Ch: 72 - Cultivation/HP Fics

CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO: VISITORS

THURSDAY, AUGUST 22nd, 1996 - Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland, U.K.

"Ah Severus," Dumbledore said as Severus Snape was trying to head for the gates to get beyond the wards. "It is indeed fortunate that I've caught you," he added. "You did have a meeting with Tom, did you not?"

"Headmaster," Snape said with but a hint of his true annoyance. "It was of no moment. Just matters of internal discipline." His oath to his godson was active. The lad, as loathsome as even Severus found him, was in danger and now the Old Man wished for a talk?

"Come up to my office," Dumbledore said. "We need to have a brief chat."

Of course the old fool would pick now! "Headmaster, it is the holiday still and I do have obligations beyond this school that occasionally require my attention."

"Surely Tom has not summoned you at this time?" Dumbledore asked.

"No Sir…"

"Then nothing is pressing. To my office," Dumbledore said dismissively. Snape wanted to do anything but have a sit down with the Old Man. But to ignore this request would raise questions and as he had no idea what Rookwood would do or when, he could see no way out of this. He soon found himself in the Old Man's office standing before the large desk upon which rested a ring he had never seen before.

"May I inquire as to the nature of this thing?" Snape asked indicating the ring.

"Just a bauble I picked up," Dumbledore said. "I suspected it was of more importance. I was mistaken. Have a seat, Severus."

Snape nodded and sat in a chair facing the Headmaster's desk truly loathing the situation.

"I would offer you a lemon drop but I know you do not partake," Dumbledore commented. "I have asked you here on a matter that concerns both you as Head of Slytherin House and as a member of the Order. First off, you will be pleased to learn that I have managed to fill the posts vacated these past few weeks. As we discussed earlier, you will be taking over the post as Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts. You will be pleased to learn I have managed to convince Horace Slughorn to return as our Potions Master and Professor which should relieve you of the duty of preparing potions for our Hospital Wing."

Snape almost smiled at that. Although he was certain that "convince" was not the appropriate word regarding his former Potions Professor. Slughorn was every bit as paranoid as Mad-eye Moody. "Coerced" would be a better word. "Blackmailed" or "Cursed" might also be more applicable.

"But I did not ask you here to discuss my staffing problems - although you should be told that they have been resolved to my satisfaction. No. My real concern as always has been the Greater Good. In that vein, I sought to control the destiny of Harry Potter - heir to a House which has opposed the Vision of my line for a thousand years and more.

"The plan, which manifested itself when his parents died, was simple. I gain control of the boy and through me his heir. It was the heir I was most concerned about. The boy could not be counted upon to honor The Way. I needed a child, one of an Ancient House, to designate as my true heir and a child raised from inception to honor The Way, be the true Heir of the dreams of my ancestors and rule over the Greater Good. Alas, my plans are for naught. Harry was not meant to be my Heir. It was to be his son. As an orphan I could control him and then seen to it he was raised to his birthright. Disposing of the father would have been easy, justifiable in the end. But now I find the justification seriously lacking," Dumbledore said pointing at the ring on his desk, "and the controllable father of my heir - the victorious martyr of our world - beyond my reach and certainly beyond my control and plans. It is unfortunate. My heir will still have to deal with the opposition of House Potter. The Greater Good demands that Potter be politically eliminated after all. A son born to rule can see to it. This is where you come in, Severus."

"Me?" Snape replied in shock.

"Relax. The magic of House Dumbledore requires either a blood heir or an heir at law designated from another Ancient and Noble House. My brother Albeforth was to supply that heir originally. He did, but his line but for himself was eliminated in the last war and he is unwilling to consider another mate. You, of course, are not from an Ancient and Noble Line such that my House Magic cannot ever consider you an heir. But you can supply me with what I need."

"And what would that be?" Severus asked.

"A mate," Dumbledore said. "You're House's regard for their witches is not unknown to me obviously. I wish for you to provide me with three of your House witches. They must be of breeding age, Purebloods, and not otherwise bound by betrothal or House Protection. I would prefer they be unsullied…"

"Headmaster, given your positions and all, would it not be easier to seek a wife?"

"Wive's expect too much and far more than I am willing to offer. You know my predilections are not directed towards females. For the Greater Good I believe I can manage to copulate with one but beyond that I have little interest in them aside from what talents they have that can be used for The Cause. The girl or girls in question will be managed. They will have no memory of our tryst nor, should it come to pass, the consequence. I have secured a Healer dedicated to the Greater Good who shall see to those details. I wish to breed an heir, not have to deal with the attentions a wife would want. The right charms and potions and this can be done before the school year is out."

"And what of the child itself?" Severus asked. "What if it should be a daughter?"

"Three breeding females should ensure a son," Dumbledore said. "Should that fail, another three will be necessary. The son and heir will be raised by one dedicated to the Greater Good and a House long allied with my own."

"And any daughters?" Severus asked.

"That is the reason for our Foundling Homes, is it not? True they shall one day be sold off as Concubines, but that is the nature of things, is it not? See to it, Severus. I want three mates to report to the new Resident Healer not later than September 2nd, the first day of classes, for preparation and examination."

"Why do you seek those who are unsullied as you put it?"

"They will be relieved of any protections from procreation," Dumbledore said. "I cannot let them conceive a child by another until after they have borne a child for the Greater Good. See to it, Severus."

Snape knew he had been dismissed. It was bad enough to supply the man with polyjuiced whores, he thought. This was another matter altogether. But he had taken an unbreakable vow and this request did not conflict with any of his other vows. The bastard would get his breeding stock. Snape left almost immediately without any parting salutation. If Dumbledore's delay cost him his Godson, his promise would be and empty one as his violation of the oath would render him as dead as the one person he ever had feelings for.

THURSDAY, AUGUST 22nd, 1996 - Parkinson Manor near Nottingham, U.K.

"CRUCIO!" the voice called out again. The black robed figure with the white, skull like mask had turned his wand on another victim as Pansy screamed in agony. Draco could only sit there and watch for he was magically pinned to his seat as they all were. When the Death Eater had entered their dinning room after somehow managing to get through the wards without tripping the alarms and killing the House Elf, Draco had briefly thought he was to be recruited into the Dark Lord's ranks. For the last few months he had been stuck here in this hovel, as he thought of it. He was trapped by that damnable vow he took the day he arrived.

But whatever hope he had about finally becoming what he always had wanted to be ended with the first wave of the man's wand. For several minutes Draco had been subjected to the Torture Curse and, in sequence, Mr. and Mrs. Parkinson had followed. Now Pansy was screaming in agony. All this time, the Death Eater had said nothing, not even why he was here although by now it was pretty obvious even to Draco that this was not a social call. The man had come here to kill them. Draco could understand why the Dark Lord might want to kill Lord Parkinson given that the man was clearly a closet Blood Traitor. It was his misfortune he happened to be here. He was going to die by association.

The curse stopped. Pansy sat there still pinned to her chair panting and crying at the same time. The mask turned and faced Draco.

