Part Eight: Guess, You Where Right All Along – By Mykki

Reading Time:
45 Minutes

February 1993

When Sirius had made the decision to leave James and Lily’s place thirteen years ago, he’d convinced himself he was right, he had to save his brother, and while not overly thrilled to be smack dab back in the center and focal point of his family, there had been a certain amount of smug satisfaction ripping the metaphorical rug from under their feet, until it had felt like it had been ripped back. Finding out the depth of deceit and deception employed and executed against blood? Infuritating. Learning that his mother had been trapped in servitude for longer than he’d been alive had been nauseating; that she hadn’t been responsible or in control of her actions towards him? Heartbreaking.

Even now, years later, he still felt leftover anger and bitterness at what he could have had, watching his mother interact with her grandchildren and nieces and nephews. The love, awe, and devotion shown to them twisted a horrible part of him, jealous at the loss, hating that he felt it, and knowing nothing could fix it.

It was almost easier focusing on ensuring Bellatrix received the care and help she’d need to recover; it was definitely easier to be angry on her behalf. Growing up, Bella had been his favourite cousin; she never minded getting dirty or lowering herself and her dignity to give as good as she got, and he loved it. At least he had until she’d turned cruel and relished in it. It wasn’t something he’d understood, so now, as an adult and understanding exactly what her father had stolen from her… The betrayal at her own father’s hands, and his subsequent punishment, wasn’t enough for Sirius, and he often wished he’d dabble in necromancy, just to resurrect the bastard and kill him again.

Once the immediate family and associated issues had been taken care of, turning his attention to ensuring Riddle was totally destroyed had taken the rest of his energy. Between horocrux hunting, politics, and James’ public hostility, Sirius had barely any chance to actually think of what he’d seen in that other reality, never mind contemplate thoughts of his soulmate.

Finding four of the five horocruxes had felt like a short-lived victory, and though he’d destroyed one in a fit of anger, he’d kept the other three in a sealed box, inside a warded room, waiting till he had the five. It was finding the ring that became the issue; his flashes of that future hadn’t shown where the ring had been found – just what it had done to Dumbledore, thankful Medea’s snort of disappointment had meant he hadn’t had to research the curse on the ring, so it had turned to asking Ted, Andy’s husband, for help. Sirius might have been ‘friends,’ and he used that term loosely, given the fallout of those relationships in the weeks since, with muggleborn witches and wizards, he still didn’t fully understand the muggle world, and the last thing he knew how to do was look up information on a person. So with Ted’s assistance and weeks of patience, he’d taught Sirius how to search for information in the Muggle world, without using magic. At the time, Sirius could say he hated it, sitting and reading, trying to find the proverbial needle in a haystack was mind-numbing, yet now he was thankful for it.

Placing a bookmark at the page he was on, Sirius closed it, tossing it back on his desk and rubbed his eyes, lifting the drink sitting beside him without looking. Taking on and doing this side project five years ago, in amongst his actual job, had been personal, the feeling that there was more to Harry’s future inheritance, weighing heavily on his mind.

Strangely, though, given what he hadn’t found, but was beginning to suspect in his research into who Lily Evans descended from, it felt like one of those things that wouldn’t be found in an inheritance test. The magic infused in ensuring her magical line was hidden was probably some of the best laid threads he’d ever encountered, and that included in Medea’s memories. It was like nothing he’d ever seen, and he had to shift his focus, treating it like a Creeping Curse, instead of a memory modification. At this stage, he’d come to believe the only reason he remembered day-to-day, along with the little details, was his years of immersion into it, though the words would often blur, and he’d come too unaware he’d been staring into space for interminable amounts of time.

Glancing down at what he’d written, he swallowed hard, finger tracing the words that blurred instantly, and sighed. He could take the hint; he needed a break. A breather, something that would draw his attention away from the possible ramifications of who his soulmate was and would be in the future.

Refilling his glass, Sirius took a sip and bent over the parchment his account manager had sent over, immediately grabbing a fresh paper and starting to write. It was like Wixan society still thought he was an idiot; he wasn’t world-renowned for no reason. It might not have been his intended path, before, during or even if he’d survived after what he thought would be a war, but he was happy. Happyish? Content? He’d have to go with that; he had a job he loved doing, and Harry still accepted the bond. It would have to be enough. He’d already waited thirteen years; he could wait more, but it sure was hell having met him. It had been easier when the concept of meeting had been an abstract idea. Sirius didn’t regret it, though; he just regretted not getting more time together.

***

Yule 1993

He was supposed to be here, or at least that’s what he’d told his mother, when she’d asked if Sirius would be home for Yule. Yet, he hadn’t wanted to stay away, no matter the danger associated with anyone seeing them interact. So he compromised with himself, slipping into the manor but keeping to the shadows.

It no longer felt like a knife or salt on an open wound, but it still sent an uncomfortable feeling through him, seeing the easy, happy relationship his mother had with the children in his house. Stranger still was seeing her hug and kiss them, or laugh at their antics, then attempt to scold or intervene when the actual parent tried disciplining the unruly ones. Yet, seeing them all together brought him a sense of peace, too, and the easy camaraderie of the outlier families who had married into the Black family made him proud to call them family, even if he kept himself from them. The feeling of not fully being one of them, his own shame to deal with.

Pulling back into the shadow, he nudged the wards, looking for his soulmate, and he couldn’t say he was surprised to find out where he was. It might have only been a year since Narcissa had won the guardianship for Hadrian, but he had dove into the acceptance and possibilities the Black’s gave to all the children within the family. If a child had a curiosity that didn’t dabble or lead into Dark Magic, and could articulate an adequate argument and defence for why they wanted to learn. Teachers were found, and if none were available within the family, one was hired. That Harry had wanted to learn Duelling wasn’t overly shocking, and that had nothing to do with what Sirius knew of the boy turned teen in that other universe, timeline… he shook his head, whatever it was, it didn’t matter now, it wasn’t going to come to pass.

