The tour was everything Harry had expected it to be. His ancestral home was grand, majestic and utterly beautiful. Now having been in homes of two great wizarding families, he could easily point out the differences between them.

Where the Black home was dark and forbidding, the Potter home was open and inviting. Both appealed to him in a different way. While the Blacks and their magic were famous for their ruthlessness, the Potters were famous for having the legendary battle magic in their blood. Harry was infinitely glad to have both Potter and Black blood in him. In order to become what he desired, he'll need to hone the qualities that made him both a Potter and a Black by blood.

His own room was one of the most luxurious of its kind he's ever been in. Julius had been generous in preparing it in advance for him, and from his Mum he'd come to know that the room had been empty for the last decade, waiting for its owner to return.

Now, standing before the vanity in the adjoining bathroom, he marvelled at its ornate details, adorned with a large, mirrored cabinet. Below, a double sink, its surface of polished marble, offered ample space for grooming rituals. The taps, a blend of chrome and crystal, added a touch of glamour. Reaching for a neatly folded towel from the heated towel rack, he noticed that they were embroidered with the Potter family crest. A basket of fragrant soaps and lotions, a couple of bottles of vanity potions that he didn't know about, and a small sitting area with a drying rug spread around it just screamed the opulent luxury that Harry had never expected to experience.

It frankly made him giddy and he promised to explore further when he was settled. But that had to come later as now, almost anytime, someone will be arriving to take him to lunch. He'd been granted a generous half hour to freshen up by his Dad, who'd postponed their usual lunch time by thirty minutes as the tour had taken that long, most unpredictably too, as he'd spoken with a smirk behind his wife's back.

He was just pulling his shirt back over his head when a knock sounded on the door.

"Come in," he allowed.

Rose and Dorea entered into the chambers, the redhead's gaze looking curiously at him while the dark haired witch found the unfamiliar room interesting.

"How do you like it?" Rose asked, gesturing with her arms open around her.

Harry shrugged, smiling. "It's beautiful, I never imagined it to be..." he trailed off, "so big!"

Rose laughed. "This is the family wing of the Manor."

Harry hummed in understanding. "And they have the best views too." He held out his arms and Dorea and Rose latched on them on either side. The Quidditch Pitch that his room's tall windows overlooked looked very inviting.

"Shall we?"

The walk to the dining room was full of comfortable banter with Rose while Dorea watched with curiosity and a smile. He found these opposite personalities in his siblings very interesting to see.

While Rose could virtually talk about anything at all, Dorea spoke only when she truly had something to contribute, but otherwise, she simply was content to observe. Harry knew that being the youngest among four brothers and sisters can be tough, and with the added scrutiny that being a Potter brought, so he empathized with her. Once upon a time, his life had been studied under a microscope too.

"-so I decided to skip the club because I wasn't learning anything new," Rose was saying, her head moving from side to side in a gesture that he thought was unique to her.

Harry was frowning. "I don't like it. Aren't teachers supposed to encourage students to read ahead?"

Dorea huffed.

"McGonagall doesn't like us," Dorea admitted.

"Why?"

Rose shrugged while Dorea frowned thoughtfully. "She's always been like this," Rose said after a moment of silence. "I thought the Transfiguration Club was made for students to advance in the subject."

Harry made up his mind. "Well, it doesn't matter then," he said firmly. He might've said it little stronger than he meant to because his sisters' eyes snapped to his.

He stopped them just before the threshold of the dining room.

"When we are in school," he looked from Rose to Dorea as he continued, "I want you to come to me with anything you need help with. I'll help you. If I can't, I'll find someone who can."

They were looking at him wide-eyed. "Alright?"

Dorea nodded but Rose spoke out, looking hesitant, "Harry, you're in Slytherin. It's hard for us to find any time to see you outside of classes, let alone spend time together." It was left unsaid that previously, as long as the other Harry had known his family, he'd never spent time with them voluntarily.

Well, that stopped now.

Crushing a wave of guilt that seemed to well up in him even thought he wasn't the one who'd ignored his sisters so cruelly and thoughtlessly, he pulled them both into a hug.

When he pulled back, he saw that they both looked shocked but Dorea was nodding and looking at him with so much happiness that he felt good at having rectified one huge aspect of his life so easily and so soon.

