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Chapter Text

“Is there no other way?” James asked, holding Harry to his chest as his infant son wriggled happily in his hold, much like a well loved eel. Lily could not even look at them, her head in her hands, sobbing.

For his part, Albus Dumbledore looked deeply sorrowful, his head bowed and his hands clasped in front of him. “I am sorry,” he said lowly, “but your son has been marked by Voldemort himself, as a prophesized threat to his power. He must not gain access to Harry.”

“My son hasn’t been in my arms for six months, and you’re taking him from me!” Lily wept inconsolably.

James looked to the side, into the kitchen. “How sure of this are you?”

At the kitchen island, Severus Snape looked up from where he was brewing a calming draught for Lily. “Very sure. You may verify the incident wherein I heard the prophecy with the headmaster. Drink,” he said, handing a vial of the soft blue potion to Lily. “You cannot make this decision without your full mind.”

“He- your- Voldemort,” Lily spat venomously, “marked my son for death! On your word!”

Snape bowed his head. “I was a fool, seeking to curry favour. If I had known that he would target you, then I would have never-“

‘You would have condemned another-!”

“Yes,” Snape cut in brutally. “Another. But not you. I will keep you safe, and your child. Potter, by extension. You may curse my name, cut me out of your life. Do as you wish. But you cannot dictate my love for you, as I have always done, since we were children together.”

James turned to the other man in the room. “Is he coming on to my wife?”

“I don’t think so,” Sirius muttered, shooting hateful glances at his nemesis. “I think he’s just being emotional. The git,” he added out of habit.

Meanwhile, Lily was still raging. “Your plan to keep me safe is to separate me from my son?”

“The dark lord cannot know that he is not with you,” Snape reiterated. “We will take him away. Raise him in the countryside, or on the continent. Where, precisely, is that insipid werewolf of yours from?” Snape demanded of James.

“Er. Wales,” James said.

“Brilliant. Give the child to him, and he will raise it amongst sheep and cattle. Every moon, we shall take the child, and no one shall be the wiser.”

“Remus is just as much of a target as anyone,” Albus sighed. “He is a werewolf who has been fighting for us, he is a known player. While his personality is well matched for child-rearing, he cannot be involved.

“Furthermore, Harry must be made untouchable. That is to say, attacking him should result in severe backlash - social, political, economical. That is the only way Voldemort would not come after him, if it involves compromising his power base.”

“A pure blood family, then?” James asked. “The Longbottoms?”

“They have long since declared their stance against Voldemort, and are active fighters, as are the Bones, the Diggorys, and the MacMillians. We are not left with many trustworthy families that fit that profile, except-“

Sirius’ eyes widened as Dumbledore turned to him. He let out a thin, feminine, wail and crumpled onto the sofa. “Me!”

“Yes, Sirius. You.”

“Oh!” Sirius cried, and leaned back dramatically againstvthe back fo the sofa. Severus wondered whether this manner of operatic drama was commonplace for Gryffindors.

“You, as a scion of House Black-“

“Disowned, and gladly so-!”

“-still retain the standing in the Old Blood-“

“-shall gladly do away with all my wealth and finery-“

“-and are in a prime position to claim Harry.”

“-so I shall fling myself into a ditch- did you say take Harry?” Sirius asked ceasing his dramatics.

Albus looked severely at him. “As a son of the living Lord of House Black, you are untouchable. Your father never struck your from his will, and for all that you are independent now, your status as a main line Black remains. If you claim Harry as yours, you will give him the protection of the Old Blood, and the Black Family Majicks, should the blood rituals take hold.”

“You want me to blood adopt Harry?” Sirius asked incredulously. “Aren’t you always on about blood magic being dark?”

“Intention matters,” Albus said. “Your heart is pure-“

“Where is the sick bucket, I am feeling ill-“ Snape mumbled, and Lily smacked him.

“-and I believe that this is the best chance that we have. To protect Harry. To protect a family.”

“By adding him to mine,” Sirius marveled. “My accursed family. Do you not think that they would come after him, if they know-“

“And why would they?” Albus asked. “He will be yours, once you share blood. Yours, already, in matters of the heart. Yours, by magic, once the ritual takes-“

“If it takes!” Sirius cried. “How do you know it will?” He could not take it if it didn’t, he did not say.

James did not have to hear the words to know Sirius’ mind. “It will,” he confirmed softly. “I know it will. Who else? Who better?”

“Actually, Severus offered himself, but I did not think it wise,” Albus said cheerfully, and everyone looked in great surprise at the dour young man imitating a pillar. “So! It is settled! Shall we move matters along?”

Severus drew out a long, thin, ritual knife nestled in parts unknown. “No time like the present.”

***

Sirius walked home that night simultaneously several ounces lighter from the blood loss (Snape had stabbed a tad deep), and with some extra pounds of his godson in his arms.

Tomorrow, Sirius would go to Diagon Alley and take Harry with him, ostensibly to shop for baby supplies, and make a fuss. The world would know that Sirius Black had a child.

In two week’s time, James and Lily Potter would mourn the loss of their child, and have a headstone made for the tiny casket that contained a dead gnome. Snape had provided a pre-stabbed gnome.

The babies would have overlapped. No one would suspect a thing.

Harry Potter would die, aged six months. Hadrian Black, aged eight months and small for his age bracket, name changed to honour his foster brother that he knew only briefly, would be Sirius’ son with the third Bellafonte daughter, from his sojourn to France.

Edwina Bellafonte, a sickly young woman, had coincidentally died in childbirth herself, secretly trying to mask the birth of her own illegitimate child from a tryst. Her child had died in utero, though her womb, now cold, held no traces of it - a nifty bit of magic from a thoroughly skeeved out Dumbledore and a mortician that he had dated and parted from rather amicably in the past.

The gnome’s funeral was in two weeks, and Sirius had to prepare to look upset and morose. He jiggled Harry in his arms, who giggled happily. “Hey bug,” Sirius cooed. “You’re safe now, see? I guess I’m dada now, just like you have papa and mama back home.”

In a few weeks, Lily and James would go into hiding under the Fidelius. The news that they would choose a secret keeper who was not aware of the plans was a sound one. Dumbledore was constantly in the field, and was thus exposed. If he fell, the fidelius would break. Snape was out of the question - he was behind enemy lines. Sirius had Harry now, and he could not blow the game by going into hiding. After all, pureblood son of House Black had nothing to fear. Not even Bellatrix could harm him without facing the wrath of their society. They would go with someone else. Someone trusted.

“Bwaa,” Harry opined, most probably asking for sustenance.

“I have your bottle, sweetheart, let’s get inside the house first,” Sirius chuckled while he opened the door to his house, and-

-screamed.

“What are you doing here!” Sirius screeched, shattering all eardrums in a two kilometer diameter.

Orion Black, the intended recipient of Sirius’ words sat perched gracefully on the edge of the sofa, or rather, the hanky he had placed in the sofa before sitting himself. His second son, Regulus, was more rough and tumble, and was seated directly on the couch, his bum protected only by trousers and some undergarments.

“The prodigal son returns,” Orion muttered, and rose to his feet, with Regulus following his lead.

“I haven’t returned anywhere, this is my house! Also, get out!” Sirius thundered.

“Such boorish words to your father, and in front of a babe! It is just as well, as it is he we had come to see,” Orion replied, and advanced on Sirius, who backed away rapidly.

“You stay away from my baby!”

“Ah, so you admit it,” Orion hummed. “That would explain then, why the family tree decided to update itself with a new generation. Hadrian Sirius Black.”

Sirius could have slapped himself. How could he have forgotten that godsforsaken tapestry!

“He is my son, and I will not subject him to the likes of you!” Sirius cried, even as Orion peered at Harry, who waved a tiny fist at him happily.

“He is not a newborn,” Orion observed. “When was he born?”

“E- eight months ago,” Sirius stuttered out the rehearsed lie.

“Then why did he only appear on the tree now?” Regulus asked.

“I- I don’t-“

“Sirius Black,” Orion snapped. “Were you a cad to a girl? If I find out that you have impinged upon a girl’s honour-“

“I would never!” Sirius screamed. “You evil man! I could never even think of such a thing!”