That Harry was still interested in duelling, though, gave Sirius plenty of ideas, already noting multiple books he could gift his soulmate, that could possibly expand on exactly what he thought duelling might be. Finding a shadow in the duelling room, Sirius could admit to himself, he was a little surprised by the number of people in it, then tilted his head as he considered Harry and that thought, before deciding maybe it wasn’t a surprise. Even at thirteen years old, Hadrian had a presence – which, yes, some had been Nacrissa tutaloge, but there was also a natural inclination to his stance too. A deceptive casualness that Sirius saw only one out of the twelve adults in the room noticed, and thought it hilarious that the children and teens did, when he saw Luna, Neville and Draco snickering in the corner when another Barty junior stepped up to challenge Harry, cocky grin on his face. Three spells later, and the challenger was flying through the air, hitting the cushioning charm on the wall, and staring at Harry in shock.

“That was a fluke, you’re only a third year!” Barty Junior protested, sitting up with a bit of a scowl, and something indefinable.

Harry frowned and folded his arms, “I’m literally the best student in the school, Barty.”

“He is,” Draco called out in agreement, “Professor Flitwick says if he keeps up the training, he’s guaranteed a spot in the International Wixen University.”

“But-but- you’re a third year, you shouldn’t be doing non-verbal spells yet!” Barty sputtered, shaking his head, “You shouldn’t be thinking of more schooling while still in school, that’s mad!”

Hadrian burst out laughing, and then bit his lip, “Sorry, I- Barty- I have plans for acquiring at least four mastery, the first one I’m aiming for is Combat DADA and Transfiguration Duelling, Charmes and Runic Spell Crafting, and possibly Potions.” He paused and frowned, “and in between all that, I’m interested in Law, both magical and muggle, with a few courses in Business Administration.”

Barty and the rest of the men, Sirius included, stared at Harry in shock, Barty opening and closing his mouth as he rose to his feet, “I’d ask how the fuck you didn’t end up in Ravenclaw, if you weren’t the Heir, because kid? Holy shit, I mean, I thought I was ambitious wanting as many NEWTS as possible, but I didn’t look at continuing my education until my last year of Hogwarts.”

There was a half-hearted hiss at the language, but no one paid it any attention when Luna laughed in pure joy at the statement, shooting a spell at Harry that he blocked automatically, hissing at her with a blush forming on his face. “Stop it.”

“Oh, come on, you should be proud of yourself, it’s amazing,” Luna argued, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes when he shook his head.

Curious to spite himself, Sirius shifted in the shadows and almost flinched back when Harry turned his head, thankfully making it look natural and part of the conversation with Luna as he met his eyes, the blush deepening. “It’s not that big of a deal, Luna.”

Draco squawked, which Neville echoed a second later, “Not a big deal? Harry, you made us quiz you for weeks, and weeks.”

Lucius cleared his throat and arched an eyebrow, “Narcissa know whatever it is you are attempting to discuss in code?”

Nodding rapidly, Harry assured the other man, deflating a little, “I asked permission first, yes, Cissy was hesitant but agreed in the end, helping me with the forms for applying and then escorting me to the Ministry when you and Draco had that day tour at one of the properties in France.”

“Come on, kid, what did you do?” Barty asked, amusement spreading across his face, “If you got Cissy to assist you, it obviously wasn’t illegal.”

“No, but it sounds like bragging, or that I’m full of myself,” Harry admitted and then sighed, glancing at Sirius again, “I’ve already taken testing for five OWLS; Ancient Runes, Muggle Studies, Arithmancy, Wixen and Muggling Culture, and Medium Languages.”

Sirius blinked in shock. Medium Languages requires a core understanding of at least 3 languages, in addition to the native language, at the Intermediate level. Most people who required an OWL in the subject only took it after they finished their NEWTS.

“What?” Barty rasped, looking at Harry in a daze, “In what languages?”

“Oh, um, Latin, French, German, Russian, Spanish.” Harry admitted and huffed, “I wanted to add more, but they said they didn’t test for more then five, and I would have to apply for additional testing through the IWU,” He grinned and then rocked on his heels, “So in retaliation, I applied to write the NEWTS for Advanced Languages, and Muggle Studies over the Ostara.”

Grinning at his soulmate, Sirius bit his lip and made a mental note to find out exactly how many languages Harry did know, wondering if figuring that out would give a hint as to who his teachers were.

Barty snorted in amusement and stepped back up onto the platform, a somewhat speculative gleam in his eyes, “Let’s try this again, but I’m not gonna hold back on account of your age, alright?”

Grinning, Harry nodded and flicked his wand in acknowledgment, “Sounds good.”

There was a moment of silence as the ward was raised to prevent flying spells, and the air fairly hummed with ambient magic, when Barty attacked. Sirius watched, unworried, and amused as Barty did indeed not hold back, but was clearly getting flustered when Hadrian countered everything flawlessly, and then startled them all when a white light burst from a second wand held in Harry’s non-dominant, and flew towards Barty, sending the older wizard scrambling backwards, tripping over his feet and landing on his as a dragon materialized out of the light, proving it was a fully corporal patronous.

The dragon soared over Barty, twisting and turning to face the wizard at the barrier, mantling its wings and posing as if screaming, before flying back to Harry, setting down on the ground in front of him and bunting the teen’s chest before dissipating from view. The stunned silence left behind was broken by Harry’s friends cheering wildly, the pleased blush forming on his cheeks only increasing and breaking into an uncontrollable grin when he looked towards Sirius and saw what he knew to be a gobsmacked expression on his face.

Unable to help himself, Sirius grinned back, pride and something more swelling in his chest, as he watched Harry accept the congratulations from Barty, who yielded the floor, claiming he needed a drink.

It was the disappointment slump in Harry’s shoulders when it looked like no one else was willing to challenge him, and it was almost enough to make Sirius step from the shadows, willing to risk it, if only to prevent that look from building on Harry’s face, where Bella appeared, aura flickering across her skin. “Have you read Hexes, Jinxes, Curses and the Counters, by Artemis Lowe?”

Harry swallowed, biting his lip, eyeing Lucius warily before nodding, “I have, my lady.”

“Good, none of the unforgivables, but only spells from that book,” Bella ordered and stepped onto the platform, before anyone could argue, flicking her wand to the wards.

Harry looked at Sirius a little desperately, making him almost step forward again, but Medea cautioned him, so instead he smiled, making sure none of the worry he felt showed on his face, as he folded his arms and nodded, letting Harry know it would be alright and hoped he conveyed that he’d be proud either way.

