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06/14: Black, Castor
Title: Black, in the Smothering Dark
Chapter Title: Black, Castor 06/14
Words (this chapter): 6,466
Rating (this chapter): PG-13
Story Info/All Chapters: HERE
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littlevlahgirl and amelancholykiss. Many thanks to both of them.
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Black, in the Smothering Dark
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Chapter Six
Black, Castor
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There were fourteen chapters total in Death in the Wizarding World, and within an hour, Harry had finished the last two. He had nothing left to occupy his time with, and no matter how hard he’d been trying to ignore it, the events from that morning just wouldn’t leave his mind. He couldn’t stop thinking about it, and decided that it was probably time he had a chat with Sirius.
He closed the book with a sigh and set it down on the table next to the Chesterfield he was lounging on. The last time he’d seen Sirius was when he’d come in Harry’s room to borrow that porn disk, and Harry hoped he was finished with it.
He found Sirius in his study, sitting behind his new desk but with his chair swivelled to face the window. Harry knocked on the open door before stepping in.
“Harry!” Sirius exclaimed, startled, as he turned and faced Harry. He rubbed awkwardly at his face and attempted a bright smile, but it was obvious that his mind was occupied. “How’s it going?” He seemed to be completely over whatever was wrong with him when he’d asked to borrow the floo disk.
Harry appreciated Sirius’ attempts at pretending everything was normal, but it wasn’t, and it wasn’t the right time for games, either. He sat down across from Sirius’ desk and gave him a shaky smile.
“We can’t keep ignoring this,” he said plaintively.
Sirius’ fake smile immediately disintegrated. “I know,” he said, exhausted. “It’s just too much. All in one day—it’s hard.” He looked at Harry searchingly before adding, “What do you want to do about this?”
Harry shrugged and a flicker of his conversation with Voldemort flashed in his mind. “I already considered you somewhat of a father figure…I suppose this just makes it official.”
Sirius grinned, genuinely this time, and Harry got a mental picture of Padfoot, tongue lolling out of his mouth as he panted happily. He chuckled and smiled at Sirius. “Well I already considered you somewhat of a son figure, too,” Sirius said cheekily.
Harry laughed and ran a hand through his hair. “Well that certainly helps things.”
Sirius hummed and a silence fell over the room.
“I talked to Voldemort,” Harry said suddenly, “during my nap.” Sirius looked up at him sharply. Harry realised how thankful he was that Sirius didn’t shudder every time Harry said the name. It was comforting to know that if Sirius was his father, then at least he was brave enough to speak a name. He wondered if James Potter said Voldemort when he was alive.
“Yeah?” Sirius said, face carefully blank. Harry gave him credit for that, too. Sirius couldn’t help his temper, and if he was able to listen to Harry talk about this without going off, then that was a good sign. “What did he have to say?”
Harry shrugged, suddenly uncomfortable. “You were right…he knew.” Sirius gave him a small smile, but Harry wasn’t finished. “What I want to know is how he knew. He knew all about my mother, too. How does he know?”
“You didn’t ask him?” Sirius asked, feigning amusement. Harry reckoned that he was converting his negative emotions into amusement. Whatever worked, he supposed.
“Of course I did,” Harry answered indignantly. “Doesn’t mean he answered me, though.”
Sirius shrugged, smiling. “I don’t know if I would’ve either in his place—what with you being the enemy and all.”
Harry winced then. “There’s something else, too.”
The tone of his voice immediately had Sirius on guard. He sat up straighter in his chair and leaned forward, bracing his hands on his desk. “I don’t think I’m going to like this.”
Harry didn’t think so either, but he wasn’t a Gryffindor for nothing: it needed to be said or Harry was going to go crazy. “He thinks that I should take the name that’s on the tapestry.”
Sirius inhaled sharply and slumped back in his chair. “Castor Black,” he said faintly, smiling. “I liked him. I always told Lily I’d name my first son after him.” He seemed lost in his memories. Harry didn’t want to spoil the moment, but he was curious.
“And if you’d had all girls?” Harry asked, laughing.
Sirius grinned. “Cassiopeia and Cassandra,” he answered. “I wanted to call all my kids Cassie. Lily wasn’t very amused by that.”
Harry laughed, tension broken. He didn’t think he was going to use the first name, but he certainly wouldn’t mind the last name. His middle name was still Harry, after all, he could live with that. “Who was Castor Black, then?”
“One of the only ancestors I have that I actually respected. He was long dead before I was born, but there are plenty of books on Black family history in both of our houses, and I used to read about him. He was Minister of Magic from 1450-1487 when he retired and a Parkinson took over. Did lots of great things…he was certainly a Black, mind, he wasn’t afraid of dark magic and he killed a few people, but even I had to agree that they deserved it.”
Harry raised his eyebrows. “Deserved it?”
“Definitely,” Sirius said, scowling. “There was a muggle-born wizard who raped and killed his youngest grandson. The wizard was tried, convicted and sentenced. Castor Black requested that he be allowed to carry out the sentence—it was execution by Avada Kedavra. This was back before execution was outlawed, you understand.”
Harry scoffed. “Anyone can be righteous like that—and why is it always the muggle-born who cause the problems? Why not half-bloods or pure-bloods?”
Sirius gave him a funny look. “Because sexuality is sacred in the wizarding world. No self-respecting pure-blood or half-blood wizard would deign to rape anyone. It’s tacky.”
“Oh,” Harry said.
Sirius scowled, but this time it was directed at Harry. “And anyway, I’d cast Avada Kedavra on anyone who did that to you,” he sighed. “But that’s neither here nor there. He also passed the law re-allowing werewolves and veela into wizarding society. They were exiled before…I think a bunch of the ministers have tried to repeal it since then, but no luck so far. And he had Diagon Alley built in London so that all of the wizards in the area wouldn’t have to live among muggles anymore. That took a bit of effort, I can tell you. Can you imagine the man-power required for the wards and coordinate adjustments? I mean—he had to create something out of nothing! Physically, there’s no room for a wizarding town in London…and he built it. Squeezed it all in. That takes work!”
“Why wouldn’t the wizards want to live with the muggles?” Harry asked curiously.
Sirius rolled his eyes. “C’mon, Harry…even I know that. Witch-hunts, inquisitions, raids…they were all beginning about that time. It was a pretty scary era.”
Harry blanched, imagining it. “What about the other wizarding towns then? How were they built if it was such a big deal?”
Sirius smiled delightedly. It wasn’t often that he was the one sharing knowledge with someone else. It put a warm feeling in his stomach to realise that this must have been what it was like for other wizarding fathers—teaching their sons and daughters everything they needed to know about their history. He’d never imagined that it would be like that.
“Those towns—Eweforic Alley and Hogsmeade and all the others scattered across Britain—they were built before the muggle cities. Muggles can’t see them, obviously, so they just build on top and it’s such a slow process that the magic is able to conform—completely ignores the Time-Space Continuum.”
Harry laughed. “I never knew that. I feel like Hermione right now, but it’s actually pretty interesting.”
“The more you know,” Sirius grinned, drawing a box in the air with his fingers. Harry laughed again. “So why does Voldemort want you to take that name?” Sirius asked, suddenly very sober again.
Harry furrowed his brows. “I’m not exactly sure,” he said. “He said that it’s my heritage—my name—my blood…that I should embrace it.” He laughed stiltedly. “I think he’s trying to live through me…you know, jealous that his father wasn’t a wizard.”
“Blood is a very powerful thing,” Sirius said carefully. “I would love nothing more than for you to carry my name, but you need to understand how big this is.”
“What do you mean?” Harry asked bemusedly. “It’s just a name.”
Sirius shook his head quickly. “No, it’s anything but that, really. Family honour is here much stronger than family honour in muggles because it’s magical. Family comes first—always—and that even goes for people like Bellatrix. I hate her, but if she came to me asking for help, I’d be obligated to give it to her. I could risk losing my magic if I didn't.”
Harry scowled at the name. “But you left your family when you were sixteen,” he pointed out.
Sirius shook his head. “I left them, but they still came first. I may have hated my mother and resented my father for not standing up to her, but I would’ve still gone after Regulus even after that, if I hadn’t been delayed—and I still would have helped my parents if I could have. We just couldn’t live together.” He sighed. “Opinions on dark magic don’t change that.”
