A quick look at the highlights of years past with my Slytherin!Harry and friends:

1st year: Harry saved the stone from Quirrell/Voldy;

2nd year: Harry destroyed the diary;

3rd year: Crookshanks caught Peter Pettigrew, Sirius Black was freed; and

4th year: Fleur Delacour won the Triwizard Tournament.

Much more than that happened over their first four years, such as Ron Weasley took credited for saving his sister 2nd year, Jason Vaisey died before 4th year and my daughter is still annoyed at me for that…

Welcome to the start of their 5th year and the last installment of the SDDJ trilogy. They'll be heading back to Hogwarts soon which, of course, brings up questions like: Who is the new DADA Professor? Will Umbridge (a.k.a. Umbitch) make an appearance?

Then there are other questions such as: How does Old Voldy get his body back? What about the prophecy and the Battle of the Department of Mysteries? Forget about prophecies, where is Rita Skeeter?

Inquiring minds want to know. Heck I want to know!

WARNING: While this story does not contain any slash it does reference or hint or imply... you get the picture. So if that's not your thing, stop reading now because I refuse to listen to someone complain later about not being warned.

Time to continue their journey…

I hope you enjoy,

Ajellah


Just a reminder/warning: Mrs. Zabini was given the first name of Maddalena back in 1st year. I'm tired of writing Mrs. Zabini every time so I'm using the name I gave her.

That also applies to the Vaisey parents: Gino and Lena; Granger parents: Emerson and Danielle; and Patil parents: Ananth and Sita


Inbreeding Can Do That to a Person

Two wizards strolled down the sidewalk of a London suburb in a companionable silence. The older of the two males was nearing his forties, and age lines around his eyes crinkled when he smiled. They were both brunette with wavy short hair, but the similarities ended there. The teen, Harry Potter, had emerald green eyes that held wisdom beyond his fourteen years, while the man, Sirius Black, had gray eyes that couldn't hide his usual state of childish mischief.

Their pace wasn't hurried; there were no more agendas or appointments to be kept. The warm June day was offset by the many trees that lined both sides of the street which kept the duo partial shaded as they ambled towards their destination.

Sirius had a distracted look on his face or it was determined - Harry wasn't sure which - but the man was deep within his own thoughts and the silence that developed between the two suited the younger wizard just fine. The older brunette had a habit of talking non-stop over the most inane and nonsensical subjects; leaving the teen to wonder if it was a nervous habit or the man truly enjoyed the sound of his own voice.

At one point during their walk, Harry had glanced at Sirius and noted the furrowed eyebrows. The teen had momentary thought to ask what was troubling the animagus, but their… relationship - for lack of a better word - was still in its infancy stage and, as such, Harry was still unsure of how to interact with his godfather without causing the old Gryffindor to fall into his usual coping mechanism - humor. Their awkward conversations via the two way mirrors were usually rescued due to the efforts of Remus. So far they've sporadically corresponded, spoke occasionally through the two-way mirrors and spent a day or two together during holidays.

That summer would be the first time that Harry was to stay with his godfather for longer than eight hours. The Slytherin would be staying with the Gryffindor for a month… four weeks… twenty eight days… six hundred seventy-two hours. Not that the boy was counting down the time he had to endure the man. No, Harry wasn't overly anxious to gain his freedom from all things red and gold. He just enjoyed other color schemes along with peace and quiet.

Remus had mentioned the Black library, so if the animagus became too Gryffindor for Harry, the teen knew where to hide. He could endure the test to his patience. He was a Slytherin after all.

Sirius and Harry had little in common. Their personalities were quite different. Sirius was ostentatious. Harry was conservative. Sirius was loud. Harry was reserved. Sirius tended to be flippant while Harry was contemplative. Sirius was brash and Harry strove to be sensible.

Harry amused himself with sightseeing since he had never been in this part of London before. Granted they were walking through a purely residential area with a rather large gated park across the street, but each of the tall narrow townhomes lining the street on his right had character. That fact alone made the neighborhood more appealing than the sterile identical cookie cutter houses in Little Whinging. The individuality of the townhomes kept the young man fascinated and distracted from the older man's internal musings.