He was, too, in the fight between them, and that’s what it was; it wasn’t a duel in any sense of the word. When it finally ended, Sirius had counted twenty-three spells, flung between them, and it was only a moment of hesitation that meant Harry lost. He saw it the second the confusion swept, his soulmate’s face, unrecognizing the spell Bella flung at him, his desperation summoning a chair from across the room to intercept the spell, the wards flaring around them grounding the fight to a halt. No, he hadn’t been hit, but by the rules laid out, because Harry used a summoning charm, something that definitely wasn’t in the book, meant he lost.

He looked more annoyed at himself than disappointed, but the exhilaration that spread over his face when Bella bowed formally to him only increased when he sought Sirius in the shadows and tipped his chin with a grin before slipping away. He had a present to drop off, and maybe, hopefully, they could have a conversation. Sirius had questions and was curious if Harry would give him answers. At a minimum, maybe he could find out exactly what his soulmate wanted to do after he finished his masteries, because what he wanted meshed very well with what Sirius already had.

***

End of November 1996, before he was summoned by Luna…

That’s how the next three years would go: Sirius would spy on Harry and Bella’s fights, barely preventing himself from interfering or reacting when they made each other bleed. He rather desperately wanted to see more of Hadrain, hating that he had to enforce the distance between them. Though on occasion, he found himself shifting into Padfoot and slipping through the shadows to sleep at the end of the teen’s bed, needing more than the letters, and unable to admit it out loud.

The presents were becoming the hardest thing to keep heartfelt but simple, even though he suspected that Narcissa and a few others knew the truth, he wasn’t getting confirmation. In silence, there was a deniability that meant safety, something he never wanted Harry to question again.

Leaning back in his chair, he surveyed the finished duelling blades, just as pleased as when he’d viewed them after their creation. He hadn’t been too sure of the blackened mythril, but seeing them now, as they were with the runes carved into the blades, he agreed it had been the correct choice. Magic practically vibrated around the blades, pulsing in time to his heartbeat, and he curled a hand into a fist to prevent himself from touching them.

They weren’t meant for his hands, no matter how much they resonated with his own magic; they were Hadrian’s for the rest of his life, and he wished he could be there to watch his face when he opened them on Yule.

Closing the box, he gazed at the Cobra superimposed over the dragon, before shifting his eyes to the pile of books on his desk, shying away from both as he latched the catch and sent the box to the shelf behind him. He still wasn’t ready to admit what he was starting to believe, the trail he’d been tracing for four years into Lily Evans’ heritage finally charting into something that defied his expectations. He still didn’t understand why one aspect felt easier to accept, versus the other unspoken, hell, even unofficially thought aspect. It was like each time he tried, his mind shifted, refusing to focus on that, and moved on to something else…

A pulse of magic not his own brushed along his skin, sparking his own magic, and a small black void appeared in the corner. He stared at it unblinking for a second before the lyrical words penetrated, and he was standing, and shifting before he even processed the consequences, stepping into the void without a thought.

The only thing that mattered was Hadrian, and if he was being summoned by an acolyte of the mother, who was he to deny her?

Instead of stepping into a random classroom or hall of Hogwarts, Sirius stepped into a world of chaos. The scent of burnt hair and skin, heavy and thick, mingling with fear and the sour stench of sweat, the only thing worse was the acrid taste of tar and oil that slid down his throat as he watched the corrosive flames crawl along the ceiling.

It was second to process. But then his eyes found their target, and he fought the growl building in his throat and lost as he swept past his second cousin, the whimper lost to the screaming rage of the uncontrolled flames as he stepped past the array that bucked, and tried tossing him away, feeling the runes etched into his skin heat up underneath the fur. The transfer of those to Padfoot, a gift from the mother, and something he was more than grateful for as he stalked his soulmate, head tilted as he watched magic ripple the air around the raven-haired teen.

Green eyes widen in alarm, and Harry opened his mouth, his real name slipping out, thankfully lost in the noise of the flamelets that fought against his very nature, attaching to his body like they were coming home, making it appear as if his fur was fire and whatever Harry appeared to be doing. Extremely curious how he watched Harry as he drew the flames into himself while smothering those left outside, the action tickling something in the back of Sirius’s mind, which thankfully couldn’t fully focus, stuck inside Padfoot.

Reaching his soulmate, Sirius didn’t even think twice, bunting the teen in the chest, a fraction of a second before Hadrain collapsed, the array flaring once, then shattering like glass, cascading to the floor and staying there. The unnatural reaction of the ward only compounded the tiny whimper that left Harry’s throat, as he buried his face into Sirius’s fur and cried.

***

Legs trembling, Remus slowly sank back against the closed door, eyes closed, trying to get his heart rate under control, as he shifted through the confrontation in the hall, unable to process what exactly had happened.

Never before had he felt such overwhelming fear – at least not like that, the closest he’d come had been the first confrontation with Harry back in second year, but that had been minor and fleeting, though his parting shot about being higher in the footchain had left him unsettled. Today, having the huge hound pace towards him, face twisted into a snarl of rage and anger, Remus had first felt the understanding of his own mortality, even as a werewolf. The visceral acceptance that the hound before him wasn’t natural, or even as something as fantastical as the Grim, Sirius had portrayed and copied the look of in school. He knew with a certainty that Moony agreed with, that the hound could have killed him easily, without regret or remorse, and there wasn’t a soul left that would mourn him, and apparently, the only one he truly wanted to see wasn’t waiting for him happily on the other side, if what Harry had indicated and alluded to was true. The sadder part of that, he could envision it; no matter the absurdity of Harry’s statement, Harry had never lied to him, even with all the lies Harry had lived with growing up. Remus believed the teen when he said his mother had told him about his actions in school and the reasons for them. Thank Merlin, she hadn’t known the full truth; she’d have kicked his ass while alive, he hadn’t even wanted Sirius; it had just been petty payback at James for stealing the girl Remus had wanted. Then it was just easier to fixate on the other man, accepting that both were outcasts of society, who could be better for a werewolf than a man disowned by his family? Merlin he’d had been an immature idiot, pining after another while blackmailing a friend.

Feeling an unbidden sob, fight for freedom, Remus drew in a shuddering breath, finally catching the scent in the room, his eyes snapping open to stare at James Potter in revolution. “What do you want?”

A mirthless chuckle sounded from his former friend, as James leaned back in his chair, fingers curling around the glass of amber liquid with an air of nonchalance, “Fifteen years and still pining after a dead woman?”