Harry was confused. “But you know dark magic, and you said you even used it occasionally.”
“Because it’s useful and I'm inherently better at it than light magic,” Sirius stressed. “It can be useful, but that doesn’t mean I think it’s the answer for everything. It’s like I was saying about the original Castor Black—he wasn’t too hot on muggle-born wizards if only because it was a dangerous time. Every time one of them learned about our world, there was a chance their parents would be coming after them to burn us down, but he didn’t kill them all off.
“He didn’t start a war over it—nor did he join the one that was already starting over it,” Sirius growled. “Since him, our family has pretty much stayed out of wars. We’ve always controlled in some way—but it’s usually political. He didn’t need the dark magic to keep people in line when he was Minister, but he wasn’t above using it if he needed to.
“Sometimes,” Sirius said, carefully weighing his next words, “you can’t help it. Sometimes people are too ignorant to be controlled any other way. They’re like lemmings—if one starts up, the rest are going to follow even if it isn’t such a great idea. Even you know that, Harry, what with all the mess you had to sit through from the newspapers.”
Harry couldn’t argue with that last point. He contemplated Sirius’ words for several moments before nodding to himself. “I can accept that,” he said slowly. “I’m not totally comfortable with it, but I can understand it at least.” He took a deep breath, exhaled slowly and grinned.
“So, what should I call you?” he asked cheekily.
Sirius beamed and cocked his head to the side, thinking. “I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it before. It’s weird being a daddy,” he grinned bewilderedly.
Harry laughed. “Daddy it is, then.”
Sirius’ eyes widened and then narrowed. “If I’m ‘Daddy’, then you’re ‘Cassie’.”
“I can live with that,” Harry smiled. “…Daddy.”
Sirius growled and jumped up from his chair, chasing Harry—laughing—out of the room.
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Excerpt from the Journal of a Necromancer, 209th page.
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That night, they celebrated everything.
After the initial shock had settled into mild awkwardness, Sirius suggested that they continue with the plans they had made before the discovery of Harry’s true family. It was going to be tough for both of them to remember their new relationship, but they were determined to do so.
Sirius had mentioned that habits form relatively quickly, but that he would probably just called Harry ‘Kiddo’ all the time since it was easier, and in return, Harry could call him anything he wanted. Harry decided to stick with ‘Daddy’ because it seemed to simultaneously please and annoy his father, but ‘Father’ and ‘Dad’ pleased him, too. Harry suspected that he wouldn’t mind calling Sirius ‘Poppy’ so long as it meant he had a father at all.
So far it wasn’t going too badly.
He hadn’t told anyone about it yet, not even Ron and Hermione, because they were still acclimating themselves to the information concerning his whereabouts. He figured he had plenty of time to let them know—especially since they were going to be visiting in a few days—or at least he hoped so. He’d only sent the letter off that afternoon.
The only problem, really, was that he’d made the mistake of allowing his father to make the plans. Sirius, apparently, had a well-hidden taste for fine cuisine, muggle witchcraft meet-ups, paintball and bars. Fortunately, it was too late to play paintball and Harry only hoped that his father soon forgot all about it.
It was, however, not too late to crash the witchcraft meeting, and that’s where they headed first, to his ultimate dismay. He felt a little awkward, as Sirius had requested—in a no questions asked sort of tone—that Harry dress for a night on the town.
He was wearing jeans, a t-shirt and the black frockcoat when they portkeyed to an alley near the new-age bookstore in London where the meeting was to be held. Sirius, dressed similarly, led the way to the door, grinning like a fool.
“You know, your fa—er, Jamesy Boy, Remus and I used to come to these all the time when we were kids. It was a lot of fun; some of the stuff they talked about was great.”
“Yeah?” Harry asked, obviously amused. He really couldn’t see what the big deal was. So the muggles wanted to be wizards. What of it?
“Yeah,” Sirius grinned, opening the door and ushering Harry inside. “You’ll see.”
Harry hummed noncommittally and looked around. His clothes stood out a bit, and he wasn’t sure if that was comforting or discomforting. He was horribly underdressed. There was a group of about a dozen muggles—of varying ages and sexes—sitting in a circle. Some of them looked like regular muggles, but some of them were wearing factory-made cloaks of a surprising degree of accuracy. There was also one young girl who looked twice at the scar mostly hidden behind his red-tipped hair.
He bit his lip in embarrassment as his father sat him down in the circle, sprawling out next to him with a wolfish grin.
“Hello,” one of the muggles spoke up politely. “This is your first time?”
Sirius, still grinning, shook his head. “Not for me. I used to come all the time when I was younger. This is my son’s first time, though,” he smiled at Harry as he said ‘son’, and Harry smiled back.
“Oh, well welcome, and welcome back,” the muggle woman said, nodding at each of them. “My name is Moonflower Star and I lead the discussions.” There was a round of introductions ranging from ‘ShadowCat’ to ‘Blue Ravenfoot’, but the girl who’d noticed his scar was simply named ‘Amelia Woodlark’. He hazarded a guess that it was, in all actuality, her real name. The muggles accepted it as well.
“Sirius Black,” his father said rather blandly. The discussion group smiled and both of them realised that they probably thought Sirius’ name was one like theirs. It had all the right properties, anyway.
He stared back at them dumbly, then ducked his head to hide a grin, and mumbled, “Green LightningChaser.” Amelia snorted, the discussion group smiled warmly and Sirius elbowed him while he covered his mouth with his other hand.
“Getting the hang of it already, I see,” he whispered to his son. “James and Remus always traded off using ‘Ewe SwallowTiger’ and ‘Ruffled Emu’.” Harry snorted, and quickly turned it into a cough when the group looked at him.
“Apologies,” he muttered. Everyone smiled.
“Anyway,” Moonflower Star continued in a bright voice, “before you both joined us, we were discussing the pros and cons of working solitary versus working with a coven.”
“What’s a coven?” Harry asked. Sirius lifted his knees to his chest and pressed his mouth into his thigh to hide his laughter.
“Oh!” Moonflower exclaimed, sitting forward. “New to the craft, I see.”
Harry shrugged, Amelia ducked her head and Sirius grabbed a handful of the carpet. Twenty minutes later, he knew everything about the craft that was possible to learn in twenty minutes.
“So a coven would basically be thirteen of us wizards…”
“Witches,” another muggle corrected gently. “There is no such thing as wizards. The term ‘witch’ comes from a Celtic term which is actually masculine. We use ‘witch’ to signify a practitioner of either sex.”
Harry blinked. “Right, so it’s thirteen of us witches pooling our magic to make the spell stronger, basically—is that right?” A multitude of nods. He turned to Sirius and whispered, “Does that really work?”
Sirius shrugged, and they turned back to listen to the conversation. Most of the muggles liked to work by themselves—Sirius claimed that was because they didn’t want anyone to know their spells didn’t work—but some of them said they were looking to start a coven. One thing was certain though, after an hour listening to the various theories: spells took days, weeks, months to be completed and a lot of them had to be cast during various moon cycles.
Harry wasn’t sure how he would feel if he could only levitate things on the waxing moon.
By eight, the meeting was over and he had to admit that it had been at least partially entertaining. Dinner was next, and since his father had made reservations at a fancy muggle restaurant nearby, they chose to walk.
“I can’t believe they have to light candles and perform a full ritual just to get a date,” Harry said once they were a few blocks away. He stuck his hands in the pockets of his coat and laughed, “I bet that’s how Aunt Petunia landed Uncle Vernon.”
Sirius chuckled. “Yeah, it almost makes me feel bad for them that they don’t have magic. There’re a lot of wizards who don’t realise what a gift they have. Then you see those muggles who talk all about love and nature and ‘what goes around, comes around’ it makes you want to just point your wand at them and give them magic.”
Harry was thoughtful. “You know when the Smiths came to dinner and we talked about the difference between muggle and wizard life?” Sirius nodded. “Well,” Harry said slowly, “It kind of made me think about it, you know? The differences between a muggle and a wizard.
“Like,” Harry continued, flustered, “what decides whether someone will be a wizard or a muggle? It can’t necessarily be hereditary, what with all the squibs and muggle-born, so I was thinking that it might be because muggles’ bodies are powered by electric currents and wizards’ bodies are powered with magical currents.” He shrugged.
“You mean, instead of electrical currents, it’s magical currents with us?” Sirius asked.
