The emerald light flashed towards Harry Potter, coming in closer and closer; yet, he made no motion to move out the way, or dodge the fatal curse. He smiled a deranged smile, his eyes blazed with defiance, but right before the light actually hit him, his posture relaxed, and for the first time in his life, Harry Potter was at peace – for about one second, until Fate and Destiny whisked him away into another time, another place.

"It's a boy, Lady and Lord Black," The nurse proclaimed nervously at the two heads of the oldest and most powerful house in all of Great Britain if not the world. The two graceful figures merely acknowledged her by nodding, and if they were at all affected by the news given to them, they did not show it.

Already up from the bedside, Lady Walburga Black approached the crib holding her third born male child. Only allowing faint bits of resentment and apprehension to leak through her eyes, she carefully studied the son that had been pulled from her loins. She had so desperately wanted a little girl, one that she herself could raise in her image, but instead, she was stuck with a third boy. When her oldest Sirius had come out her womb, she had allowed herself to feel the rush of pride fill her being. It was because of her that had allowed the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black to continue. The oldest family in possibly the world was continuing because of her. And then, Regulus was born. Again, she had been filled to the brink with joy and pride, and delight coursed through her very being at the small smiles that graced the normally stoic faces of the aristocratic Black family. A second son, a secondary heir, further cemented the continuation of the Black family. And when she had learnt that she was pregnant again, she had believed it to be a girl. One that she could raise to become the perfect Pureblood Black Lady, one that suitors would fight over to gain her hand in marriage. She sighed, mentally cursing at herself for indulging herself in these delusions of grandeur. Because, she in fact had birthed a third boy. There was no role assigned to the third child, first and second child, yes, any amount of daughters, yes, but third child, sadly no. She gazed at her husband's slightly apprehensive eyes, and she couldn't help but blame her third son, because it was because of him, that she had failed in her duties to the House of Black.

Orion gazed at his peacefully sleeping son, and couldn't help but admire the beauty of the scene. Sure, he was a tad disappointed that Walburga hadn't birthed a daughter, but it wasn't the end of the world. He could always offer his brother, Cygnus's daughters to form strong alliances with other families. As his son's eyes slowly fluttered open, he gasped. In addition to the standard grey color of the Black eyes, they were graced with streaks and swirls of liquid silver. They glimmered brightly with radiance as if they were molten stars poured into sockets for eyes. Even with all of the chubbiness that being a baby entailed, the prominent high Black cheekbones, the strong Black chin, the Black midnight black curls and locks of hair, were all visible on the beautiful baby. 'Merlin', Orion came to a realization, his third son was graced with all of the standard Black features. Sirius and Regulus, and he himself had certain features that clearly had been inherited from some other line, features that diluted the regality of the Blacks. But this son, clearly had no such taint upon him, looking every bit the King among Kings, the King that would command and rule over the other lords. Pangs of regret filled the heart of Orion Black; this third son would forever be ignored while his first two sons would commandeer the attention and affections of the rest of the family.

"Aries," he proclaimed pompously and his wife's attention was captured by the ritualistic moment that the naming of a son was, "Aries Perseus Black." The words rolled off of his tongue. The nurse promptly left after a surprised gasp. "Aries Perseus Black," he intoned, and the powerful Family Magic of the Blacks, swirled around the room. Magic pulled and twisted from the ancient manor, from the very land that was so suffused with Black magic collected, and thrummed with anticipation. "ARIES PERSEUS BLACK," Orion Black thundered with finality, and the third son was named. On the family tapestry, a silver line slithered out the conjoined lines of Orion Arcturus Black and Walburga Andromeda Black, and a new name was scrawled out, "Aries Perseus Black." The Black family welcomed the newest member of their family on this day, another high point in the time of Blacks.

- - - - . - - - -

A little boy named Aries Black meandered through the library located inside the Black ancestral manor. HIs older brothers Sirius and Regulus were commandeering the attention of their parents, no doubt learning how to be the perfect heirs of such a prestigious family. So little Aries, only three years old, wandered through the far reaching bookshelfs, in search of someone, in search of something that would able aid him in unleashing his potential. He knew he was special. He could feel it in his blood. He grit his teeth together, not looking where his feet were taking him, and ran headfirst into a door that was never there before. Curiously, Aries reached out to grasp the doorknob; Aries had explored every inch of the manor, and he was proud to say he knew the layout inside and out. This door simply didn't exist! However, his curiosity overcoming his apprehension, pressed young Aries to twist open the mysterious door and step inside.