“That woman was your wife!” Remus snapped.

James shrugged, “She’s still dead.”

Glaring at his former friend, Remus clenched his fist. “What do you want?”

“Answers,” James replied simply, knocking back his drink.

Swallowing at that, Remus averted his gaze, “To what?”

“To what, he says….” The soft chuckle made Remus flinch, but stubbornly tighten his jaw, as James’s voice continued hardening, “You haven’t been thorough or honest within your reports, Remus.”

“Yes, I have.” The protest felt weak, even to Remus’s ear, “I’ve-“

“Done nothing.” James hissed, leaning forward, “You were supposed to get him isolated and remove the boy’s support, luring him back to us, but instead he’s more firmly entrenched in this Heir nonsense than before.”

“I tried!” Remus shouted, “But I can only do so much; he’s not in Gryffindor, and I can’t actually mark his work incorrectly when it’s probably some of the best essays this school has seen.”

“Who cares?” James shouted back, rising rapidly, “You agreed to do whatever was necessary, remember?”

“It’s been almost a decade,” Remus whispered, eyes widening in shock.

“I don’t care.” James stated, pulling a scroll from inside his cloak, “You failed to live up to the terms of our agreement, Dumbledore has been removed as Head Master regarding this fiasco, and it’s rumoured you’ll be questioned next regarding your lack of oversight in watching the Gryffindors.”

Eyeing the papers warily, Remus swallowed, feeling his heart constrict in a burst of panic, “but Mariana, you said you wouldn’t embarrass her.”

“She should have kept her end of the agreement then, just because she stopped sleeping with you didn’t mean she stayed faithful.” James replied, tossing the papers on the table, and smiled cruelly, “I’ll keep your name out of our divorce, but you’ll need to make more of an effort-“

“No,” Remus said, remembering the fear he’d felt facing off against the hound, kick into high gear.

“No?” James asked, with a deceptively calm tone that belied the anger in his eyes.

“You can do whatever you want to me, James, I don’t care; our agreement was nullified when Harry’s guardianship was given to another, and you know it,” Remus said, knowing he was right but voice shaking anyway as he moved from the door, eyeing the shadows warily. “As for Hadrian’s future, I’m out. Done. Finished. I want nothing to do with the boy; he chose his side, and it wasn’t with you.”

James stilled, body frozen as he looked at Remus’s, and demanded, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

A harsh, bitter laugh escaped Remus, and he faced his former friend, “Those reports? You’re right, I wasn’t honest, but how could I explain something without proof, which you demanded at every turn?”

“What do you mean?” James questioned, narrowing his eyes, “Explain what?”

Feeling his lips stretch into an ironic, cruel smile that echoed the one James had given him, Remus poured himself a drink, “What’s Narcissa’s maiden, James? Who’s the patriarch of that family?“

A blankness stole over James’ face, though his jaw ticked, “explain exactly what you’re alluding to.”

“Harry’s been in contact with Sirius since his second year, ever since the firebolt.”  Remus said, satisfaction creeping up his spine as he knocked back the drink, taking in the flare of anger at his sentence, “and interestingly and more thought-provoking has increasingly had Sirius’s scent all over him, sometimes so heavy it’s like they’re scents are merged.”

“You-you’re lying.” James denied shaking his head, “Sirius- Harry’s not sixteen yet, he wouldn’t do that!”

Shrugging, Remus poured another drink, forcing his hands not to tremble, “Maybe not, Harry implied they haven’t slept together yet, but that he’s certainly willing enough.”

James stood there, body visibly shaking as he swallowed conclusively, “you’re just saying this to piss me off, you have no-“

“Proof, right? Isn’t that what I already said, but scents don’t lie, James.” Remus snorted, “As for whether it’s true or not, it doesn’t matter. I’m done doing anything to try and interfere with Hadrain. He has a protector, a hound that can draw dragon fire to it and not burn, James. It can pass a warding array that isn’t breakable. So, if it’s not Sirius protecting him, then it’s something else, and I’m not suicidal enough to go up against it.”

James scoffed, rolling his eyes, “I saw those reports; it’s nothing more than exaggerated nonsense.”

Remus opened his mouth to retort, wishing he could prove James wrong, when the scent of ozone flooded the room, making him jerk back and drop the drink, the crystal shattering on the stone floor, as red-glowing eyes stepped from the shadows, right behind James, though the eyes stayed on Remus.

He had to fight the urge to drop to his knees, holding up his hands reflexively. Remus whispered, “I said I’d leave him alone, I meant it.”

James frowned, opening his mouth to speak and then snapped it shut as a low rumbling growl echoed around the room, and he turned, twisting out of the way.

It was strangely comical and somewhat horrifying at the same time, watching the blood drain from James’s face, but what truly terrified Remus was the word James whispered, probably thinking it was said too low for Remus to catch, before the other man passed out, crumpling elegantly to the ground.

But Remus did hear it, and he felt his heart sink in dread, the creature of legend staring down at Remus’s former friend with such a look of disdain, a look somehow worse than the one of disgust he’d tossed Remus’s way earlier and couldn’t help but throw him under the bus.

“The man on the floor,” Remus began, eyeing the hellhound warily, “is James Potter, father of Hadrain Lykaios, previously known as Harry Potter. He’s been forcing me to spy on the boy, and try to turn him away from the path he’s currently-“

The hound growled, low and threateningly, forcing Remus to take a step back, hands still held up in front of him, swallowing again, at the look of disgust that filled the hound’s face.

The look made Remus second-guess his decision, thinking it a better look than disdain, before rapidly changing his mind, as the hound stepped over James prone body, a second later Sirius appeared before him, face black with rage, aura flashing over his skin in a frightening display as the runes Remus hadn’t quite believed Sirius had bragged about erupted over the skin that was visible.

The smile that graced Sirius’s face was harsher and jagged than anything Remus had seen on the man before, and he shifted uncomfortably, remembering what he’d said to James, “I didn’t know it was you.”