“Yeah,” Harry answered sheepishly. “It’s stupid, I know, but maybe that explains where squibs and muggle-born kids come from. Like something happened when they were still in utero that changed the wavelength of the energy in them.”
Sirius hummed. “I bet a lot of pure-blood families would pay a pretty sum to have it researched—especially if it was found that it could somehow be adjusted to give their squib kids magic.”
Harry winced. “Yeah, I told Voldemort about it that night and he seemed to be thinking along the same lines…like he might actually look it up or something.” Harry shuddered. “I’d hate to be one of his guinea pigs…but it was just a theory; it’s not like anything could be done about it.”
Sirius stopped walking, and Harry, noticing, stopped and turned around. “What?” he asked confusedly.
Sirius’s eyebrows were furrowed and his mouth was twisted into some sort of confused look. “You talk to him a lot, don’t you? Voldemort, I mean.”
He was suddenly very uncomfortable, and it showed in the way that his legs moved jerkily as he started walking again. “Yeah…I mean, sometimes,” he shrugged. “It used to be once a week or so, but it’s been almost nightly lately. I don’t know why. It just happens.”
Sirius looked at him oddly, but he had a fairly good idea what his father was actually thinking. “What else do you talk about?” his father asked, voice carefully neutral.
Harry cringed. He wasn’t very good at lying and he didn’t really want to lie to Sirius anyway. They had so much to work through already, and he didn’t want to complicate it by adding more lies and half-truths on top. Besides, he thought it might be nice to have someone who knew what it felt like to have a dark lord in your head…or at least someone who wouldn’t judge him because some of his ideas didn’t fit in firmly with Dumbledore’s plan.
His father might not approve of any of it, but he wouldn’t condemn him—couldn’t condemn him. Harry was family now. And that was important. Plus, he figured if Sirius had been willing to join the Death Eaters just to watch over Regulus then he couldn’t be totally against the idea of his son talking to Voldemort—especially since Harry couldn't really help it.
He would’ve had to agree with at least the theory of it all to go even that far. Just like Snape, Harry suspected. Snape might not want Voldemort to win, but he wouldn’t have joined him at first if he didn’t believe at least some of it.
“Um,” he started. He wasn’t as nervous as before, but it was still a difficult subject to talk about. “Sometimes we talk about the Ministry and how fucked up it is. Sometimes we talk about Hogwarts. Once I got him to tell me about his life when he was growing up, actually.”
Sirius was not convinced. “That doesn’t sound like the sort of things dark lords would talk about…” he said suspiciously.
Harry scowled. Of course he wouldn’t get off the hook so easily. “Well, we really did talk about those things, but it’s not what we usually talk about.” Sirius raised an eyebrow expectantly. “Mostly, he gloats about how he knows where I am and where all my friends live. Then he muses about the panicked state of the wizarding world. And then he usually asks me to join him.”
Sirius choked. “He knows where you are?” he asked, looking around frantically for any suspicious people. He saw none, sighed, and turned back to his son in anticipation.
“Usually,” Harry shrugged. “He knew I wasn’t with the Dursleys within a week and then he knew where River House was.” The sun was beginning to set by now and Harry squinted as he walked, glad he wasn’t wearing his glasses. The glare would’ve been terrible. “I think the Smiths told him, actually,” he mused.
Sirius was gaping. “And you’re okay with this?” he asked in a panicked voice. He, obviously, had not expected the Smiths to be Death Eaters. Harry didn’t know if they were for sure, really—he’d only just thought of that right then. There was no telling how Voldemort found out.
“Doesn’t worry me,” he admitted. “The blood protection at the Dursley’s house has been void since fourth year when he took my blood. He goes on and on to his Death Eaters about catching me, but I don’t really think he cares. It’s a game to him; he’s got bigger things to worry about than me, you know. If he really wanted to kill me, he could’ve done it a hundred times over by now.” He laughed, suddenly feeling very brave.
“I even told him the prophecy and he still didn’t seem to care very much. He was going on and on about all the different possible ways it could be interpreted—like it was Rococo art or something,” he finished with a smirk.
That didn’t comfort Sirius at all, but it did give him something to think about. It would have to be saved for later, however, as they had just reached the restaurant. It was five stars, and he’d been looking forward to visiting it since he got out of Azkaban and saw a grand-opening notice in a newspaper near Privet Drive.
He was going to enjoy it without thinking about the consequences of having a son he didn’t know how to raise, or what a dark lord might do to that son if he ever caught him. He could think of those things later…those horrible flashes of fear that crossed his mind—images of his son under Crucio or strung up on rafters and bleeding horribly. It was not the time to worry.
“After you,” Sirius said, bowing mockingly as he held the door open. Harry laughed, and slapped him as he stepped through.
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Excerpt from the Journal of a Necromancer, 256th page.
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Dinner went relatively smoothly, and afterwards Harry and Sirius portkeyed to the antechamber of Levitation, a wizarding bar owned and operated by a couple of muggle-born wizards. It was relatively new, but already business was so thriving that the Anti-Incendio Authorities had to ensure nightly that they weren’t overpopulating the bar.
“This feels weird—being of age I mean,” Harry sighed, running his fingers through his fringe. Beside him Sirius snorted, and hurried him through the doors. A smile came to both of their lips as they took in their surroundings.
It was dark. Cosy booths lined the walls, and high-top tables were spaced sporadically about. There was a decent-sized stage on one side where Harry suspected local wizarding bands might play, and directly across from the stage was the actual bar itself. It was the only area inside that was illuminated by more than very faint candle light, but Harry was sure that multi-coloured fairies and static colour-altered Lumos spells would light the stage if anyone played there.
The people sitting around the bar looked as if their skin was blue which was from the lighting—shining up from beneath the surface of the counter—of course, but it was still interesting to see. Sirius put a hand on his shoulder and delegated him to a stool.
“I have a feeling that this isn’t what most fathers do when their son turns seventeen,” Sirius muttered, “but I’m not most fathers.” Harry noticed, from the corner of his eye, that there was a very definite manic gleam in his father’s grey eyes. He coughed to hide a laugh, and settled into the stool.
“What to drink, then?” Sirius continued thoughtfully, almost speaking to himself. It was hard to hear him due to the loud music and the rambunctious, drunken cheers and talking of the other patrons, but Sirius didn’t seem to care. His eyes suddenly lit up, enhanced by the blue glow of the counter, and he decided, “Two Level-headed Leviosas,” just as the bartender walked up. The barkeep smiled, nodded, and walked away.
“We’ll start you off light,” his father explained with a smirk. “Leviosas make you feel a little light-headed, but you’re still level-headed even after you’ve had a few. Like you’re floating—good for beginners.”
Harry laughed and sipped his drink when the bartender returned with it. It wasn’t bad, he decided, but still much different from a Butterbeer. He tried several more, slightly more spirited drinks, and chatted with his father for a couple hours. All in all, he decided it was a great way to spend a birthday. This one had been great so far; it wasn’t every day that you get presents, your godfather is cleared of criminal charges, your godfather turns out to be your father and you spend the evening getting pissed. And the conversation was good too, he decided. There was so much that they didn’t know about each other and the alcohol certainly helped ease the tension.
Of course, that couldn’t last. It was when his father finished telling a spectacularly crass, and therefore spectacularly funny, joke that Harry tipped his head back laughing so hard he thought he might fall off the stool—and someone saw his scar. Someone gasped, and Harry abruptly sobered, wary.
“Harry Potter!” a witch in a halter top squealed. “It’s Harry Potter!…And Sirius Black!” Harry groaned and tried to hide his face in his hands, but it was no use because the witch and two boys, a bit older than Harry, approached quickly. “A pleasure to meet you Misters Potter and Black…the Daily Prophet reported your tragic stories so well this morning that I feel as if I know you myself. I can’t believe the Ministry convicted you without trial, Mr. Black. It’s unspeakable!”
Sirius chuckled awkwardly and tried to seem gracious while Harry couldn’t even manage a fake smile. Why couldn’t he go anywhere without being hounded?
“And it’s your birthday, too!” the witch continued obliviously. Suddenly she was roughly pushed aside by one of the two boys, and Harry was grateful even if it meant he would have to speak to him instead. At least he seemed to be less enthusiastic.