"I'm sorry for not being there for you both for so long," he said in apology, "But now, everything is fine. Promise me, you'll come to me with anything you need help with," he paused, pleading with his eyes, "It doesn't matter when or for what, come find me anytime you want."

Rose swallowed and nodded. Then her face morphed into a teasing grin. "Even in the Slytherin common room?"

Harry gave a resolute nod, ignoring the humour. "Even there. There will be some changes in my house as soon as the school resumes. The stupidity of those inbred purebloods has gone on long enough."

The conviction with which he pronounced must've had its effect on his sisters because they said nothing but accepted his words in silence, Rose squeezing his arm in a show of support and thanks.

Then he turned to them and gave a, what Bella likes to say, his trademark 'scheming' grin. "Now, before Mum comes searching for us and scolds us for being late, let us enter."

Rose snorted, patting his arm. "As if Mum would ever scold you."

Dorea giggled, agreeing with her sister. "I think you're safe for at least a few years, Harry."

-_-_-_ .

James Potter put on a thick, fluffy robe and bent down to lay a kiss on his wife's cheek. Very few times over the years had Lily been so tired from the day's events that she had to take an afternoon nap, but today definitely counted as one.

Not only had their son come back to them, Lily's dream of reconciling their family had finally become a reality. They'd had a fantastic lunch together and retired to rest in their own chambers, the kids taking to studying on their own and Harry returning to Grimmauld.

And then, in a surprise that had taken him by utter delight, his wife had basically mounted him as soon as the doors had closed behind them. James hadn't had his wife take so much initiative in their lovemaking since Dorea had been born. Their intimacy had taken an understandable hit through their estrangement with Harry, something they had brought on themselves through their own foolishness.

As he gazed at Lily as she slept, her peaceful and glowing face turned to the left and her beautiful, fiery hair splayed all around the pillows, he smiled. Relief, gratefulness, and determination welled up in equal parts within him as he finished dressing to meet his oldest friend in his study.

"Padfoot."

Sirius already had a drink poured, and waved his wand casually to pour one for him.

"Robbing my whisky again, I see."

His friend shrugged innocently. "I can't help it. The Muggles sure do make some delicious ones."

James snorted as he took a seat. "What is it? Twenty-first drink of the day for you? It is just after lunchtime after all."

"Funny. I could swear this was my forty-ninth," Sirius greedily gulped from his glass, "You know how it is."

James' eyes twinkled. "I still don't know how you're not dead from drinking so much."

The Padfooted one's eyes took on a teasing glint. "Why Prongs, jealous?"

"No. Besides, if I even attempted to drink more than two drinks a day, Lily would kill me."

"You arejealous," Sirius guffawed. "Thank Merlin I don't have a wife."

"Oh, my wife is enough to keep you from misbehaving. Perhaps a word to Lily is in order," James said innocently.

Sirius glared at him. "I hate you," and then he poured himself another. "She'll ban me from the Manor for a week!"

James looked smug. "Serves you right for not caring for your health."

Sirius threw up his hands. "You know alcohol doesn't affect me the same way it does other wizards."

"I do know it, but it doesn't matter to Lily as you well know." James shot back, still grinning, "Besides, it's not like you wouldn't rob other people of their stashes, you alcoholic mutt."

His friend simply emptied the decanter in protest. James sighed.

"I'm immune to liver failure," Sirius boasted, reaching forward to clink his glass with his entirely too smugly married friend, and sighed. "Perhaps I should replenish my own collection."

Then he sat up. "It still wouldn't be as good as this," Sirius admitted, holding up his glass "I don't suppose you'll be willing to tell me where you get this bottle? I swear every time I visit, the whisky tastes even better!"

James shook his head in exasperation. "Only Lily knows it, she has contacts in the Muggle world." He paused and then looked at his friend in seriousness, "Harry was amazing today. You should've seen Lily, she looked the happiest I've seen her in ages."

Sirius met his gaze, sobering up. "He's grown up."

James' eyes crinkled in worry. "Did something happen at Hogwarts? I'll admit I couldn't believe today wasn't all a dream. We've wanted Harry to forgive us for so long, especially Lily who has been so distraught, and now that he's here and it's all happened, I can't help but think that something terrible has happened that made him so...different, either at Hogwarts or with those Muggles."

