Stranger's Homecoming
Start Chapter 6
“And I like Grimmauld’s looks. I don’t know why Auntie Yaxley is so fixated on renovating the portrait room. She keeps suggesting using more lights and adding colors like I think she called it, robin blue and eggshell? She uses this tone… I didn’t like it…. but I don’t understand why and she moves her hands so much when she talks, it’s very annoying!”
“Uhmh.”
“I don’t know she showed me any of those things and I didn’t want to be mean, but I honestly hated all of her ideas.”
Kreacher nodded his head along with what his master was saying even as he focused on cutting a piece of lamb into a bite-sized piece of meat and placing it in his mouth.
“And I didn’t even know colors came that unsightly! I like the portrait room how it is. Grimmauld does to and she insists it’s disgusting…. Maybe we chose the wrong room for them? I know it will need some repairs but I like Grimmauld how Grimmauld is…. Don’t you Kreacher?” Harry babbled, swinging his legs with a pout on his face. He prodded grouchily at the chutney on his plate.
“Little master is not to be playing with his food!” The elf scolded, before pausing and pursing thin lips. “And… yes this old elf likes how it is being decorated. Stupid whiny sniveling Silvina is needing to shut up and be grateful that she is being taken out of storage. She can be going back if she keeps whining about such foolish things. A barely Yaxley complaining about and trying to change anything of the Black’s, practically blasphamous! She is lucky little master is such a kind heir and that she is being allowed to even speak to this elf’s master! This elf swears she has become even more annoying in death than she was being in life.” The elf huffed disgustedly.
“She does have her uses though. With her portraits in other places she keeps us updated on the going ons of the Regulations of dangerous artifacts department at the ministry.”
Kreacher rolled his eyes. “Young master is entirely too kind.”
“It’s fun to hear about outside things…. And sometimes its funny to!” Harry pointed out a cheeky smile on his face. “We’re working on more hexes tonight, yes?” Harry asked, his tone distracted and eager as he suddenly jumped topics.
“Hmmm, yes. Kreacher’s Harrison is being continuing with the hexes. Old master has told this elf he plans to teach the Frange parum cutis spell tonight. You is being picking up on such spells very quickly so this elf thinks that you will have little trouble with casting that spell just like the last.”
Harry beamed at Kreacher’s praise. Finishing up the bits of tomatoes he had left and the last bite of his Kebob Koobideh possibly a little quicker than what would be considered polite but Harry was eager to start learning again. He loved learning new spells and being praised by Kreacher even more. He didn’t mince words when it came to academics. If Harry hadn’t been doing well he would have been lectured about it. The elf was very set on his Harrison being able to do his best and believed that to be able to do his best he had to be honest and tough when it came to expectations and lessons. Not that he had to be particularly pushy or strict with Harry. The traitor had been hell to deal with as a child on the other hand.
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Harry signed, pouting a little at how skittish the Gallows Grim Sunflowers were with him. They recoiled from his hands and almost seemed to try and hide from him. Trembling when he would try caring for them. He didn’t understand everything being so timid and frightened acting with him. What was more confusing was that the plants were perfectly friendly with Kreacher!
Harry pouted as he thought further about the situation. Harry had been nothing but gentle and sweet with the plants but none seemed to like him in return not even the Common lesser Tentacula! Yes, its magic was far too saccharine for Harry’s liking but he had done his best to make it feel he meant it no harm. Harry suspected at that point that it couldn’t be helped. He was just glad that Kreacher had said that Harry would be able to play with more dangerous plants when he was older. But for now, these were the only plants the elf felt comfortable with him interacting with.
Harry remembered the first time he remembered being outside. His Kreacher had actually taken him to walk the yard. The experience had been incredibly unnerving. Harry hadn’t remembered the last time he had felt so out of his element that he was frightened enough to cling to Kreacher, shaking head to foot. It was all too different, it was too big and smelled funny. Not enough walls pressing down on him, hiding him like they should have been doing. And worst of all he couldn’t feel Grimmauld’s magic smother him like usual. Harry was relieved when Kreacher had taken him to the greenhouse. It was far from perfect but after having the walls all around him again Harry felt Grimmauld’s possessive magic wrapped around him like a constricting snake which was a great comfort to the child.
After that the elf lectured him about all the different plants he would be studying that year and began teaching him all about the Black family’s collection, or what was left of it through some miracle. Some of the plants in the collection had been thought extinct for generations anywhere else. It wasn’t long after that, seeing his master’s discomfort with having to go into the greenhouse through the outside entrance, that the elf tamed up enough of the greenhouse that one of the doors had been found. After finding a usable door Kreacher was able to take Harry in and out of the greenhouse via a door that led from the old torture cells into the safest part of the greenhouse. Harry preferred going at night or in the evenings.
Harry signed at his lack of progress at getting the plant he was repotting to want much to do with him. It seemed that was how most of them were. At least the Acanite wasn’t a reactive plant like most of the others in the room. He hoped that it flowered soon, though Kreacher had said that it may take a few months with him just finally replanting and repotting most things and that also meant that many of the plants had to be reseeded and regrown. Harry was curious to see the flowers of something Grandfather Ophichius was so very fond of. The portrait had told him it was one of his favorite flowers in life. Poison crafting had been one of the man’s few loves so Harry thought it fitting that one of his favorite flowers was a particularly poisonous variety of such a delicate beautiful sort of flower.
Harry had seen Acanite in bloom in a few of the ancient tomes he had read for herbology and Potions but old books didn’t always have the colors or were able to convey true to life majesty of the things they depicted. The flowers had looked to be a bit of a light-off-purple color in the book but he was hopeful the coloration was more like the pallor of death-kissed lips. That would be far more lovely.