“I should hope not,” Orion said, subsiding. “You have my apology for the accusation. But then where is the boy’s mother?”

“Dead,” Sirius said shortly.

“And was she of good stock?”

Sirius’ eyes flashed. “Oh, that must get your goat, thinking that he is not a pureblood, from your pool of inbred, webbed-toed, double navel-“

Orion sighed as Sirius continued to list biological anomalies, and wondered briefly about whom he had seen with two navels. Must have been a Goyle.

“-I shan’t subject my son to any of your nonsense, so you had best be on your way, and don’t let the door hit you on the way out!”

At that point, Harry started to cry in earnest, and Orion fixed his son with a dry look. “Go on then, feed him. I’ll wait here.”

“Wait, for what!”

“Why, your answer, of course,” Orion said smoothly, and plucked Harry out of Sirius’ arms. “You do know how to make a bottle, do you not? The standard nourishing formula?”

“I- I have-“

“Well hop to it, then,” Orion said, and waddled into the kitchen languidly to poke around the shelves, with Regulus following. Sirius charged in after them, incensed.

“Get out of my kitchen! And how do you even know where my things are kept?”

Orion turned around humorlessly. “This is Alphard’s old house, I spent many months here in my youth escaping your mother. He was my favourite cousin. A pity that he, ahem, died.”

Sirius seethed quietly, not divulging that Alphard was actually living the life on Costa Rica, where he had escaped to with a sloth keeper, Juan. They now raised several sloths in a sanctuary, and dressed exclusively in khaki shorts that did not cross mid-thigh. Sirius remembered his mother’s scream of rage when Alphard had left Sirius the house and done a runner, only to presumably die.

They had never been sure, Walburga had blasted his spot in the tapestry before they could get news.

But their loss was Juan’s gain.

“Uncle Alphard was ever so jolly and fun,” Regulus reminisced. “I always loved the feeling of those feathery scarves he used to have. I loved playing with them as a child.”

Sirius and Orion looked at each other knowingly, and then at Regulus, who continued to resemble a peppermint humbug. “Just as well then,” Orion murmured, “that we have a continuation of the family,” he said, jiggling Harry. “If, that is, you are truly a Black.”

Sirius stopped short of starting his tirade when Orion fixed him with a knowing look. “I ask you, Sirius, how it came to be that you have fathered a child, when I know for a fact that you are quite fae.”

“Oh, you too?” Regulus asked, glad to have company.

“I- I am not,” Sirius stuttered. “I like wo- wo- women!”

“And I have shagged a muggle,” Orion scoffed. “Tell the truth.”

“You are in no position to demand anything!”

Orion deftly uncorked the milk bottle while he jiggled Harry, who thought that he was being adoringly played with. “A pity then, that my sons will not produce heirs for me. I shall have to rely on Narcissa’s spawn to inherit. Or, perhaps, Bellatrix.”

That did it. “Bellatrix?” Sirius breathed.

Orion, who had been heating milk in a pan, because apparently he knew his way around the kitchen, whirled on him. “Do you think for one moment, that I want my house, the fortune that I built, to fall into that cretin’s hands? Do you know what it would mean to have my line continue? We would save our house from that woman’s brand of madness!

“So I will ask you again, Sirius,” Orion hissed dangerously. “Where did you get this child from, and of what stock is he?”

“It- it doesn’t matter to me,” Sirius said defiantly.

“It matters to me,” Orion replied evenly, even as the milk came to a boil. “Regulus, look for some nourishing formula, it is a light blue powder.”

“In the bag,” Sirius said shortly, as Regulus sifted through his belongings. He turned to Orion, who was bemusedly having his face patted by Harry’s tiny hands, but was doing little else to stop the onslaught of affection.

“Harry.”

“I beg your pardon,” Orion monotoned.

“His name is Harry,” Sirius clarified. “He is James Potter’s son.”

Orion wracked his mind. “I know the Potter boy got married, but I don’t know to whom.”

“Lily Evans,” Regulus piped up, from where he was stirring in the formula. “She was Head Girl in my fifth year. She’s muggleborn, has nice hair.”

Orion looked down at Harry, who was watching Regulus and trying to go and play with him. “Here, catch,” Orion said, and plopped Harry into Regulus’ arms.

“Papa! The babe is damp!”

“Then change him.”

“I know not how!”

“Then use a drying charm and hope to the heavens that he has only done a wee.” Orion turned to Sirius. “How did you come to claim the child? Have his parents passed on?”

Sirius shook his head. “They are being targeted by Voldemort. He is after Harry, and I had to claim him to give him a secret life as my child with a Bellafonte. Lily and James are going to have a faux funeral soon.”

Orion nodded thoughtfully. “You shared blood with the babe.”

Sirius wordlessly showed Orion the scar on his arm. “The ritual was pretty gross, I won’t lie. I didn’t know that we had to bathe the adoptee in blood.”

Orion nodded. “Usually it was done to replace a dead child. Bathe the adoptee in the blood of the old one, to take their place in the family. Magic is carried in the blood and bones. I have not seen it done for parents, however, but it seems to have worked for you.”

Sirius fidgeted, but chose to say nothing else. Instead opting to look at Regulus struggling with a diaper and stop Harry from crawling away, his bum now free to breathe.

“He’s just a baby. He doesn’t deserve this,” Sirius whispered. “To be born with a target on his back.”

“We so rarely get what we deserve,” Orion replied blithely. “Be glad that the babe might survive this war, no matter what the outcome. His parents - the Potters - will most probably not.” Sirius looked over in shock, and Orion raised a cool eyebrow. “What, you did not think this to be the case? If they choose to fight, they are active combatants. I hope, now that you have a child, you will not be so quick to rush into battle.

“As I see it, Sirius, we both stand to gain from this new development,” Orion continued. “I will have a continuation of my line, and you will have safety for your son. This is, of course, contingent on your returning to the fold.”

“The fold!’

“Indeed,” Orion smiled, like a raptor having spotted his prey. “Really, now. I am willing to give a halfblood child my name, lie about his blood status, and take him under my protection. Do you think I would do this without reason?”

Sirius gulped. “What do you want in return?” Whatever it was, he would do it, Sirius knew. Nothing would deter him from protecting Harry.

“Nothing much. You will see, in time,” Orion smirked. “Now come. This is a joyous occasion. I have a grandson, and an heir to my house, bathed in Black blood. That, I think, is better than nothing.”

“Come?” Sirius chafed at the command. “I am not going-“

“If you want the protection of Lord Black, how do you expect to get it without being affiliated with me? We must be seen together, and with the babe. What was his name again?”

“Harry.”

“Nonsense.”

“Hadrian.”

“Hmph. Better.” He turned to where Regulus was lying on the sofa and balancing Harry on his tummy. “Regulus, come. We are taking Sirius and and the babe home.”

“What!” Regulus bounced up. “Papa, what are you saying?”

“I am saying,” Orion said slowly, “that your brother has seen the error of his ways, and is rejoining us, bringing this rather small child with him.”

“Oh,” Regulus said, and pecked Harry’s head. “Poor child. It is good of you to step up, papa. What is the child’s name?”

“Harry.”

“Ridiculous,” Orion sniffed. “His name is Hadrian. Come, let us depart. I shall send word ahead to your mama-“

“What!”

Orion frowned at his eldest. “Your mama, my wife, who lives in my house. Honestly, Sirius-“

“How could you even suggest-“

“-You are just as bombastic as she-“

“-under rhe same roof once more, it is unthinkable-“

“-and in all honesty, you are two peas in a pod, entirely too alike.”

“Papa! How could you say such a thing!” Sirius cried in genuine horror, as Regulus giggled.

“It can’t be only me who sees it,” Orion scoffed. “It is apparent to anyone who sees you two in the same room - you are a carbon copy of your mother’s temperament, it is why you two clash so often.”

“I- you- oh!” Sirius gasped, and slumped onto the sofa in shock.

Distantly, as he recovered, Sirius heard Regulus ask, “Who am I like, papa?”

“Probably Alphard. Oh, you’re awake,” Orion observed, as Sirius stirred feebly. “Come, let us depart. I should rather like to get home in time for a nap before breakfast, it is just past two in the morning.”