What greeted Aries inside was a cacophony of noises. Hundreds of voices attached to portraits seemed to keep up a nearly endless stream of chatter and banter, and Aries could not discern one conversation from the other. As soon as the door behind him swung shut, however, Aries was met with an eerie silence as he felt the gaze of a hundred portraits shift towards him. All of them he noticed, had steely grey eyes, all cold, hard, and assessing. But Aries Black was only three and he simply did not care that he was supposed to greet the portraits with the same gaze.

"Hello, my name is Aries Perseus Black. Who are you guys?," Aries asked innocently, his eyes filled with joyous excitement. He had never, in his three years, ever discovered a hidden room, and certainly not one with hundreds of portraits of his Black ancestors.

The portrait at the very head of the room, the largest portrait Aries had certainly ever seen, spoke, in a surprisingly soft tone, that left everyone in the great hall speechless, "You are my descendant yes? Aries Perseus," he proclaimed in a manner befit of kings, "a strong and fine name. What I am wondering is how you managed to stumble into this room. Why the last person that was able to enter was Pollux nearly three hundred years ago."

"Well I don't know about that," Aries responded, his expression falling somewhat, "But since I am the third son and all," at this a startled gasp echoed in chorus from all of the portraits. Rolling his eyes at what he assumed were the customary Black family theatrics, he continued, "I am not needed, nor important in my family, and so I was exploring, and I ended up here." He pouted.

"A third son! Grandfather, did you not know of this?" One of the many portraits demanded in a surprised tone. Murmuring from all of the portraits filled the hall again.

"QUIET!" The great portrait bellowed. Addressing the other portraits, "It has been a long time since I last interfered with the ongoings of my descendants. It is just as a surprising revelation to me, as it is to you. And to address any other concerns you may have, I have checked the family magics. He is indeed the third son."

"But surely you felt the magics from the naming ceremony. How could you not have known…" One of the portraits protested weakly.

"I have witnessed thousands of such namings. I do not keep track of all of them." The great ancestor said dryly, ending any arguments. He turned his gaze towards Aries, whose eyes were wide and full of wonder, swirling with silver and many shades of grey, and he visible softened. "Yes, the legend of the third son. I have decorated this piece of wall for thousands of years, and in these thousands of years, I have yet to encounter a third son. I should have known as soon as I saw your eyes. But alas, I am not as perceptive as I used to be. No worries. It is said, that the third son has access to all of the skills and knowledge that have been contained by his previous ancestors, a far more greater connection with the precious family magic, a wielder of amazing feats of magic. The last third son, I believe, was Ignotus Peverell, who created the legendary Deathly Hallows. YOU shall bring the Black family into heights it has never achieved before! Restore it to its rightful place - as kings! And the rest of the humans will be in status as mere slaves compared to us!" Many different expression filtered through the face of the oldest and greatest portrait: wistful longing, haughtiness, pompousness, disdain, but soon ended in a soft gentle expression, not unlike one of a loving and caring parent, and in other words, nothing a Black would ever wear. "We shall teach you," he finished, leaving no room to refuse.

And so from the age of three, began the soon to be greatest Black's education. Everything came easy to him, as if he had already learnt the skills previously, and was simply at the point of relearning and recalling them. At first he only learnt simple things such as different languages, basic magical theory, memorizing the hundreds of runic languages. Soon they proceeded to ritual crafting, arithmancy, how to combine runes into patterns, arrays, and structures. He was lead to another hidden room, where instead of portraits, there were heirlooms. There, he found the wand that he would carry for the rest of his life - crafted with such precision and intricacy, a style of crafting lost to the world forever. It was the only wand not made of wood, but instead a horn of the extinct Royal Black Unicorn with a core of a Royal Black Phoenix, the only one to exist in the world. How the Blacks obtained such a rare piece of art and craftsmanship, Merlin knows, but it was the embodiment of everything the Blacks stood for: grace, deadliness, royalty, and above all Black. A true bond formed between Aries and the wand, as if the wand was specifically tailored with Aries in mind, a perfect connection. Thus began Aries journey of practical casting, learning an endless repertoire of spells, both simple and complex, gentle and deadly, some thought lost to time, others unheard of, and yet others only castable by Blacks. He learned from a variety of different magics: Mind Magics, to illusion magics, to transfiguration and conjuration. Aries ate everything his Black ancestors threw at him. Later, they had now, not so young Aries undergo many simple rituals that strengthened and bolstered parts of his body in different ways. Through his ancestors, he learnt the secrets of magics, the intricacies, and mysteries of magic. He trained and refined his dueling skills with the aid of the great ancestor, who was able to materialize in the room and cast magic, who could allow the other portraits to take form as well. It was ancient Black magic that only worked in the room, but it did its job. Aries simply became the best dueler possible.

And through this way, his true potential was unleashed into the world.