Harry found he wasn’t the biggest fan of herbology, at least in practice but he did enjoy potions… or at least he was decent at them and Kreacher had said that ingredients cultivated by the brewer often were far more potent than those that were bought so it was a skill he felt important. Even if he was doubtful it was something particularly useful for him. Not when he had so many other things he enjoyed and was skilled at and when he had so many other things to play with that played back. Like the Doxies that would writhe, bite, claw at, and squeal when he would practice his spells on them. Or the demented ghoul in the guest bathroom who tried to drown him with the toilet once when he was younger.~
Harry finished up replanting the Gallows' Grim Sunflowers and went over to wash his hands before heading indoors. Brilliant green and silver eyes caught the monotone beyond the dirtied greenhouse windows before left to head inside of the house. The boy stood for a moment, tilting his head at the sight. It was so odd, how the outside world changed so. Dark to light and dark again, changing from green, to yellows, to gray and browns then to various shades of white and gray on the rare occasion.
It was winter, this much Harry knew at least he did logically but it was hard to comprehend time going by in seasons when he mostly just saw them change through Grimmauld’s windows. Like watching paintings putter about. Harry didn’t mind winter so much. He thought it rather pretty even. The days, gray and dimmer. The feeling of death, a heavier shrowd upon the world. It was quieter too, though Grimmauld seemed most restless during the coldest and longest of the winter nights, just like Harry often felt.
If allowed, Harry was sure he would pace about the house on those nights and others he felt lethargic and sleepy like his body wished to partake in the long sleep the world was participating in around him. Harry wondered if he would see snow more often when he was made by Kreacher to go to Hogwarts? Kreacher had complained of Scotland’s harder winters before and Harry knew that Scotland was where the school was located.
Harry near purred as his toes sunk into moth-eaten carpet. Back properly inside and feeling far less exposed. The protection of Grimmauld wrapped as tight as a hanging noose about his neck, just like the young heir loved most! Harry made his way through the house still in thought about what a Scottish winter might be like. A croon left his lips as he mooned over the thought of possibly getting to find some new little beasts to join his collection of jars full of decomposing doxies. Perhaps he would he would find little pixies or fairies who had neglected to hide away from the cold and find them pale and purple or blue-lipped, pretty, and skin-like glass after hours upon frosty snow? How lovely that would be! Mayhaps, Harry could figure out a way to keep them that way? They could become his adorable little dolls with the prettiest death-kissed pallor to be placed on his nightstand or maybe hanging from his bed’s canopy!
“Kreacher, I’ve finished with the plants! Can I have a butter biscuit before starting on my transfiguration reading?” Harry called out as he made his way down to the sitting room near the dining area. Harry crawled into his favorite chair, curling his toes against the fabric before using a spell to pull its oversized footrest closer. It wasn’t very needed, he was such a tiny thing in the massive old chair, but he liked to cuddle up on it and make himself as comfortable as possible.
Harry didn’t even react when a plate with a handful of crisp biscuits and a cup of steaming hot tea appeared on the dusty old table beside him. The required reading book popped into existence onto the tattered armrest of his chair before the boy could even call out to the elf for it. Forgetting to go grab it before sitting down. Harry smiled affectionately at Kreacher’s thoughtfulness, he was so very sweet!
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Kreacher grumbled under his breath as he finished up measuring the various herbs and oils he was using to create one of the many hair mask potions he used to keep Harry’s hair as silken and easy to manage as possible. It was a secret family recipe that he had perfected over the centuries. The part that took up the most time was the preparations. He had found over the years that he had to hand grind each ingredient into a fine grit and or delicate dusty powder to produce the best results. It took hours of work that often caused him achiness for days after creating it now that he was old and his wrists and fingers were knarled and stiff.
The elf had been incredibly busy with his little master’s lessons and clearing up enough of the dungeon beneath the house that he could start bringing his Harrison larger beasts to practice his spells on. So busy in fact he had done something that he never thought possible. Kreacher had forgotten to replenish many of the potion stores, more importantly, he had allowed his little master’s most important hair-taming potions to deplete! How shameful! An embarrassing blunder of the worst kind! He, a most important elf of the Black family and not only was he of noble breeding but he had been the family's most loyal and reliable house elf for literal centuries! His little master was one of his favorite ever masters, kind, and thoughtful, and sweet to him which was even more upsetting!
Kreacher would normally wait until his wizard went to bed before starting to work on things like potions but hair taming potions of the quality and strength needed took a long time and a lot of work. At the very least he had to get the ingredients ready if he wanted to be able to make the potions at a decent time. His usual scheduled potion making already interrupted his hectic daytime routine. Thankfully his Harrison was a good little master and was well-behaved when he was busy and was understanding about Kreacher’s tasks. He also listened when the old elf told him he would need to do his herbology tasks on his own that day. Of course, Kreacher was just a call away if he really needed anything, which reassured the child. The elf explained to Harry that some things needed to be replanted by his own hands as much as possible into their new pots if he wished for them to become powerful potions ingredients with time. It was a good activity to keep his master occupied. Doing that and once he was done reading up some more on Transfiguration. He would need to understand some theory better if he wanted to be able to be allowed to try some of his spells on the surprise Kreacher had for him! The elf was sure his master's sweet little face was going to light up brilliantly for him!
Kreacher let out a dark croaking laugh at the thought of the pathetic clearly lost puffskein he had found round and nibbling at extinct and endangered plants in a part of the greenhouse that he hadn’t allowed Harry to venture in yet. The filthy little beast had somehow made or at the very least found and made worse a hole in the wall of the greenhouse. It had been infuriating to find for the house elf. It had been a part of the house for over 300 years! Perfect, until that pesky little vermin had wriggled on through along with those nasty little redcaps! He still wasn’t sure if he could save everything in that part of the greenhouse.