“You think I care about that?” Sirius questioned harshly, “It’ll be self-evident in a few years that I picked Hadrain over James before the kid was born, Remus.” The words were gravelly and foreign-sounding to Remus’s ears, which didn’t really make sense considering he didn’t know any language but English and bits of Latin- yet as Sirius spoke, the runes in his former boyfriend’s face rippled, and Remus felt his heart shatter like the crystal from earlier. Sirius touched the mark above his eye, one that matched the visible one he saw on Hadrian daily, “None of you were ever going to win me. The Mother blessed me with a soulmate, and I’ve kept it a secret for seventeen years. I’ve killed for this secret, and I’ll kill again if I have to. There is absolutely nothing more important than Hadrian’s continued safety and life.”

“So why tell me?” Remus demanded, or tried to, breaking eye contact, unable to hold the burning gaze.

A soft vibrating chuckle sounded in the room, “Because you thought reporting to James was bad, you’re about to learn how wrong you were.”

“But I-no, Sirius, I promised I’d leave the kid alone when I didn’t even know it was you.” Remus protested, eyes snapping back to Sirius’s before darting away again.

“Then maybe you should have acted a little more honourably before attempting to toss your friend to the hounds of hell, Remus.” Sirius said lazily, “Or better yet, maybe you shouldn’t have manipulated and used me years ago because you were jealous of James, and wanted to make him jealous.”

Remus opened his mouth to protest, paling rapidly as Sirius stared unrelentingly into his eyes, the malice swirling in them, making him want to curl into a ball. “You know?”

“Eh, not really, but that non-conversation you just had with James? That was enlightening.” He replied with a nonchalant shoulder shrug, “though I probably should have suspected years ago, hindsight and all that. It’s a bit more coincidental than one would expect, right?”

Remus’s mouth opened and closed, “It wasn’t supposed to happen that way!”

“But it did.” Sirius replied flatly, snorting even as he twirled his fingers around in the air, “You said to Hadrian that you wanted someone to choose you, yet I have to wonder, how often you thought of telling James before stopping yourself, realizing if Lily had known the full truth that she wouldn’t have picked you either?”

Flinching at the sentence, Remus tried talking again, and almost slumped in relief when his voice came out, “Of course not. She would never have allowed it to continue.”

“Except that you used me for three years,” Sirius deadpanned, and shook his head, turning back to the shadow, “keep your agreement about leaving Hadrian alone, and I won’t be by to collect what you owe me.”

Feeling a leap of bravery, Remus straightened his back, “That’s it? Are you just going to leave? Not going to threaten me to keep my mouth shut? No, doom and gloom?”

Sirius turned around half in the shadow, eyes already glowing red, and chuckled with an echoing quality to it that sent a shiver of warning down Remus’s spine, “I don’t need to, you agreed to that before I even revealed myself, then locked the geas by having this entire conversation in Mycenaean.”

“But-but, I don’t know that.” Remus protested, making Sirius laugh.

“Maybe you should have done your research before challenging a being with sentient Demi-god residing in their family magic, Remus,” Sirius said with a mocking laugh as he disappeared into the shadows, leaving Remus staring after the spot until his vision blurred, and he jerked awake, feeling the thousand little nicks from the crystal embedded into his skin.

Head whipping around the room, he turned to James, who groaned, sitting up and rubbing his head as if it hurt, and was blinking and looking around warily. Remus could see and smell the fear and confusion, suspecting he smelled the same, but neither man addressed the other. There was no way Remus was testing a possible god-bound geas, nor was he challenging a hellhound that may or may not have been Sirius; instead, he watched James push himself to his feet, sliding the parchment he’d tossed on the table back into an inside pocket and swept from the room, leaving Remus sitting there, hoping it had just been a dream.

***

Albus Dumbledore stared around the well-appointed study, waiting for James to return. It was mind-numbing how it had all gone so wrong, and he still couldn’t figure out when it had. Had it been picking Harry? James? Or should he go further back, his manipulations with the hat? Had it been Sirius, and putting him in Gryffindor as an experiment? If so, his experiment had failed epically.

Sighing, Albus rubbed his forehead, opening his mouth to call for his elf before remembering he didn’t have one anymore, the one who’d been with him for years, bound to the school and not him personally. It felt so unfair that all his meticulous planning had turned to dust, and all for a slip of a boy who wielded more political and magical power than he could ever hope to.

The door banged open, making Albus jump, and he turned to it, staring in shock at James’ haggard and haunted expression. “What happened?”

“Why didn’t you suggest an inheritance test for Hadrain?” James asked, instead of answering the question, “In fact, the one time I mentioned it, you shot it down so fast it feels so suspicious now.”

Startled at the question, Ablus opened and closed his mouth, not sure how to answer. It was true he’d shot the suggestion down, but what excuse could he give? He was terrified of the raw power a baby had, and hadn’t wanted confirmation on what it could mean. Not likely. “It didn’t seem necessary; we already knew he was considered Heir Apparent for your title, James.”

James regarded him, head tilted curiously, before moving to the wetbar, and poured a drink, one he didn’t offer to Albus, and knocked it back before refilling it and strolling across the room to sink into his chair behind the desk. It felt pointed, and telling that James continued to ignore him, rummaging around on his desk until he found a specific parchment and tossed it towards Albus, “Would it terrify you to know that the Dverger had released a report in conjunction with the ICW that Muggleborn children aren’t in fact all truly Muggleborn?”

Cautiously, Albus lifted the parchment, brow furrowed as he read through it, eyes jumping from word to word, and sentence to sentence, without really retaining the information, before lowering it. “You think there’s some basis in this?”

“Dottie.” James said, instead of answering, waiting for the elf to pop into the room, and pointed at Albus, “Tell Albus what you told me about Lily.”

The elf flinched, glancing between the two men, and licked her lips, “Lily Potter be a dormant, Master James.”

Raising a brow at Albus, James took a sip of his drink, “And what does dormant mean to your species, Dottie?”

“Squib-line, Master James.” Dottie whispered, toeing the ground without looking at any of them, “Dottie unable to tell all of whose line, but Lily Potter was born of an ancients squib-line.”

James hummed in curiously, “and whose close enough in a baseline power to that squib-line, Dottie?”

Dottie flinched again, making Albus shift uncomfortably in his chair, a feeling of dread starting to build at the base of his spine.

“It be similar in relation to yous, Master James, as you both descend from Peverell brothers, but the next closest in baseline powers be Mavros.” The elf responded dutifully and then gave a fully body shudder, before throwing herself on the floor, “Please don’t send me back there, please, master. Dottie do better, but Mavros, no, please no. Elfs no fight against that, it draw us in, luring, testing, promising, but repels us at the same time.”