"I'll admit he looked different, more grown, more serious, more...like an adult," Sirius began, frowning thoughtfully. "I asked him about it and he told me that he's trying to be a better wizard, reevaluating his priorities. I can't guess what the catalyst for it is, though he did hint that things at Hogwarts and the Muggle home played a part in it."

James blew out a troubled breath. "Do you think there's anything to be worried about? I just hate it that I don't know my own son!"

"Through your own actions!" Sirius said harshly to which his friend flinched. "James, it's important that you don't push him to reveal anything that he doesn't want to reveal to you or Lily." He placed his empty glass on the table. "I don't think he will appreciate it."

James nodded, sadly. "I didn't plan to. The last thing I want is to push him away again."

"Besides, this is only the beginning, Prongs. Let the relationship continue normally. I'm sure Harry will grow to appreciate you and Lily soon enough. It's impossible not to," Sirius assured him. "The time you've both lost cannot be returned but at least you have your son back."

The Potter Lord didn't reply and stood up, going to stand near the hearth. "His magic is stronger too. He also has a presence...a confidence that I've never seen before," he spoke.

Sirius clicked his tongue. "It's not just that, he's like a completely different person too!" James turned towards him in alarm, knowing full well how bad that sounded, "It's nothing concerning, at least not from what I've seen," Sirius placated and his friend relaxed, though only slightly, "His magic is extremely strong, unbelievably for an almost fourteen year old. And, to top it all, I duelled him yesterday."

James took his silent pause with impatience. "And?"

Sirius snorted. "Believe me when I say this Prongs, Harry will be surpassing me and Bella by the end of the summer, possibly even before."

His eyebrows now nearly disappearing into his hairline, James sat back in his favourite armchair, and then smiled widely. "I didn't know he was so good! We saw some of his abilities at lunch today, he performed the Patronus charm for us."

Padfoot waved his arm in a sweeping gesture. "That's the least of what he can do."

James chuckled. "I believe you."

"He clearly thinks the world of you if you believe his Patronus," Sirius said with a grin.

"He was good with his Mum too," James added, somberly, "I don't think those Muggles gave him much affection."

"They didn't. I knew that Harry has always been a loner but I didn't know the extent of his loneliness until I had a two-hour long chat with him," Sirius admitted in the same tone but then brightened, "But that only means that his real family will make up for it and more."

"I hope so, Padfoot, I sure do hope so."

"How are Rose and Dorea taking it? And John?" Sirius asked after a moment.

"I'm not sure who was happier to have Harry back, his Mum or his sisters," James replied, unable to contain his happiness, "Rose is usually all stoic and no nonsense like her mother, but today, she was almost boisterous. Dorea was speaking more and even John had a smile as we did the tour of the Manor."

"John will come around, he's just a kid," Sirius chuckled, leaving it unsaid that Harry and John were the same age and they'd never say the same about Harry, "So Harry has won them all in an afternoon. Not a surprise."

James puffed his chest, "Just like his father."

"I'm pretty sure he got his charisma from the Black side of his family, and his brains from Lily," Sirius ribbed him.

James glared. "I resent that. I was the most popular student at Hogwarts, and it wasn't by accident. It runs in the Potter blood. Father was the same."

Sirius snorted in amusement. "I'm sure your wife will disagree with you. As will Bella."

"Lily will agree with me," James said dismissively, but perked up, "How is Bella? I haven't seen her around for a week!"

"She's busy," Sirius replied, "The Ministry is having a hard time with the World Cup preparations. The DMLE is under a ton of pressure."

"You can't lend a hand?" The Potter Lord asked, "I'm sure Amelia wouldn't mind you helping out."

"I'm sure," Sirius smirked to which James rolled his eyes. "But I haven't asked as my Hit-Wizards are still busy with France, and I wouldn't want to concern Amelia unnecessarily too. If I implied that I want to help with the arrangements, she and the entire Wizengamot will think that I'm worried about a threat."

James huffed. "Can nothing be accomplished without stupid politics getting in the way?"

Sirius hummed. "Next to nothing, I'm sure. Although, political machinations don't compare when there's a Dark Lord to oppose."