“Sorry about that,” the boy said with a smile. He held out his hand and Harry took it weakly as he said, “The name’s Greg Killian. Like the beer; I’m muggle-born, you see, and my great-uncle owns the brewery.”
Harry had only a brief moment to wonder why anyone would offer that kind of information in an introduction before Greg shooed the other two away and plopped down on the empty stool next to Harry.
“So,” he said, turning to them with a smile, “Happy birthday; let me buy you lot another round. Tried the Killian’s yet?”
“Um,” Harry tried and failed. Sirius coughed uncomfortably and stared into his glass. “No, it’s okay, really,” he finally said. “Thanks, anyway, though.”
Greg scoffed. “Nonsense!” He turned to the bartender and snapped his fingers impatiently. “Oi! Barman! Three Killian’s!” He turned back to Harry and Sirius with another infuriating smile. “So, you’re a half-blood, eh?”
Harry’s jaw dropped and beside him, his father’s face twisted in incredulity. How was he supposed to answer that? Should he answer it? He didn’t think so. He really didn’t see the point in it anyway, regardless of whether his mother had been muggle-born or not, and even if he did, he wasn’t about to tell this kid.
“I completely understand,” Greg continued, nodding as the bartender returned with their beers. “It’s rough being muggle-born. I’d imagine it’s pretty much the same being a half-blood,” he added knowingly. Harry and Sirius stared as Greg continued, “All those smug pure-bloods…no offence Mr. Black…always saying they’re better than everyone.”
Greg scoffed, tipped his beer back and swallowed heavily. “I’ve told everyone in my family about being a wizard and they think it’s just fantastic. My aunt has me come over and whip her house into shape when she’s having company, and my da’s friend from work pays me to show his kids magic tricks during the summer. Rabbits out of a hat and stuff, you know. I’ve told ‘em all about the bigotry,” he said with a scowl. “It’s ridiculous…I’ve got magic just like the rest of ‘em, you know, Potter?”
Harry continued to stare. Sirius broke the silence with a polite cough, and said, “Are you saying that just about every muggle you know knows that you’re a wizard?” he asked slowly.
Greg nodded smugly. “That’s right. Why hold back, eh? Flaunt it if you got it, right?”
“That’s illegal,” Sirius insisted patiently. Harry commended him for it; he couldn’t even make his mouth work he was so stunned. “If the Ministry finds out, you’ll serve at least a year in Azkaban. It’s not any fun,” Sirius added.
Greg waved him away dismissively. “They won’t catch me, and so what if they do? It’s about time those pure-bloods running the Ministry learnt that just because our family’s not magical doesn’t mean we shouldn’t show ‘em the magic we got. You understand, don’t you, Potter? You were raised by muggles. I bet you showed ‘em lots of things.”
“No.” Harry found that he couldn’t manage more than that one word.
“But it’s dangerous,” Sirius insisted. “We can’t cohabitate with muggles,” he said shaking his head in slowly. “It could cause another panic.”
Greg laughed and reached around Harry to slap Sirius on the back. “Rubbish! Stories you tell your kids to get ‘em to go to bed. I say we let all the muggles know. I’ve got my great-uncle considering some ad ideas I’ve thrown around that feature magic and wizards. Great for business.”
Harry wasn’t sure if that kind of story would get him to sleep, but he still couldn’t force himself to speak. Besides, his father seemed to be doing okay without him.
Only he wasn’t. Sirius tugged on his elbow and stood up carefully. “Thanks for the beers,” he said with an over-enthusiastic smile. “But we’ve got to run. Long day tomorrow, you understand.” He slapped a few galleons down on the counter and ushered Harry out quickly, before Greg even had a chance to respond. The next thing he knew, he was being tugged away by his navel and landing in a semi-drunken heap at the manor.
“Fucking mudblood!” Sirius hissed, ripping his jacket off and throwing it down on the floor. He reached up and yanked on his hair furiously, gritting his teeth. “I can’t believe the nerve of that kid!”
Harry gaped. “What the hell? You just called that kid a…you know.”
“There’s a difference between mudbloods and muggle-born, Harry. Even pure-bloods can act like mudbloods,” his father snarled. Harry stood up slowly and regarded Sirius warily.
“Don’t use that word.”
“Why?” Sirius growled, spinning around and staring right at him. “He fucking deserves it. It’s fuck-ups like him that get us killed.”
“You just can’t use it,” Harry insisted furiously. “It’s not fucking right and you should fucking know better than to do that especially since you’re a parent now,” he sneered.
Sirius narrowed his eyes because he might be new at parenting, but he knew one thing from his own, and that was children do not speak to their parents in that manner. He growled, and said, “What was that? I might not be the best father, but I sure as fuck know that you aren’t going to talk to me that way. I wouldn’t have allowed it even if I wasn’t your father.”
Harry sneered. “And you suppose that saying ‘mudblood’ is any better?”
“Under the circumstances,” Sirius hissed quietly.
“Under the fucking circumstances, you should fucking learn what to say around your son.” Harry was being childish, he knew, but he didn’t care.
In a flash, Sirius had his wand pulled and was whipping it in front of him. “Aufero lingua,” he snarled, and Harry felt his tongue melt into the bottom of his mouth and disappear. His eyes widened, and Sirius said, “If you had said that to my parents or James’ parents or even the fucking Weasley’s parents, you would be regretting it for a week. Here’s your first lesson: Impudence is not tolerated among wizarding families, no matter what muggles might stand for.”
Harry could feel his anger rising steadily higher—Sirius was really getting into this parenting thing. He was so infuriated that Sirius had removed his tongue that he could almost feel his skin burning. He thought ‘Finite Incantatem’ with everything he had, and was only half-amazed that it worked. He was past the point of realizing that, for the first time, Sirius was actually disciplining him, and moving steadily closer to fatally furious. His tongue reappeared, and he pulled out his wand.
Only he didn’t know what to do with it. This wasn’t a fight with Malfoy. He couldn’t just jinx his father. Harry took a deep breath and tried to figure out what had just happened. Sirius had his back turned to him and was quickly conjuring and destroying things—china plates, dolls, furniture, stuffed animals.
“I…” he started and then faltered. He had no idea what to say, and some of the curses coming from his father were frighteningly morbid.
Sirius turned around again at the sound of his voice. His eyes were still angry, but he at least seemed to have come out of his rage.
“It’s in your blood,” Sirius said, as if it were some great revelation. Then, he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, muttered, “I’m sorry,” and quickly left the room. Harry watched him go, only half-aware of how badly his hands were shaking.
-x-
A/N:
1. The Time-Space Continuum. I have no earthly idea how to explain this. It’s ineffable—kind of like God. Suffice it to say that time and space are non-linear, and the fourth dimension is pretty much beyond the understanding of the average human brain.
2. ‘The more you know’ is from NBC’s famous Public Service Announcements.
3. “aufero lingua” – Latin for ‘remove tongue’.
NEXT CHAPTER
Comments=so much ♥
Chapter Title: Black, Castor 06/14
Words (this chapter): 6,466
Rating (this chapter): PG-13
Story Info/All Chapters: HERE
Beta’d by
littlevlahgirl and amelancholykiss. Many thanks to both of them. -x-
Black, in the Smothering Dark
-x-
Chapter Six
Black, Castor
-x-
There were fourteen chapters total in Death in the Wizarding World, and within an hour, Harry had finished the last two. He had nothing left to occupy his time with, and no matter how hard he’d been trying to ignore it, the events from that morning just wouldn’t leave his mind. He couldn’t stop thinking about it, and decided that it was probably time he had a chat with Sirius.
He closed the book with a sigh and set it down on the table next to the Chesterfield he was lounging on. The last time he’d seen Sirius was when he’d come in Harry’s room to borrow that porn disk, and Harry hoped he was finished with it.
He found Sirius in his study, sitting behind his new desk but with his chair swivelled to face the window. Harry knocked on the open door before stepping in.
“Harry!” Sirius exclaimed, startled, as he turned and faced Harry. He rubbed awkwardly at his face and attempted a bright smile, but it was obvious that his mind was occupied. “How’s it going?” He seemed to be completely over whatever was wrong with him when he’d asked to borrow the floo disk.
Harry appreciated Sirius’ attempts at pretending everything was normal, but it wasn’t, and it wasn’t the right time for games, either. He sat down across from Sirius’ desk and gave him a shaky smile.
“We can’t keep ignoring this,” he said plaintively.