“You don’t have to go spy on Sirius, Dottie, but keep this conversation to yourself and return to your duties,” James said with a sigh, waving a hand tiredly, looking at Albus, waiting for the elf to pop away.

“When did you try and spy on Sirius?” Albus asked curiously.

“Periodically over the years,” James admitted, running a hand down his face, “none of my elves can get close, each reporting the same thing. I assume it- whatever is in the family magics is offering the elves a freedom they don’t understand, but the unfamiliarity of the magic scares them away.”

“Yes, I could see that.” Albus replied absentmindedly, “Medea is reportedly ancient by modern standards.”

Snorting, James finished his drink, then summoned the bottle with a flick of his hand, “She was ancient before modern standards, Albus. From all my research, Medea Mavros was born between 1500 and 1300 BC, at least 200 years before Ramses the Second, who is historically said to have been born sometime in 1100BC.”

Frowning, Albus shook his head, “What does this have to do with anything? Or what happened to you at the school?”

“A few things, actually, but let’s start small so you can see where I’m leading.” James said with an edge to his voice, “We can already assume that Lily was indeed squib-born, considering Hadrain qualified to take Salazar Slytherin’s ancestral magical power, he also has enough magical power of his own to withstand my mother’s ancestral legacy. Lykaios is descended from both Loki on my mother’s maternal side and Zeus on my mother’s paternal father’s side. Since learning this, I have found out that my paternal grandfather was terrified of that legacy and what it would mean for our family line being related to the Peverell brothers; his belief was that we were already dark enough, we didn’t need to make it worse by including dead gods.”

“James-” Albus started, mouth snapping shut when James glared at him, the hatred that burned in his protages eyes giving him momentary pause.

“I’m not finished.” James stated, frost dripping from the words, “It was your infinite wisdom that said the prophecy was targeted at my son, and I believed you because why wouldn’t I? You’re Dumbledore, right? Do you know who didn’t believe you? Lily. She even warned me what would happen if I continued on this path of blind faith, but I dismissed her. The smartest witch of her age, a woman who worked for the DOM as an unspeakable, and I dismissed her warnings as those of a hysterical, hormonal woman. Then, when she died, and Harry survived, I descended into a grief so raw and consuming that I let you manipulate me further. It’s only been since Hadrain was granted his emergency guardianship application that I’ve started searching my memories, and I have to ask, Albus, when did you suspect my son might actually be the Peverell’s Heir?”

Jerking at the question, Albus blinked and shook his head, “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Sure you do,” James said with a cold smile, ‘But just add this thought, it was because of your counsel, guidance and belief he’d turn out like Voldemort that made me turn against my son, you lacked the forethought to ensure Hadrain had an inheritance test, and in doing so, you hand-delivered him to the other side.” James smirked, though there was a bitter, sorrowful look to it, “the same side you told me not to antagonize because we didn’t know what Sirius’s stance truly was.”

“It wasn’t like that, James.” Albus said pleadingly, “I might have miscalculated when it came to Sirius, but I genuinely believed he’d turned against us. His actions during the war were erratic and unpredictable.”

Snorting a laugh, James shook his head, “You never bothered looking into who Medea was when she was alive, did you?”

“There was no need,” Albus stated firmly, letting that belief bleed into his tone, not liking the direction of this conversation, “She’s dead, James.”

“She’s a sentient Demi-God that resides in the Sirius familial magics, Albus.” James replied evenly and raised an eyebrow, “She was also a Seer and High Priestess of Hecate.”

The trickle of alarm that Albus had felt previously started to grow, and he shook his head in disbelief, “I don’t understand what you’re trying to imply.”

“You know exactly what I’m implying, but it’s why you didn’t want him to have an inheritance test, you feared that he would become known as Warwick, a title that has what, ten more years before it’s declared open by right of blood claiming before it goes extinct, right? It’s why you’ve always been fascinated by the Potter family cloak, too, constantly orbiting the family, waiting to get your hands on it. You set everything up perfectly, too. I’d be almost impressed if I didn’t realize you intended me to die too, right? So, how much did Sirius’s action fuck up your plans? What were the original intentions you had?”

Albus thinned his lips, showing his displeasure at being questioned, yet instead of James backing down, he leaned forward with a laugh, “You can’t even answer, can’t admit you were wrong, can you?”

“None of this changes our course of action. I might have miscalculated, but we still need to lure Harry back to our side, James.” Albus began, straightening his back and readying a breath to launch into the half-formed plan in his head.

“We already lost, Albus,” James replied, shaking his head in defeat.

Pausing at that, Albus tilted his head, “What do you mean we already lost? There’s still time, James!”

“Remus mentioned something interesting,” James began, once again not answering Albus’s question, “what’s Narcissa’s maiden name, Albus?”

Albus froze, feeling an almost unnatural stillness as the alarm he’s felt rose swiftly, and opened his mouth, though James answered his own question as he continued. “Black. Who’s the Proxy for Mavros’ seat? The fates. Who’s the patriarch? Wanna guess who Hadrain’s been in contact with secretly since the second year? Sirius, ever since the fire bolt and his claiming his status as Heir.” James looked at him, defeat, despair and regret etched into his face, “Do you know what that tells me?”

“No.” The answer was unbidden, but the answer waiting felt monumental, the alarm turning to fear.

“That Sirius claiming his ancestral family magics showed him what you’d planned was more detrimental to my son than what he’s lived through.”

Feeling a sneer appear on his face, Albus gripped the wand in his hand, ignoring the warning zap in his palm, “So what? You’re going to lie down and let the love of your life ruin our plans. The plans we’ve been making since Harry’s conception?”

James regarded him with a thoughtful expression, going fussy as the alcohol moved through his system and slowly shook his head, “I might have thought I loved him at one point in my life, Albus, but-”

“There are no buts, James, we have worked too hard at this, twisting and manipulating events to get them to play out how they have. Yes, I’ll admit to making some miscalculations, but we’re still on the correct path. We need to be united now to ensure it continues, the Darks are completely neutered, and the Greys, while strong, aren’t a match for the Light. We can twist everyone’s perception of the supposed fates. If we can make them fight among themselves, it’ll do our work for us. But we NEED to work together, a United government under the Light is the only way to keep us safe, it’s the only way forward, James.”

