic, useless now that the main compulsion was broken.

Did… did he not know that the compulsion was broken?

Trying my luck, I slumped slightly, and responded in a polite monotone. "Yes sir. I will serve you and the Black family for the rest of my days. The Black family will one day regain its former glory.

He sighed in relief, wiping the sweat of exertion off his brow. "Good. That will be all." He returned his wand to within his robes. "Creature!" He shouted.

An old twisted house elf appeared with a crack, which made me jump. Orion continued. "Show my grandson to his rooms. He can stay where his father did."

Grumbling insults about my father, me, and my muggleborn mother, creature led me to where I would stay.

Once I was alone, I sighed in relief at finally being alone, and began to cry, releasing a potent mix of fear, horror, relief, and triumph as tears on my pillow.

I desperately tried to recall the memory that had given me the strength to break free from a life of mind control, but it slipped away like sand through my fingers.

I learned that day that there was something special about my memories. Something important, and real.

As the days went by I dutifully followed Orion's commands, always acting the perfect child. Luckily, my absolute compliance seemed to mollify his anxiety significantly, and so we rarely interacted, most of his commands being relayed through creature. Study this, master that, be in bed by a certain time, ect.

He never made any attempts to make conversation, never asked me how I was feeling, only ever quizzing me on my studies and commanding me to do certain exercises or recitations.

While I struggled slightly with wizarding history and etiquette, when it came to Maths, Reading, writing, and other basic subjects, I learned them with incredible ease, as if I had learned them before and had only forgotten.

The only thing approaching a complement that Orion ever told me was, "You are progressing incredibly quickly on your basic studies, it's a shame that your level of talent was gifted to halfblood bastard such as yourself, and not the pure blood heir the black family deserves."

Wow. Love you too gramps.

After I had proven myself competent he began taking me to functions, introducing people to me, and afterwards ruthlessly critiquing my performance.

If I hadn't had the dreams and flashes of the life of that man, who I suspected was either a past life or a vision of the future, my hope would have died out and I probably would have gone insane within the first few years.

But somehow I was able to hold on, taking advantage of Orion's disinterest in me to limit contact between us and sell the deception.

But finally, five years later, only a few months after my eighth birthday, a ray of hope shined on my life.

Orion died.

His funeral was public, and I actually managed to shed a few tears, the joy and relief of finally being rid of the awful man once and for all overcoming my stoicism. I could finally breathe, finally let myself show more than just mindless subservience!

I was able to successfully pass off this joy as grief, and a few other families gave their condolences.

Before Orion died, he had set up in his will that I would be taken as a ward of another pure blood family, and they were to be given a specific annual allowance to compensate them for my care. My tuition for Hogwarts had apparently also already been paid ahead of time.

While many families wanted the chance to raise and therefore influence the 'heir' to the Black family, the one that eventually won out were the Malfoys, on account of Narcissa being a blood relative.

Which brings me to where I am now.

I have lived with the Malfoys for three years now. I turned 11 a few months ago on October 31, just a month or so after start of term. Because of this, I needed to wait one more year before I could attend hogwarts.

These last few years living with the Malfoys have been a significant improvement to living with Orion, but that still isn't really saying much.

They only obeyed the bare minimum of their agreement to educate me, simply having me sit in on Draco's lessons, even though he was two years my junior and I was extremely ahead in terms of academics.

Speaking of Draco, he was often a little shit, but he wasn't that bad. While he called me "bastard", often refusing to use my name, he only really did it because that's what his father did, and it wasn't really out of malice.

I often ended up taking care of him, and he at least recognized me as intelligent, asking me questions he wondered about and respecting and remembering my answers.

Still, we weren't true friends, as I was always treated more as 'the help' than an equal existence.

Still, soon I'd be away from it all!

Hogwarts!

Away from the Malfoys, away from taking care of Draco (for at least 2 years until he started hogwarts himself). Just me, a castle full of ancient knowledge and magic, and a whole group of people my age. Fame! Fortune! Excellence! Power! The prospect of all this and more made me giddy with excitement, but one of my desires stood above the rest.

That first memory that saved me from Orion's compulsion, the image of me?/the man laughing around a table with his friends, loving them as deeply as if they were his own blood.

I wanted that for myself. I wanted to find a family. To find my family. And maybe that could happen at hogwarts!

And maybe, just maybe, the clue of breadcrumbs from my forgotten past would lead to a trail for my father, allowing me to finally break away permanently from everyone who was just using me for their own gain.

With that hopeful thought, I finally managed to fall asleep.

Aaaaaand that's a wrap! Next chapter I'm going to develop his relationship with the Malfoys a bit more, and cover the visit to daigon alley and getting a wand and stuff. I'm excited!

Anyways, if you have advice or catch any mistakes, let me know! Again, despite being a Harry Potter fan, I haven't really been super active in the fanfiction side of the fandom, so please cut me some slack about what fanon I use and which ones I don't.

Essentially, please don't flame my ass too hard, I'm trying my best lol, and am not as familiar with the HP fandom culture and lore as I am with other fandoms such as Star Wars.

I hope everyone has a great week!

Ciao!