"Now that the initial introductions have been made," a voice behind the mask said, "the Dark Lord wishes it known why you displease him. There sit's the reason for his displeasure," the voice said pointing at Draco. Draco was shocked. "House Malfoy has betrayed the Dark Lord and our glorious cause for the last time. The Dark Lord has decided it is a line of no further value to the Wizarding World and has ordered the line terminated. It is most unfortunate you chose to associate with this treacherous animal for as you all are probably aware, the Dark Lord does consider guilt by association. Say goodbye to the line of Malfoy!"

The wand pointed at Draco and he heard the dreaded words.

"AVADA KADAVRA!"

The Death Eater fell to the floor. Draco looked up and saw Snape standing there. "Professor?" he asked.

"I regret I was detained," Snape said. "But at least this demonstration has made it easier for me to convince you that the Dark Lord wants you dead."

"Why? My father…"

"Led a raid against a group of kids that cost us eleven Death Eaters. That alone would invoke the Dark Lord's wrath. He is not tolerant of failure. But that might have spared you if that was all that House Malfoy had done wrong. But in convincing the Dark Lord that you were somehow destined to be the next Lord Black, he set us up to lose millions. That oversight cannot be forgiven and as the Dark Lord can't get to your father in Azkaban to kill him nor do we know of the location of your mother, that leaves you. Every Death Eater knows you are to be killed and soon every young person hopeful of one day taking the Mark will know as well."

"What the bloody hell is going on?" Thaddeus Parkinson asked. "How the bloody hell did you get through our wards?"

"As to your first question," Snape replied, "I think that should be rather obvious and I think I made the specifics clear. The Dark Lord has marked House Malfoy for death and this was to have been the messenger," he added kicking the corpse on the floor. "As to your second question, I would ask him as he somehow opened the wards without raising any alarm, but he does not seem to talkative at the moment."

"And how did you…" Mr. Parkinson began.

"His access point was fairly obvious, at least from the outside. But all of this is academic, is it not? I think he made the point I came here to stress to my Godson - and to you all. Leave. If this house is all you have, leave! Rookwood here has been dealt with, but Draco and the lot of you are now on the Dark Lord's Death List. You stay in Britain at your peril!"

"We should never have taken the little bastard in," Anastasia Parkinson said.

"Then I'll just kill the little bastard and be done with it," Thaddeus began until he saw a wand pointed at him.

"You forget, Thaddeus," Snape said. "I am a Death Eater as well. The only reason Draco lives for now it because as his Godfather I am bound to see to it that he does. But that bond does not extend to you!"

Draco made the mistake of chuckling only to see the wand pointed at him and hear: "CRUCIO!"

For several seconds, Draco screamed in pain not understanding what was happening. When the curse lifted, he saw his Godfather smirking at him.

"As your Godfather, while I am sworn to protect you, I can still punish you for your insolence. You, Draco, are dead. If it were not for the oath I took for your mother years ago, had Rookwood not killed you, I would correct his omission and you'd be dead beneath the Dark Mark. I cannot hope to protect you here. Hogwarts is not safe for you and I have no safe house for you either. Were you to return to Slytherin, it is a fair bet one of your 'friends' would used the opportunity to earn his or her mark by slitting your throat. You're only hope to live to see your seventeenth birthday, much less any beyond, lies with these people.

"I suggest you either find a safe house, one which no one else as even heard rumor of, or you leave this country altogether. As Draco is betrothed to your daughter, you are stuck with him. But I would also suggest that if you leave, you can forget about Charenwell. You won't make it past their wards alive." And with that Snape left.

"You little shit!" Thaddeus said just before beating Draco senseless. Unfortunately, he had to refrain from actually killing the boy. There was the betrothal contract that was almost as binding upon him as the Godfather thing was on that rapine, Death Eater bastard. He had no real choice but to take the bloodied useless whelp with him and his family to a safe place he had long before prepared…

THURSDAY, AUGUST 22nd, 1996 - Potter Manor, Charenwell.

Harry had arrived back at the Manor, still knowing he had heard of Horcruxes somewhere and seen that cup as well. He called for a "family" meeting following their dinner and asked Bill and Fleur to be there as well. He described in some detail what had transpired at Gringotts and produced the two items of Shakash. Once the cup appeared, he heard a few gasps and noticed as an elf was called, who produced an almost identical cup, at least in outward appearance.

"What's this?" Harry asked.

"Bill delivered it to us about a month ago," Hermione said.

"Okay," Harry said. "So we discussed these Horcrux things before."

"We did, Harry," Hermione replied. "We came up with a theory, on which for now has been no certain proof. But here we may have the proof."

"I've been through so much over the last months," Harry sighed. "Keep it simple. Pictures would work as well."

"This," Bill said indicating the cup that the elves had just recently provided, "it a forgery taken from the Lestrange vault and said to have been the prized possession of one Madam Smith, killed in 1946. It was turned over to us as an item of interest but of no particular value about a month ago.

"This," Bill added indicating the new cup, "we got today. It's an item of Shakash that the Goblins said had been recovered by them centuries ago or so. It was also said to come from the Lestrange vault."

"Duplicates?" Hermione asked.

"A forgery and the original," Bill replied.

"But why didn't the Goblins hand this one over back then?" Harry asked.

"It's Shakash," Bill shrugged. "My guess is that they knew this when they had recovered it and when they found it in the Lestrange vault, it caused questions. My guess is, and it's an educated one, the Goblins found these two cups and saw them for what they were and realized one of them - the Shakash Cup - was supposed to have been in their inventory and not that vault. They turned over the forgery to us, but kept this one pending further investigation. I would not be the least surprised if a Goblin is now being or has recently been fed to their dragons for theft.

"My guess is - again an educated one - that Voldemort sought the original. Finding a fake when he murdered and robbed the Smith woman, he managed to make contact with a … pliable … Goblin who turned over the original. It is the Shakash cup that bears the Horcrux taint and not the fake. The Goblins held off pending their investigation into the theft of the original."

"And they turned over the second to us?" Harry began.

"An act of good faith on their part. I believe they mean to ask something of you, Harry, something they deem big and I don't mean money. They're trying to get in your good graces."

"Should I be concerned about that?" Harry asked.

Bill shrugged. "I can't say, Harry. My guess is what they might ask for is - well, it's not something that will lose you anything really. But for them, they need whatever it is. You might say yes to their request today, but they're not taking that chance. It's not good business for them, whatever it is."

Harry shrugged. "Getting back to these things," he said.

"The fake cup is nothing more than a fake cup," Bill said. "The Goblins obviously could care less about it. The two Shakash items, however … I guess they thought we could make more sense over these former Horcuxes than they could."

"It fits our theory," Hermione began.

"Remind me," Harry said slightly annoyed. "Or do you forget I've had about three days for you one and have had more stuff stuffed into my head than in all my years of school combined since we arrived here."

