Hi Guys, for the past couple of months I've been rewriting this fic. I started it a few years ago and the first half wasn't great (Not to say this will be but I've tried) and as I got further on in the story I realized that there were details I needed to put in the earlier chapters I hadn't thought of at the time. The story is essentially the same but there will be some minor changes that will hopefully make things make a little more sense. I have it all written out in my notebooks I just need to get it typed up and edited.
The story is set the summer before Harry's sixth year at Hogwarts and about thirty-two years after the hobbit.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything from either Lord of The Rings or Harry Potter
The phrase 'ignore it and it'll go away' does not apply to post owls. Throwing pillows at them doesn't work either. Harry Potter lay on his now pillowless bed and glared at the tiny owl spinning around his ceiling. Apparently, his friends were eager for news because despite physically throwing Pig out of his window twice the small bird refused to leave. As Pig started a particularly enthusiastic round of chirping he sighed in defeat and rolled out of bed, squinting in annoyance at the morning sunlight.
The first week of the summer holidays was drawing to a close and so far, it looked to be full of cloudless days and endless sunshine. Drifting through his still open window were already the sounds of children playing on Privet Drive and their parents exchanging gossip over the flower beds. Scowling, Harry pulled the window shut with a bang and pulled out a mostly unrumpled piece of parchment from the mess covering his desk.
Two weeks had passed since the 'incident at the ministry'. Two weeks since Sirius had died and he'd been possessed by Voldemort. Two weeks since he'd learnt about the prophecy. Since then he'd spent his days staring at the ceiling, absent mindedly fiddling with the mirror Sirius had given him and ignoring the constant letters from Ron and Hermione. Countless times he'd sat, as he was now, and tried to write to them, but how do you explain that you're so miserable you can't get out of bed? That the sound of children having fun makes you want to pull the covers over your head and never get out again?
He knew that they were having their own problems, both had been injured at the ministry, and he knew he should be worried about them but these days the only emotions he ever felt were anger and grief. The only thing sustaining him were thoughts of defeating Voldemort and avenging his godfather. He picked up a quill, dipped it in ink and held it above the parchment ready to write. He sat for several minutes and got as far as 'Dear Ron' before huffing in annoyance "It's no good Pig" he threw the quill back down angrily and opened up the window again, "You'll have to go back without anything. I don't have anything to say." The owl hooted mournfully then nipped him on the ear hard and finally flew out the window. Hedwig twittered in approval at the peace Pig left behind.
Harry blinked and mentally shook himself. He needed to take his mind off it all. The house was unusually quiet, his Aunt and Uncle were entertaining a business client of Vernon's in London for the day and Dudley had left at the crack of dawn with Piers. They'd left Harry a considerable list of chores to be completed in their absence 'or else' and for once he was glad for the distraction hard work would bring.
He started in the garden and as he began pulling weeds his thoughts returned to the dream Pigwideon had interrupted that morning. It had been decidedly odd. He couldn't remember the specifics but his father had been there, and so had Sirius though they'd both looked younger and somehow fairer than in the photos he had of them. They'd been in a strange forest he was sure, and there had been other people there too, all beautiful and oddly with the same sharp cheekbones and ink black hair as he and his father. It reminded him of the scene he'd once seen in the Mirror of Erised.
He wasn't unused to dreaming up relatives for himself, on the contrary it had been his favorite pastime as a child. Indeed he'd fantasized about it so much in his youth that when he had found the Mirror of Erised he was beside himself with excitement. He convinced himself that with all those people smiling and waving at him from behind the glass one of them was surely alive. He'd even gone so far as to ask Dumbledore, who had sadly, if not a little impatiently told him that he was the only one left alive. He hadn't bothered to mention Sirius either though had he Harry mused.
At the thought of the headmaster Harry's shoulders hunched and jaw clenched. He started to haul bags of compost from the shed and drag them across the lawn breathing heavily as he pictured the headmaster. Despite the promises the man had made after Sirius's death nothing had changed from the previous summer. He was still being treated like a child and he was still stuck here with the Dursleys. The only difference was that this year there no Sirius to mollify him. Pulling out a trowel Harry started heaving the compost into containers carelessly brushing the soil away when it fell on his trousers. He wondered bitterly how they ever expected him to defeat Voldemort if he was never going to be trusted with what Voldemort was doing.
After Harry had finished his chores in the garden he trailed mud back into the kitchen with him as he raided the fridge for lunch. He'd have to clean it all up later of course but muddying Aunt Petunias gleaming tiles was incredibly satisfying.
By the time his Aunt and Uncle arrived back from London he had dinner waiting on the table and the kitchen was back to being spotless. They completely ignored him when he came in and sat down with no comment on the dinner or work he'd done. He scowled at their backs and as if sensing the look they were being given Vernon glanced over his shoulder in annoyance, "Are you done with your list boy?" he asked in a tone that suggested he better be. He was shoveling mashed potato into his mouth and Harry watched in disgust as it was flecked across the table, no doubt he'd be cleaning that up later.