Seeing the indecision creeping across James’ face, Ablus leaned forward, driving the point home, “Who cares what Sirius has done? He might have had good intentions,  but Hadrian made his choice under the influence of Tom Riddle’s touch and was tainted before he was a year old, long before he met Sirius.”

James blinked in growing and mounting confusion, so Albus continued to push, “Unless you’re suggesting that a Light Witch like Lily was a descendant of Slytherin? Isn’t that what your whole speech on Dormants meant? Then Sirius is innocent, and Lily’s to blame? Though if that is the case, it makes no sense why his existence brought about the death of Lily, so whatever Sirius planned obviously failed.”

Shaking his head, James picked up the decanter and drank directly from it, “That’s- no- no, Albus, that’s not right, and even if it was, Sirius is still protecting him.”

“I highly doubt that, James. Sirius has only been in England once in the last few years.” Albus said lightly, as if it were a simple fact.

“Remus said-” James started to whisper, but Albus spoke over him.

“Of course, he’d tell you something, but Remus has been jealous for a long time, James, you know that. He hates what he is and could never accept that a good woman like Lily would be unworthy of him, and then felt betrayed when Sirius turned on him. He’s going to do all he can to sow dissent into the ranks because of the investigation into his lack of oversight as Head of House. If he had done his job, Jaime wouldn’t have been caught, right?”

“Jaime shouldn’t have-”

“No, James, it was a prank gone wrong and nothing more; everyone else just blew it out of proportion,” Albus said, smiling benignly, “If he’d intended harm, people would have been injured, and they’re fine. It was a bit of fire that got caught by mistaken rune usage.” Albus paused, nodding to himself, “I’ll be sure to work him on that, you’re Heir apparent shouldn’t be sloppy with runes in the future.”

James blinked at him, eyes blurry and unfocused as he tipped the decanter again and took a long pull, “But the eyes, the red eyes, I saw it, Albus, the thing that everyone reported seeing, but the wards didn’t find. There’s a massive hound – a hellhound, Albus, we can’t fight against that…”

Swifting rising to his feet, Albus circled the desk, gently prying the now empty bottle from James’s lax hand, “There was no hellhound, James, they’re mythical creatures, if they ever existed at all. I’ll admit it was probably a scary situation for those trapped, but they’re minds played tricks on them, son.”

“Tricks?” James repeated, and then nodded slowly, “like a prank, but what about the cloak?”

“A prank, yes, just like that,” Albus said calmly, ignoring the part about the cloak, not having an answer to that practical setback, and patted James’s head, lips curling in disgust as James burped loudly, breath and fumes wafting towards Albus, before his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he slumped forward.

Heaving a sigh, Albus lifted the wand, glaring at it when it sent another warning zap, before putting it to James’ temple, silently saying the spell before turning and sweeping from the room. He had no time to play babysitter to a drunken idiot; he had work to do, and the best pawn was in his grasp for the next four weeks. It was perfect.

***

December 1997

In the year since Albus’s removal as Head Master, Hogwarts had undergone a remarkable change. The houses still had their house tables, of course, but on any given day, friends from other houses crowded around the first to arrive.

That Hadrain was normally one of the first to arrive didn’t mean much in the grand scheme of things; he’d always been an early riser, enjoying the solitude mornings brought, before the chaos of his father’s house inflicted on his calm.

Quietly pouring his morning coffee, a guilty pleasure he stubbornly stuck to, no matter Draco’s disgust, Harry glanced around the nearly empty hall, nodding to random students who stumbled in, still rubbing sleep from their eyes.

Glancing at the High Table, he grinned when Pandora cheekily raised her own mug, elbowing her husband’s side, who shot him a look of betrayal when he raised his back in a silent salute to the High Priestess.

A burnished burnette slid into the seat beside him, and he glanced to the side, taking in Ronald Prewitt’s expression, automatically fixing Ron a tea and handing it over, “How’s your sister?”

Ron’s face fell. “Not much better, but leaving the Weasley and being accepted by the Prewitt family magic has helped. Great Aunt Muriel and Lucretia have been really supportive; they’re setting her up with a mind healer through the Dverger after Yule.”

Harry nodded, gently patting his arm as he pulled a platter of food closer, and slowly filled their plates. Still not sure of the etiquette in addressing this, the scandal of a pureblood witch, an underage teen at that, getting pregnant, then losing it at birth, had rocked society. That it had been a carefully crafted plan, originally meant to ensnare Harry, hadn’t helped matters.

For days after, the line between truth and rumour had been thin and almost non-existent, but in the confusion of those days, when Harry had heard his name mentioned in connection with the pregnancy, he’d called Narcissa and Kadian, his guardian and proxy, who’d arrived at the castle with Lucuis in tow, who was his lawyer of record, demanding to know why he’s name had been dragged into the scandal.

Finding out that Jaime had been using a complex alchemy-based potion to impersonate him – as a joke – had been under the belief that any children resulting from a union would be his too, felt too delusional to be believed. Yet, when Jaime refused to accept that the child was in fact his, and insisted it was Harry’s, Harry could only stare at his brother in a sort of horrified disbelief, before bursting into laughter.

It had earned him a silent reprimand from Narcissa, who’d lifted an elegant eyebrow at his outburst, and he’d shrugged, feigning a nonchalance he hadn’t felt, his anger at the accusation getting the better of him, “We both now this is bullshit, Cissy,” Harry stated waving a hand at the party’s sitting around the table, James and Mariana Potter glaring at him, while Jaime had sat arms crossed appearing a cross between smug and mulish. Arthur and Molly Weasley appeared not to know how to react, allowing Cedrella to lead the negotiations, her zeal probably doing more damage than good. The only other person at the table had been Amelia Bones, and she was the only one Harry felt was neutral, her position as Head of the DMLE meaning her presence was necessary given the severity of the ‘crime’.