"We're here."

The words grabbed Harry's attention. Sirius kept moving through a short gate towards one of the townhomes, but Harry frowned. Something was… tugging at him. Something was… off. The house numbers went from eleven to thirteen, but that wasn't the only thing that caused an itch at the back of his brain.

"I don't… it's just…" Harry shook his head as he struggled to form a coherent thought that wasn't ending with him running away like a frightened child. The urge was difficult to fight and in the end, Harry lost the mental battle, "I've got to run. I'm supposed to…" His words tapered off again and Harry turned on his heel to go do… whatever it was he was supposed to do. What was so urgent, Harry couldn't possibly say because it would take precious time to do so and he really needed to go. Now.

"Harry," Sirius grabbed the teen's arm and Harry frowned at his godfather biting back a growl of impatience. "It's the wards. Come on, then."

He wasn't sure if he believed him. No, Harry knew he didn't believe him. Sirius was keeping him from getting on with his business and the teen wrenched his arm back in an attempt to get free. He had to go do… something and Sirius refused to let him go regardless of how much Harry pleaded to be released. The young man scrubbed at his forehead trying to clear his thoughts and panicked when he was forced to take a step forward through the gate. "I have to go, Sirius. You don't understand! I can't… I just-"

Harry bit back a whimper. His stomach lurched and his skin crawled as if he were covered in insects. Harry lost another battle of the wills with Sirius and groaned in discomfort. The older wizard held a slip of parchment before the younger man. Harry finally read the bit of paper at Sirius' urging, 'Twelve Grimmauld Place'.

There was an odd sound of squelching and stretching, groaning and scraping the moment the address was comprehended. Before Harry's eyes, the two townhouses of numbers eleven and thirteen were forced apart allowing a new structure to appear. The wizards stood before a building that Harry hadn't noticed before and the urge to leave… left.

Unlike the other townhouses, this one was wider, taller and ominous with its gloomy coloring and darkened windows. Standing in its long shadow, the building loomed over the two wizards as if it was staring back judging them. Harry shuddered, "Interesting wards."

"There are many old wards on this house; they've been on the property for many generations." Sirius released Harry's arm and grinned at the young man. "Muggle and intruder repelling, Compulsion charms, Protego Maxima, Fianto Duri, Cave Inimicum, Muffliato and others that I'm not even sure what they're called and knowing my family they're probably pretty dark." Sirius gave a single shoulder shrug. "The last ward - and the reason for the paper - is the Fidelius Charm."

Harry turned around and stepped closer to the gate they had just passed through and murmured, "Fascinating." Standing there at the edge of the wards, he raised a hand as if he could touch the protective bubble that wrapped around the building. "I can feel the magic. There's an old warmth to it and it tingles as if it were alive."

"Really?" Sirius stepped closer to Harry and reached his own hand out, but let it drop to his side a moment later. The taller wizard canted his head, "Not many can feel wards. If this house wasn't attuned to me, I wouldn't feel a thing. Have you ever thought of going into Curse Breaking?"

Harry moved his hand across the wards as if petting it and gave his godfather a shrug, "Not really. I haven't given my future that much thought."

"Curse breaking can be dangerous work, but I've heard it's also rather rewarding. One of the Weasley clan is a curse breaker. The oldest son, Bill, works for Gringotts. On the other hand, breaking wards can be quite helpful if you choose to become an Auror." They approached the front door as Sirius continued the conversation. "Maybe you'd be interested in becoming an Auror like James."

"My father was an Auror?"

Sirius paused with his hand on the doorknob, "We both were. We joined shortly after graduation. That was a lifetime ago." He opened the door and prompted Harry to enter the building first, "Welcome to Grimmauld Place, my own personal hell."