Kreacher went to check on his Harrison once he was finally done with his preparations and starting the first stages of the potion he was creating. It wouldn’t need to be messed with again for another 8 or so hours so he had plenty of time to do other things. The old elf tilted his head. His little master was sound asleep. Curled up with his book draped partially over his face and his teacup balanced precariously on the old threadbare chair’s armrest. Watery eyes glanced over to an ancient clock made of onyx and tarnished silver. “Ah.” He hadn’t realized it was so very late.
The elf sighed to himself. His little master would never go back to sleep if he woke him for his nightly routine. The older the child became the more nocturnal he clearly was by nature. Kreacher thought it was important that his Harrison kept a day schedule to be able to function well within wizarding society. Perhaps when he was older and needed less sleep it wouldn’t matter as much but for now Harry needed to sleep just as much as any young wizard regardless of how magically powerful and otherworldly he appeared. The elf had a feeling it would be a nightmare getting his Harrison to stay awake during the day if he started allowing his charge to alter his sleep schedule too much.
Kreacher like most house elves was a naturally nocturnal species but had learned to stay awake mostly during the day. However, it wasn’t a huge deal either way as house elves didn’t sleep much. Even with him slowing down he rarely slept more than a handful of hours at a time.
Kreacher huffed to himself and decided that he would allow his master to sleep in the chair. He really preferred not to but moving his child wasn’t an option at that point. The elf waved a hand at the chair, using his magic to plump up the chair’s stuffing a bit. He then, floated the transfiguration book away to sit neatly on the side table and used his magic to send the half-drunk tea to the sink in the kitchen. He was so used to doing such things that he could easily empty the cold reminisce of the cup using his magic into the sink and then clean the dishes from 2 floors up. He then puttered over to a big old chest at the side of the room and pulled out a thick, tattered old quilt that had most of its color faded from it with age. What once likely was something gorgeous was now a dull green-gray with hints of what may have been a dark blue at some point. It was held together mostly by magic and patches..
Kreacher carefully leaned his master’s head up before making a pillow from his bed appear behind it with a light pop. He only got a scrunched-up nose from the noise as Harry was already so used to such sounds. The elf then covered his master. Tenderly running his clawed fingers through his wizard’s soft curly hair before making sure to wrap stubborn little feet as well. The elf then turned to the fire and fed it some more of his magic nodding to himself in satisfaction when it flared from barely an ember. The elderly house elf added a log with his magic. The room quickly began to come up to a more comfortable temperature after that. Kreacher couldn’t help but linger for a moment. His master was still so small, even in a chair. After a few peaceful minutes of watching his sweet Harrison, the elf decided to finish up a few things and then he went to bed early. It was nice to have his little master sleeping so close by.
“Sleep well, Master.” Kreacher mumbled, giving the child a pat on the leg before grabbing the plate full of butter biscuit crumbs and ambling away. He waited until he walked out of the room before popping into the kitchen. After that, he straightened the kitchen and checked on the potions he had going. Once he felt satisfied they were still brewing correctly the elf decided that he too would get some sleep.
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Sirius wasn’t having a good time of it. Even still, he couldn’t remember the last time he had been so happy! He had managed to not only swim his way to shore after what had to be hours in which he was barely hanging on to life while he swam with everything he had. The only thing fueling him in the icy cold was his, even now, powerful magic and unwavering determination to get his godson, his James’ boy, justice . To avenge his poor sweet child.
Choking and shaking so hard he felt like his body would tear itself apart the man, still in dog form, heaved his gruesomely emaciated body up onto wet frost-laden rocks. Sirius lay there until he somehow managed to gather up the strength or desperation, possibly, to crawl his way from the gray stone-covered beach up onto the snow-covered hills surrounding it. It felt like a hellish forever crawling up those hills, shivering, his fur clumped together itching with seawater and icing up in the frigid cold. He really was starting to worry he would die long before he found shelter and before he could do anything for their boy. Then though, not far from the top of the hills he crested with the near last of his strength, he saw salvation! A burning hot brand of relief seared through Sirius’ chest in a way he didn’t think possible after so long in Azkaban.
It wasn’t much, to most it would be less than even a little but Sirius wasn’t picky. In fact, it was probably one of the most beautiful things he had seen in over a decade! A little shack crested the desolate countryside, dark and in disrepair and so beautiful the man let out a baying sob of joy in his dog form! He ignored the pure agony he was in at that point as he stumbled his way to the building. It had thankfully been long abandoned. The windows were cracked but functionally usable. The place was more a hovel than a building at that point, the roof clearly letting in water and bits of snow here and there. It smelled of rot and mold, the floors were little more than dirt with splinters of what once had likely been wood flooring. The only thing that looked half reliable was the small rusted wood stove in the corner sitting on some old stones. Even then it definitely hadn’t been used in decades at the very least if not something more like a century or more. Sirius didn’t really care at that point though, he was so very cold. If the place burned to the ground, it burned. At least the place would keep him warm!
Thankfully there was a wobbly chair and several other dry-rotted pieces of furniture and a small pile of dusty crumbling logs in a corner that had somehow kept dry enough to use. It had been hard to light the fire without a wand. Thankfully, even with all of his shaking, especially in human form, Sirius was a powerful wizard and he was desperate enough to be able to force his magic to light enough of a spark to start a decent fire. It took him hours to warm enough to feel like he wouldn’t shake himself into whiplash. His body ached horribly.
It had been around that time when he realized how horrifically painfully hungry he had become. Thankfully he had found a couple of old rusted shut jars of… well something…. in his earlier searching. He had no idea how old they may be, what they even were, nor if he would end up with some horrible food-borne illness after the clear years and years of abandonment but he was also too starved to be able to be too picky. Wherever he was was most decidedly not Britain like he expected. At least not the mainland. There was far too much snow and it was incredibly cold, even for a decent winter.