“But what about m-m-mu-“

“I will deal with your mother,” Orion sighed, “as I always do. But for now, let us make haste. The night is waning, and I want to see the new day in my own home.”

Chapter Text

Kreacher woke up to the gentle shake from Regulus. “Kreacher.”

“Master Regulus!” Kreacher croaked. “It is being early! What is being the problem, is you hurt?”

“No, no,” Regulus smiled. Trust Kreacher to turn into a hen at the first instance. “I need some help. There is a baby-“

“A baby!”

“-yes, he needs clothes, and is hungry. Could you possibly-“

Kreacher was on his feet in seconds, padding quickly into the hall. “Kreacher keeps the little master’s infant clothes in the attic, he will fetch and clean them, and the crib. Where is my little Master Regulus getting a baby from? Kreacher knows that you is of a gentle persuasion, not taking up with women-“

“How does everyone know that,” Regulus bemoaned his lack of privacy.

“-is you just finding a babe in the street- oh!”

Kreacher stopped short at the sight of Sirius cradling Harry in his arms, looking tired and rather bedraggled. “Kreacher,” Orion called, stopping Kreacher’s scream that was budding in his throat. “Good, you’re here. Get the baby a set of clothes, and get a bath basin going as well. This little fool walked with the babe at night, and it is chilly now.”

“Kreacher,” Regulus nudged the elf gently.

Kreacher moved then, but towards Sirius, who leaned away. Kreacher gently peeled away Harry’s blanket to get a look at him, and startled to see Harry still awake. A minute of silence followed, broken by Harry’s delighted giggle, which seemed to thaw Kreacher’s heart as well, and Harry waved his hand at the elderly elf.

“This is being a bonny babe,” Kreacher smiled gently.

“His name is Harry,” Sirius insisted.

“Repulsive,” Orion murmured. “His name is Hadrian.”

Kreacher gently touched Harry’s outstretched hand before waddling away to get his necessities. In the meantime, Orion had got the fire going, and settled into the plush armchair. “Give,” he grunted, and plucked Harry out of Sirius’ arms.

It was a strange sight that Sirius had never thought to see - his father so peaceful and content, holding a child - Sirius’ child, no less. Was he ever so demonstrative with Sirius? He could not recall a time when Orion had not been the stern patrician figure - savvy and calculating.

Kreacher returned with a warm basin of water and fresh clothes, and reached for Harry, only for Orion to bat his hands away. “Shoo, I am capable of bathing a babe.”

Kreacher nodded and withdrew. “Kreacher remembers. Master Orion is always being gentle and careful with his sons.” The elf paused and looked hatefully at Sirius. “Perhaps if you is remembering that, you is not running away and saying cruel things to break Master and Mistress’ hearts, evil slug childe-“

“Away with you,” Orion grunted, stopping Kreacher’s tirade, and looking at the clock. “Alas, it is dawn already, no time for a nap. Kreacher, get breakfast started, I feel like kippers and sau-“

“YOUUUU! SHAME OF MY FLESH, WHY HAVE YOU RETURNED-“

Orion sighed as Walburga made her long awaited appearance, and went straight for Sirius, who rose to defend himself.

“Trust me, I am not here by choice!”

“-COME TO STEAL THE LAST OF MY SAN- ORION BLACK IS THAT A BABY!”

“No, it is a hippogriff. Of course it is a baby,” Orion said, as he towelled a happy Harry dry. “This is Hadrian.”

“WHY DO YOU HAVE A BABY!”

“Because I was bathing it. Do you want to hold him? He is very personable.”

Walburga, lost for words, started spluttering and choking for air. Eventually, she made a recovery, and looked between Sirius and the baby. “You- he- this is-“

“Aren’t you glad that Druella’s daughters will not inherit, now that we have a lovely grandson?” Orion beamed. “Just think, all those years of investments, and financial planning might have gone to Bellatrix! Unthinkable! But you,” Orion smiled at Harry, who smiled back, “I can mould you. I can make you in my image - a lawyer!”

“Harry can be whatever he wants,” Sirius argued. “He could be a quidditch player-“

“Terribly uncouth.”

“-or a cursebreaker-“

“Absolutely horrendous.”

“-a shop keeper-“

“How plebian.”

“Are you going to shoot down everything I suggest?”

“Yes,” Orion sniffed, “so long as you continue to give daft opinions. A shopkeep! Atrocious.”

Walburga looked stunned at Orion’s easy acceptance of his new grandson. “Orion! How could you accept this?”

“My acceptance has little to do with it,” Orion replied. “Check the tapestry.” Underneath the neat, black burn that held Sirius’ place, a new golden thread had sprouted for-

“Hadrian Sirius Black,” Walburga read weakly. “How- I-“

“You know the mechanics of the how quite well,” Orion said, “seeing as we just performed it yesterday.” Sirius and Regulus both looked extremely upset at this news, and tried to obliviate each other before Orion disarmed them.

Walburga rounded on Sirius again, and Regulus dove behind the sofa for cover. Before the festivities could begin, Orion put a bubble head charm over his wife to contain, or mitigate, her noise levels. “Wouldn’t want to harm my grandson’s hearing,” he said cheerfully. “Kreacher, where are those kippers!”

“Kreacher has laid the table for master’s breakfast,” Kreacher came in and bowed. “Kreacher has also prepared apple mush for the little one.”

“Oh, jolly good,” Regulus called, and army crawled into the kitchen, while Sirius and Walburga blared at each other. Orion was reluctantly impressed at his youngest’s arm strength, as Regulus maintained his crawl all the way to the dining room.

As Orion dug in, he could hear the shouts of ‘mudblood lover’ and ‘stuck-up relic’ echoing from the sitting hall. Ten minutes in, Walburga slammed into the dining room and glared at her husband. “Who is the child’s mother?”

Orion shrugged. “Sirius, who is the child’s mother?”

Walburga shrieked. “You brought some half-blood brat-!”

“Her name was Edwina,” Sirius grumbled, unhappy at using the name of an unknowing dead woman. “Edwina Bellafonte.”

“Old blood, from France,” Regulus recalled, a quirk of his eidetic memory, and received a pat on the head from Kreacher.

“There, problem solved,” Orion said stoutly. “Now if you loud boors will deign to quiet down, I am in the middle of taking an early morning nap. Perhaps I will snuggle my latest acquisition- er, grandchild.”

“I will not have an illegitimate get in my bed!” Walburga shrieked.

“Regulus, I am using your bed,” Orion deferred to his wife’s wishes. “You have not slept all night either, so you are free to join me.”

“I could use Sirius’ room,” Regulus suggested.

“There are pictures of obscene women on the walls who stare at you, it is incredibly inappropriate.” Orion turned to his eldest. “Sirius, you are a father now, take those pictures down and use better decor.”

“I don’t have decor!”

“We shall go shopping, then,” Orion decided. “Regulus, do you want to come?”

“Ooh, yes please.”

Orion stared implacably at his youngest. “And you wonder how people know that you are fae. Sirius, I shall not open your room, lest its poor vibrations invade the rest of the house. You may sleep on the sofa. Regulus, come. Bring the child.”

Orion left Sirius and Walburga to splutter at each other and went upstairs. He placed Harry by his side and smiled at the guileless baby. “Stick with me, infant, and I shall mold you into the success that I am.”

“Ooo,” Harry replied, and drifted off to sleep. Content, Orion followed suit, eagerly anticipating a few precious moments of rest.

***

“I want to die,” Sirius moaned, as he surveyed his reflection in the mirror, looking every bit the groomed and primped pureblood man.

“And leave the child to me? A fruitful bargain, go ahead,” Orion hummed, stuffing Harry into a frilly monstrosity of a baby gown. “Look at you, young Hadrian, carrying on the family legacy of the hideous pink baby dress.”

“If it’s so hideous, why do you keep it?”

“Tradition,” Orion said, gesturing grandly. “But come, it is already noon, and I have booked tea at Thé du Monde. It is suitably high profile, and we will be seen by several people. This will suit your purposes well.”

“Alright,” Sirius sighed, and made to take Harry.

“No,” Orion rebuffed him, and spun away from him, cradling Harry.