"Magical power is everything," James agreed. "Are there any developments?"

Sirius took a deep breath, as if readying himself for a troubling revelation. "I've heard rumours of recruitments all over Europe. A few dozen petty criminals and thieves mostly and a few kidnappers and murderers. I've tried chasing down leads but nothing of consequence has been uncovered."

"That means someone is paying a lot of gold to keep it silent."

"Possibly. Bella has mentioned that crimes have gone down significantly here over the past three months. Normally, it would be good news but..."

"With the rumours of Voldemort gaining strength, it means there's a larger force at work," said Lily, entering the study.

James met her eyes. "Did you have a good sleep?"

Lily smiled. "I don't remember when I've had a better one," She turned towards Sirius, "Do you think he's recruiting wand for hires for attempting something during the World Cup here?"

James observed his wife as his friend took a moment to think. She was clad in a deep red Gryffindor robe, her hair open and framing her face and neck in a bright red halo, one side dropping down, ending up draped on her chest, where the fabric of the robe was rightfully strained by the two heavy burdens it was supporting. She looked so fetching that James swallowed the urge to kiss her and tear off that offending robe right then and there.

James wondered if he could just stand up to take a peek down her generous cleavage and then chided himself for such juvenile thoughts about his own wife.

As if sensing his intentions, Lily winked at him and his found his breeches suddenly too tight to think rationally. So he chose to let his friend continue while his wife laid a gentle, teasing hand on his shoulder and came to stand behind him.

"Voldemort is certainly not dead, as we know. Dumbledore may know how but we don't and that's a disadvantage because we don't know how is it possible for him to be still alive. Nor do we know in what form he still lives, how much strength he has or how much power he's accumulated."

James mulled over his words as Lily spoke up. "I'm sure the Dark Faction knows where he is at least, if they're not helping him outright, which I doubt."

Sirius frowned. "They are too powerful and Amelia can't do anything about it. The Wizengamot as a whole, even some in the Light Faction will oppose if we suddenly brought up the idea of questioning anyone without just cause."

"So we have no other choice, short of breaking and entering into Manors and questioning them one by one."

The statement left a gloomy picture of their country and three long time friends couldn't help but agree.

James brought up a distasteful subject that he felt was necessary. "We could question Dumbledore."

Sirius shrugged. "If he doesn't evade in his answers."

Lily said nothing and James squeezed her hand in support. She glared at the burning logs in the hearth. "As much as I want to avoid him forever, you're right. But we can approach him after the summer. I don't want anything to interrupt our time with Harry."

The firmness of her tone left little for argument but both wizards agreed with her anyway. Asking Dumbledore for anything had to be one of the most annoying things ever, but it had to be done if they needed information on the Dark Lord.

"Don't worry about the World Cup," Sirius assured, "We'll be fine. Even if a threat arises, we'll make a plan to keep our Family safe."

James nodded. "We can simply not attend the World Cup, if it poses a threat. I'd rather not risk anything." He'd barely finished when he felt Lily leaning on him, her arms falling down to his chest, and her tits pressing against his spine. He suppressed a groan, wishing he could exchange it for his hands, or better, his mouth.

"John won't like it. He'll looking forward to the matches, isn't he?" Lily supplied, her cheek resting on the top of his head. James was sure she would've given Sirius a generous peek down her cleavage had he not been sitting in front of her.

"John will understand the need for keeping all of us safe," James replied.

"Let's decide this when the time comes," Sirius interrupted. "Although, do you really think John is the only one who's looking forward to it?"

James' eyes widened in surprise. "But I thought Harry didn't like flying..."

Sirius grinned. "And who told you that?"

Lily sighed. "John."

"John doesn't understand Harry, none of us do yet," Sirius urged his friends. "I think you should make that decision as a family. Bella and I are going to be right where you are, here or at the Cup."

"And you'll be welcome here, but I'm sure Bella will be busy at the World Cup, her job isn't so forgiving after all," Lily mused.

James exchanged a knowing look with Sirius. This competitiveness between Lily and Bella was quite amusing at times, and scary at others.

Suddenly, mischief popped into his brain and he leaned back into her embrace and smirked. Sirius looked befuddled just before his face took on an entirely different shade of red.

Using a quick flick of James' wand, Lily was lifted of her feet and deposited straight into his lap.