Sirius, desperate for nourishment, quickly gave in to his hunger and swallowed down the slimy gray sludge. He found it not as bad as he was expecting at least from the looks of the floating bits in the jar he ate from. He nearly cried in happiness at not having to eat putrid maggoty gray-green gruel for once and that there was enough that his stomach wasn’t clenching desperately for more after years. It was while he ate that he began to plan.
After several long hours, Sirius was now dry and warm enough, regardless of the holes in the thatched roof. He didn’t think that the wood of the place would last more than a few more days, same for the canned food. Once he had rested he planned to go out in his dog form, regardless of how itchy he was at that point from the salt water still dried on him, and try to figure out where he was. If he could find a town or at least another wizarding household close. Maybe he could find some good food too, like a cheeseburger? That would be wonderful! Civilization, food, a change of clothes, and a wand would be fantastic. Sirius nodded to himself. Start simple. Once he had all of that worked out then he could plan the rest.
He yawned and stretched with a grimace as his muscles still protested terribly. He transformed into Padfoot and curled up the best he could in front of the little iron stove. Ignoring the slight headache and smoky smell the hut had. Although he still worried about the place catching fire he doubted he needed to worry too much about carbon monoxide poisoning or the clear black mold. There were plenty of holes in the place to let fresh air in and bad air out. At least enough that he felt it unlikely that he would end up dying from it before he was ready to leave.
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It had been over a month since Sirius had found himself on a remote island closer to Norway than the United Kingdom. He wasn’t sure how he got there but by ridiculous luck, he was on an island with a Magical settlement. It was only about a 2 day walk in his animagus form from the shack he had found originally. It wasn’t very big but that didn’t really matter when the town was mostly magical and the people believed him to be some poor familiar who had got washed ashore from falling overboard or something after he made sure to act as sweet and friendly as possible after people at first were panicking over him possibly being a Grim. Grim or not, him being extra sweet and pathetic acting had won a few people over and had gotten him some decent scraps.
The town was an odd sort of place where several muggles lived in the village. The muggles that lived there were mostly those who had married into the magical native families from the next-door island’s small remote muggle population or who had moved to the island with the adult children of locals who moved back home from the mainland and brought home their in-the-know muggle spouses.
This mostly meant that the 30 or so odd buildings in the village all had floos. Also, although Sirius had been successful in sneaking in to change his clothes to some ill-fitting but still far cleaner and better quality pants and an oversized shirt that didn’t mean that he had been the least bit successful in nabbing a usable wand. The two he managed to get ahold of both had very loyal and unimpressed cores of Unicorn origin. A wand core that had never been compatible with the man.
He had only just managed to escape through the floo to the house of an elderly gentleman he remembered passing not long before he was tossed in prison. He lived in Aberdeen Scotland. This happened after grabbing the second wand. He wasn’t sure if the floo would still be active as he believed the gentleman to not have any living family but it had been one of the only safe houses close enough he thought to try at the time. Thankfully the floo was still working or he may have ended up trapped in the network or sent to the international floo department of the area. After terrifying a young house elf he was quick to run for it. Transforming into a dog before anyone could recognize him he managed to get away before the elf’s masters could figure out what had the elf panicking.
After a bit more than a month and a half of sporadic travel and little luck the man was exhausted and near desperate to find anywhere to hunker down for a while. Even just a night for a breath air. Sirius hated it but things had become so much harder once they realized he wasn’t in his cell anymore. He couldn’t even try hiding with muggles. They had been told that he was an escaped mass murderer and they seemed jumpier and harder to fool than even fellow wizards were. Being in London made it far easier to get spotted, even with him still being as filthy as ever and with his hair matted. When they did spot him, which muggles seemed to have an uncanny ability to do, merlin, then the hysteria! Screaming, crying, begging, some old lady had sprayed him in the face with something that felt like fire for hours after! It was a mess!
He never thought he would find himself heading back to that hellhole. Merlin what was he doing returning to that damned stinking pit of misery, just looking at it made him want to vomit!
At least the old Bitch was dead. Sirius knew that much for sure. Maybe he would have himself a little party over it once he worked up the nerve to go up those steps?! Hell if that unsightly little beast had died along with her, he’d have to! He’d break out the good spirits his stingy shrew of a mother always had hidden away and dance on the tables perhaps while spitting on the good cutlery and wiping his muddy feet all over it! Then, for good measure, Sirius would sit his ungrateful arse on the parlor furniture feet on the cushions, of course, his shoes on, dirtying up the furniture like a right proper heathen bastard! Sirius grinned to himself at the thought. It would serve them right after years of moaning and bitching at him for every little thing.
Maybe it could be a good thing…. to go back to his own personal hell….? He was sure at the least that there would be a bed, possibly some food. Maybe he could even find a suitable wand? At least until Sirius could find a way to get his old one or a new one if there was no other choice.
It wasn't a well-known fact but the destruction of a Black wand wasn't usually done no matter the circumstances until the individual's death and even then it wasn't common. The same went For a few other pureblood families. The families were usually given the wands back in place of a body when a person was sentenced to life in Azkaban. He, himself, although without trial, was surely considered to be a life inmate so there was at least a very decent chance of the ministry releasing his wand to his mother… not that it wasn’t beyond likely that the bitch hadn't snapped his wand herself before she died. He at least wouldn’t have put it past her.
To snap a family member's wand, at least in the Black family, was akin to declaring they were as good as dead to them. Bloody bitch, if only! He was very clearly not magically disowned; he would have been able to feel that. He had still had his Trust fund vault and his Familial vault when he became an adult. Though he had noticed he had no access to the heir vaults by the time he was going into his 7th year at Hogwarts. That meant that his parents had at least made good on their threats that Regulus would be introduced to the familial magics as a candidate for heirship and clearly the magic had accepted him without issue. Better him chained down to that responsibility and Those craven vultures than him! Though…. Regulus hadn’t ever got to be a lord like they had groomed the fool to be.