"Erm… thanks?" Harry stepped across the threshold and into the dimly lit entry. He looked up at the large chandelier that grew brighter as Sirius closed the front door. It was as if the light fixture recognized that people were standing within the room and required the ability to see their surroundings. It gave a surprisingly warm feeling of welcome in an otherwise drab foyer.

The dark wood paneled walls seemingly stretched throughout the length of the house, broken only be a staircase to the right and four doors. Behind Harry was the front door that was book ended by two long slender curtained windows. The only furniture within the foyer was a credenza, umbrella stand and a mirror to his left, the large chandelier overhead and was decorated with bits of art along with portraits.

"It's not much, but it's home… or was… and is again…" Sirius frowned at his own words before admitting, "That sounded much more complicated than it needed to be."

Harry chuckled softly, "Perhaps, but it made a certain kind of sense considering your past."

"Be cautious of the umbrella stand."

The quirky piece of furniture in question was an odd sight. Harry raised an eyebrow at the stump of a partially-hollowed out leg, "What is that?"

"A troll foot… or more accurately, it's a part of a troll's leg from the knee down along with the foot." Sirius snorted at Harry's reaction, "It's been in the family for years. Not sure if there is a story behind it, but it's such an oddity and it's cursed."

"Cursed?" Harry immediately stepped away from the umbrella stand.

"If you get too close to it, you stumble. There's a tripping jinx on the foot." Sirius chuckled to himself with a pleased look on his face, "I learned to be a prankster at a young age."

"I see…" Harry gave his godfather a wry grin. He could see the potential for such a silly prank. "The jinx hasn't worn off? How could you possibly make something like that permanent?"

"Interested in pranking are you?"

Harry resisted rolling his eyes at the man's hopeful look, "While I can appreciate a well-executed prank as much as the next bloke. I'm more interested in the magic and its applications. The Weasley twins are brilliant with their products and since I'm invested in their upcoming store... if I can assist with their success with advice on such things, the better it is for the future of their company. They make money, I make money. It is a matter of personal interest."

"That's rather Slytherin of you."

"Thank you." Harry laughed at Sirius' pout.

"I'll show you how I made the jinx stick later after dinner." Sirius led the way down the foyer. "This place still isn't ready to live in. Well it is, but it isn't perfectly safe. There are things in the library and my father's study that I'm still sorting through," he walked towards the room to the left. "This is the drawing room. Through there is the dining room. Down that way are the kitchen, pantry and cellar. That is the loo.

"First floor is a drawing room, a guest bedroom and a bathroom. The second floor is the library, Father's study and a bedroom. Third floor is the master bedroom and a bathroom. Topmost has two bedrooms and a bathroom. That was where my brother, Regulus and I had our rooms. Strangely enough, they haven't been touched in years."

"Was your mother the sentimental type?"

"Not bloody likely. As I mentioned before, I was disowned." Sirius ran his fingers through his curly mop, "I'm surprised she didn't burn everything that I had left here."

Harry strolled down the hall and stopped before a painting. The woman within the portrait - dressed entirely in black as if in mourning, had grey sprinkled in her pitch black hair which was pulled back in a severe bun, a pointed thin nose and piercing gray eyes - wrinkled her nose at Harry as if she had smelled something awful. The teen ignored the woman and glanced up the stairs at a bit of 'art' that caught his attention, noting a rather long line of heads mounted and each named with a gold plate. "Trophy heads? I didn't realize house elf was such big game."

"Game… house elves?"

"Trophy stuffed heads must be a Muggle thing, my mistake. I've seen them in movies. Houses that display stuffed animal heads mounted on the walls in a similar fashion as those house elves. Beasts or wild game - lions, bears, that sort of thing - that they've hunted, shot and had stuffed." Harry waved a hand towards the row of mounted house elf heads. "It was a pedestrian attempt at humor I suppose. Still, it makes me curious as to the purpose of those heads? Is it a form of discipline? Listen to directions, clean well, don't burn the food or you'll get your head stuffed and mounted?"