Sirius, instead of being upset, looked amused. “I am starting to think that you actually like being a faux-grandpa.”

“Tosh and rot,” Orion sniffed, and slithered out.

“Where’s Reg?”

“Still sleeping. He was called to a meeting earlier in the morning and caught a stray crucio in the thigh.”

“Excuse me?”

Orion fixed Sirius with A Look. “You know that your brother was inducted as a death eater. This is not news to you, surely.”

“It’s barbaric and beneath him!” Sirius seethed.

“I agree,” Orion shrugged, “and I carry blame for allowing Bella to tempt him in that way. I ought to have stepped in much earlier, but he is now in too deep. Hopefully, in time, I will be able to have him sent away to the continent.”

“Where? The house in France?”

“More like Finland,” Orion said darkly. “There will be a time when the dark lord makes an error in judgement. Dumbledore is no fool - he will see it and strike. I have little doubt that he has his own source in the death eaters.”

Unbidden, Sirius thought of Snape, repentant and contrite for his role in things, their man on the inside.

“Occlude,” Orion said softly. “You have lost touch with occlumency. You need to practice again, if your son is to survive.”

Sirius nodded jerkily. “I will.”

“I cannot accept your word. I have as much to lose as you if the child is discovered. Every day, before tea, I will train with you. If you can keep me out of your mind, then I will consider you to have secured your mind.”

“You? You think you’re more powerful than Voldemort?” Sirius asked incredulously.

“No, but I am your father. I know everything there is to know about you, whereas he is an external threat.” Orion stepped forward, closer to Sirius. “He knows your status, ability, and power. I know your heart.”

Orion turned, his cloak snapping behind him, but not before saying, “Of the two of us, I am infinitely more dangerous.”

***

Tea at Thé du Monde proved to be the stuff straight out of nightmares for Sirius, as he was forced to make deliberate smalltalk with his father, while purebloods gawked at the return of the prodigal son.

Orion made a song and dance of Harry, introducing him as ‘the one good thing my son ever did for the world’.

Harry, the tiny traitor, smiled and giggled at Orion, who smiled back in a way that Sirius knew he had never deigned to look at his own sons.

Soon, word would spread that Lord Black had a grandson, and that the House of Black was secure once more in the line of succession. After all, the Black magic, once it took, was nigh impossible to break through for outside forces. Sirius’ own feats of daring, which by rights ought to have been the end of him, were proof enough of its power.

“Mission accomplished,” Orion announced, after flooing home, and promptly tossing Harry over to his wife, who flailed spectacularly.

“Orion! Have a care!” Walburga cried, hastily securing the baby, who was having a gala time. “You will damage its feeble neck!”

“Nonsense. Magical babies are extremely hardy. Why, do you remember when Cygnus dropped Narcissa from the balcony? She turned out fine.”

“Uncle Cygnus did what?” Sirius asked, horrified.

“He slipped and dropped Narcissa from the first floor balcony,” Orion related to him. “I’ve never seen a man cry that much, even when it turned out that she had had a soft landing on the tentacula bush. She only had a couple of rashes.”

At this moment, Regulus burst in, in a frenzy of giggles and glee. “Oh papa! You will never guess what happened!”

“Back from your meeting?” Orion asked, smiling as Regulus danced around.

“Oh, yes, it was magnificent! Everyone gather around!” Regulus clapped his hands in glee as his family converged, and Regulus grabbed a passing Kreacher, who was used to being manhandled by his delighted elfling.

“During the meeting, Lord Avery came in late with some scones, and as he was passing them around, he said that he got them from the Thé du Monde café, and guess who he saw there?”

Orion smiled evilly, making his already sharp features look like needles.

“Yes! Oh, you should have seen Bella’s face! Not to mention Narcissa and Lucius, they looked as though they had been slapped! They honestly thought that they were going to have Draco inherit the Black fortune. Bella actually screamed, it was glorious!”

Walburga broke into a reluctant smile at Regulus’ clear delight, and looked down at Harry, who had joined in the chorus of laughter. “Perhaps this child is good for something, after all.”

“My son is the best at bringing woe unto opportunistic vultures,” Sirius beamed, and bent over to kiss Harry’s head. Upon realizing that he had just agreed with his mother, he paused to contemplate his life choices, but regretted nothing.

“And what of the dark lord?” Orion asked carefully.

“Oh, he was laughing,” Regulus replied, “but he was trying to hide it with a scone. When Bella left though, he started laughing really hard. He did say that he wanted to visit, and bless the babe for granting him a moment of mirth.”

“What!” Sirius cried, jumping up like a rocket had lodged in an unspeakable area. “No!”

“To refuse would be foolish,” Orion counseled him. “It would look as though you had not been embraced by the family again, or worse, were hiding the babe.”

“For heaven’s sake,” Walburga sniffed haughtily, “he is Lord Gaunt, from House Slytherin. If anything, his blessing carries weight. If you want what is good for the child, you will concede to this, contrary boy!”

“You expect that my son and I will bow and scrape at this man’s heel-“

“No one asked you to bow and scrape,” Orion snapped. “Just be polite.”

“He has killed my friends, laid waste to our people!”

“He is in that respect no different from any other warlord. We are not involved in this war in a major way-“

“Regulus!”

“-will be extracted when the time is right.” Orion looked at Regulus, who respectfully nodded, deferring to his father’s wisdom. “Tell me, son, how do you feel about Finland? I have heard that there are several tall, hairy, and muscular men there.”

Regulus smiled shyly and scratched the back of his head. “Aw, papa, don’t make fun of me.”

“I am not. We will find you a nice man to marry, and your mama will train you to keep house and be genteel and pretty.”

“Honestly,” Walburga said, cuffing the back of Regulus’ head, while he weaved daydreams of escaping his life as the second son of a noble house and running off to be domestic, cooking and keeping house for his man. “At least you can practice with this one,” Walburga said, and plopped Harry into Regulus’ arms.

Sirius watched his family - and damnation, when did they become his family again! - interact with each other and Harry, happier than they had been in living memory. Perhaps Harry would not be the saviour of the wizarding world, but he might just be the salvation of this family.

Chapter Text

“Lord Gaunt,” Kreacher announced, as the dark lord swanned into the sitting room, casually dropping his robe on top of Kreacher, crushing him under the weight of the fabric. It was a hard life for a 109 year old elf.

Walburga, who rose to greet no man, stayed seated. “Lord Gaunt, a pleasure,” she smiled, every bit the Lady of a Great House. “Please, won’t you sit and take tea?”

Lord Gaunt, known by his buddies as Lord Voldemort, smiled charmingly, his blood red eyes gleaming. “I thank you for your hospitality, Lady Black,” he crooned, and took a seat opposite her. “I must extend unto you my congratulations - Regulus has told me that House Black has secured its line once more. The first of a new generation.”

Walburga nodded tightly. “Indeed. I did not think that my eldest would return to the fold, but fatherhood seems to have tempered him. The babe is bonny and healthy.”

“That is all we can wish for,” Tom acceded. “A toast, to the new babe…”

“Hadrian,” Walburga replied. “Hadrian Sirius Black.”

They toasted with their tea and drank, whereupon Voldemort put down his cup and reached into his robes, pulling out a gift. “For the babe, a blessing,” he said, unwrapping it, revealing a golden, gemstone encrusted goblet. Walburga’s sharp eyes snapped to it, instantly wary from the power that poured from the relic. “He should not drink from it,” Voldemort cautioned. “I have spelled it. There is a spirit encased in it, you may think of it as a protector of sorts.”

Walburga made a show of accepting the goblet. The problem with Tom Riddle, she thought dourly, was that he always thought that he was the smartest man in the room. Making a mental note to scream her horror into a bag later, she turned back with a smile. “Won’t you come and meet the babe?”

“I should be glad to,” Voldemort smiled, and followed Walburga into the library, where Orion had once again laid claim to his grandson, and was reading aloud the case of The Estate of Orpheus Smith v. Ulysses Macdonald, on the matter of the first recorded murder by pygmy puff.

“…and it was determined that the late Lord Smith had choked- ah, Lord Gaunt,” Orion said, smiling. Harry, who had been enjoying his grandpapa’s animated storytelling, also looked up, coming face to face with the dark lord.