It irritated Sirius that it did hurt him a little when he had found out both about Regulus becoming heir and when he passed. Either way, as much as he loathed his family he hadn’t been truly disowned and as much as he hated his family that meant that he could use properties to his advantage as the only Black main family member left. Same with the vaults. Which meant that as much as it disgusted him, Sirius could claim the lordship. The house would very likely accept him regardless of its moodiness and if all else failed he could probably figure something else out.
The Black nervously wiped sweaty hands on his ill-fitting robes. Something he had snagged a few weeks prior from one of the wizarding households that he had managed to break into. They were too large on the man but had been way better than what he had originally stolen. The robes had expanding pockets and had decent warming charms and had been an unobtrusive navy blue color which made getting around far easier.
Sirius managed to wrestle his nerves under control and stepped the last few stairs to the peeling charcoal gray door up to the home. He grimaced at the grungy exterior and hissed at the magic eagerly feeling him over. Shuddering at its probing. Had it felt this overwhelming when he was a child? Sirius felt engulfed by a cloud of suffocating slimy oil. The house’s magic was overwhelming after so long. How had this place ever felt like home, even once upon a time with magic like that? Though, Sirius didn’t remember the magic feeling quite that sickly and twisted as a boy. What had happened to the old place?
Sirius’ eyebrows furrowed when he tried turning the doorknob and it resisted him. That shouldn’t have been possible..? The magic of the house gained an almost reluctant pouting edge to it.
“Come on! It took me a week in one of the worst bloody snowstorms in a century to give in and come here and I can’t even get in? Eating garbage and sleeping in muggle play equipment! What the hell else do you want to put me through!?” Sirius snarled. Right before he completely lost it there was a click and he was stumbling into his cursed childhood home. It looked worse than ever. The troll leg umbrella stand and half a dozen elf heads still hung as repugnant as ever. For a second, Sirius found himself frozen, the magic was too much, too much, so wrong and horrifying. Sick! And his instincts insisted that there was something else, something that made his ears ring and his mind dissociate. Cold, dead, fear, alone, failure! Sirius forced back shuddering breaths and forced himself to turn that part of him off just like he did in Azkaban.
Cold and exhausted Sirius decided to sort food later and headed up the stairs, apprehensive of what might be in the house with it abandoned for so long. There wasn’t as much dust as he was expecting although it was definitely a neglected filthy mess that would have had Walburga Black turning in her grave. At least the picky prickly, Walburga, Sirius remembered. Though as he looked around it seemed to have a surprising lack of doxies. Though he didn’t look through more than a few of the rooms so he couldn’t be too sure.
Sirius grimaced when he found his bedroom. The closer he got to it the dustier and more decrepit the house became, like his area of the home had been completely neglected and intentionally forgotten. A “ you wern’t welcomed or missed by any of us ”. Sirius sighed, scratching his dirt-laden scalp. He caught his hand trembling as he reached out for his door handle. Besides being dusty it was the same as it had always been. Though tarnished, the same silver plaque with his name neatly scrawled across it sat at the top of the door and the sign he had used a permanent sticking charm on was placed in the middle of the door. The sign was a little faded but was still easy enough to read once he wiped the dust from it. It was still a decently obnoxious shade of red, not as bright as before but still garishly eyecatching in such a dark depressing hallway. Sirius stared at it for a while for some reason unsure how to feel about it now. It demanded to be left be by slimy snakes. How long had it been since he had been in that room? He let out a stressed breath and walked into the room. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting… but it was far more…. Empty…. dark and depressing than he remembered and yet so much bigger as well. He remembered constantly complaining about how small his room had been compared to James’ and how it wasn’t fair that Regulus was given the big room even though he was the heir!
The once brightly colored quidditch posters and sexy pinups all made Sirius feel sick. He felt like a massive squirming ball filled his throat and stomach. The red wallpaper was dulled from its original bright maroon to a rusty dulled pink and his curtains were eaten near to the point of shreds. The blankets thankfully didn’t seem in too bad of shape even though they were coated in a layer of dust. He checked under the bed and around the room to make sure there wasn’t anything that might try attacking him as he slept. It was cold in the room frosty even. He eyed the bed a bit again before searching for creatures again.
Once satisfied, shivering a bit even with the robes he was wearing…. Not that he had the opportunity to get himself some underthings or anything so his bits weren’t exactly cocooned in warmth and comfort even with the minor heating charms the robes provided. he decided that he would need to light a fire. He wasn’t sure if it was safe or not but he didn’t really care what happened to the house so he decided to risk it.
It took far more time than he would have liked without a wand but he thankfully remembered having a lighter in the top drawer of his old nightstand. He also found plenty of old magazines to use as starter and there were still a few specialty magic-fueled bundles that acted like long-burn firewood and radiated heat better. He was thankful that they lasted so long or he would have had to start breaking down furniture and worrying about continuing to add wood to the fire all night long as his room was about as cold as it was outside if not colder.
Sirius opted to turn into his dog form and sunk into his bed with a delighted groan. He couldn’t remember the last time he was so comfortable, regardless of dust and mess and being in the hell hole. The aches and pains he felt every time he moved nearly crippled him at that point.
Sirius sneezed a few times as some dust puffed around him before it settled again. First, he would sleep then in the morning he would find whatever food was left. Hopefully, Kreacher had crawled in some crevice somewhere and died where he wouldn’t have to deal with his shriveled stinking old corpse. He would make a proper plan after that. He clearly needed to change how he was going about things because he had been out of prison for about 2 months at that point and Sirius still hadn’t found a single lead to start with.
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Sirius groaned and squinted as light woke him. He rubbed at his eyes and then glanced down at human hands. What the?! Oh yeah, he’d transformed back into a human form to take a piss the night before. At least the toilet seemed to work okay, even if it was horrifically disgusting. Though nothing could ever be as gross as Azkaban’s corner toilet.