"Yes Uncle Vernon" he gritted his teeth, he wondered what they did while he was away at school.
"Well off with you then boy, take your food upstairs."
He trudged up the stairs moodily. It wasn't as though he wanted their particular company but he also didn't want to be left alone with his guilt and grief.
That night he dreamt of them again, his father, Sirius and two identical looking men with long dark hair and beautiful faces. They were all laughing and talking in some language he'd never heard before. When he woke, he felt more rested than he had in months. However, there was one worry in the back of his mind, a niggling that wouldn't let him fully enjoy the peace. The possibility that these dreams, rather than being a nice figment of his imagination were actually being sent by Voldemort. Though if they were he couldn't guess at their purpose.
He chewed at his nails and paced the floor of his bedroom. Finally coming to a decision, he wrote a swift message to Remus and another identical one to Dumbledore. The answer would no doubt be 'don't worry' no matter what either really thought, if he got an answer at all. He hoped Remus at least might be helpful.
He'd had several letters from Remus since he'd arrived at Privet Drive. He too was grieving Sirius and seemed to genuinely be trying to help Harry despite him being the reason for Sirius's death. His friends weren't being so helpful and these days he barely read their letters before tossing them in the metal bin under the desk. At first they had given him some pity but it soon turned to annoyance and in fact Ron had told him he 'needed to get over it' and 'How was he supposed to be the savior if he didn't stop being so selfish'. Hermione hadn't been so harsh but had reminded him that people were relying on him and as far as Sirius was concerned 'it was bound to happen at some point. He was far too rash and mentally unstable for it not to'. He wondered if they'd always been that uncaring and he just hadn't noticed.
He pulled on a Weasley jumper as made his way down stairs and spotted his Aunt polishing the photos in the living room. He'd been toying with the idea of talking to her about any family she might know about for a few days and considering this new dream he was more determined than ever. She may not have been close to her sister but she had been at their wedding, maybe she'd met someone there.
When he asked she gave him a look of utter disgust and shock that he'd dared ask questions, "If there are any alive I'd certainly like to know why we've been lumbered with you and they haven't." she was furiously polishing the same photo of Dudley's fat face over and over and refused to look in Harry's direction.
"But did you ever meet any of them?" he blocked her attempts at trying to shuffle past him and desperately tried to catch her eye. "What about at the wedding? There must have been someone there"
Petunia huffed and pursed her lips, "His foster parents were there and I believe his older brothers made an appearance but the rest of his blood family did not. Ashamed probably." She pushed past him haughtily and stalked off to the kitchen to join her husband were she knew Harry wouldn't dare continue the conversation.
He stared after her. Foster parents? Blood family? A million questions ran through his head, but he knew he'd get nothing more out of Petunia. Moodily, he went back to his room and took out Sirius's mirror, flipping it round whilst thinking. Why had no one ever said anything to him? Not even Sirius.
It was that night that things took an even more interesting turn. Dumbledore and Remus had both replied to his letter. Dumbledore with generic unhelpful comments about over active imaginations and focusing on his occlumency and Remus with something else. He pulled the letter from a tired looking tawny owl and offered the bird a drink from Hedwig's cage before unrolling the parchment.
I'm happy that you're finally responding to my letters but don't feel the need to apologize. People deal with grief in different ways and I'm the first person to understand your need for space. First off, I don't think you need to worry about these dreams though you were right to be cautious of anything unusual. It's curious that your thinking about James's family now as I know it was something that was weighing on Sirius's mind before he died. At the time Albus was insistent that Sirius drop the issue but in light of your dreams and Sirius's death perhaps we should have a discussion regardless.
I'd rather we spoke in person and we'll have the chance soon. The goblins have requested that all benefactors of Sirius's will meet with them this Friday and predictably that includes you.
After the meeting, we'll have time for tea and a chat. The feather that's come with this letter is a portkey to take you to Gringotts at ten on Friday morning. Sorry to leave you wondering for two days but do try to keep your head till then.
He put the letter down carefully and twirled the white feather round. He scraped back his chair abruptly and began to pace the room thoughtfully. So, there was something to discuss, and Dumbledore had 'been insistent Sirius drop it'. If he'd been placed with the Dursleys when there was another alternative he'd never forgive the headmaster. He threw himself down on the bed wincing when he hit an odd spring in the mattress. He once again drew out the mirror from his pocket and stared into it. Two days was going to feel like a lifetime.
In fact, he was wrong. Aunt Petunia had decided a spring clean in the attic was needed before he left for Hogwarts in September and for the next two days Harry barely had time to think between all the dusting, sorting and rearranging. He had continued to dream about the strange beautiful people and his dead relatives. The more he dreamt of them the more he believed he was making them up with his own wishful thinking. The whole thing was starting to weigh heavily on him, perhaps it was his own guilt at Sirius's death driving them.