Sirius’ fake smile immediately disintegrated. “I know,” he said, exhausted. “It’s just too much. All in one day—it’s hard.” He looked at Harry searchingly before adding, “What do you want to do about this?”
Harry shrugged and a flicker of his conversation with Voldemort flashed in his mind. “I already considered you somewhat of a father figure…I suppose this just makes it official.”
Sirius grinned, genuinely this time, and Harry got a mental picture of Padfoot, tongue lolling out of his mouth as he panted happily. He chuckled and smiled at Sirius. “Well I already considered you somewhat of a son figure, too,” Sirius said cheekily.
Harry laughed and ran a hand through his hair. “Well that certainly helps things.”
Sirius hummed and a silence fell over the room.
“I talked to Voldemort,” Harry said suddenly, “during my nap.” Sirius looked up at him sharply. Harry realised how thankful he was that Sirius didn’t shudder every time Harry said the name. It was comforting to know that if Sirius was his father, then at least he was brave enough to speak a name. He wondered if James Potter said Voldemort when he was alive.
“Yeah?” Sirius said, face carefully blank. Harry gave him credit for that, too. Sirius couldn’t help his temper, and if he was able to listen to Harry talk about this without going off, then that was a good sign. “What did he have to say?”
Harry shrugged, suddenly uncomfortable. “You were right…he knew.” Sirius gave him a small smile, but Harry wasn’t finished. “What I want to know is how he knew. He knew all about my mother, too. How does he know?”
“You didn’t ask him?” Sirius asked, feigning amusement. Harry reckoned that he was converting his negative emotions into amusement. Whatever worked, he supposed.
“Of course I did,” Harry answered indignantly. “Doesn’t mean he answered me, though.”
Sirius shrugged, smiling. “I don’t know if I would’ve either in his place—what with you being the enemy and all.”
Harry winced then. “There’s something else, too.”
The tone of his voice immediately had Sirius on guard. He sat up straighter in his chair and leaned forward, bracing his hands on his desk. “I don’t think I’m going to like this.”
Harry didn’t think so either, but he wasn’t a Gryffindor for nothing: it needed to be said or Harry was going to go crazy. “He thinks that I should take the name that’s on the tapestry.”
Sirius inhaled sharply and slumped back in his chair. “Castor Black,” he said faintly, smiling. “I liked him. I always told Lily I’d name my first son after him.” He seemed lost in his memories. Harry didn’t want to spoil the moment, but he was curious.
“And if you’d had all girls?” Harry asked, laughing.
Sirius grinned. “Cassiopeia and Cassandra,” he answered. “I wanted to call all my kids Cassie. Lily wasn’t very amused by that.”
Harry laughed, tension broken. He didn’t think he was going to use the first name, but he certainly wouldn’t mind the last name. His middle name was still Harry, after all, he could live with that. “Who was Castor Black, then?”
“One of the only ancestors I have that I actually respected. He was long dead before I was born, but there are plenty of books on Black family history in both of our houses, and I used to read about him. He was Minister of Magic from 1450-1487 when he retired and a Parkinson took over. Did lots of great things…he was certainly a Black, mind, he wasn’t afraid of dark magic and he killed a few people, but even I had to agree that they deserved it.”
Harry raised his eyebrows. “Deserved it?”
“Definitely,” Sirius said, scowling. “There was a muggle-born wizard who raped and killed his youngest grandson. The wizard was tried, convicted and sentenced. Castor Black requested that he be allowed to carry out the sentence—it was execution by Avada Kedavra. This was back before execution was outlawed, you understand.”
Harry scoffed. “Anyone can be righteous like that—and why is it always the muggle-born who cause the problems? Why not half-bloods or pure-bloods?”
Sirius gave him a funny look. “Because sexuality is sacred in the wizarding world. No self-respecting pure-blood or half-blood wizard would deign to rape anyone. It’s tacky.”
“Oh,” Harry said.
Sirius scowled, but this time it was directed at Harry. “And anyway, I’d cast Avada Kedavra on anyone who did that to you,” he sighed. “But that’s neither here nor there. He also passed the law re-allowing werewolves and veela into wizarding society. They were exiled before…I think a bunch of the ministers have tried to repeal it since then, but no luck so far. And he had Diagon Alley built in London so that all of the wizards in the area wouldn’t have to live among muggles anymore. That took a bit of effort, I can tell you. Can you imagine the man-power required for the wards and coordinate adjustments? I mean—he had to create something out of nothing! Physically, there’s no room for a wizarding town in London…and he built it. Squeezed it all in. That takes work!”
“Why wouldn’t the wizards want to live with the muggles?” Harry asked curiously.
Sirius rolled his eyes. “C’mon, Harry…even I know that. Witch-hunts, inquisitions, raids…they were all beginning about that time. It was a pretty scary era.”
Harry blanched, imagining it. “What about the other wizarding towns then? How were they built if it was such a big deal?”
Sirius smiled delightedly. It wasn’t often that he was the one sharing knowledge with someone else. It put a warm feeling in his stomach to realise that this must have been what it was like for other wizarding fathers—teaching their sons and daughters everything they needed to know about their history. He’d never imagined that it would be like that.
“Those towns—Eweforic Alley and Hogsmeade and all the others scattered across Britain—they were built before the muggle cities. Muggles can’t see them, obviously, so they just build on top and it’s such a slow process that the magic is able to conform—completely ignores the Time-Space Continuum.”
Harry laughed. “I never knew that. I feel like Hermione right now, but it’s actually pretty interesting.”
“The more you know,” Sirius grinned, drawing a box in the air with his fingers. Harry laughed again. “So why does Voldemort want you to take that name?” Sirius asked, suddenly very sober again.
Harry furrowed his brows. “I’m not exactly sure,” he said. “He said that it’s my heritage—my name—my blood…that I should embrace it.” He laughed stiltedly. “I think he’s trying to live through me…you know, jealous that his father wasn’t a wizard.”
“Blood is a very powerful thing,” Sirius said carefully. “I would love nothing more than for you to carry my name, but you need to understand how big this is.”
“What do you mean?” Harry asked bemusedly. “It’s just a name.”
Sirius shook his head quickly. “No, it’s anything but that, really. Family honour is here much stronger than family honour in muggles because it’s magical. Family comes first—always—and that even goes for people like Bellatrix. I hate her, but if she came to me asking for help, I’d be obligated to give it to her. I could risk losing my magic if I didn't.”
Harry scowled at the name. “But you left your family when you were sixteen,” he pointed out.
Sirius shook his head. “I left them, but they still came first. I may have hated my mother and resented my father for not standing up to her, but I would’ve still gone after Regulus even after that, if I hadn’t been delayed—and I still would have helped my parents if I could have. We just couldn’t live together.” He sighed. “Opinions on dark magic don’t change that.”
Harry was confused. “But you know dark magic, and you said you even used it occasionally.”
“Because it’s useful and I'm inherently better at it than light magic,” Sirius stressed. “It can be useful, but that doesn’t mean I think it’s the answer for everything. It’s like I was saying about the original Castor Black—he wasn’t too hot on muggle-born wizards if only because it was a dangerous time. Every time one of them learned about our world, there was a chance their parents would be coming after them to burn us down, but he didn’t kill them all off.
“He didn’t start a war over it—nor did he join the one that was already starting over it,” Sirius growled. “Since him, our family has pretty much stayed out of wars. We’ve always controlled in some way—but it’s usually political. He didn’t need the dark magic to keep people in line when he was Minister, but he wasn’t above using it if he needed to.
“Sometimes,” Sirius said, carefully weighing his next words, “you can’t help it. Sometimes people are too ignorant to be controlled any other way. They’re like lemmings—if one starts up, the rest are going to follow even if it isn’t such a great idea. Even you know that, Harry, what with all the mess you had to sit through from the newspapers.”
Harry couldn’t argue with that last point. He contemplated Sirius’ words for several moments before nodding to himself. “I can accept that,” he said slowly. “I’m not totally comfortable with it, but I can understand it at least.” He took a deep breath, exhaled slowly and grinned.
“So, what should I call you?” he asked cheekily.
Sirius beamed and cocked his head to the side, thinking. “I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it before. It’s weird being a daddy,” he grinned bewilderedly.
Harry laughed. “Daddy it is, then.”