"Harry, it's about the connection you used to have with Voldemort. We figured out he had made horcruxes, as in more than one. It fit the evidence and our research. The Diary was obviously one and when he still managed to come back it was safe to say it was not the only one. You had a connection to him and then it was gone. It was gone following our bonding. Our Coven Bond was combined with an ancient purification ritual, although I didn't know that at the time. I was a little caught up in the moment and thought it romantic and not about the other implications or … possibilities. When the two combined, there was an obvious magical backlash. I suspected…

"Our research has told us that a Horcrux is hate based magic. The two rituals that were combined on our bonding were very powerful loved based magics. I won't say your scar was a horcrux. To be honest, our research tends to negate that theory. But it may have been a part of Voldemort's soul that somehow severed from his main soul and affixed to you that night when you defeated him as a baby. If it was a true horcrux, it would have most likely taken possession of you and the proof that it did not is that you where the Potter and Black rings which would not have recognized you as the heir if you had been possessed. But, we know the scar was some kind of link to Voldemort even before he regained a physical form. If that link was somehow connected with his soul and if that link was suddenly overpowered by love based magic - such was when we bonded, in theory it could have overpowered the hate based magics of anything connected to that link - as in the other soul containers!

"There was no proof that this had occurred. Nothing in our resources ever reported such an occurrence. It was merely theoretically possible and the reports of his snake disappearing and his three week coma suggested something like that might have occurred, but without something that could be verified as a horcrux to test, it was just a theory. Now, thanks to the Goblins, we have two objects that were once Horcruxes and were not destroyed by conventional means. They fit the theory!"

"What does that mean?" Harry asked.

"The love magic backlash from our bonding overpowered the magic protecting the soul fragments in these two horcruxes and most likely any others he had as well. His anchors are gone, Harry. He's mortal."

Harry nodded. "And yet he's never really stuck his neck out for a Headsman to take. The closest he came to doing that was when he came after me the first time and killed my parents. It's good to know that this time if we put him down he will stay down forever, but it really changes nothing as far as our immediate plans are concerned, does it?"

"Harry, I…," Hermione began sounding disappointed.

"I'm sorry if I sounded a little short with you," Harry said. "I know your excited about this information. But the truth is as valuable as it is, there's nothing we can really do with it right now. It's not like he's going to send me an engraved invitation for us to take him out. Even if he were so bold, you can bet he'd show up with every Death Eater he could muster. I wouldn't mind at all if he did that, but only if he did that when we're ready for all of them. Until then, we keep this information but we move forward as planned."

FRIDAY, AUGUST 23rd, 1996 - Potter Manor, Charenwell.

Until a couple of days ago, Cyril Underhill did not exist except on paper. He had records at Government House including a Birth Certificate stating he was a magical born in Britain on March 30, 1960 and that he attended school there. There was also a residency certification stating he had legally emigrated to Charenwell in 1978 and attained a permanent resident status later that year. He had a Charenwell magical passport that would show he traveled extensively and his tax records indicated that he earned most of his living from overseas interests. In May, a two bedroom flat was rented under his name at 227 Donner St. in Pottersport. An elf named Desie was hired to keep the flat in order. All of this was paid for from an account at Gringotts Pottersport than had been opened only days before. Mr. Underhill also acquired a Charenwell driving license and purchased and registered a late model Lada which was garaged nearby. If anyone involved in these transactions was asked, none would be able to say they met the man.

The man behind the name first appeared two days ago arriving via International Floo from France. He withdrew two thousand Pounds from his Gringotts account, went to the market to purchase groceries and then headed towards his flat. Records would indicate - if checked - that he then made a call from his flat to Government House. Even though the phone had been in place since May, no other calls had ever been made from that phone before. The call was to the Lord Mayor's direct line and lasted a little more than one minute. The Lord Mayor's office would call him back the next morning in another call lasting about one minute.

The man behind the name had been to Charenwell before. He was British born as his false records stated. The real man had acquired his residency certificate in 1976 not 1978 and had maintained an address at 12 Estate, West Farm from 1979 until only recently probably. The real man wondered what had become of his Aston-Martin. He wished he had been able to keep that car because the Lada was so not him. But the Lada had the advantage of being non-descript. There were loads of them in Charenwell along with Fiats, the British made Minis and other small cars. Charenwell had not been designed for the automobile and most people would not want that to change. A small car could navigate the narrow streets in the towns and cities. Larger vehicles had to stick to the main roads.

After a very nice lunch at one of the Pottersport restaurants where thankfully he was not recognized "Cyril Underhill" got into his small, Russian made car and headed off for an appointment. Climbing the hill out of Pottersport further made him miss his Aston-Martin as the little Russian car seemed to struggle. But he was soon on the road heading east, past Government House and towards Potter's Vineyard and beyond. He arrived at his destination somewhat in shock. Some things he had not truly noticed in his last two days in Pottersport now commanded his attention. He had seen posters in Pottersport about recruiting but though nothing much of them until his car seemed to be "buzzed" by a few flights of Tiger Moth planes. He had seen them before, just not in those numbers. And then there was his destination itself. He had been there before years ago, but he would certainly have remembered the additional huge buildings and the dragons and hippogriffs and yet there were scores of people there who seemed unconcerned. There was actually a young woman showing them the two dragons that seemed to be lazing about.

He had tried to park in front of the large building he thought he was going to for this meeting, but was met by an elf who directed him to a car park not far away - one which he knew had not been there before. From there, he had been instructed to enter the large door on the side of what he knew was a new building. He did as he was told, still confused by what he had seen and found himself in what looked like a reception area. A young lady with red hair whom he did not recognize was seated at some kind of fancy counter or desk and looked like she was busy reading a book or something. He walked up trying to act calm.

"Excuse me," he said. The young woman looked up. "Are you aware there're dragons out there?"

She nodded. "They like it here and leave us alone," she said as if having dragons about was normal. "May I help you?" she asked in an accent "Cyril" knew was foreign. She sounded…

"Irish?" he asked, his voice betraying his surprise and confusion.

"What self-respecting person from abroad wouldn't be?" she asked. "And you are?"

"Cyril Underhill, and I have an appointment."

"Indeed you do," the young woman said. "And you're early, aren't you? The Duke is still meeting with the Irish delegation and should be available when he's through."

"An Irish girl in Charenwell?"

The young, red head almost glared at him. "It]f you're trying to chat me up or whatever you Brits call it, I'll have you know I am married. That and you're obviously English and far too old for my tastes. Have a seat." She had dismissed him.

"Irish delegation?" he asked not long after taking his seat.

"It's been in the papers," she replied dismissively.

There was a magazine on the table, but "Cyril" only feigned interest. Several minutes seemed to pass before the red-haired young woman seemed to take any interest in anything aside from whatever she was reading. She then picked up the telephone and seemed to punch in a number.

"A Mr. Cyril Underhill is here," she said. "Yes, I've asked him to wait." The young woman put down the phone. "The meeting is concluding. Someone will be here to escort you back shortly."

"Can't you do that?"

"What? And leave this station unmanned? Let just anyone walk in and about? I think not. Patience, they say, is a virtue, Mr. Underhill."

"Ah! Mister Underhill I take it," a very English sounding voice began. Mr. Underhill looked up and saw an elegantly dressed blonde woman approaching him.

"Hello Cissy," he said. "It's been a long time."

It seemed the blood drained from the woman's face and she practically staggered backwards in shock.