There was a snort of disdain before a shrill voice screeched in indignation, "Another miscreant! Why am I not surprised? You enter the ancestral home of the Noble Black family and mock what you don't understand!"

Sirius sighed, "And now you've met my mother, Walburga Black."

Harry straightened his shoulders immediately and leveled his gaze at the portrait, "My apologies, Lady Black. It was not my intent to insult you or your home, but simply to enquire over a tradition that is beyond my knowledge. I have never seen such a display before."

"Hmph, so you do have manners." Walburga's portrait sniffed haughtily and looked down her pointed nose, "What is your name, boy?"

"I am Harry Potter, son of James Potter, scion to the Noble House of Potter." Harry pulled up every memory of etiquette lessons from Maddalena and gave a polite-respectful nod of his head towards the portrait.

Sirius gaped in shock when his mother's portrait smiled at Harry. Walburga smiled. Harry gave his godfather a bemused look when the latter continued to stare with an open maw, before continuing his conversation with the portrait.


The fire in the hearth was the only light source as he sat there staring, incensed at the all of the incompetence he had to endure. The darkness was all around and closing in on him, pressing in with a dampness that clung to his lungs making his labored breaths heavy in his chest. There was anger, so much anger and rage that filled him. He seethed with frustration, his voice reedy and thin as he cried out, "Crucio!"

There was an anguished cry of pain and thrashing. It brought him cold satisfaction. He looked down and scowled, "pathetic."

Someone called out in the distance. His brow furrowed. He knew the voice. His breathing was ragged and his heart pounded in his chest. Gasping, Harry looked around in a panic. His name came again, "Harry?"

He sat up quickly and let out a pained groan when the world spun awkwardly. Harry grasped his hair in both hands. The teen's voice cracked in a hoarse whisper, "Where…"

"Oh good you're awake."

Sirius was suddenly at his side causing Harry to jump in surprise. He hissed in pain grabbing his forehead. He tried asking again once he cleared his dry throat. "Where…"

"You're at Grimmauld Place, don't you remember?" Sirius lit a candle beside Harry's bed and held out a glass of water for his godson.

"Right. Bugger." Harry ignored the offered glass and scrubbed at his face with both hands and mumbled, "Sorry, it was just a nightmare."

"You've mentioned before that you've had nightmares. Do you get them often?" Sirius set the glass of water on the nightstand.

"I had nightmares years ago, but eventually grew out of them. It seems that lately, they've come back with a vengeance." Harry looked longingly at the water and struggled to sit up. He collapsed back onto the pillow and took steadying breaths, willing his body to stop shaking. "I'm fine. Sorry for waking you."

Sirius refused to be dismissed by his godson. "You know you can talk with me about anything, right?"

The young man rubbed his forehead, but stopped abruptly when Sirius' gaze moved to the scar there. Harry contemplated the pros and cons of sharing this burden with his godfather. Hermione had urged him to talk to someone about the nightmares, but could he trust Sirius? He had to trust someone and while Snape had been helping him while at school, he was on his own during the summer. The drowsy Slytherin closed his eyes and sighed heavily with resignation, "It's my scar."

Waiting for the boy to continue, Sirius pulled up the desk chair and took a seat remaining supportively - and surprisingly - silent. Harry opened his eyes and hedged, "I can't get into this laying here. It's just too… uncomfortable."

Harry struggled again to sit up, but failed miserably. The teen's arms shook, the pain in his forehead pounded and he dropped back to his pillow with a growl of frustration. Sirius helped Harry sit up; not once commenting on how much the teen trembled or winced. Harry pushed his body back until he could comfortably lean against the headboard as the man propped his godson's pillow behind him.

The animagus retook his seat and once more offered the water. Harry took the offered glass and drank greedily. Once the glass was empty, Sirius took it back and held onto it. Harry dropped back against his pillow and sighed. "I don't know how it works, but it hurts sometimes. It never happened when I was younger, only started when I went to Hogwarts. First year, it hurt before bad things happened. Second year, it didn't hurt much at all, which was a bit surprising, but not at all unwelcome. Third year was fine, but then the summer before fourth year I had a dream… well, more like a vision because it wasn't disjointed and it felt way too real.