Sirius’ eyes widened and then narrowed. “If I’m ‘Daddy’, then you’re ‘Cassie’.”
“I can live with that,” Harry smiled. “…Daddy.”
Sirius growled and jumped up from his chair, chasing Harry—laughing—out of the room.
-x-
Excerpt from the Journal of a Necromancer, 209th page.
11 June, 847
Beloved,
Sam is two today, and has shown his first signs of magic. He turned the Nag’s hair violet. She was most displeased for a moment before she cooed at him and delighted over how well it went with her skin tone. I can still hear Leo snickering; he fears, even under that mask of pleasure, that she will decide to keep it and he will be forced to look at her violet hair everyday. I can smell the fear on him.
Sam still refuses to say ‘Mother’. He has come to call me ‘Fadder’ or even ‘Daddy’ sometimes. I am certain that this is Leo’s work, and rest assured that he will be hexed most horribly as soon as I am able to catch him alone. I refuse to be called ‘Daddy’, though, I admit, it is somewhat amusing.
Yesterday the necromancer disappeared. The villagers say that he ventured outside the wards to answer a call and was abducted by the muggles. A search party was formed, but never sent out. They fear that they will not return, either. I do not blame them. Your death is still fresh in my mind.
My research has, thusly, come to a halt. But do not fret, Lover, because I will persevere. There are other necromancers and there are other spells. I will see you again soon. I rub the spine of this journal and imagine that it is your spine instead—that you can feel my fingers dancing over your skin and you shiver at my touch. It will not be long.
R
-x-
That night, they celebrated everything.
After the initial shock had settled into mild awkwardness, Sirius suggested that they continue with the plans they had made before the discovery of Harry’s true family. It was going to be tough for both of them to remember their new relationship, but they were determined to do so.
Sirius had mentioned that habits form relatively quickly, but that he would probably just called Harry ‘Kiddo’ all the time since it was easier, and in return, Harry could call him anything he wanted. Harry decided to stick with ‘Daddy’ because it seemed to simultaneously please and annoy his father, but ‘Father’ and ‘Dad’ pleased him, too. Harry suspected that he wouldn’t mind calling Sirius ‘Poppy’ so long as it meant he had a father at all.
So far it wasn’t going too badly.
He hadn’t told anyone about it yet, not even Ron and Hermione, because they were still acclimating themselves to the information concerning his whereabouts. He figured he had plenty of time to let them know—especially since they were going to be visiting in a few days—or at least he hoped so. He’d only sent the letter off that afternoon.
The only problem, really, was that he’d made the mistake of allowing his father to make the plans. Sirius, apparently, had a well-hidden taste for fine cuisine, muggle witchcraft meet-ups, paintball and bars. Fortunately, it was too late to play paintball and Harry only hoped that his father soon forgot all about it.
It was, however, not too late to crash the witchcraft meeting, and that’s where they headed first, to his ultimate dismay. He felt a little awkward, as Sirius had requested—in a no questions asked sort of tone—that Harry dress for a night on the town.
He was wearing jeans, a t-shirt and the black frockcoat when they portkeyed to an alley near the new-age bookstore in London where the meeting was to be held. Sirius, dressed similarly, led the way to the door, grinning like a fool.
“You know, your fa—er, Jamesy Boy, Remus and I used to come to these all the time when we were kids. It was a lot of fun; some of the stuff they talked about was great.”
“Yeah?” Harry asked, obviously amused. He really couldn’t see what the big deal was. So the muggles wanted to be wizards. What of it?
“Yeah,” Sirius grinned, opening the door and ushering Harry inside. “You’ll see.”
Harry hummed noncommittally and looked around. His clothes stood out a bit, and he wasn’t sure if that was comforting or discomforting. He was horribly underdressed. There was a group of about a dozen muggles—of varying ages and sexes—sitting in a circle. Some of them looked like regular muggles, but some of them were wearing factory-made cloaks of a surprising degree of accuracy. There was also one young girl who looked twice at the scar mostly hidden behind his red-tipped hair.
He bit his lip in embarrassment as his father sat him down in the circle, sprawling out next to him with a wolfish grin.
“Hello,” one of the muggles spoke up politely. “This is your first time?”
Sirius, still grinning, shook his head. “Not for me. I used to come all the time when I was younger. This is my son’s first time, though,” he smiled at Harry as he said ‘son’, and Harry smiled back.
“Oh, well welcome, and welcome back,” the muggle woman said, nodding at each of them. “My name is Moonflower Star and I lead the discussions.” There was a round of introductions ranging from ‘ShadowCat’ to ‘Blue Ravenfoot’, but the girl who’d noticed his scar was simply named ‘Amelia Woodlark’. He hazarded a guess that it was, in all actuality, her real name. The muggles accepted it as well.
“Sirius Black,” his father said rather blandly. The discussion group smiled and both of them realised that they probably thought Sirius’ name was one like theirs. It had all the right properties, anyway.
He stared back at them dumbly, then ducked his head to hide a grin, and mumbled, “Green LightningChaser.” Amelia snorted, the discussion group smiled warmly and Sirius elbowed him while he covered his mouth with his other hand.
“Getting the hang of it already, I see,” he whispered to his son. “James and Remus always traded off using ‘Ewe SwallowTiger’ and ‘Ruffled Emu’.” Harry snorted, and quickly turned it into a cough when the group looked at him.
“Apologies,” he muttered. Everyone smiled.
“Anyway,” Moonflower Star continued in a bright voice, “before you both joined us, we were discussing the pros and cons of working solitary versus working with a coven.”
“What’s a coven?” Harry asked. Sirius lifted his knees to his chest and pressed his mouth into his thigh to hide his laughter.
“Oh!” Moonflower exclaimed, sitting forward. “New to the craft, I see.”
Harry shrugged, Amelia ducked her head and Sirius grabbed a handful of the carpet. Twenty minutes later, he knew everything about the craft that was possible to learn in twenty minutes.
“So a coven would basically be thirteen of us wizards…”
“Witches,” another muggle corrected gently. “There is no such thing as wizards. The term ‘witch’ comes from a Celtic term which is actually masculine. We use ‘witch’ to signify a practitioner of either sex.”
Harry blinked. “Right, so it’s thirteen of us witches pooling our magic to make the spell stronger, basically—is that right?” A multitude of nods. He turned to Sirius and whispered, “Does that really work?”
Sirius shrugged, and they turned back to listen to the conversation. Most of the muggles liked to work by themselves—Sirius claimed that was because they didn’t want anyone to know their spells didn’t work—but some of them said they were looking to start a coven. One thing was certain though, after an hour listening to the various theories: spells took days, weeks, months to be completed and a lot of them had to be cast during various moon cycles.
Harry wasn’t sure how he would feel if he could only levitate things on the waxing moon.
By eight, the meeting was over and he had to admit that it had been at least partially entertaining. Dinner was next, and since his father had made reservations at a fancy muggle restaurant nearby, they chose to walk.
“I can’t believe they have to light candles and perform a full ritual just to get a date,” Harry said once they were a few blocks away. He stuck his hands in the pockets of his coat and laughed, “I bet that’s how Aunt Petunia landed Uncle Vernon.”
Sirius chuckled. “Yeah, it almost makes me feel bad for them that they don’t have magic. There’re a lot of wizards who don’t realise what a gift they have. Then you see those muggles who talk all about love and nature and ‘what goes around, comes around’ it makes you want to just point your wand at them and give them magic.”
Harry was thoughtful. “You know when the Smiths came to dinner and we talked about the difference between muggle and wizard life?” Sirius nodded. “Well,” Harry said slowly, “It kind of made me think about it, you know? The differences between a muggle and a wizard.
“Like,” Harry continued, flustered, “what decides whether someone will be a wizard or a muggle? It can’t necessarily be hereditary, what with all the squibs and muggle-born, so I was thinking that it might be because muggles’ bodies are powered by electric currents and wizards’ bodies are powered with magical currents.” He shrugged.
“You mean, instead of electrical currents, it’s magical currents with us?” Sirius asked.
“Yeah,” Harry answered sheepishly. “It’s stupid, I know, but maybe that explains where squibs and muggle-born kids come from. Like something happened when they were still in utero that changed the wavelength of the energy in them.”
Sirius hummed. “I bet a lot of pure-blood families would pay a pretty sum to have it researched—especially if it was found that it could somehow be adjusted to give their squib kids magic.”