"KNICKERS! I SEE KNICKERS! GODDAMIT PRONGS!"

James caught a pillow to his face as well as a resounding whack on the back of his head, courtesy of his sputtering friend and blushing wife.

"JAMES CHARLUS POTTER?!"

But James was grinning like a fool, a fool that had won this game of tease, he decided, despite the glares of his wife as he pulled her firmly into his lap, ignoring the way her robe had opened from the top and was now riding up her thighs.

"I think I'll be leaving now," Sirius mumbled and turned away and stood.

"That would be for the best," James replied, kissing his wife.

"Fuck you, Prongs."

"No thanks, Padfoot. I'd rather fuck Lily."

-_- .

"Thank you, Tom," said Harry as he accepted a plate of fish and chips and a generous glass of butterbeer from the barman.

"Enjoy your meal, Mr. Potter," the old wizard said with a smile and returned to his post.

He'd been on a stroll through the Alley, a new experience for him because he didn't remember even having the freedom to do so at will before. A simple stroll through one of the grandest places in the British wizarding world was a completely novel experience for him. He chuckled to himself.

Harry was instantly recognized in public, but the hysteria that had grated on him for so long was absent in this world. He assumed it was reserved for his unlucky twin. Or lucky, as his brother would call himself.

Tom the barman had greeted him with a smile and a nod and directed him to a good booth on the side, away from both the entrance to the pub and the wall that gave access to Diagon Alley. He assumed that the old man had done this for him multiple times over the years.

Having settled into his seat, his mind wandered to the duel he'd had with Bella just over an hour ago. His abilities had come a long way since he'd first arrived here, and now, he was going into every duel with the intention of beating her. Sure, she still managed to surprise him with some niche selection of spells, maneuvers that he'd yet to learn, and some elemental magic that seemed way too important to not dive into, but he was getting there and he was getting there fast. Somehow, picking up spells just came naturally to him now, his mind clearer than ever. He assumed that it could be a side effect of how his scar wasn't troubling him anymore.

The Black Library had hundreds of books on just about everything he wanted, and combined with the Potter library whose selection on battlemagic that had taken his breath away, he'd found way too many books to read and consume and too little time.

But there had been one subject on which those two libraries had come up empty. He'd found, to his dismay, absolutely no information on how to harness his parselmagic into something usable. There had to be something more to it than just talking to serpents. The other Harry had swept through the entire Hogwarts restricted section but found nothing. Harry supposed that there was only one place remaining that he'd yet to look, and that chamber lay below the school he didn't have access to during the summer.

So instead, he was on this errand, hoping to try his luck in some disreputable places in Knockturn Alley, even if he'll have to pay exorbitant prices for such an item, he decided it would be worth it.

Now, here he was, a hearty lunch later, looking at the books in the third bookshop in Diagon Alley, having made up his mind to venture into Knockturn after this. He'd lost all hope in Diagon Alley.

"Potter!"

A familiar voice carrying a hateful tone brought him back to the present and he frowned.

"Weasley, Granger," Harry said automatically, recalling how bad the other Harry's relationship had been with his Gryffindor classmates.

Ron Weasley looked exactly the same in this world, his red hair clashing badly against his complexion and the freckles on his face and neck giving him an clownish appearance.

Hermione, on the other hand, looked beautiful. One of the best memories of his best friend that he cherished was her frightened yet determined appearance when they'd been riding Buckbeak the Hippogriff together to rescue Sirius from the Kiss. And now, standing in front of him in an exact likeness, with her hair blowing in a delightful chaos around her head and shoulders, he found her mistrustful eyes searching him for something.

Wait. Mistrust?

But not only that. He saw something else in her gaze that took him stumbling into an unknown yet painful chasm in his chest.

Uncertainty and Fear.

It was a travesty.

Harry didn't know what he'd done to deserve such censure but looking at her, it had to be something grave because his Hermione would never look at him like that.

And then his eyes travelled somewhere else. It travelled to the arm around her waist, connected to none other than his other friend from the previous life.

Rage swelled within him like an erupting volcano and his wand shot into his hand as if sensing his unspoken command. But that was the wrong thing to do.

Hermione flinched, taking a step back and half-hiding behind the glaring Ron Weasley.