“Lord Black,” Voldemort returned, and then laid eyes on Harry. Oh, but how Orion yearned to pluck out the man’s eyes, for even looking at his grandchild! “This must be your new grandson. You have my congratulations.”

“Thank you, I am very pleased with his arrival. It is the only thing that I am proud of that my eldest has done.”

Voldemort leaned over to look at baby Harry, cradled in the crook of Orion’s arm. “He is perfectly formed. No webbed digits at all.”-

Orion frowned. “The mother was from a family on the continent. Not one of Britain.”

“It’s not a negative, Orion,” Voldemort replied, grinning wryly, before smiling awfully at Harry. “Who is an injection of fresh continental blood? Is it you? Yes it is!”

Harry cooed and giggled at the personification of evil, and flapped happily. Orion looked dotingly upon the baby in his arms, loving as he had never been with his own sons.

“I brought for the babe, a blessing,” Voldemort said, and displayed the golden cup that Kreacher had with great unwillingness, brought out once more. Walburga’s hair stood on end again, and Orion felt a deep unholiness pervading his body that was, curiously, not emanating from Sirius.

Curiously, Harry giggled, and patted the jewel encrusted cup, causing it to wiggle happily in Voldemort’s grasp. “It likes the young heir,” Voldemort smiled. “I spelled a spirit into it, and clearly, it has taken to the child well.”

“We thank you for your generosity,” Orion said carefully, directing Walburga to accept the cup, and called for Kreacher, who popped into existence looking terrible, as per usual. “Kreacher, take this most valuable treasure and place it carefully in the display case with the other antiques,” Orion instructed the elf. There would be time to deal with it later, and deal with it Orion would - it clearly had affected the babe.

“But come, we insist that you must sit and take wine with us,” Walburga smiled venomously, and guided the dark lord and her husband into the sitting room. They came upon Sirius and Regulus, the latter of whom was lying on his belly by the fireplace, his elbows propping him up, while Sirius pointed out that he looked very much like a girl.

“Really Orion, you must get the younger one married off to a suitably macho person,” Voldemort sighed.

“Trust me, it’s a priority,” Orion grumbled, as he stepped into the room. “Sit up, we have company,” he announced to his sons. Regulus bounced up, saw the dark lord, and sat up in surprise.

“My lord, what a surprise,” Regulus said in honest shock.

Voldemort smiled evilly. “Regulus, my youngest, squirelliest, follower. Come, sit by me,” he invited, and then looked at Sirius. “I do not believe that I have had the pleasure.”

Sirius straightened and looked haughtily at the man, every bit the lord of the manor. “We have, in passing, fired curses at each other, I believe.”

Voldemort hummed. “Do enlighten me.”

“I love a good exsanguinus curse,” Sirius said airily, as Voldemort made a noise of recognition.

“Ah yes, I recall now. I countered with a blood boiling curse.”

“Indeed, sir.”

“Indeed.”

Sirius really did not like the man he was becoming. Nonetheless, he took Harry back from his mother and sat down next to his father and engaged in smalltalk, biting his tongue at the rampant bigotry.

He was playing a role. He was playing the game. For Harry.

Eventually, Voldemort rose, and bid the Blacks farewell. “Lady Black. Orion.”

Orion bowed in turn, but sighed. “Do I have to call you by that name?”

“It is my name, Orion,” the dark lord said silkily.

“You could have done better,” Orion protested. “Honestly. Voldemort. Should have never let you near a French dictionary,” Orion grumbled as he walked the dark lord to the door.

As he passed, Voldemort stopped to look at Harry, safely ensconced in Sirius’ arms. “Goodbye, young heir,” Voldemort said. “You have caused much change in your young life. I look forward to seeing you grow.”

Harry, ever innocent, giggled and reached out to be held. Surprisingly, Voldemort took him, even as Sirius protested. The dark lord held the happy babe, bemused at the joyous child. “You know, it’s fantastic what not living in an orphanage during a war will do for the mental health of a child,” Voldemort commented glibly, as Orion groaned.

“Please don’t remind me of your terribly unjust childhood, it gives me acidity,” he grumbled. “And give me my grandson.”

“Pa!” Harry squealed happily, to everyone’s surprise.

Orion blinked, and then burst into evil laughter. “He honours me, his grandpapa, with his first word! What a joyous occasion!”

“He could have been saying papa, to me,” Sirius grouched, but Regulus stepped on his foot.

Voldemort smiled wryly at Orion and his grandson. “It’s been lovely, Orion. Please keep me abreast of the babe, it brings Bella and the Malfoys such strife, it’s hilarious. And I shall let you know if I can make contact with that cadet branch of the Ravenclaw family on the continent - they will make a good match for your youngest.”

Regulus blushed at the thought of his eventual alliance, and proceeded to fall into a stuttering, blushing mess.

After the dark lord had left, Sirius could finally breathe again. He rushed to Harry, still in Orion’s arms, and showered him with kisses. “Oh, my baby,” Sirius wept, glad to have his son back in his arms.

Instead of snapping at his son for showing emotion, Orion watched with worry in his eyes. “That cup,” he said, looking to his wife, “it must be thoroughly examined and dealt with. I do not want it in this house, much less near my family.” Orion took a deep breath, and then proceeded to explode, “What the hell did he think, that we would happily accept a clearly malicious externally cursed object into the house with smile and on our knees so that we can lic-!”

“Orion, language!” Walburga snapped. “Honestly, around children as well!” She rose and snatched Harry up. “I am taking the babe to high tea, and you can deal with that accursed cup!”

“Where will you go?” Orion asked.

“I will go to The Darjeeling on Adamant Alley. Sirius, come!”

Sirius startled. “What?”

“You need to get stuck back into proper society,” Walburga said severely, “and there is no time like the present. You may have had a child out of wedlock, but the mother is good stock, not to mention the father,” she said with some pride, even as Sirius struggled to not laugh at her calling Lily Potter, muggleborn extraordinaire, ‘good stock’.

Instead, he said, “When do you want to go?”

“No time like the present,” Walburga said, and gathered up her miles of skirts, heading off to powder her nose. “Kreacher, dress the babe in something suitable.”

Sirius held Harry out of the elf’s reach, until Kreacher played dirty and kicked him in the shin to snatch Harry away. Sirius flopped back down and looked dourly at his father. “What’s going to happen when the war is over, and Harry has to go back?”

Orion looked evenly at his eldest, still hopeful and optimistic. “So sure your side will win?”

“It must.”

“Albus Dumbledore will go to any lengths to secure victory, I agree,” Orion murmured, his finger tracing the delicate stem of this wine glass. “But our victory - our family’s victory - is not his. Or the dark lord’s.”

Sirius paused to take in his father’s words. “I’m your family now? After all this time?

“Always,” Orion said quietly, meeting Sirius’ gaze. There was no declaration, no drama - just a simple statement. “You are my son, the same way Hadrian is yours.”

Sirius gulped. “When James and Lily come back-“

“They won’t.”

Sirius’ hackles rose. “What?”

“It was not a threat,” Orion clarified, “but they will not survive this war. It is evident to anyone who cares to truly see. Victory for Dumbledore’s light will come with compromise, and the Potters are minor players in his games. A most minor house, mixed, and its Lord and Lady known vigilante fighters. What happens to vigilantes in peace time? No government will reward their actions - quite the opposite. And if Dumbledore loses, then - well. We know what will happen.”

Orion sighed heavily and stood up. “House Potter is finished. It was always the writing on the wall. We will lose House Potter, House Prewett, House Avery, House Rowle. With any luck we will lose Lestrange as well. One way or the other, no matter which way the wind blows, these Houses will fall, at least until the next generation is capable of reviving it. With Hadrian inheriting, only Potter and Prewett stand a chance.

“If James Potter wills Hadrian as Lord Potter, and the Prewett Lords will their lordships over to the eldest Weasley boy, these Houses will endure. But Avery has no heirs, neither does Lestrange, thank the stars.”

Sirius stared in horror at his father’s pronouncement, seeing the truth in his words. “But if Lily and James live-“

“Then they will be in no position to raise a child. No means, disavowed by their government and society, their leader, what will they have? No, better the child is raised as one of ours. Magic has willed him to us. Hadrian Sirius Black, the first of the name.” Orion paused, taking a swig from his glass, and laughed sharply. “So mote it be.”