Harry winced. “Yeah, I told Voldemort about it that night and he seemed to be thinking along the same lines…like he might actually look it up or something.” Harry shuddered. “I’d hate to be one of his guinea pigs…but it was just a theory; it’s not like anything could be done about it.”
Sirius stopped walking, and Harry, noticing, stopped and turned around. “What?” he asked confusedly.
Sirius’s eyebrows were furrowed and his mouth was twisted into some sort of confused look. “You talk to him a lot, don’t you? Voldemort, I mean.”
He was suddenly very uncomfortable, and it showed in the way that his legs moved jerkily as he started walking again. “Yeah…I mean, sometimes,” he shrugged. “It used to be once a week or so, but it’s been almost nightly lately. I don’t know why. It just happens.”
Sirius looked at him oddly, but he had a fairly good idea what his father was actually thinking. “What else do you talk about?” his father asked, voice carefully neutral.
Harry cringed. He wasn’t very good at lying and he didn’t really want to lie to Sirius anyway. They had so much to work through already, and he didn’t want to complicate it by adding more lies and half-truths on top. Besides, he thought it might be nice to have someone who knew what it felt like to have a dark lord in your head…or at least someone who wouldn’t judge him because some of his ideas didn’t fit in firmly with Dumbledore’s plan.
His father might not approve of any of it, but he wouldn’t condemn him—couldn’t condemn him. Harry was family now. And that was important. Plus, he figured if Sirius had been willing to join the Death Eaters just to watch over Regulus then he couldn’t be totally against the idea of his son talking to Voldemort—especially since Harry couldn't really help it.
He would’ve had to agree with at least the theory of it all to go even that far. Just like Snape, Harry suspected. Snape might not want Voldemort to win, but he wouldn’t have joined him at first if he didn’t believe at least some of it.
“Um,” he started. He wasn’t as nervous as before, but it was still a difficult subject to talk about. “Sometimes we talk about the Ministry and how fucked up it is. Sometimes we talk about Hogwarts. Once I got him to tell me about his life when he was growing up, actually.”
Sirius was not convinced. “That doesn’t sound like the sort of things dark lords would talk about…” he said suspiciously.
Harry scowled. Of course he wouldn’t get off the hook so easily. “Well, we really did talk about those things, but it’s not what we usually talk about.” Sirius raised an eyebrow expectantly. “Mostly, he gloats about how he knows where I am and where all my friends live. Then he muses about the panicked state of the wizarding world. And then he usually asks me to join him.”
Sirius choked. “He knows where you are?” he asked, looking around frantically for any suspicious people. He saw none, sighed, and turned back to his son in anticipation.
“Usually,” Harry shrugged. “He knew I wasn’t with the Dursleys within a week and then he knew where River House was.” The sun was beginning to set by now and Harry squinted as he walked, glad he wasn’t wearing his glasses. The glare would’ve been terrible. “I think the Smiths told him, actually,” he mused.
Sirius was gaping. “And you’re okay with this?” he asked in a panicked voice. He, obviously, had not expected the Smiths to be Death Eaters. Harry didn’t know if they were for sure, really—he’d only just thought of that right then. There was no telling how Voldemort found out.
“Doesn’t worry me,” he admitted. “The blood protection at the Dursley’s house has been void since fourth year when he took my blood. He goes on and on to his Death Eaters about catching me, but I don’t really think he cares. It’s a game to him; he’s got bigger things to worry about than me, you know. If he really wanted to kill me, he could’ve done it a hundred times over by now.” He laughed, suddenly feeling very brave.
“I even told him the prophecy and he still didn’t seem to care very much. He was going on and on about all the different possible ways it could be interpreted—like it was Rococo art or something,” he finished with a smirk.
That didn’t comfort Sirius at all, but it did give him something to think about. It would have to be saved for later, however, as they had just reached the restaurant. It was five stars, and he’d been looking forward to visiting it since he got out of Azkaban and saw a grand-opening notice in a newspaper near Privet Drive.
He was going to enjoy it without thinking about the consequences of having a son he didn’t know how to raise, or what a dark lord might do to that son if he ever caught him. He could think of those things later…those horrible flashes of fear that crossed his mind—images of his son under Crucio or strung up on rafters and bleeding horribly. It was not the time to worry.
“After you,” Sirius said, bowing mockingly as he held the door open. Harry laughed, and slapped him as he stepped through.
-x-
Excerpt from the Journal of a Necromancer, 256th page.
10 July, 847
S,
The necromancer was found today. He was crucified like a commoner. The villagers’ torches and wands are already lit. They have vengeance on their minds; I can smell it in the air, and it smells beautiful.
R
-x-
Dinner went relatively smoothly, and afterwards Harry and Sirius portkeyed to the antechamber of Levitation, a wizarding bar owned and operated by a couple of muggle-born wizards. It was relatively new, but already business was so thriving that the Anti-Incendio Authorities had to ensure nightly that they weren’t overpopulating the bar.
“This feels weird—being of age I mean,” Harry sighed, running his fingers through his fringe. Beside him Sirius snorted, and hurried him through the doors. A smile came to both of their lips as they took in their surroundings.
It was dark. Cosy booths lined the walls, and high-top tables were spaced sporadically about. There was a decent-sized stage on one side where Harry suspected local wizarding bands might play, and directly across from the stage was the actual bar itself. It was the only area inside that was illuminated by more than very faint candle light, but Harry was sure that multi-coloured fairies and static colour-altered Lumos spells would light the stage if anyone played there.
The people sitting around the bar looked as if their skin was blue which was from the lighting—shining up from beneath the surface of the counter—of course, but it was still interesting to see. Sirius put a hand on his shoulder and delegated him to a stool.
“I have a feeling that this isn’t what most fathers do when their son turns seventeen,” Sirius muttered, “but I’m not most fathers.” Harry noticed, from the corner of his eye, that there was a very definite manic gleam in his father’s grey eyes. He coughed to hide a laugh, and settled into the stool.
“What to drink, then?” Sirius continued thoughtfully, almost speaking to himself. It was hard to hear him due to the loud music and the rambunctious, drunken cheers and talking of the other patrons, but Sirius didn’t seem to care. His eyes suddenly lit up, enhanced by the blue glow of the counter, and he decided, “Two Level-headed Leviosas,” just as the bartender walked up. The barkeep smiled, nodded, and walked away.
“We’ll start you off light,” his father explained with a smirk. “Leviosas make you feel a little light-headed, but you’re still level-headed even after you’ve had a few. Like you’re floating—good for beginners.”
Harry laughed and sipped his drink when the bartender returned with it. It wasn’t bad, he decided, but still much different from a Butterbeer. He tried several more, slightly more spirited drinks, and chatted with his father for a couple hours. All in all, he decided it was a great way to spend a birthday. This one had been great so far; it wasn’t every day that you get presents, your godfather is cleared of criminal charges, your godfather turns out to be your father and you spend the evening getting pissed. And the conversation was good too, he decided. There was so much that they didn’t know about each other and the alcohol certainly helped ease the tension.
Of course, that couldn’t last. It was when his father finished telling a spectacularly crass, and therefore spectacularly funny, joke that Harry tipped his head back laughing so hard he thought he might fall off the stool—and someone saw his scar. Someone gasped, and Harry abruptly sobered, wary.
“Harry Potter!” a witch in a halter top squealed. “It’s Harry Potter!…And Sirius Black!” Harry groaned and tried to hide his face in his hands, but it was no use because the witch and two boys, a bit older than Harry, approached quickly. “A pleasure to meet you Misters Potter and Black…the Daily Prophet reported your tragic stories so well this morning that I feel as if I know you myself. I can’t believe the Ministry convicted you without trial, Mr. Black. It’s unspeakable!”
Sirius chuckled awkwardly and tried to seem gracious while Harry couldn’t even manage a fake smile. Why couldn’t he go anywhere without being hounded?
“And it’s your birthday, too!” the witch continued obliviously. Suddenly she was roughly pushed aside by one of the two boys, and Harry was grateful even if it meant he would have to speak to him instead. At least he seemed to be less enthusiastic.
“Sorry about that,” the boy said with a smile. He held out his hand and Harry took it weakly as he said, “The name’s Greg Killian. Like the beer; I’m muggle-born, you see, and my great-uncle owns the brewery.”