Ugh, How had such a dark house become so obnoxiously bright in the morning? His room wasn’t even on the sunny side of the home and he didn’t remember a time that he had been woken by the bloody sun when he was a boy. Just his ranting lunatic of a mother or that beastly bastard of a house elf! Sirius huffed and covered his face with a pillow but quickly regretted doing so as he twisted his head away to let out a few choking coughs from the dust that entered his lungs. Ugg, and somehow that had still been the best sleep he could remember having in literally years. Well, he wasn’t going to be able to fall back to sleep after tasting a mouth full of grime.
Sirius’ stomach whined at him and curled in pain when he let his mind wander to the delicious meals that he had had as a boy in that house. It was the only good thing about that shriveled old elf. What he would do to have a bowl of his French onion soup or lamb Kubba Mosul! The elf had made his soup with a strong delicious bone-based broth and a perfect layer of browned gooey cheese and the Kubba Mosul with a delicate perfect flakey crust. He was also always generous with the fillings. Little bastard would probably find a way to poison it if he were still alive with the tumultuous relationship the two had developed since he first went to Hogwarts. Especially with how disgustingly devoted he was to his parents!
Sirius sighed to himself self-pityingly as he forced himself to get up. The robe he wore was wrinkled and covered in layers of dust and grime. He hoped there was something that he could wear left with the state the curtains had been in. Perhaps he would have to transfigure something into a suitable outfit until he could order something. He was sure that he could figure out a way to get some money from his vaults, goblins didn’t care much for Wizarding issues and as long as he was the last Black in line for the lordship he was sure that they would work with him. Stagnant accounts weren’t something that a goblin could stand after all! The man snorted to himself at that.
He needed to get ahold of a wand though before he could do much. He decided all planning could wait until he had the chance to eat something though. He had barely eaten anything in literally years and he hadn’t eaten much for the last few days. Sirius wasn’t sure if there was anything to eat in the house or if there was, how well the stasis charms would hold up in the pantry cupboard with the clear lack of maintenance on the house but it was worth a look.
Even a bread crust or some biscuits would do the trick until he was able to go looking for a wand that might be willing to put up with being used for enough time to transfigure some paper scraps into enough muggle-look-alike currency that he would be able to get some fresh food. Sirius hoped he might be able to find that old amulet his uncle Alphard gave him that made the viewer see the person wearing it as some indescript person without having to do any major transfiguration work or glamour spells.
Sirius decided that he would see if the bathroom's plumbing spells were working properly once he got something to eat. It would be amazing to be able to be able to have a proper bath! He slipped the pair of old ill-fitting boots on that he had picked up from the stoop of one of the muggle houses he had skulked around for a few days. The wife had felt terribly bad for the bone-thin sickly dog she had thought him to be and had been kind enough to feed him the scraps from their meals and had let him sleep in a pile of blankets in their garage after he refused to come in the house.
The man quickly found that the house wasn’t in as good of shape as he had thought the night before. He stumbled through the hallways and cursed under his breath after he was nearly attacked by some kind of mold creature and then he nearly tripped in a hole half eaten through one of the stairs! It was dark, darker than it had been when he was a boy in the house. Darker than Azkaban during the day! He never thought he would be grateful for anything to do with that shithole of a prison but he found himself glad for the years of deep gloom as he was sure he wouldn’t have been able to see a thing in the house otherwise. Not a single light was lit even though the house used to light the way for its residence when Sirius was a boy. He wasn’t sure if that meant that the house was having issues with him or the enchantments had given out. He knew that Grimmauld had a kind of sentience beyond that of even most ancient dwellings so it might have been upset with him for being gone for so long. He knew that it hadn’t exactly been eager to let him in. Though the shape the home was in, even compared to Sirius’ older childhood was, downright horrifying. Sirius hissed and cursed under his breath after he stubbed his toes for at least the 3rd time since leaving his room. It was so bad he could feel it through the shoes he wore.
Finally, he was back on the horribly ugly ground floor in the entrance hallway. Which was covered in nothing but dark colors and ugly peeling wallpaper, house elf heads and various repugnant knick-knacks. Strangely enough, Sirius realized now awake and aware that it had a few lit sconces. Not that it wasn’t still darker than the Merlin's arsehole in there but he could at least see decently. It was also far less dusty than the rest of the house, clean even by leagues in comparison, just in disrepair and uglier than Morgona’s tits. Sirius snorted to himself, wondering once again, what his mother would think of his thoughts on her home. He was sure she would be shrieking like a banshee if she even knew he had stepped a single toe back in the shithole. She’d come back to haunt him, surely if she had known that her failure, running from the law for a crime he didn’t commit, would end up hiding in the wretched place.
Sirius was also surprised by the state of the kitchen. The fireplace was going and a few sconces were too. He shuddered as the house’s magic prodded at him curiously but forced himself to ignore it. Food was what was important. He glanced around and noticed with a look of confusion how, although, everything was worn and much of it was dusty and abandoned looking the counters and stove area, along with the incredibly ancient-looking butcher block all looked well-cleaned and cared for still. Pots were lined neatly on their hanging wrack, the knives were in their block, clean and sharp. He swore he even smelled recently cooked herbs and spices. So familiar, that it horrified the man to realize he couldn’t quite recognize what the smell could belong to when he was sure it was something he had eaten 1000 times over in that hell. His stomach growled painfully at the imagined smells and he shook the thoughts away before he could become completely consumed by them. He couldn’t let himself get too pulled in by such thoughts. Not yet at least, this was all for Harry, for his -for their -it was for James’ son. That sweet innocent child that didn’t get the justice he deserved!
After that, Sirius went through the pantry cupboards and nearly cheered when he not only was able to find a 4th loaf of crusty bread without a hint of spoilage but also a half tin of butter biscuits and the remains of a still edible chicken curry. He couldn’t believe his luck! He thought he might find something like a can of beans or dried meat! The batty old shack must have been focusing its magic on maintaining the kitchen and lower floors of the house. How lucky for him!