"It … it … it c-can't be," she stuttered. "Y-you're dead!" She then seemed to gain her composure a bit as she drew her wand. "Erin? Call Security! We have an imposter!" She then turned to the man. "I don't know who you are or how you got here, but we are going to find out!"

"May I?" the man replied calmly as he reached into his jacket.

"If you even attempt to draw a wand, Sir, I'll hex you into next week!" Cissy growled.

"I was about to take a magical oath to prove the truth of what I'm about to tell you, Cissy."

Cissy looked at him skeptically. "Just remember I have you covered and one false move and you're hexed. Got it?"

The man nodded. He drew a wand and pointed it at his own chest. "I hereby swear on my life and magic that what I'm about to say is the truth to the best on my knowledge." There was a flash of magic. "I was born Sirius Orion Black on March 30th, 1960. My parents were Orion Black, then Heir to the Ancient and Noble House of Black, and his Cousin Walburga Black nee Black, your Aunt. I attended Hogwarts in Gryffindor from 1970 until 1978 and then became a Hit Wizard. In earlier November 1981, I was thrown into Azkaban without trial where I remained until I managed to release myself on my own recognizance in June 1993. I have been Head of House Black by law and magic since the death of Lord Arcturus Black in 1991 and a fugitive sought by the Ministry of Magic since my self-release from prison. By means which I'd prefer to explain later, I believe effectively was declared magically and legally dead on or immediately after a fight with Death Eaters in the Department of Mysteries on or about June 15th, 1996 when I was hit with a Stunner while dueling with your sister Bellatrix and fell through the Veil. I am now known as Cyril Underhill - which I will explain later - and have also been known as 'Siri,' 'Padfoot' and 'Snuffles.' Lumos!" His wand glowed brightly and then he returned it to where it had been before.

Cissy lowered her wand and looked at him, her mouth opening and closing as if she intended to say something but then changed her mind. She walked towards the man, now standing and who had a few inches on her in height and from his point of view, her eyes went through several emotions as she approached. Once she got close, those pale blue eyes he had not seen in almost twenty years narrowed almost dangerously.

SMACK! Her had came from seemingly nowhere and cuffed his cheek … hard and painfully.

"What the bloody hell," he began.

SMACK! She slapped him again.

"That's for getting yourself locked away so you could not keep your promise to me! Fifteen years, Siri! Fifteen years in a hell you could've prevented."

"I wasn't Lord Black then…" SMACK!

"You would've been had you not gone to prison! You would've been in '91 when Lord Arcutus died! And even when he was still alive, you were the only one who could've convinced him to release me from that bastard! You left me to rot!"

SMACK!

"OW! Stop it," the man protested. "What's that for?"

"That's for getting yourself dead!"

SMACK!

"And that's for not being dead. Do you have any idea how much pain you've caused?"

SMACK!

"Bloody hell, woman!" he protested.

"That's … that's … well, I'm sure it's justified for some reason, you prat! You think this was all some kind of prank?"

"Actually…"

SMACK!

"You bastard!" Cissy yelled.

"Bloody hell! Well, any doubt I had about being dead is gone. I heard it said that pain proves you're alive."

SMACK!

"A reminder!" Cissy all but shrieked. "Erin?" she asked in a much calmer voice. "You can call off the Guards. Full 'Families' list is in order I should think - maybe include all tonight's guests. Make the calls. I'm taking this … joker … to the Briefing Room where he will explain all this to everyone!"

"Yes, Cissy," the red-haired girl replied.

"YOU!," Cissy growled looking at the man. "You are coming with me!" She grabbed him by the ear and …

"Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Bloody Hell, woman! Now I know I can't be dead! Ow!" he protested as she led him away.

The man who had called himself "Mr. Underhill" soon found himself in a huge room with a large, horseshoe like table dominating the floor and behind and to either side of the table rose additional seats. He did not bother to count the seats either at the table or behind it. A small table with a chair had been placed just beyond the top of the horseshoe and he was told to sit there. After Cissy left, an elf arrived and offered him the choice of a glass of water or cup of tea. He opted for the tea.

"What is this place?" he asked the elf for it reminded him slightly of the courtrooms back in Britain.

"The main Briefing Room, Sir," the elf replied and then left without further elaboration. "Mistress Cissy believes this - er - revelation requires the participation of the Families and, given that there are many others here and about for this weekend's events, the other guests who are here for various functions have also been asked to attend. The Duke is in agreement and so it has been done. You are asked to stand to the side of the table once the people begin to gather."

"Why?"

"Mistress Cissy is certain there will be some who wish to speak to you and others who wish to slap your face before you have a chance to explain yourself. Enjoy your tea. The first arrivals will be in about fifteen minutes." With that the elf disappeared. To Cyril or Sirius he looked at the cup of tea and felt it was not exactly what he wanted for his last meal.

Just moments after the elf had left him to his tea, he heard a familiar sound, that of a heavy, wooden staff striking the floor followed by a metallic sound in an alternating rhythm. He looked up and saw three people standing before with, two with wands drawn. One was a lady he remembered from years earlier and he was surprised to see her here. The other with wand drawn was a scarred man who was missing and eye and part of his nose and seemed to be glaring at him with both his remaining eye and the oversized and what "Cyril" always considered the especially creepy magical one. Next to the two stood a tall, black man who looked at him with some interest.

"Well?" the black man asked, although it was clear the question was not directed at "Cyril."

"I find no sign of any potions or enchantments," the woman said.

"Aye," the disfigured man growled. "It's 'im alright. Though don't ask me how it can be. I saw 'im pass into the Veil that night."

"It will be very interesting to learn how you extricated yourself this time, Black," the tall Black man said.

"Aye," the other agreed. "Probably even more spectacular then getting passed the idiot guards at Azkaban," the other replied. "Poppy, you can inform His Highness that this miscreant is who he claimed to be, although we can't say how this is so." Madam Pomfrey nodded and then turned and left.

"What," "Cyril said in mock surprise, "not gonna force out of me, Mad-eye? And it's good to see you too, for the record. And you too, Kingsley."

"Nope," Mad-eye replied. "We're just here for the food later on. Although this might prove entertaining." With that, Mad-eye stumped off to find a seat somewhere up in the gallery.

"As interested as I am in learning how you managed to die and yet not die, Black," the remaining man said, "I think it's going to be more amusing to see your reaction to all the mess you've caused."

"Cyril" nodded and watched as Kingsley Shacklebolt, the man who had headed the manhunt for the infamous criminal and fugitive Sirius Black for three years without "success" - although the man had known where Black was for at least two of those years - left and joined his old mentor in the Gallery as several others began entering and filling the back seats. "Cyril" did not recognize any of the new arrivals at first, although one dark haired lady who took her seat seemed familiar to him. Then again, he had not seen the woman in well over twenty years. It was Cissy's sister Andromeda who he had last seen before she bonded with her husband Ted which was before his Third Year at Hogwarts.

Well over one hundred people were now seated in the back rows of the gallery when an elf popped into view between "Cyril" and the horseshoe shaped table.