Sirius looked in horror at his father, and then at his brother, uncharacteristically quiet and serious. Regulus nodded, and repeated the sentiment.

“So mote it be.”

***

Never in a thousand years did Sirius think that he would take tea with his mother again, much less with his own son dressed in a frilly monstrosity, and being totally happy about it.

“How well behaved he is,” Walburga remarked at her grandson, smiling awfully at him. Sirius knew that objectively, his mother was quite good looking, but her hag-like tendencies always set him on edge.

“Pa?” Harry asked, looking around. Sirius popped his head into Harry’s pram, and smiled.

“I’m here, pup!”

Harry, however, continued to ignore him. “Pa?” he kept asking, clearly looking for his grandfather, much to Sirius’ dismay.

“Grandpapa is at home, up to his machinations,” Walburga smiled as she sipped her tea. “Sirius, drink.”

“Good lord, mother,” Sirius muttered, still wary that other people would see. Still, he sipped his tea and pretended to not exist.

“I was thinking about your prospects now that you have sired an illegitimate get,” Walburga started. “Don’t look at me like that, Sirius Orion, you were not married when the babe was born. We must therefore take steps to legitimize him.”

“Right, of course,” Sirius grumbled. “I’ll go to the Ministry, then.”

“You will take your father. He is a barrister, and will know whom to approach to make the affair as red-tape free as possible.”

“Mother, I am capable of navigating the Ministry,” Sirius grimaced. “I do work there, you know.”

“And that is another thing! How can you continue such work-“

“I am an auror, and proud of it-“

“-mucking around on the streets, chasing after hooligans, throwing yourself into danger, when you know that there is a child now to come home to! It is unconscionable, and you will find a different trade to apply yourself to.”

“Are you trying to dictate my career?” Sirius asked in disbelief.

“Yes, quite. I cannot stand the thought of it,” Walburga snapped. “It is a common and lowly form of work. If you want to work with the law, then you ought to follow in your father’s footsteps-“

“And lose the thrill of the chase! The actual satisfaction of a job well done, knowing that I have made a difference by removing a ne’er do well from the streets!”

“-potentially at the cost of your own life!” Walburga snapped. “I did not get you back to lose you again, Sirius Orion, not this time!” Realizing that she had raised her voice, Walburga gritted her teeth at her own display. “Drink,” she said, her voice brittle. “I shall not hear about this again.”

Sirius did not have a suitable reply, and watched as his mother settled Harry against her awful bosoms and fed him various jams with a tiny spoon, smiling at his reactions to the sweet and tart flavours. Luckily, the tense atmosphere was alleviated when Harry decided to transform a spoon of blueberry jam into an actual blueberry, performing his very first accidental magic.

“Oh! He has performed his first magic!” Walburga cried delightedly. Those around them turned to smile appreciatively - a child’s first magic was always an occasion to be celebrated. “Sirius, did you see?”

His own strife momentarily forgotten, Sirius took Harry into his arms and bounced him. “My talented boy! Did you reverse a physical change? Who performed a complex regression charm fully by accident? Was it you? Yes it was!”

Harry squealed delightedly and flopped onto his father’s chest for a cuddle. Sirius indulged his bonny boy, and held him close. “You might miss this,” Walburga said softly. “All of this. His firsts. In this fraught climate, can you risk it?”

“I did it for him, to keep him and everyone else safe,” Sirius replied. “To make a difference, and do the right thing.”

“We will agree to disagree,” Walburga muttered. “What goes on outside the walls of our house, those things matter not to me. What matters to me is my family - their safety, their wellbeing.”

“You say that because what goes on outside does not have a direct impact on us. We are not fighting for our lives. We are privileged, mother, to be born with the blood that we have. It falls to us then, to protect those who need help.”

Walburga pursed her lips and sucked in her vitriol about the lower classes to avoid making a scene in public, and not when her family had just come together again.

“Do what you want,” she said instead, “but find another way to do it. And do remember, that this time, you have more to lose, Sirius.” Walburga paused, and looked at Harry. “You have a family now.”

Sirius looked at his mother, warring with himself in whether to openly disagree as he would have done in the past, or to keep the peace. Harry, it seemed, took it upon himself to make that decision for him when he cooed again, and called, “dada”.

Sirius looked down in surprise. “Me?”

“Of course you, don’t be daft,” Walburga snorted.

“But he’s never said it before.”

“He has, of course he has,” Walburga replied. “He's just been confused, is all, with both you and Regulus about and always together. He thinks there are two of you.”

Sirius looked down at Harry, who was looking very proud of himself. “He thinks there’s two of me?”

“Well. You and Reggie both look like your papa, and Orion was so handsome in his youth. Even now, he is so dashing, and trim, and regal-“

“Mama! We are in public!” Sirius squeaked, covering his own ears.

Walburga paused and smiled. “You’ve not called me that in years. Mama.”

Sirius gaped at his own gaffe. When had he become comfortable around his mother again? Drat and dash this whole family, making him proper, and posh, and responsible, and-

-and happy.

Sirius stared into his tea, and wondered when he had last been so loved by his family.

“We never stopped, you know,” Walburga’s voice floated over, “loving you. It hurt to lose you.”

“Did you just legilimize me? What is it with you and papa both resorting to legilimency all the time?”

“It is simply more efficient,” Walburga grinned. “Opens up communication. And it is not as though your Dumbledore doesn’t do it all the time, the man is notorious for it. Cad.”

“He does?”

“Oh yes. He is very good at it, mind you, so it is virtually untraceable, but I can tell.”

“How?” Sirius asked, intrigued.

Walburga looked at her son severely from over her teacup. “I am not, contrary to popular belief, a pureblood broodmare, you know. I am an educated woman with her own interests and incliniations. Mine happen to be in the mind arts, just as your papa’s happen to be in politics, and your uncle Alphard’s in necromancy-“

“I’m sorry, what? But he- he’s dead,” Sirius stuttered through the lie.

“Don’t be daft, of course he is not dead. You do know that the entire reason Alphard moved to Costa Rica was because the laws around necromancy are looser than here, don’t you? He is teaching there now.”

“I thought he moved to be with his paramour, the chap with the fire-breathing sloths.”

“Well, that too. The stars simply aligned for him.”

“But you blasted him off of the tapestry!”

“Because he irritated me!” Walburga cried. “The man is my brother, and by heaven, I do love him, but he can get on my last nerve!”

“I thought you blasted him off because he supported me!”

“Clearly, your thoughts are lacking. You should have more almonds, they will improve your mind. Also walnuts.”

Sirius looked incredulously at his mother, then down at Harry. “Can you believe this? This is our life, Harry.”

All told, it wasn’t too bad.

***

Orion looked up to the sound of footsteps, and observed Sirius and Walburga returning. Immediately, he levitated Harry out of Sirius’ hold and into his own, and smiled at his thievery. “Did you have a nice time?”

“We did,” Walburga said. “Sirius has seen the light about choosing a different career path. Be a peach and show him around the Ministry tomorrow?”

“I would love to, but is he quite sure he wishes to remain with the political wing of the Ministry, given the… delicate political situation?”

“Sirius would like to give the matter some thought,” Sirius interrupted irately. “I would like to be spoken to, as opposed to spoken about.”

“Do you hear something, darling?” Orion asked glibly. “I fancy I heard a rather irritating buzzing noise.”

“Papa!”

“Oh, it’s you,” Orion smiled, sweet as molasses, as Sirius pouted. “So glad to hear you’ve given up on that ridiculous auroring business. Though I wonder if you would consider doing something not affiliated to the politics of it all.”

“What else is there?” Sirius asked. “The Department of Games and Sport-“

“Don’t be so crass, dear.”

“-or the Department of Transport-“

“Alas! A coma approaches me rapidly, so bored am I!”

“-or the Department of Weather-“

“Sirius for God’s sake,” Orion cried, standing and glibly tossing Harry to his wife. “Do you exist to bring me pain? Think bigger, man, you are a Black, we are not weather witches! I was referring to something more illustrious, that would give you an untouchable position! No matter who wins this war, you will be above it.”