"In the dream I was this wrinkled little… creature with a high pitched, weird voice. I was berating Crabbe's dad for something then a huge snake came in and talked to me. Nagini. There was an old man listening in. Bryce. We bantered: he postured, I called his bluff. I drew a white wand that looked almost like a gnarled bone and killed the man. Well, the wrinkled thing, creature did.

"Honestly I don't know if it really happened, I do know it wasn't me and I didn't kill anyone, but it felt so real. When I killed him I was happy; felt as if his death was right, that it was justified. That wrinkled creature killed the man for no reason other than being there."

"So you believe someone you dreamed about… killed a man."

"I'm sure it sounds ridiculous, but yes. Just now that same wrinkled thing casted the cruciatus curse," Harry pulled his knees upwards and wrapped his arms around his legs. "And if the dreams about the creepy creature weren't bad enough, my scar is linked to him."

"Him…"

"Him… Voldemort." Harry clarified as he ignored Sirius' small shuddering reaction to that cursed name, "After the arrests of the Crouches, my scar started burning almost non-stop. He's very angry."


He had been wandering through the house, careful not to touch anything questionable. Harry had found the Black library looking for anything that would catch his interest. He was sure to stay clear of certain tomes due to their titles or the 'leather' that bound the pages. Some of the rooms he had entered were surprisingly comfortable and inviting, contrasting with how dark and foreboding the exterior of the house was.

Harry came to a stop in front of a tapestry that covered an entire wall from top to bottom and side to side. It was a large tree with connected blooms of flowers which had faces in their center and names and dates below them. He hadn't ever seen anything like it before and found it fascinating.

The teen read the names noting patterns. They were such odd given names that ran in a manner of a theme - stars and constellations - and there were a number of familiar surnames: Flint, Bulstrode, Macmillan, Longbottom, Crabbe, Crouch, Malfoy and much to the teen's surprise, Weasley.

One surname that took Harry off guard was the name he had just spotted when Sirius called into the drawing room from the doorway and drew his focus away from the tapestry. "There you are. You should be careful wandering around this house. I haven't gotten all of the rooms sorted out. There's no telling what you may run into if you're not paying attention."

"Yes, you mentioned that to me upon our arrival. I'm not so simple minded that I had forgotten your warning within a week's time." Harry saw the small flinch and graciously segued to a new topic. He gestured towards the Black family tree, "I see you're related to many familiar surnames."

Sirius seamlessly accepted the change in subject, the relief clear in his gaze and small grin. He fully entered the room and stood beside his godson as he commented about Harry's observation. "There aren't many pureblood families. After the war there were even fewer families left." Sirius gave a shrug of indifference, "There used to be arranged marriages and sometimes it was difficult to find a suitable mate."

"Some families still believe in arranged marriages. Blaise Zabini will marry Padma Patil. Their families have been negotiating and he's already begun courting her according to the old traditions." Harry looked around at the names, shoved his hands in his pockets and frowned, "If my parents had lived, do you think I'd have been subjected to an arranged marriage?"

"No." Sirius said with such vehemence, it took Harry off guard and the boy blinked showing his surprise.

"Hmm, I suppose not seeing how I'm a half-blood."

"What?" Sirius gaped at Harry and shook his head so fast that his curls flew in all directions "That's not what I meant at all. No, James wasn't the typical pureblood. He was light. He married a Muggle-born, someone he fell in love with, not someone that he was forced to marry."

"Hold on. What does 'light' have to do with who he married?" Harry frowned at his godfather, rather unpleased with the direction the conversation was heading, "Not all wizarding traditions are so appalling, nor are they 'dark'. They are simply tradition and should be honored as such since some are rather important. Besides, Blaise and Padma chose each other, they aren't being forced."

"So you want to be in an arranged marriage?"