"Mr. George Weasley, his Wife and Consort Lady Angelina and the Ladies of the Coven of his house," the elf began before listing several other names. "Cyril" watched as "Lady" after "Lady" was called and followed the red haired young man into the Gallery. "Cyril" was shocked and confused by the term "Coven." He had been raised to believe such things were Dark Magic and knew personally - or once had known - the George Weasley and doubted that the amusing lad would delve in such arts. Then again, the mother was not beneath such things. What was more confusing was there was applause as each name was announced and in some cases loud clapping and cheers from at least a small segment of those who had already taken their seats. All told there were sixteen young women who followed the young man into the room.

"Mr. Frederick Weasley, his Wife and Consort Lady Alicia and the Ladies of the Coven of his House…" Another sixteen young women entered behind Fred.

"Mr. Charles Weasley, his Wife and Consort Lady Tatiana and the Ladies of the Coven of his House…" Ten women entered with Charlie.

"Mr. William Weasley, his Wife and Consort Lady Fleur and the Ladies of the Coven of his House…" Including Fleur whom "Cyril" had known before, sixteen young women followed Bill into the room and took their seats.

That was even more of a shock to "Cyril," although perhaps it explained things a little.

"Mr. Arthur Weasley and the Ladies of the Coven of his House…" Nine women were introduced and not one of them was the man's daughter or his wife Molly.

"Mr. Frank Longbottom, his Wife and Consort Alice and the Ladies of the Coven of the Lesser House of Longbottom…" "Cyril" never heard the names. Frank and Alice had been friends of his years ago, but he had not seen them since before the birth of their son in 1980. While he had wasted away in prison, he latter learned his friends had been driven insane by his own cousin and spent their days in bed in St. Mungo's staring at the ceiling and drooling on themselves. This couple, while much older, looked quite healthy. "Cyril" was stunned. In addition from their own rising from the dead, as it were, these two had also formed a Coven. They would never have gone Dark!

"The Ladies of the Coven of House Lupin," the elf announced and then proceeded to name them. Moony? "Cyril" thought. He's gone dark as well? And where the bloody hell is he? Did he have a Consort?

"The Ladies of the Coven of the Ancient and Noble House of Longbottom…," the elf announced as the largest group of young women so far entered as their names were called. For "Cyril," the confusion only grew as he would have thought that Frank was now the Head of that House but that was obviously not the case. Again no Consort was announced.

"The Ladies of the Coven of the Ancient and Noble House of Black," the elf announced.

'Bloody Hell! Not Harry too!' "Cyril thought.

"Lady Cathy," the elf said and a very young looking girl entered "Cyril's" view and took a seat now at the main table, closest to him to his right. "Lady Laura," the elf continued and another very young woman took her seat next to whoever this Cathy was. "Lady Kathryn," and the process continued.

"Lady Narcissa…" "Cyril's" jaw dropped when he saw Cissy, his Cousin and who he knew had been married to a known Death Eater take her seat next to "Kathryn." The woman had slapped him silly earlier and now she was part of - of this dark magic?

"Lady Parvati, Attendant to the Countess of Darby…" What the bloody hell was that nonsense? "Cyril" was now very confused.

"Lady Constance, … Lady Fiona, … Lady Karen, … Lady Tabatha, … Lady Daphne, Attendant to the Duchess of Charenwell, … Lady Dame Nymphadora, Royal Order of the Knights of the Round Table, Order of the British Empire, …"

'Okay,' "Cyril" thought, 'this has seriously taken a turn for the surreal.' He knew who Dora was but had no idea about those titles or whatever they were.

"…And Lady, Doctor/Healer Mallory, Matron of House Black!" And this was followed by a huge ovation from the others in the room. "Cyril" saw she who had been the love of his life, acknowledge the applause and take her seat - and then glare at him. He had, of course, no way of knowing that most of the people in the room were or would be her patients.

"Mademoiselle, Gabrielle Delacour, Betrothed to the Head of the Ancient and Noble House of Potter," the elf continued. "Cyril's" shock continued as a young girl, to his mind no more than nine or ten, entered and waived to the crowd - to some eager cheers from some of the other young - very young - women and take her seat to his left at the table across from that 'Cathy' girl.

"The Ladies Coven of the Ancient and Noble House of Potter," the elf continued. "Lady Eleanor, … Lady Erin, …" and "Cyril" saw the red-head he saw earlier take her seat. "Lady Sally-Anne, … Lady Padma, Attendant to the Countess of Darby," as an exotic looking, dark skinned young woman entered who was the spitting image - aside from her dress - of one of the Black "Ladies." "Lady Katie," the elf continued. "Ladie Laura, … Lady Rhonda, … Lady Dame Ginevra, Royal Order of the Knights of the Round Table, Order of the British Empire," he continued and "Cyril" was now at a loss for he knew who she really was - she was the young witch they were supposed to have kept Harry away from. "Lady Stacey, … Lady Astoria, Attendant to the Duchess of Charenwell, … and Lady Minerva, …" there was a huge cheer as this name was called, "… Director of the Charenwell Educational Development Board and Matron of House Potter!" "Cyril's" jaw dropped seeing Professor McGonagall enter and take her seat. There was no way that Professor McGonagall would have been a part of any of this, was there? He thought.

"ALL RISE!" the elf said and with that everyone stood up and "Cyril" felt it best to do the same.

"His Excellency, Sir Stephen Blaire, Royal Order of the Knights of the Round Table, Ambassador to Charenwell from the Court of St. James and his Wife and Consort Lady Abigail.

"His Excellency, Monsieur Phillipe Delecour, Deputy Minister for Magic of France and his Wife and Consort Madam Apolline…

"His Excellency, Sir Remus John Lupin, Royal Order of the Knights of the Round Table, Order of the British Empire, Lord Mayor of Charenwell and his Wife and Consort Lady Stephanie…" "Cyril" watched as they took their seats confused.

"His Grace, Lord Sir Neville Longbottom, Thirty-first Earl of Pendle, Head of the Ancient and Noble House of Longbottom, Royal Order of the Knights of the Round Table, Order of the British Empire and his Wife and Consort, Her Grace, Lady Susan of the Ancient and Noble House of Bones." Raised in the ancient societal traditions, "Cyril" knew that the Lord of House Longbottom was now married to the last of another Ancient and Noble House - a powerful political union back in Britain. But he also knew this Lord had a "Coven" which was something that still made no sense to him as he could not fathom so many men from "Light" lines or dispositions going dark like this.

"Her Grace, Lady, Dame Luna, Countess of Darby, Consort of the Ancient and Noble House of Black, Royal Order of the Knights of the Round Table, Order of the British Empire!"

"Cyril" watched as the young, blonde woman with large eyes approached him, the first to do so since Mad-eye and the others. She looked at him for a moment and then smiled.

"My father was wrong," she said. "You're not Stubby Boardman," she added before doing a surprisingly unladylike skip off to her seat. It left "Cyril" speachless which he would later believe may have been the point.

"Her Highness," the elf continued, "Lady Dame Hermione, Duchess of Charenwell, Consort of the Ancient and Noble House of Potter, Royal Order of the Knights of the Round Table, Order of the British Empire." The young woman "Cyril" saw looked nothing like he remembered. She was breathtaking.