It was Friday morning and Harry had been staring at his ceiling for hours, for some reason going to this will reading made Sirius's death seem more real. He had the strongest desire to scream. He could feel a pressure building up inside him and in his head the image of Sirius's face as he fell into the veil replaced that of the peeling paint. He felt as though he would burst and with a whine he pressed the pillow to his face. His eyes were full of tears that he wouldn't let fall. He didn't deserve to feel better. Sirius was dead because of him. He'd never be able to run free as Padfoot again, never know his name was cleared. He'd never be able to do anything because he had had the misfortune of being Harry Potters godfather and it had got him killed. He almost considered not going to the will reading because he didn't deserve anything Sirius had left him anyway.
At 9.58 am he stood clutching the feather. His dark robes matched the dark circles beneath his eyes and his skin was unnaturally pale. He paced back and forth as the minutes ticked closer to ten. He hadn't had the chance to see Remus since the day he'd tried to hold Harry back at the ministry. Despite Remus's assurances that there was no need to apologize Harry still thought about how he was going to convey how much he regretted that night. He was dreading this meeting.
At ten exactly Harry felt a now familiar pull behind his navel and in an instant landed in heap in a dark room. He opened his eyes, which he'd squeezed shut for the journey and looked around. He was in a windowless room, dimly lit with lanterns. Sitting around a circular wooden table were two goblins, Nymphadora Tonks sporting bright orange hair and an older woman who could only be her mother and Remus, who had leapt up at his arrival. For a moment, Harry and Remus stared at one another and then Harry opened his mouth, "Remus I, I…" His voice cracked and in a heartbeat the older man had crossed the room and pulled Harry into a hug.
Harry hugged him back, both grateful for the comfort and embarrassed by the audience they had. Remus pulled back and held Harry at arm's length, looking over his skinny frame and dark eyes with concern. He looked as though he was going to say something but before he got a chance the goblin behind him gave a curt cough and gestured to the chairs around the table.
"Welcome patrons" He gave a small bow to each of them in turn, "My name is Fillig and this will be the distribution of the Black estate and last will and testament of the late Sirius Orion Black" He waved his hand as he spoke and in the air appeared a roll of parchment that magically unraveled. There was a moment of silence and then a voice resonated throughout the room.
"What's up guys" Harry felt goosebumps raise on his arms and pressure build behind his eyes, he hadn't expected to hear Sirius's voice ever again. "Remus, Tonks, Andromeda and Harry, if everything's gone to plan and Dumbledore hasn't managed to worm his way in you four should be the only ones here. If not, Albus, kindly get out. Anyway, onto the will reading, I Sirius Orion Black of sound body and mind do hereby bequeath the following.
To my beautiful cousin Andromeda, vault 46 and all its contents including the Black family artifacts. Do with them what you want so long as you don't let your beastly sister get ahold of them.
To my little cousin Nymphadora 10,000 galleons and my entire collection of chocolate frog cards. I know you've had your eye on my Andros the Invincible card.
To Remus vaults 47 and 48, don't complain Moony if anyone deserves this it's you. Just enjoy the money and look after my godson.
And finally, to Harry, my precious godson, all of my other personal belongings, property, vaults and the title of Head of the Black family go to you. Make me proud Pronglet and have some fun, life isn't just about fighting bad guys.
And so ends the last will and testament of Sirius Orion Black."
The parchment rolled itself back up and fell silently to the table. Harry's breath was coming in short rugged puffs and Remus laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Perhaps we should get some air." He suggested quietly.
Tonks cast him a sympathetic glance, "I'm sure we can finish up here for you Harry." She offered kindly giving him a warm smile.
He nodded stiffly and then they turned and walked quickly through a long dim corridor and the crowed atrium into the fresh air. Harry took a deep breath and shaking slightly sat down on the white marble steps and dimly noted that Remus had sat heavily next to him and dropped his head into his hands, clearly as distraught as Harry was.
He opened his mouth to say something to Remus, anything, but found he couldn't get the words out. Sirius had been Remus's best friend, and the only other surviving marauder, he could hardly expect Remus to support him, if anything it should be the other way around. He swallowed hard past the lump that had formed in his throat. He had no right to seek comfort from Remus, a man who had been a much bigger part of Sirius's life.
Remus lifted his head and surveyed Harry through worried eyes and slowly pulled him into a hug "Don't worry cub, we'll get through this." That was enough for the pressure behind Harry's eyes to become actual tears and for several minutes all he could do was sob into Remus's shoulder "Sorry Remus, " He finally managed mumble "All my fault, so sorry."