Harry snorted at the confused man, "No, I simply asked a question which you have yet to answer. What does my father being dubbed 'light' have to do with who he married or how he went about marrying my mother?"

"Oh, well… nothing I suppose. All of the Potters throughout the history of the family have been known to be light. Well, most…" Sirius ran his fingers through his hair, tossing his curls in an unkempt fashion. "There's one Potter family," Sirius pointed at the family tapestry, "that I'm not sure of. They could have been neutral, I suppose."

"I saw that couple up there. It had me wondering if they were related to me." Harry noted Sirius had pointed towards Dorea Black and Charlus Potter. "It's a shame they didn't have any children."

Sirius canted his head as he peered at the tapestry taking note of the missing offspring's name. "They did actually. They had a son late in life named Aquila [1]. He was friends with my brother, Regulus and your potions professor, Snape. He was sent to live at Black Manor with my grandfather Pollux when his parents died. He even went to Hogwarts for a few years.

"I left home and was disowned when I was still in school. Aquila is the one who told Remus that I was officially off the family tree." Sirius gestured towards the black mark over his name where the bloom face would have been. "I was to be the head of the Black family up until then. I was such a huge disappointment to my mother, first and only Black to be sorted into Gryffindor. Just like you are the first Potter to be sorted into Slytherin."

"So Aquila Potter was a Gryffindor?"

"Yes he was, but he hated me. He called me a traitor, the Black souillure."

"The what?"

"It's French; he grew up there and even went to Beauxbatons before transferring to Hogwarts fifth year. It means the Black disgrace. He loved Regulus and in Aquila's eyes, I abandoned my brother. Everything he did was to protect Regulus. The way I should have." Sirius sighed, crouched by his brother's name and ran fingers across his sibling's name and the skull above it notating the young wizard's death. "Reg was forced to become the new heir. He was Mother's pride and joy, the proper young pureblood. He was a Slytherin, like you. When he graduated, Reg joined the Death Eaters. Then at the tender age of eighteen, Reg died. Don't know what happened. Word was he just… disappeared."

"Why is your image a burned smudge?"

Sirius looked at his own name and snorted, "Every smudge on this tree was a disappointment to the Black family name in some fashion: blood traitors, sympathizers, squibs…"

"You've mentioned being disowned, but what does it mean exactly?" Harry traced the Potter name with his finger.

"Well, it means you are no longer part of the family. You don't get an inheritance, you're unable to be the heir, and you're no longer allowed to attend family gatherings." Sirius snorted in amusement, "Missing family gatherings is really a blessing when you're the black sheep. In short, you're utterly cut off: no money, no home, no family…"

"Which is why you were surprised to get this house?"

"Exactly," Sirius stood from his crouched position and took a step back to get a better view of the family tapestry. "When I was a teen, Uncle Alphard snuck behind Grandfather Pollux's back to make sure I had money and a place to live. Uncle Alphard wasn't happy that I was left stranded and alone. Mother was livid from what I heard. Grandfather Pollux dubbed Uncle Alphard a sympathizer and disowned him. Regulus was hurt, felt betrayed and abandoned. Aquila was angry, said he was a fool. I felt so guilty, but Uncle Alphard said he didn't regret his decision.

"When Uncle Alphard died, I inherited everything from him. Wasn't much by Black standards, but it was a sight more than I could have hoped for."

"So what happened to Aquila?"

"I don't know. He disappeared about the same time as Regulus did."

That got Harry's attention and his head whipped around. His eyes widened in surprise, "Was he a Death Eater?"

"I'm not sure. He could have been considering who he hung around. He was always with Regulus, Snape and the Slytherins. Plus the Lestrange brothers - known Death Eaters the both of them - came to get him from the train station every summer." Sirius scratched his chin, "I don't recall a Dark Mark on him though."

"If he was, it would explain why his mother wasn't burned off the family tree, but that doesn't explain why he's missing." Harry turned his back to the Black family tree to face Sirius and smirked. "I see that you're related to Flint."