"His Highness, Lord Sir Harry the First, Duke of Charenwell, Head of the Ancient and Noble House of Potter, Head of the Ancient and Noble House of Black, Royal Order of the Knights of the Round Table, Order of the British Empire! God Save the Queen!"

"God Save the Queen!" it seemed everyone else said as Harry entered. He took his seat and the room became very quiet as he stared at "Cyril."

"Y-you have a lot of explaining to do…," "Cyril" began.

"You first Cyril Underhill," Harry said. "Or is it really Sirius Orion Black?"

"I was born that." "Cyril" replied. "And died that, apparently. But at least I did not die DARK!"

"Are you saying I've gone dark?" Harry asked.

"You have a Coven! It's well known…!"

"How ignorant British Magicals are," Harry finished. "When you are aware of all the facts, you will realize the truth. I am Dark, as you say, because I accept a relationship with witches as equals and without regard to blood status - the antithesis of Pureblood Elite thinking which has dominated and polluted Britain for far to long. Learn the truth before becoming critical of it, Sirius!

"That being said, why should I not believe you have not gone Dark? It takes a Dark Lord to cheat death and you don't look dead now," Harry said with some bitterness in his voice.

"Didn't know for sure until Cousin Cissy smacked me around," "Cyril" replied. "I'm now quite sure I'm alive although not sure whether to consider myself lucky," a comment that elicited chuckles of one form or another from around the room. "You've got some explaining to do, Harry…"

"My House, my rules, you first Sirius!," Harry shot back. "You're supposed to be dead! And yet here you are now, alive and well. It's been confirmed. You died! Did you have a horcrux?"

"How do you know about…" Sirius began.

"Not relevant," Harry retorted. "Answer the question!"

"No. I know what those are and would never have had one."

"And yet you now live when you're known to have died! Only Voldemort's done that!"

"Did you actually see me die?" Sirius asked wryly.

"I saw you pass through the Veil and disappear!" Harry shot back.

"Of that I have no doubt. But the question remains, did you actually see me die? Did you see the life leave my eyes? Did you see me breath my last and then no more?"

"Um … well no, not really."

"Dora?" Sirius asked.

"No. Then again I was a little busy at the time," she replied with a disbelieving huff. "I did see you fall through, though."

"Mad-eye? Shack? Moony?" Sirius asked.

"Bit busy at the time," Mad-eye said. Kinglsey said the same thing.

"I saw you pass through," Remus added.

Sirius nodded. "Yet the proof - or a proof, lies here. You three have seen death as has Harry but, unless I'm mistaken, Cousin Dora has not. So let me ask you this then, Dora: Have you been to Hogwarts since that night?"

"Of course. I was there for security reasons and to attend a couple of Order meetings."

"And how did you go there?"

"For the Order meetings by floo. But as an Auror, I had to go to Hogsmeade and either walk or take one of the carriages."

"And did you take the carriage?"

"Yes. What's the point?"

"Did you see what was pulling the carriages?" Sirius asked. Harry seemed to gasp.

"Nothing pulls the carriages," Dora said.

"Thestrals!" Harry said.

"Precisely," Sirius agreed. "Dora can't see the thestrals that pull the carriages hence she didn't see me die."

"But the Ministry Hall of Records shows that you're dead," Dora protested.

"And there's the matter of your Will," Cissy added. "The Goblins would never have published it unless you were dead."

"And there's Mallory and Dora," Hermione added. "Mallory's bond with you could only be broken upon death. She was a love bonded concubine. And you never sold Dora, so again the only way for that bond to be broken - the only way they could have later bonded with Harry was if you were dead. Then there's the fact that Harry wears the Black House Ring! Only the true Head of House can wear it - the magic prevents any other from doing so and the only way Harry could be the true Head of the Ancient and Noble House of Black is if he were so designated by his predecessor and his predecessor had died."

"You are mostly correct," Sirius agreed. "Although in theory I could have abdicated my position as Head of House in favor of Harry. But since I did not, the only way for that to have happened was if I was dead in the eyes of magic, the law and Gringotts. And yet, here I am. It is a bit of a puzzle isn't it? Especially when you consider that you can't fake the magic that would show those who needed proof that I was dead." There was, however, a mischievous look on the man's face.

"So you had this all planned from the start!" Hermione said.

"My death?" Sirius asked. "Not from the start. Not at all. But the more I learned of what Dumbledore was up to, the more I realized… One way or another, Harry, the only way for our plan to truly succeed so that you could achieve your birthright and your sister could be saved … you did find my Goddaughter, didn't you?"

"I did," Harry said. "By accident, really. It was about a week after I go here when I spent and afternoon with the only father she's ever known, Mick Jameson of Pottersport, Captain of a fishing boat and a good friend now."

"She was here this whole time?" Sirius asked. "We were looking all over Britain for her!"

"She was here since she was a few months old," Harry said. "And she's here in this room - in the back benches with the only family she's ever truly known and it's a wonderful family - even if her Dad's gone months at a time fishing."

Sirius seemed to sob slightly. "Th-then it's by accident I did what I promised your parents, Harry. I kept the two of you safe, but by accident!

"When Bill told me what his mother and Dumbledore had planned for you, when we learned what Dumbledore wanted to do - to kill you after you had a son and to sell Clarice off as a slave to end your line in favor of his … we had to save you, don't you see? I'm your magical Godfather after all. I had to save your lives or die trying! It's the nature of the oath I took when you were born and later when Clarice was born. When I left Azkaban - on my own recognizance, I should add just as it now seems the news of my untimely demise was in itself untimely - when I escaped, I did so to find you, Harry, at first 'cause you were in the greatest danger. But I had to find Clarice as well to see to it that she was safe as well. Mallory and I were looking for her from as soon as we got back together here not long after I escaped. You, Harry, were after all easy for me to find. Later, after you and Hermione saved my life and in so doing convinced Remus I was on the level, he and Dora and later Stephanie joined our little crusade to help you and your sister. Shack and Mad-eye joined us after the Tri-wizard for their own reasons. Neither of them trusted Dumbledore to do what was truly right or the Ministry to do anything. For a while, the lot of us thought it would be so simple: just get you here and all would be right with the world. But then Bill and Fleur joined us and told us about Dumbledore's plans for you - to kill you and keep your heir as his own! We soon learned he planned to sell your sister off as a slave - and Hermione as well, while you were to be potioned up to accept whatever mate Dumbledore selected for you, a mate who in time was equally expendable. You've bonded with Ginny I see."

"She was not at fault," Harry replied sharply. "No one knew about that aside from her mother and maybe her brother Ron who - as you might have observed - is not here!"

"We never would have supported that nonsense," Fred said.

"Our sister's no slave!" George added. "Our so called mother would have her one, but we will not! She may have begun here as Harry's Concubine, but she's never been treated as his slave and will never be!"

"Let's get back to the point," Harry said after Ginny thanked her brothers very publicly. "Why are you here?"

"I had to die to set you free, Harry. There was nothing for it. You had to be free to save those I wanted to save and those who you might want to save. I had to die, Harry."