Turning his attention to Amelia, Harry met her eyes, “My appearance at this table is spite, and spite only. I have never once interacted with Ginvera Weasley beyond one other instance, which Jaime was also responsible for back in December.” Harry stated firmly, laying a hand flat on the table, “and even if I had been friends with her, which I’m not, I would never have dishonoured a witch to the degree in which she has been – blood status or not. But all of that is moot anyway, I am not stupid, and have taken care to ensure my own protection, and have had a Dverger cast a contraceptive rune since I was thirteen years old. Also, while I might not be an expert in alchemy-based potions, I am in Potions. Even in a case of polyjuice, it clearly states within the law; to purposely impregnate someone while either party is under the effects of the potion is to be treated with the same contempt as a person charged with attempted murder. It is dangerous, immoral, and outright demeaning that we’re all sitting here discussing the travesty that has been inflicted on an innocent teenage girl as if Jaime has a believable or justifiable excuse for what he did.”

Predictably, the table had exploded, but Harry had been cleared and allowed to leave after offering proof in the form of a written statement from his account manager.

For the rest, though, it didn’t go so well. He wasn’t sure exactly what had happened, but reportedly, through both rumour and some basis in fact, no one was happy. Ginny had been sent to St.Mungo’s for an evaluation, the risk that the alchemy-based potion Jaime had ingested affecting the fetus extremely high. Amelia had assigned a guard to her after Ginny had freaked out after her mother had spoken to her, and summoned her in-laws, Muriel and Lurceita Prewitt, as impartial guardians for the teen. Molly had left in high dungeon, glaring at her great-aunts with a hatred that had felt natural but had been echoed by her own mother-in-law, as Credella had swept after her daughter-in-law, not acknowledging her sister. As for Jaime, both he and his sister had been whisked from the school, with an official notice withdrawing both Potter children sent shortly after.

And for Harry at least, it had felt like Hogwarts had exhaled, breathing a sigh of relief at the knowledge they wouldn’t be back. It was a relief, Harry privately echoed, as it had meant the rest of his sixth year had flowed easily, even though his summer had dragged, as Sirius had been careful to stay away.

“I’m excited to see her,” Ron said softly, moving food around on his plate, jarring Harry from his memories. “I was only able to stay with her for a short time after she lost the baby.”

Harry winced, not sure how he felt about the baby, the idea that it would have been his half-niece or nephew, a somewhat weird concept he hadn’t quite accepted. “I am sorry she lost them.”

Ron shrugged, though his expression twisted briefly, “It’s not your fault, Hadrian. And yes, I know this will sound somewhat callous, and I am sad for her, but she was fully warned of the possibility and still decided to go through with the pregnancy. But the damage done to her personally from the potions, even if she hadn’t taken them herself, was too great; she’s honestly lucky she lived.”

“Knowing that, though, doesn’t make it easier, Ron,” Harry replied simply, turning his attention to his breakfast, enjoying a few mouthfuls before utter panic flooded his system, sending him reeling, and it took him a few minutes to blink away the confusion and understand the franticness in his head, the overlapping of voices incomprehensible.

It had taken practice, but he mimicked the sound of a sharp, piercing whistle in his head, killing the noise, leaving behind a disturbing silence and spoke into that calmly, “If we could try that one more time, and singularly would be appreciated.”

“He got in.” The voice, accented and thick, speaking English, threw him, making Harry blink again, before straightening and pulling from the arms that held him upright, even as the voice continued, “Hadrian, I don’t- he made it to the workshop, all my notes and experiments. It’s terrifying, he’s accidentally tripped a few of the traps, and Asp’s Kiss is slowly flooding the temple, which has woken Isis…”

“Sitti,” Harry said, the Egyptian word for grandmother, startling the woman who pulled back, before rapidly shaking her head.

“I’m undeserving of that title, Hadrian. The things I’ve done, the things I’ve allowed, no-no, I don’t deserve that honour.” The whispered response sounded tortured, and she swallowed a sob.

“Petra, I think it’s I who gets to decide what I want to honour you with.” Harry chided softly, “While it might be knowledge hidden from the world at large, I know you are Mryddian’s mother, who is also Salazar’s father, it means the title is appropriate, and I honour you with it.”

“But something’s wrong with Isis.” Petra whispered, tears coating her voice, “I don’t know if she’ll listen to you, not like Vidya did.”

Harry made a face at that, feeling somewhat conflicted, because spiritually she had listened to him, loved him even, but in the physical realm, due to the corruption left behind by Riddle, she had viewed him with suspicion and only a begrudging sort of respect, given his magical status as Sal’s Heir.

“How’s she different?” Harry finally asked, after the worried whispers at his continued silence got louder.

“I never got the soul separation rune right, and she went insane. It’s why Myrddin reinforced what I’d done to hide my tomb.” Petra admitted, “I made her forever immortal; she can’t be killed by any means, Hadrain. It was one of my greatest accomplishments but also one of my largest failures.”

Harry shivered at the horror that sentence invoked and swallowed hard, “Okay, and Asp’s Kiss, what do I need to know about that?”

“A blood-based enslavement potion,” The regret was real in her tone, and she let out a self-deprecatory laugh, “I wasn’t a good person while alive, in truth, I was probably insane, Hadrian. I wanted a soulmate so much, I thought I could make one. History likes to think I killed myself with an Asp’s bite, but in reality, there wasn’t a snake in Egypt that would willingly bite me, not with basilisk venom flowing in my veins. I died because I was a coward and refused to face the consequences of my crimes, and ordered one of my enslaved to kill me.”

Having no way to address any of that and make any of it better, Hadrian focused on the potion, “If it’s flooding the tomb, I assume it’s in a mist-like form, so is there a counter, or cure, Cleopatra?”

“I never finished it.” The response was flippant and grated, but he also felt the flood of regret and the murmured apology. “Sorry, it’s- I made that potion near the end, I can’t remember exactly, but I know once it was complete, I half-heartedly looked at a cure, before putting the notes aside, promising myself I’d come back to it later.”

“You kept the notes, though, you didn’t destroy them?” Harry confirmed, finally moving from the bench, ignoring the calls at his back as he strolled from the hall, ducking into a shadow to reappear in his room at Malfoy Manor.

“Yes, of course, I never destroyed any of my works, great or small, beneficial or destructive, it’s all there.” Cleopatra replied, “I envisioned myself the Greatest of them all, Hadrian. I ruled Egypt for two decades and believed I’d rule for another eight. I wanted to be greater than all those who came before me.”

Swifting, pulling out his battle robes, and summoning his blades, Harry changed, ensuring all clasps and buckles were closed, and then pulled back his hair, braiding it quickly, then took one last look around the room, before walking into a shadow. He had a soulmate to save.