"I am."

"Marcus Flint was the Slytherin quidditch captain. The boy looked like he was half-troll. Ugliest blighter you ever want to lay eyes on: beady eyes and huge crooked bucked teeth."

"Inbreeding can do that to a person."

"Your parents were first cousins."

"I'm well aware."

"Yet you don't look like a half-troll."

"Thank you." Sirius smirked. "I think."

A small pop interrupted their conversation and Harry was surprised by the intense stare he received from the house elf. Harry had been at the townhouse for nearly a week yet that was his first encounter with the diminutive. It was possibly the ugliest house elf Harry had met to date with impossibly human-like blue eyes, large bent nose and big floppy bat-like ears. It stood in a clean pillowcase uniform with its hands clasped at chest level and simply stared. From what Harry could tell, he'd wager the house elf was male, but until someone spoke either its name or the elf spoke, it was only a theory.

Sirius huffed when the house elf remained silent and continued to stare at the teen, "What is it Kreacher?"

Harry quirked an eyebrow at hearing the house elf's name as it still hadn't given a clue to the being's gender. Kreacher still remained silent and stared for a few more moments ignoring Sirius completely. It then canted its head at Harry and - still ignoring Sirius' question - spoke to the young wizard, "You is a Potter."

That was a statement rather than a question, yet Harry responded anyway in order to be polite to what he now knew was a male house elf. "I am."

Rather than clearing up Kreacher's confusion, the house elf looked even more befuddled and attempted to clarify yet again, "You is here with the traitor."

"Hey!"

The two conversing males didn't respond to Sirius' indignant outburst. Kreacher had ignored the man since his arrival in the room while Harry tried hard not to laugh at his godfather. The young wizard gave the house elf a small nod, "I am."

Kreacher glared at Sirius as if all the wrong in the world was his fault and turned back to Harry. The teen was rather amused with the rude house elf, noting that he was obviously not fond of his godfather and had him wondering who he belonged to. The house elf's animosity cleared and returned to bewildered, yet it was tinged with an earnest yearning to understand. The diminutive creature's croaking voice demanded once again, "But you is a Potter."

The house elf seemed to be rather focused on Harry's surname, "Yes, Kreacher. I am a Potter."

At long last the house elf nodded slowly as if he had come to some decision or understanding that only Kreacher knew about or could comprehend. Kreacher stood taller before he spoke to Harry with a low bow, "You is Potter. Kreacher will serve."

"Bloody hell!" Sirius flailed his arms, "He refuses to even listen to me, but you he'll serve. My own mother's portrait only screams at me, but you she smiles at. It's a conspiracy!"

Harry smirked at his godfather, "Perhaps if you were more polite-"

"Pah! They hate me," Sirius pouted petulantly and crossed his arms.

"Or it's because you have no manners, Gryffindor." Harry turned back to Kreacher, "We'll have dinner in the dining room at six."

"Yes, young Potter, sir." Kreacher popped away leaving a blustering Sirius and an amused Harry.


[1] - Aquila Potter is from my quasi-prequel to the whole SDDJ series called A Potter.

AN: No you do not have to read A Potter in order to get Aquila's connection here in this series since it will be explained eventually. Besides, A Potter contains slash that many people don't care for and I would never try to ask/make/coerce someone to read anything that would make them uncomfortable because that's just rude. I may be mean, but I try not to be rude.

Daughter #2 is in the process of moving, therefore things won't be edited until she has time.

Translation: You get my unedited versions or you get no chapters until she has time...

Tough call... you suffer either way.

Well I hate waiting to post. I'm so impatient. I'm just jazzed I have something to post! So you suffer with unedited chapters that I will repost when Elipsa has a chance to wade through my messes to straighten things out and make it all shiny.

All that said, I just want to thank folks for being patient as the story finally came back to me years later. For those just joining the story since the teaser showed up, welcome to the madness. And thank you to everyone for reviews, favorites and follows. You guys rock!

Edited 01/10/2020