"And yet, you're not dead. And why did you have to die?"

"You needed to be fully emancipated to protect yourself, your sister, anyone else outside of Charenwell and your estate. As your Godfather I had to find a way to save you and Clarice. But I was also obligated by magical oath to your father and Grandfather to do whatever I could to protect the Potter Estates. You own most of the land here in Charenwell, Harry, and I assume by now you know this. It's at best two thirds of your total land holdings and the rest of it's in Britain. Your British rents and business interests produce more than three fourths of your estate's income. No Potter ever lost an acre of land - not with all the Kings and wars and all of that. It's one of the reasons House Dumbledore hated your family. We had to get you away from him, period. But that would not save your lands or your sister. Getting you away - bringing you here - that was the easy part.

"Getting you here and then Moony, as Lord Mayor and Steward could declare you emancipated if I as your true magical guardian did not; but his declaration insofar as Charenwell was concerned would have enough. It would've meant nothing beyond these shores. The British Wizengamot would never have recognized it seeing as Dumbledore had usurped your House votes and as he's Chief Mugwump of the ICW, he could've delayed your claim at least until you were seventeen…"

"He's been ousted from that position," Harry said.

Sirius nodded. "But that was after I 'died,' right?"

Harry nodded.

"Harry, much as I never wanted to, the more I learned about what Dumbledore was up to, the more I realized I had to die…"

"WHAT?" Harry shrieked.

"Harry," Sirius said in a calming voice. "There was nothing else that would work. Were I alive, you'd either be here and have lost most of your family's legacy to Dumbledore - as he had so hoped - or you would still be there in Britain and be losing everything. I could save you from that. But over two thirds of the Potter lands are in Britain and unless they recognized you as an adult those land - two thousand years of heritage - would have been confiscated and have become the property of one Albus Dumbledore. The property would have been declared forfeit if you absconded as a minor and there's no way Dumbledore - whose family as coveted your lands for a thousand years or more - would have done anything but claim it for himself which was what he wants in the first place!

"In my life and due to my status as a fugitive, Dumbledore got control of your House votes as proxy in the Wizengamot. It was enough for him to control a majority whenever he wanted to. I could not gain control of those votes or regain my own House votes so long as I was alive and either a prisoner in Azkaban or a fugitive. The Old Bastard had me by the short hairs and he knew it! I could declare you emancipated and he'd simply get the Wizengamot to overrule it. I could protest to the ICW and he'd stuff that one down as well. But…

"But if I died and declared you emancipated in my Will, it would be up to Gringotts and not the wizards to declare whether or not my intent was valid and enforceable. By Treaty, not even Dumbledore or the Wizengamot or the ICW can contest the validity of a Will unless they had a prior, proven adjudication of my incompetence and this would include my right to declare you emancipated and therefore the true master of your estates. I was never tried, therefore, they could never contest my Will! I had to die, Harry. I had to die to free you and hopefully your sister and others as well. It was the only way to save you or your sister or anyone you wanted to save, Harry.

"I had to die, Harry. I knew that as soon as we knew what Dumbledore was up to and just how screwed we and you were! We gave the old bastard the benefit of the doubt and then Bill and Fleur told us his plan for you and Ginny - his plan to get her knocked up with your heir and then once he was born snuff the both of you! My life for yours, Harry and Ginny - and arguably Hermione. My life for yours. My death would have insured House Potter could survive. It was really a small price to pay for me. Compared to House Potter, House Black was an afterthought, although not enough of a one to leave it to my other relations, most notably the Malfoy line, but that's not important here…

"My plan was simple, Harry. I had to snuff it. I would've preferred to go down fighting, but I was willing to turn myself over to the Ministry and face the music, as it were. Ol' Fudge was itching to take me out and, in a way, that was my real plan. Had the battle at the Ministry not happened, I'd have turned myself over to the bastard to get myself snuffed so that the terms of my Will would free you. I told no one of this plan. Moony guessed it, but no one else did. I didn't tell my Mallory. I couldn't be what I wanted to be for her and it was best, I thought, to give her a chance and hope for herself. Didn't tell Dora either, similar reasons. To save you, to save them, to save everyone I cared about, you needed to be emancipated and for that to truly work I had to die.

"Not that I wanted to. Mallory, I am sorry that I chose that route and did not tell you. You too, Dora. But it was necessary. There was no way around it. Anything less and Dumbledore would have won. I would have failed in my oath to House Potter and to Harry … and Clarice, and in a way to the two of you, not to mention protecting my own House, and failure was not an option! I would not hand over the world to a Dark Lord! That was my only option should I have chosen to not do what I knew needed to be done to break Harry free of the bastard and prevent the bastard from getting control over House Potter and its assets. He would have been unstoppable with access to those resources. But that's not the point! He would not control the destiny of MY House - as he had been doing - or the House I was sworn to defend! He needed to be taken out of the equation and short of killing him - not a mean feat - then it was to separate the lock from the key: separate his control of Harry and Harry's House from his hands in a manner not even he could stop! So, to free Harry, to turn over to him what was rightfully his, to give him the chance to do what I thought he could do, I had to emancipate him NOW and in a way that could not be challenged by Dumbledore which meant one which Gringotts controlled.

"Now of course I did not really want to die," Sirius continued. "Not after I did a Potter with my Will…"

"A Potter?" Harry asked.

Sirius nodded. "With regards to any Will, Gringotts has sole authority particularly in regards to property and vaults. House Potter has known for some time that House Dumbledore was trying to end their line. Your Great-great grandfather Edward and fourteen daughters before he had his only son Charlus. Edward had six younger brothers or half brothers who each had nothing but daughters. They all went to Hogwarts and all before Albus showed up. But Albus's Great-grandfather was alive and Potions Master at the school. Figure the odds. Seven men had over forty daughters and only one son between them. Then there was your grandfather who attended while Albus was there. His wife Samantha had many miscarriages before finally giving birth to your father. While she was in school, Albus taught Transfiguration and is said to have been having an affair with both the then Potions Master and Healer."

"And my father and mother?"

"They attended when Professor Slughorn was Potions Master and my guess is Slughorn was straight and not about to share a bed with Dumbledore - who prefers male lovers by the way. Madam Pomfrey was the Healer. So for that time he had no ability to - er - pollute the situation.

"While your Great-granfather was Head of House, he made a deal with the Goblins regarding his Wills. They would declare any Will of his as fraudulent and deal with any person who asked them for any adjudication of any such Will, unless the Will was executed here in Charenwell and witnessed by the Charenwell Goblins only. Your grandfather did the same thing as seeing as how Dumbledore did try and submit a different Will which he claimed was the real one - and lost his vaults in trying - the protection was prudent.

"You're father's Will only dealt with your Trust Vault which had already been set up, the disposition of his and Lily's personal possessions and your Guardianship. He did not, however, include the restriction on his Will. The lack of such restrictions seems to have been enough for Dumbledore to submit a fake will in all probability, one which gave him sole control over your Guardianship should certain others - such as myself - be unable to assume such duties. House Potter would never have allowed House Dumbledore any control over its Heirs."