Harry had only a brief moment to wonder why anyone would offer that kind of information in an introduction before Greg shooed the other two away and plopped down on the empty stool next to Harry.
“So,” he said, turning to them with a smile, “Happy birthday; let me buy you lot another round. Tried the Killian’s yet?”
“Um,” Harry tried and failed. Sirius coughed uncomfortably and stared into his glass. “No, it’s okay, really,” he finally said. “Thanks, anyway, though.”
Greg scoffed. “Nonsense!” He turned to the bartender and snapped his fingers impatiently. “Oi! Barman! Three Killian’s!” He turned back to Harry and Sirius with another infuriating smile. “So, you’re a half-blood, eh?”
Harry’s jaw dropped and beside him, his father’s face twisted in incredulity. How was he supposed to answer that? Should he answer it? He didn’t think so. He really didn’t see the point in it anyway, regardless of whether his mother had been muggle-born or not, and even if he did, he wasn’t about to tell this kid.
“I completely understand,” Greg continued, nodding as the bartender returned with their beers. “It’s rough being muggle-born. I’d imagine it’s pretty much the same being a half-blood,” he added knowingly. Harry and Sirius stared as Greg continued, “All those smug pure-bloods…no offence Mr. Black…always saying they’re better than everyone.”
Greg scoffed, tipped his beer back and swallowed heavily. “I’ve told everyone in my family about being a wizard and they think it’s just fantastic. My aunt has me come over and whip her house into shape when she’s having company, and my da’s friend from work pays me to show his kids magic tricks during the summer. Rabbits out of a hat and stuff, you know. I’ve told ‘em all about the bigotry,” he said with a scowl. “It’s ridiculous…I’ve got magic just like the rest of ‘em, you know, Potter?”
Harry continued to stare. Sirius broke the silence with a polite cough, and said, “Are you saying that just about every muggle you know knows that you’re a wizard?” he asked slowly.
Greg nodded smugly. “That’s right. Why hold back, eh? Flaunt it if you got it, right?”
“That’s illegal,” Sirius insisted patiently. Harry commended him for it; he couldn’t even make his mouth work he was so stunned. “If the Ministry finds out, you’ll serve at least a year in Azkaban. It’s not any fun,” Sirius added.
Greg waved him away dismissively. “They won’t catch me, and so what if they do? It’s about time those pure-bloods running the Ministry learnt that just because our family’s not magical doesn’t mean we shouldn’t show ‘em the magic we got. You understand, don’t you, Potter? You were raised by muggles. I bet you showed ‘em lots of things.”
“No.” Harry found that he couldn’t manage more than that one word.
“But it’s dangerous,” Sirius insisted. “We can’t cohabitate with muggles,” he said shaking his head in slowly. “It could cause another panic.”
Greg laughed and reached around Harry to slap Sirius on the back. “Rubbish! Stories you tell your kids to get ‘em to go to bed. I say we let all the muggles know. I’ve got my great-uncle considering some ad ideas I’ve thrown around that feature magic and wizards. Great for business.”
Harry wasn’t sure if that kind of story would get him to sleep, but he still couldn’t force himself to speak. Besides, his father seemed to be doing okay without him.
Only he wasn’t. Sirius tugged on his elbow and stood up carefully. “Thanks for the beers,” he said with an over-enthusiastic smile. “But we’ve got to run. Long day tomorrow, you understand.” He slapped a few galleons down on the counter and ushered Harry out quickly, before Greg even had a chance to respond. The next thing he knew, he was being tugged away by his navel and landing in a semi-drunken heap at the manor.
“Fucking mudblood!” Sirius hissed, ripping his jacket off and throwing it down on the floor. He reached up and yanked on his hair furiously, gritting his teeth. “I can’t believe the nerve of that kid!”
Harry gaped. “What the hell? You just called that kid a…you know.”
“There’s a difference between mudbloods and muggle-born, Harry. Even pure-bloods can act like mudbloods,” his father snarled. Harry stood up slowly and regarded Sirius warily.
“Don’t use that word.”
“Why?” Sirius growled, spinning around and staring right at him. “He fucking deserves it. It’s fuck-ups like him that get us killed.”
“You just can’t use it,” Harry insisted furiously. “It’s not fucking right and you should fucking know better than to do that especially since you’re a parent now,” he sneered.
Sirius narrowed his eyes because he might be new at parenting, but he knew one thing from his own, and that was children do not speak to their parents in that manner. He growled, and said, “What was that? I might not be the best father, but I sure as fuck know that you aren’t going to talk to me that way. I wouldn’t have allowed it even if I wasn’t your father.”
Harry sneered. “And you suppose that saying ‘mudblood’ is any better?”
“Under the circumstances,” Sirius hissed quietly.
“Under the fucking circumstances, you should fucking learn what to say around your son.” Harry was being childish, he knew, but he didn’t care.
In a flash, Sirius had his wand pulled and was whipping it in front of him. “Aufero lingua,” he snarled, and Harry felt his tongue melt into the bottom of his mouth and disappear. His eyes widened, and Sirius said, “If you had said that to my parents or James’ parents or even the fucking Weasley’s parents, you would be regretting it for a week. Here’s your first lesson: Impudence is not tolerated among wizarding families, no matter what muggles might stand for.”
Harry could feel his anger rising steadily higher—Sirius was really getting into this parenting thing. He was so infuriated that Sirius had removed his tongue that he could almost feel his skin burning. He thought ‘Finite Incantatem’ with everything he had, and was only half-amazed that it worked. He was past the point of realizing that, for the first time, Sirius was actually disciplining him, and moving steadily closer to fatally furious. His tongue reappeared, and he pulled out his wand.
Only he didn’t know what to do with it. This wasn’t a fight with Malfoy. He couldn’t just jinx his father. Harry took a deep breath and tried to figure out what had just happened. Sirius had his back turned to him and was quickly conjuring and destroying things—china plates, dolls, furniture, stuffed animals.
“I…” he started and then faltered. He had no idea what to say, and some of the curses coming from his father were frighteningly morbid.
Sirius turned around again at the sound of his voice. His eyes were still angry, but he at least seemed to have come out of his rage.
“It’s in your blood,” Sirius said, as if it were some great revelation. Then, he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, muttered, “I’m sorry,” and quickly left the room. Harry watched him go, only half-aware of how badly his hands were shaking.
-x-
A/N:
1. The Time-Space Continuum. I have no earthly idea how to explain this. It’s ineffable—kind of like God. Suffice it to say that time and space are non-linear, and the fourth dimension is pretty much beyond the understanding of the average human brain.
2. ‘The more you know’ is from NBC’s famous Public Service Announcements.
3. “aufero lingua” – Latin for ‘remove tongue’.
NEXT CHAPTER
Comments=so much ♥
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Wonderful chapter!
I love Harry and Sirius' relationship, and how they stumble along, because it can't have possibly been easy for them to become father and son.
This chapter in particular - I love how Harry first comes to see how dangerous muggle-borns can be, which (I hope) is leading up to the second story, where he changes sides in the war (Are you still doing that?) Oh, I just can't wait for more!
Re: Wonderful chapter!
There was a whole lot of uninteresting stuff for you to read, so I'll just end it now by saying THank You So Much For Leaving Such Nice Commetns!!
PS--Yes, I'm still doing 'that' in the second part of the story. Hopefully it will be more believable and OotP compliant this time though. :)
Re: Wonderful chapter!
By the way -
..."Harry and Sirius this perfect, crime-fighting, everyone's-happy relationship"
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Now THAT would be hilarious as a fanfic! Do you mind if I run off with that idea and write a Sirius/Harry parody, I can't get over how funny that is.
Re: Wonderful chapter!
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I (I seem to be echoing moonysmate here) really enjoyed the but where you included the muggleborns, and the use of the word 'mudblood' because it explains Harry's change of heart later on.
Sirius disciplining Harry! Oh that's awesome, too.
I particularly enjoyed the part where Sirius is explaining all the history to Harry. And the witches' meeting! (Can't wait for the next bit)
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I'm so glad you like the new version. It's fast becoming my baby. I'm rewriting the second part now (as all fourteen chapters of this were finished before I started posting) and every time I go back through another chapter to see if anything could be used or if it should be rewritten entirely, I think "God I hope the new version's better because this one's utter tripe."
So--needless to say, all of your comments make me really happy. :)
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