"Planning to curse us in public now, are you?" Ron spat, and Harry looked at him in surprise.

Harry put his wand away. "I've never cursed you Weasley," he said neutrally, recalling his few encounters with the redhead.

"Sure, I suppose I should thank you, eh? That you kept your cursing to my sister?" he spoke with so much vehemence that Harry was taken aback for a moment.

But then his Occlumency slipped into place and reminded him of a detail he'd been stupidly ignoring for so long.

Not just Ron and Hermione, but many in the Gryffindor House thought he had aided the shade of the Dark Lord in escaping with Ginny Weasley in the Chamber of Secrets two years ago. And the other Harry had never thought or acted enough to remove this rumour from the people he cared nothing about. For a second, Harry wished it was mere indifference that he now had to overcome but it was much more than that. It was hatred and downright mistrust.

Harry cursed inwardly and held up his hands. Weasley looked even more enraged at his actions and took his own wand out. Harry frowned.

"I've never cursed your sister either, Weasley," he said firmly.

"LIES!" Ron roared and Hermione took another step back, and absently, Harry realized that her hands were shaking. The air smelling of old books and parchment that he'd been enjoying had suddenly turned too stifling.

"Why would I lie?" he asked.

"Death Eaters like you don't deserve to be in Hogwarts," Ron threw back, waving his wand at him.

Harry's hand twitched at the accusation and his wand was back in his hand. He looked down at his wand and frowned, genuinely annoyed this time. Why the fuck did his wand keep behaving like this? This was the second time he'd had this problem now. He'd never wanted to take his wand out again and yet here it was.

Keeping his voice steady, he looked at Hermione instead.

"I swear I've never cursed Ginny," he pleaded with his eyes.

But instead of a reaction from her, he got an angry retort from Ron.

"DO NOT say her name with your filthy mouth!"

Just what the fuck was his problem? Harry didn't know what to do to escape this weird and painful confrontation so he looked at his watch and turned around. There was no need to worry about Ron using his wand on him, recalling that the boy didn't even the ability to cast a counter to the slug-eating jinx.

Not having the courage to look at Hermione and see her distrustful, accusatory eyes again, he walked away without another word.

Outside the bookshop, he took a deep breath in the open air, suddenly glad for his occlumency. A stupidly violent reaction to Ron's accusations and Hermione's mistrust was the least worst thing he'd avoided through his calm and collected mind.

Now away from the duo, Harry waited for the pain in his chest to recede but it was in vain. For as long as he could remember, Hermione had been his rock, his partner and his best friend who had accompanied him on every misadventure out of pure, artless loyalty and friendship. In his lowest moments while recovering in the Hospital Wing after a nasty Quidditch fall, after rescuing Ginny Weasley, after rescuing Sirius, after escaping the dragon, after losing his godfather at the battle, she'd been there for him. If not physically, she'd been in his thoughts and dreams, comforting him, caring for his wounds, both physical and mental, and making him better. He would be dead for at least a dozen times if it hadn't been for Hermione and her quick thinking and brilliance.

Never in his worst dreams had he dared to imagine losing her to anything. That would've been beyond painful. That would've been the end. And now, he'd seen her look at him like she suspected that he'd sell her to Voldemort.

He hated that he'd been such a weak man. It may not be him but still, a version of him had done it to his sweet, innocent, loyal Hermione. He felt a monstrous urge to retrace his steps and take her away from Ron, somewhere where he could explain everything to her, make her believe him and hope that she'll care for him again.

But those thoughts were dangerous. Because if he truly wanted to, he'll be able to do it and that would be disastrous. He couldn't see a single scenario in which Hermione saw his unwanted, unexpected and most suspicious intervention as positive.

So he put it out of his mind for the moment. Gaining Hermione back was just another thing that he had to do. A most critical priority.

Walking briskly to the infamous Alley, he looked around for a bookshop. Finding nothing nearby, he simply pulled the door to a familiar shop open and ventured inside.

A shabbily dressed wizard with yellow teeth and dead, gray eyes looked at him in suspicion and surprise.

"Hello, Borgin."

-_- .

AN: Thanks for reading. For advanced chapters, snippets, character images, and to discuss the story in my community, see the link in my bio.