After gulping down the bit of chicken curry left and soaking up every last drop left in the container with the bread, Sirius found his mood greatly improving. He wasn’t sure how the stasis charms had lasted so long on the food but he was glad for it. The little demon was gone but he got to enjoy the last of the spoils of what the beast had cooked. It was like he was having his own little party to celebrate the last of his horrible family kicking off! Though, now he would need to cook for himself… Something he never really learned how to do…. Well, the bastard would have likely tried offing him anyway.
Feeling wonderfully full and still a bit tired Sirius decided to bring the tin and last bits of bread crust with him back to his room along with an old tin cup. After some sputter of the pipes he had managed to drink his fill of water but he didn’t feel like having to run down to the kitchen every time he needed it. Once again he was hoping that the bathroom plumbing and spells were working properly he really wanted a proper shower, maybe even a bath. A nice hot one with bubbles and fancy little scrubs. That would be brilliant! Those sorts of potions tended to have a long shelf life so it wasn’t anywhere near out of the realm of possibility for him to manage to scrounge a few up. A hairbrush and change of clothes wouldn’t be amiss either. Those and a razor. His scruff was ridiculous, matted and itchy. He wasn’t even sure if he could untangle the hair on his head enough to keep it. Ugh, he didn't want to think about any of it! Losing his hair would be like losing a piece of himself!
Feeling his thoughts spiraling Sirius decided to look around the house instead of dealing with anything productive. Though he was hoping that any of the ancestral wands or even his own would be somewhere easy to find. Such as the Parlour or the family tree room. As the Parlour was closest he decided to go there first. He remembered it as being a rather especially hideous room with ancient furniture he was sure hadn’t been fashionable for centuries and the colors and patterns of fabric used on them, those individual pieces likely never were in fashion, such was the abhorrent tastes of the main family Blacks.
The room tended to stay more comfortable temperatures than others on that floor in winter though and he remembered there being a large ornate polished box on the fireplace mantel that when opened was filled with a couple dozen family wands, cushioned in crushed lavender velvet. He doubted that his wand would end up in the box. It was one of the places where wands of cherished family members, real Blacks, had their wands lovingly stored with protections against pests. Immediate family. If he ended up with his mother or father's wands… Well…. Perhaps he would hang himself there and then! Though the likelihood of any of the wands accepting him was depressingly slim. Something was niggling at him as he made his way to the first floor. The hair on the back of his neck refused to settle and that ball of anxiety was back. Sirius shoved that down though. It was because of him being in that bloody nightmare. He had nowhere else to go though so he would just have to swallow it all down until he could get things properly sorted and then he would burn Grimmauld to the ground.
Sirius half ran to the box on the fireplace mantel. Letting out a half-desperate joyful sound before shoving the last crust of bread in his mouth and placing the tin of biscuits beside the box on the mantle so he had both hands free. He was so unbelievably happy. At least something was going right for him for once. He half expected the box to be squirreled away somewhere completely impossible to find or get to without major searching. He happily pivoted on his foot with the intention of plopping onto the ugly faded charcoal grey, green, and yellowish-stained flower couch. He grinned in satisfaction to himself. At least one thing wasn’t going to be a royal pain in the arse for him for once.
“What do you think you are doing with grandfather’s familiall wand box?” A child's voice asked, genuinely curious sounding. Suddenly the near dead feeling house burst to life in the most merlin awful way. Sludge-like magic lit up in a way that Sirius hadn’t felt in decades and even then Grimmauld had been quick to favor Regulus over him after he went to school. He remembered the little beast telling them both as children that he hadn’t experienced Grimmauld showing so much interest in any of the Black members in several generations. Even then the cursed place hadn’t gotten worked up like an overgrown puppy dog for either Sirius or Regulus! Visceral fear forced its way into the man. He had always known the house was dark and twisted and as he got older it became more unbearable to be around. But this, this had his heart trying to rabbit out of his chest and had Sirius feel more dog than man at that moment as his hair stood on end in the most peculiar fashion. After all the child in front of him was tiny, almost frail-looking and cute as a button!
Sirius froze, mouth gaping and just barely caught himself from tossing the box as a reflex. Only years of practiced stealth for pranks and avoiding his family and his desperation to not be tossed back into Azkaban stayed his hands. He couldn’t help but shudder. Instincts telling him danger, wrong-wrong- wrong! This magic, Sirius swallowed hard. It was a kind of dark he wasn’t sure he had ever even felt before and he had grown up in a home of magic so dark it was like ichor that clung to every surface. It had always felt like he could never clean it away from his skin no matter how long he tried or how far he managed to get from it.
The child's magic was a curious writhing mass, sweet as honey and just as sticky. An oily siren’s purr. It was a grotesque and horrifying clinging thing that eagerly ran its maw across his skin and tried forcing its way into his orifices. “What the fuck?!” Sirius couldn’t help but squeak as he allowed his own magic to lash back. Sirius expected the strange child to react by being flustered or possibly even a little frightened. Instead, the child’s cheeks went a little pink and he almost seemed to light up. The unnervingly blank expression on his face turned into a charming thrilled little smile.
The little boy, for that was what he most definitely was no matter how pretty, gave off an unsettling uncanny valley feeling. Ethereal in a haunting way with great big unblinking eyes in colors both stunning and just too bright and metallic to be natural to anything Sirius knew of. And he came from the Black family which was known for both their brilliant metallic eyes that went from colors from shades from mercury to gunmetal grey and their powerful dark creature blood.
The child reminded Sirius more of a doll or beautifully crafted golem or homunculi with the strange way it held itself and was dressed in clear Black family finary. Though it was clearly all old and a bit too large on the child’s petite frame. The robes were a faded black, almost a charcoal gray at that point with silver trim and delicate star embroidery… It looked familiar, where had he seen those before?