Sirius sighed and dropped his head back over the back of the sofa, which immediately prompted Regulus to come shooting in through the door to stab his Adam's apple with his pointy, inbred finger.

“Evil mushroom,” Sirius grumbled, as Regulus gloried in his spontaneous act of mischief.

“I simply had to,” Regulus beamed. “I am off to the Runes Library for my apprenticeship!”

“Just say you are going to organize and transcribe dusty tomes on How To Draw Evile Squiggles,” Sirius grunted. “At least you have a profession! I am caught between my past and my future!”

“You have graduated school, have you not?” Regulus asked, unimpressed. “You could feasibly get any job you wish, given your education and name.”

“Ah! My son speaks wisely,” Orion praised his little scarab beetle of a son. “Sirius, heed your brother’s words! Regulus, make haste, you will be late, and the runemaster is a harsh teacher. Remember, keep on the lookout for runes to reveal hidden evils - the usual charms did not work on that goblet.”

“Where did you keep that thing?” Sirius queried.

“Attic, behind the containment runes and aunt Cassiopeia’s shrunken head. May her spirit bound to her skull continue to shield this family, as it has ever!”

“Forever and ever, praise be,” Regulus replied, as per ritual, because he was a good lad who upheld arcane traditions. Sirius shuddered at the snap of magic and glared at his brother, even as Harry bobbed up and looked around for the new magic.

“Dada?” Harry asked, his tiny hands grasping for the magic in the air.

Before Sirius could reply, Orion swooped in and took Harry into his arms. “How gratifying to see my grandson perceive the family majicks! Did you see that, Burga?”

Walburga smiled, her sharp edges softening in a way Sirius had long forgotten about. “I did. Our Magic has recognized and accepts him wholly!”

“My grandson will do what his ignoble father is unable to do, and immerse himself in arcane ritual magic,” Orion smiled at Harry, who grinned gummily and snuggled into his grandpapa’s arms.

“Excuse you, I can do arcane ritual magic too - I got an Outstanding on my Ancient Runes NEWT! My son takes after me!” Sirius huffed, and made a lunge to retrieve Harry, only for Orion to dance out of the way and continue his dominion over his grandson.

“You are receptive to our family magics once more,” Orion noted cunningly. “Then perhaps you are ready to accept the magical load of being Heir Black once more, hm?” Orion queried slyly.

Sirius' jaw dropped as he realized the conversational corner that his father had backed him into. “You cannot mean-?”

“Oh yes,” Orion purred delightedly, his awful features highlighted just so by the light of the fireplace, “you, my firstborn, are ripe to take your place as Heir Black once more!”

Sirius gasped. “No! What about Regulus? Will you wrest this away from him?”

“The further Regulus is kept from the Lordship, the safer he will be.” Orion reasoned. “When he needs to settle down with some nice, muscular warlock, he will cause less waves - he can live in relative peace.

“So,” Orion smiled evilly, slinking back to a cowed Sirius, “what do you say, Sirius? Will you once more embrace the path that the Fates had writ in your name?”

Sirius looked horrified at this twist. What he had once sought to escape had caught up to him with a vengeance. “It would solidify your son’s claim to the House,” Walburga’s voice cut through Sirius’ thoughts.

“He would be safe,” Sirius repeated dumbly.

“He would,” Orion reasoned. “He is but a babe, and in no imminent danger. But a babe from a powerful House with our blood, our magic, claiming him? He would be untouchable.”

In Orion’s arms, Harry burbled happily, knowing only that his beloved grandpapa was being diabolically happy, and so he, too, was happy.

In the same moment, Sirius was the only one who was not happy, but rather, resigned himself to his new role. After all, in for a penny, in for a pound.

Chapter Text

“Today, we will start with the finances,” Orion lectured at a despondent Sirius, now officially Heir Black once more. “Since the age of Morgana, we Blacks have long been a canny and industrious bunch, managing the money of the great Arthurian kings, back when Magic was valued, and demons, wizards, and common men lived side by side-“

Orion’s aura of grandeur and gravitas was much diminished on account of Harry being strapped to his chest in a sling and cooing up at him.

Sirius looked balefully at his traitorous son and tried to tune in to his father, who was expounding on how a talented apothecary with good ingredients was a generally sound investment - people would never stop being ill, after all.

Sirius spent a solid three hours going over accounts while Orion made kissy faces at Harry, until Walburga walked in.

“The Department of Family Affairs just gave you a timeslot for 2pm! Make haste, it is just past noon now-”

“Huh?”

Walburga looked archly at her son. “Pray do not gape thusly - it makes you resemble a guppy. The Ministry gave us a slot to file for Hadrian's official papers! He will be legitimized as our Heir at last!”

“Such a glorious day demands a fine robe,” Kreacher croaked, and held up a frilly, white baby gown with a bonnet for Harry. “Yes, Kreacher will dress young Hadrian-”

And so Sirius found himself being dragged through the halls of the Ministry, holding his frilly, lacy son, and flanked by his parents. Orion was happily introducing Harry to everyone.

“Yes, my grandson. My son, Sirius, went and had him out of wedlock, and we are righting this most terrible wrong of his today, and legitimizing the babe. Oh, of course he lives with us - the boy could not possibly raise a child on his own-“

“I have never once seen you smile this much, Orion,” Bartemius Crouch Sr. remarked, “and we shared a dorm for seven years.” He turned to his own flimsy-looking son, who had just walked past in his blue Department of Mysteries robes. “You see, Junior! The time is ripe for you to wed and produce a child as well!”

Barty Jr. jumped at being yelled at, and pointed out, “Well, I could produce the child anytime, father, one need not marry for that-“

As they walked away, Orion beamed. “I have never seen Bartemius look quite so purple with rage! How amusing, I have ever loathed his pretentious manner and mustache - facial hair is not a mark of a sophisticated man, remember that, Sirius.”

The actual process of registering Harry as Hadrian Sirius Black was simple and heartwarming, with Harry flopping affectionately against Walburga’s shoulder and grinning whenever someone used his new, official name.

“This calls for a celebration!” Walburga smiled, bouncing Harry joyfully. “Our House’s line is secured once more. We must host a soirée to show society that we are, once more, secured, and that the Blacks are not to be trifled with.”

“In this climate?” Sirius asked.

“Even a small gathering with some strategic families can be a show of wealth, power,” Orion provided. “You should learn the art of hosting from your mama, there is none that can top her - not even those poncey Malfoys.”

Walburga glowed at the praise, and Sirius retched as his parents eyed each other amorously, and escaped to the garden as Orion chased his wife up the stairs. He managed to snag Regulus as his brother appeared in the floo after his job at the museum, saying, “Come on, mum and dad are being frisky upstairs. We’re going to the garden.”

“Oh no,” Regulus groaned. “How could they do such unnatural and horrid things? Come let us have some lemonade,” he muttered. When Kreacher popped up with the tray, Regulus scooped him up as well, because Sirius got to cuddle a baby, so Regulus could cuddle his elf-nanny hybrid.

“Heads up, mum is planning a fête,” Sirius sniffed.

“I see,” Regulus frowned. “To show off Hadrian?” Regulus stopped and smiled when Harry looked over, recognizing his name.

“Yeah, I’ve never seen her so happy.”

Regulus smiled softly. “She's been happier, lighter, of late. While some might say that it is due to the return of the prodigal son, I personally think that no one can stay gloomy with a baby in the house.”

The brothers watched, quietly contemplative, as Harry tumbled around the garden, marveling at the flowers and more sentient plants. “Did you ever think that we could have had this?” Sirius asked. “Quiet happiness, even during a war. Everyone coming together.”

“No,” Regulus admitted. “I had never thought of mum and dad as particularly warm or loving people, but seeing them with Hadrian has forced me to revise my opinion of them. Do you think they were like this with us?”

“Maybe? Can’t remember,” Sirius shrugged. “They probably loved you, I recall that you looked akin to a sausage, and no one can hate a good sausage.”

The rest of the evening was spent with Regulus defending his sausage-like past, and Sirius laughing at his brother in their family home, while the world went on around them.