Remus pulled back and looked at Harry seriously, "No Harry, Sirius's death was no ones fault but Bellatrix's and Voldemort's. And he'd be the first to tell you that" Remus held onto him for another few minutes before Tonks appeared at their side and crouched next to Harry. "Hey Harry, how are you doing?"
Having composed himself, but with tear stains still down his face he gave her a weak smile. "Fine."
She raised her eyebrows "Liar" she looked over to Remus " why don't you go get some food?" she suggested "Always makes me feel better. And you could do with fattening up" she added eyeing his bony arms.
This time he gave her a genuine smile, "Careful, your starting to sound like Molly" he joked.
She gasped and held a hand over her heart, "I'm wounded Potter".
After they said their goodbyes to Tonks and Andromeda Harry and Remus pushed their way through the crowds in Diagon Alley to the Leaky Cauldron and sat themselves in a secluded corner for lunch. Remus handed him a butterbeer and the two talked about Sirius and the marauders whilst they waited for their food. Finally, Harry mentioned the one thing that had been plaguing him for days, "I asked my Aunt about my Dads family" He announced absentmindedly fiddled with the edge of table cloth.
Remus raised his eyebrows and nodded slightly, "What did she say?"
"She didn't know much" he admitted, "But she did mention something about him being fostered, and brothers, and a blood family" He watched Remus's face closely for signs of surprise and noted that there were none. "Am I not a Potter?"
Remus took a swig of his drink seemingly contemplating what to say. "James and Sirius were both placed into foster families before starting Hogwarts" he explained slowly, " Both were from prominent non magical families and targets of Voldemort's" He leaned back into his chair cradling his mug of butterbeer "By fostering him with the Potters his family hoped to protect him, camouflage him within the magical community so to speak."
Harry looked up hopefully, "What happened to them? Are there any of them left?"
"I'm afraid not Cub" Remus smiled caringly "Voldemort got to them just before your parents"
Harry sat quietly digesting this. "Do you think it's them I've been dreaming about?" he sat dejectedly kicking the leg of the table softly and staring intently at a dwarf and goblin playing exploding snap on a table opposite.
Remus rubbed his stubble thoughtfully, "I don't know how they could be. But the timing is interesting and you've described them to a tee, James's brothers were twins, both extremely beautiful, I never met their father but your descriptions match what I've been told. "He paused and seemed to be debating something with himself, " I don't want to raise your hopes Harry, I don't know anything for certain, but before he died Sirius had started to look into the deaths of James's family and his own brother who was reported dead at the same time. He was saying that some of the things Dumbledore had said didn't add up. He'd contacted an old friend of their families but I don't know what the outcome was. I've been trying to find him since your letter this week but so far nothings turned up. I can let you know as soon as I find anything."
"What kind of things didn't add up?" Harry asked urgently.
"I don't know Harry, truly. To be honest I thought this was just Sirius being frustrated and bored at being cooped up in Grimmauld Place. I was so caught up working with the werewolves that I didn't really pay attention and then it was too late." He sighed and looked at his lap sadly.
Harry shifted awkwardly, "I'm sure he understood Remus"
"You're right" Remus shot him a smile, "Anyway, we'd best get you back to your Aunts cub." He stretched and they left the Leaky Cauldron. "I'm going to apparate with you" he explained grabbing ahold of Harry's arm and placing it on his own "hold on tightly, we don't want any accidents" Remus started to twist and suddenly everything was black, he felt as though he was being smothered and just as he was about to start panicking it was over and he was standing in the back garden of number 4 Privet Drive.
Before he left Remus clapped Harry on the shoulder "I know I can't replace your parents or Sirius Harry but if you ever need anything, a shoulder to cry on, someone to talk to just write to me and I'll come." Then he pulled Harry into a one-armed hug and apparated away.
That night Harry fell asleep holding onto the shard of glass that used to be Sirius's mirror. He found himself in a dark room lit dimly by a fire at one end. He was sat in a high-backed chair and on the ground before him was a man he didn't recognize in death eaters robes. The man was whimpering, "I'm sorry my lord, the unspeakable won't talk, we've tried everything but he remains as stubborn as ever." Harry felt the malice and anger twist inside him and with horror knew what would happen next. He tried desperately to wake up, now aware he wasn't in a mere dream. His struggles were useless and he watched helplessly as his wand arm raised and he casually hissed "Crucio" as if he were merely announcing the weather. Pain flooded his head and if he could have screamed he would have.
In fact, he was. The inhabitants of Number 4 Privet Drive were awoken by the piercing screams of their nephew in the early hours of the morning. Fearing the whispers of the neighbors the Dursleys hurried to his room intending on shutting him up. As they reached the door the screams ended abruptly. By the time they'd got the door open Harry Potter was gone leaving behind nothing more than a shard of glass upon the bed.
Thanks for reading Guys!
New Version posted: 22/05/2017