The child’s hair was also carefully cared for. Beautiful and shiny and smelled strongly of high-quality oils and taming potions. Though…. Sirius swore that even as cared for and carefully styled as the boy’s hair was he was able to see a rare familiar wildness to it….? That nose too, had something achingly familiar to it. The child was most definitely some horrifying parity of a Black family child but there was something else there too. Something that was familiar, something that made Sirius ache.
The child seemed very concerningly unconcerned to Sirius that a random feral-looking homeless man was in the house. After the pair studied each other for several long minutes, excruciating centuries for Sirius, the boy turned and crawled into the old armchair pulling his tiny bare feet up onto the piece of furniture.
The boy tilted his head, staring at the man. “My sweet Kreacher is rarely ever wrong and he has said that besides a pathetic sniveling welp of a cousin of half Malfoy breeding, who isn’t much older than myself, there aren’t any more male descendants anywhere near close to my age….” The child said, his face suddenly lighting up into an excited grin. “Oh! That must mean… you are a bastard, yes?!” The child exclaimed eagerly rocking forward and radiating sweetness. “I never thought I would meet one but I suppose it isn’t such a bad thing! Grimmauld hasn’t tried ripping you apart so your blood must be at least of decent Black purity….. Your magic feels weird, sickly….. I-I this is only the second time I have seen another in real life… a Wizard that is! And you look on the verge of death. The bruising and sinking about your eyes, the wildness about your hair and face…. How lucky am I to get such a visitor? The boy tittered almost dreamily as piercing eyes roved almost hungrily over Sirius’ feeble form.
“Won’t you join me? I’ve never been able to just sit and talk to a real living person before! Well…. Not of my blood.” The child questioned eyes bright and sweet tone disturbingly innocent even as he looked at Sirius like he was both an exciting new toy and something to be enamered by. The man swallowed hard, so shocked we couldn’t speak. He just inched his way to the couch and sat on the edge, the wandbox in his lap.
What in bloody hell was going on? Whose child was this? Kreacher was still alive? How was any of this possible?! The man’s eyes darted down when he saw the child’s bare feet that most definitely shouldn’t have been exposed in such a dangerous and cold home. Besides that, his brain couldn’t help but jump to thoughts of how his mother would have been beating his hide if he had dared put his feet up on any of the furniture outside of his bed.
The man furrowed his brows at the bare toes which were pink and healthy even in the near painful cold of the room. The fireplace may have had a fire and it may have been one of the warmest rooms in that part of the house but it was still far too cold for comfort and yet the child seemed incredibly comfortable. No blanket, no socks even. Though Sirius knew he had little fat left on his body and if the child had been living in the home long then perhaps he was used to the temperatures but still, it wasn’t safe to have nothing on one's feet in such a decrepit hovel. For some reason, something about it itched at a part of his brain that insisted something wasn’t right, it was wrong, this child wasn’t right!
Sirius tried to mentally shake the unease away. Scolding himself for being so uncomfortable with a child. He was a Gryffindor! If he couldn’t handle a weird little boy stuck with Kreacher of all despicable beasts then how did he plan to avenge his sweet Harry? Still, his hair stood on end the child clearly lacked a reaction to the cold of the home and to the near black magic clearly wrapping up the child from toe to head. Even those with a dark core would usually be shaking and possibly even dry heaving if not having their magic lash out at such a sickly twisted presence trying to smother them. Instead the…. boy… welcomed it into himself, his own magic nuzzling back and petting at the filth from what Sirius could tell and that was a horror in itself in more ways than one, people just didn’t, couldn’t do that and that magic…
“Would you like a biscuit?” The child suddenly asked, eagerly shoving a plate of Gingernut biscuits across the dreadfully gaudy old coffee table. Not sure how to respond Sirius took the offered treat. Still unable to force is damn mouth open. Speak! Squeak, do something damn it! He wasn’t some mousy meek thing!
“I nearly forgot. People… wizards expect to introduce themselves, yes? That’s what Kreacher has said. I am heir Black and my name is Harrison James Black-Potter…. I think? Potter-Black sounds better in my opinion but I swear Kreacher said something about Black going first?” The boy said placing a dainty finger to his chin in thought.
Sirius didn’t think he had ever been so close to choking to death on a biscuit in his life! He hacked, beating on his chest and tears welled up in his eyes before finally letting out a distressed whine of, “R-run that by me again?”
“Oh, well, I’m not sure of the exact order my name would go! You see I am the heir to both the Potter lines and the Black but although I-”
“No, no, I mean your name…. What- Your name is Harrison James Potter?!” Sirius squealed.
“Harrison James Black-Potter… Or Potter-Black.”
“Harrison…… James… Potter.. Black? Harry Potter? Oh shit, oh merlin’s saggy ballsack! What the fuck, how? Why?” He couldn’t breathe, he-he couldn’t breathe!
End Chapter 6
Hope everyone enjoyed! I know it had kind of a cliffhanger ending but I honestly felt like it was a good place to stop until next chapter.
I would love some ideas about how things go from here how does Kreacher respond?
UPDATE on ANKLE
So it's not healing properly. Apparently, my foot is freaking out developed a rare neurological pain disorder in my foot that causes severe pain, swelling, and bruising. And bones are growing funky with bone spurs it's a mess not fun.
GRANDPA PORTRAIT WILL BE UP SOON!
I have decided even though I don’t love how my illustration of Ophiuchus turning out that I will post it probably tomorrow as I have had several people asking me about posting it. I mean it isn’t terrible just not up to my standards. I will put it on Instagram and I will put it on here.
Please review! I get a lot of my best ideas from all of you! I have got a lot of fun ideas and lore from everyone and it has really helped me figure out where this story is going next, especially when I get major writer's block!