***

“Mum, you can't put makeup on a baby!”

“Tosh and rot! It is just some blush to pink-up his cheeks,” Walburga replied to an irate Sirius. “See how fetching he looks? Hadrian will be the beau of the ball!”

Harry, whose cheeks had been poked and prodded, looked sweetly up at his doting grandmama. Walburga then proceeded to stuff him into a tiny, impossibly lacy blush pink baby dress.

“Mum, Harry's a boy. You've put him in pink,” Sirius pointed out.

“Don't be ridiculous. I used to put you in this dress all the time. Why, you practically lived in little dresses until you were two!”

“Mum!”

“Besides, my baby looks delightful and ever so proper,” Walburga smiled down at Harry, who beamed back and flopped onto her chest. “Come, Hadrian. We are going to give the Malfoys a conniption, for their child looks like nothing less than a pile of coagulated lemon juice.”

Sirius slowly followed his mother and baby into the sitting room, and put on an aloof expression to greet the snobs gathered below. He was greeted by the sight of Malfoys, Lestranges, and-

“Er.”

Lord Voldemort was sitting on the sofa, and was holding a smiling Harry, who was gabbing cheerfully at said dark lord. “Ah, Heir Black,” Voldemort smiled coolly, bouncing Harry on his knee. “How lovely it is to make your child’s delightful acquaintance again. I have seldom seen such a winsome and comely child, he is the very picture of a wholesome infant.”

Draco, who was sat upon his mother’s lap not two feet away, continued to look like a lemon with a grudge. Sirius grinned at baby Draco, and watched him flail. Only Narcissa looked fondly at him, while the dark lord seemed to be more taken with Harry, who seemed to be babbling something to him in an endearing manner.

In the corner, Bellatrix simmered with rage at not being able to provide her lord with a bonny baby of her own - as though any spawn of hers would not be a malicious glob of porridge.

By this time, Harry had become comfortable enough to lay his tiny head against the dark lord’s chest and drift off to have a little nap. Voldemort looked sinisterly happy, as though he knew that his and Harry’s joy was causing others strife.

“Let us sit for the meal,” Walburga said, rising. “I shall put Hadrian down for his nap. Cissa dear, why don't you put Draco down with him? They can get to know each other.”

They watched as both infants were laid to sleep in the little crib. As Harry touched down, he roused slightly to take in his new surroundings. Seeing the twisty little baby next to him, he pressed a soft toy into Draco's limp hands and then proceeded to fall asleep himself.

Narcissa looked overjoyed and beamed at her husband. “I want another one,” she declared, even as Lucius groaned. Nine more months of mood swings, bloating, and hogging the bed awaited him.

Dinner was in full swing when Harry decided to wake up and toddle in, falling several times in his journey. “Pa?” Harry asked sleepily. Sirius smiled and went to take him, only for Harry to waddle into Orion’s waiting arms. “Granpa,” he cooed, and snuggled up against his evil grandfather’s shoulder.

Orion looked incredibly pleased by his cuddly grandson giving him love and affection. Draco probably only gave Lucius stress and soiled diapers.

Meanwhile, Bellatrix continued to simmer in rage, unused to being cast aside and unable to provide her lord with the genuine happiness he was getting from the bouncing baby of her traitorous cousin.

Wary of her evil eye, Walburga pinched Sirius under the table. “Papa, I think Harry has done a wee, I shall change him.”

Astute as ever, Orion made to hand Harry over, only for Kreacher to apparate in and grab Harry out of midair, and biffing off.

Sirius threw his hands up. “Won't anyone let me hold my own son?”

“Not when he is as small and winsome as he is,” Orion grinned. “At any rate, tell us about your plans for wizarding children, Voldemort, and how you plan to revolutionize wizarding education and society.”

“With pleasure,” Voldemort beamed, always glad for a chance to soliloquize. “The true problem in our world-“

While Voldemort held court, Sirius snuck away to get some time alone with Harry, only to see that he was beaten to his cribside by none other than Regulus. “Bella was coming upstairs, ostensibly to use the washroom. I… I did not like how she was looking at Harry earlier, and did not wish to take a chance.”

Sirius rushed forward and took Harry into his arms to verify he was alright, after which he administered the same treatment unto Regulus, who squeaked in surprise.

“Thanks,” Sirius mumbled into Regulus’ hair. “You care, even though he's not…”

“Don't be stupid, of course he's mine too,” Regulus scoffed. “The magic accepts him, the blood took to him. He's ours in every sense of the word. At any rate, it doesn't matter,” Regulus said, looking gently at Harry. “He's just a baby. That should be enough.”

***

A quiet moment that evening saw Voldemort steal into the nursery, causing Sirius to jump up. “Do sit,” Voldemort murmured, and smiled as Harry stood up on wobbly legs to greet him. “Hello, little Heir.”

“I don’t understand why you like him so much,” Sirius grumbled.

“I cannot explain it either,” Voldemort admitted, “but the love of a child has a way of eroding even the toughest of stones.”

“You don’t dote on Draco the way you do Harry.”

“Have you seen the Malfoy babe?’ Voldemort asked wryly, startling Sirius into a snort of laughter. “I have never seen an infant so long in the face.”

Sirius managed to turn his laughter into a series of coughs, fooling no one. “Still, it doesn’t explain why you like my kid.”

“As I said, I can’t explain it either,” Voldemort said, bending down to tickle the happy baby, “perhaps a connection from another life, another time. Mayhaps it is simply fate.”

Sirius’ hair stood on end at how close the dark lord was to the truth of the prophecy. “Fate can be so fickle.”

“Indeed,” Voldemort said quietly, meeting Sirius’ eyes. In that moment, under the man’s gaze, Sirius saw what drew people to him, the sway he held over others. The power he exuded was palpable and giddying. “I would not leave my life in the hands of Fate, especially not that of a bonny babe such as he.” Voldemort said, smiling down at Harry.

“Well, what do you suggest I do? He will have enemies wherever he goes. Have you seen how Bella looked at him?”

“This is why I cannot trust Fate,” Voldemort replied evenly. “Where is the goblet I gifted to the child? I told you that it held a spirit. Keep it in the nursery, it will serve as an extension of my own will - it will protect what I want.”

Sirius bristled. “You want-”

“Not in any possessive way,” Voldemort amended. I have mastered Magic in most forms - save Love. Now, I have no need for it - but I seem to have it nonetheless.” Voldemort looked at Harry, who waved happily. “I am loath to lose this.”

“So Harry is naught but a battery pack to you,” Sirius grumped.

“Fancy you knowing about batteries,“ Voldemort grinned. “Orion would have a conniption if he knew.”

“Dad has a conniption when the breeze blows in the wrong direction,” Sirius retorted, then looked at Harry, who was happily plodding around Voldemort, occasionally pausing to hug the man’s leg. Voldemort himself was gazing bemusedly at Harry. “Go on, you may as well pick him up,” Sirius sighed.

“Odd child, why are you so cheerful and becoming?” Voldemort asked. Harry giggled in response, filled with the love and bonhomie as most children - perhaps bar Draco - were. “I should put the goblet in this nursery,” Voldemort said, putting Harry back in his cot. “It will act to safeguard the child.”

Knowing that it was not a suggestion, Sirius sighed. “Kreacher,” he addressed the air, “fetch the evil cup.”

“Kreacher fetches the cup,” the elf croaked, handling the chalice with a washcloth, just to be safe.

“It is not evil,” Voldemort rolled his eyes, taking it and setting it up on the nightstand, where it hummed happily, and made to shuffle closer to Harry’s cot, much to the baby’s delight.

“Yeah, totally not possessed,” Sirius said dryly.

“It is an extension of myself,” Voldemort reiterated. “The child’s love enriches my own Magic, and I will now protect the child. It is rather self-explanatory.”

Sirius huffed as the cup waddled closer and squealed at Harry, who cooed back. It would have to do for now.

***

Meanwhile, somewhere in the Department of Mysteries, a hanging crystal ball in the Hall of Prophecies cracked open, spilling its unfulfilled contents all over the floor.

“Tch, another one in the bin,” a passing Unspeakable muttered, sweeping up the crystalline remains and binning them, inadvertently closing the door on what could have been.