"I am acutely aware of his manipulation of the Wills," Harry said. "After all, had the real will been executed, I would've been raised here in Charenwell - or by you. Either way, I would never have been under that usurper's Guardianship. Get back to the point!"

"I'm sure he did the same thing to your father, Harry," Sirius replied. "It's the only way to explain why your father's Will omitted your Charles and Samantha. He … he forced me to sign another Will, one much different than the one which left you as Lord Black. But that was after I made the contract with Gringotts barring any will not witnessed by the Goblins. The Will he made me sign - I signed it back in March of '96 - turned over the bulk of the Black assets to him and made it certain that he was to be your Guardian. What little was left which included the title of Lord Black and the Black seats in the Wizengamot was to pass to Draco Malfoy."

"That explains things," Cissy said. "When Draco came home for the Spring Holiday he met with his father and afterwards began strutting around like he owned the place claiming he was designated as the next Lord Black if you passed on."

Sirius nodded. "That will wasn't worth the parchment it was written upon. It shut the Old Man up, but gave him nothing. Still, all of this was academic unless I snuffed it and I had every intention of doing so. As you probably know, the real Will should have stuck it to Dumbledore and the whole lot of them."

"Understatement," Harry said. "Continue."

"Greatest prank I ever pulled," Sirius chuckled. "It even backfired on me seeing your - um - family there. But what's the fun in pulling a prank if you can't see the results of it? Damn problem with the whole plan, wasn't it? To stick it to the Old Man and ruin his plans I had to snuff it, didn't I? To save you, your sister, your estate and legacy of 2,000 years, to beat Dumbledore at his own game, I had to snuff it."

"And yet you didn't."

"It would seem that the news of my untimely demise was untimely," Sirius chuckled.

"That's him!" Mallory said. "The bastard might not have told me what he was up to, but he does give a whole new meaning to the term Black Humor!"

"Damn it! How did you survive?" Harry shouted.

"The Veil was the key," Sirius said. "Suicide missions are an oxymoron for the most part. True suicide missions are carried out by very disturbed if not totally crazy people. No sane person wants a hundred percent chance at death. There must be a chance - however slim or miniscule - that they can survive. Hence the Veil."

"That makes no sense at all!" Hermione said. "What I read was that it's an execution device!"

"Actually, it was meant to be an adjudication device," Sirius said. "Many of my ancestors worked in the Department of Mysteries and its predecessor before they became Lords Black. That Department is about research. Most of it is meaningless to most of us, but they have been tasked on occasion to make something new and useful and the Veil was supposed to be just that. It was invented before someone else came up with Veritiserum. It was supposed to be an impartial way to determine guilt or innocence in capital offenses. The problem was and remains it's too bloody easy for a skilled wizard criminal to tamper with witnesses both during the commission of his crime and after. A witness could swear on their magic that they saw Wizard Joe snuff Wizard Able and no magic could prove them liars. But things such as polyjuice potion and other magical disguises would fool even the most observant and anyone skilled in the mind arts to alter memories to a degree where the true ones could never be known. Veritiserum is not considered useful with witnesses, only suspects. A witness sees what they saw. Only a suspect can confess and yet Veritiserum is really a recent development…

"The Veil was a simple idea, really. Your capital offender facing the Headsman's ax would be sent through it. If he were guilty of a capital offense, he'd be gone forever. If he were innocent, he'd simply pass through as if walking through an arch. The problem was it didn't work right. True, many sent through were never seen again. But those who did come back… They never noticed anything, but in this realm of existence they were gone for ages: weeks, month and even years and there was a side effect. Every magical oath they had taken, every magical contract they had ever entered into, every evidence of their original magical signature ceased to exist once they entered the Veil. They were declared dead and no magic known could prove otherwise until they returned by which time their estates had been passed off to their survivors, their wives widowed and in many cases remarried, their concubines rebonded to another or sold off…"

"They were dead in all meaningful respects," Hermione finished.

Sirius nodded. "No guarantee I could get to the Veil and even then it was a long shot deal. I'd probably have snuffed it proper or been summarily executed by Fudge and his lot first. As a Black, I could demand the Veil. Fudge may've conceded the point as to not do so would have lost him many Pureblood and Traditionalist votes. Couldn't count on that, could I? He's a right bastard that one. Then we learned of Voldie's obsession with the Department of Mysteries and such and I thought maybe, just maybe, I could get to the Veil. Set things up just in case. Made myself Cyril Underhill with an account, a flat here in Pottersport, a car and all that lot just in case. Had I been caught there in the Ministry that night, I would've demanded the Veil rather than the Dementors.

"Then the real battle took hold and where would it be but in the Veil room. True, any one of those Death Eater bastards might've snuffed me with the Killing Curse or goodness knows what else. But I was fortunate to find myself facing dear old Cousin Bella…"

"Fortunate?" Harry asked. "She was a psycho!"

"And a Black and therefore she could not kill her Head of House without killing herself as well. Sometimes that Pureblood rubbish can truly bite them in the ass. Set myself up before the Veil. I'll admit, I was concerned she might try something really nasty. But it was just a stunner and I … well obviously I passed through. Came out in that blasted room only a few days ago. Although I should point out, there was no guarantee I would pass through nor that I would at any given time. It might have been months or years from now before it happened if it did at all."

"Why didn't Remus or your - your image in my Grandfather's pensieve tell me this?"

"As for myself," Remus replied, "I knew the odds. It was highly unlikely Padfoot's plan to evade death would work at all. I knew about it. He told me just before we headed off to deal with the Death Eaters. But I knew it was such a long shot that there was little point in telling you. It was a one in a million chance, Harry."

"As for my image in the Pensieve," Sirius said, "he knew the same thing. Unless by some miracle I did make it to the Veil alive and pass through, there was little point. Moreover, he knew it might be years if ever if I did succeed."

"What does this mean?" Harry asked. "I mean Mallory and Dora and the House of Black."

"They are part of your Coven now," Remus said. "Nothing save their own death can change that. They are carrying your children and that will never change."

"Really?" Sirius asked choking up.

Harry nodded.

"Thank you, Harry," Sirius said. "It's what I wanted for them really. I wanted them to be happy and free of the potential problems with their bond to me - namely that they could still be sold off and such. Thank you!

"As for the House of Black you are it's Head now. That can't be changed. The ring of my forefathers has chosen you as the Head."

"And … and what about you?" Harry asked.

"The Ring has passed me by. I am a Black only if you say so but one without any rights of succession. I gave that up when I passed through the Veil and, in the eyes of magic, was ruled well and truly dead. But I did prepare. I set up an account here in Charenwell under my assumed name of Cyril Underhill. I can live the rest of my days quite comfortably on that account. Got a nice flat as well in Pottersport overlooking the harbor. I'll be fine as 'Cyril,' don't you worry."

"Are you still my Godfather?"

"By magic, no. That oath disappeared along with any others when I passed through the veil. In my heart, yes Harry. That is if you'd like me to be."

"I would," Harry said with tears in his voice.

A/N:

Sorry. Couldn't snuff Draco. He hasn't suffered enough. (insert Evil Grin here.) Yes, I always planned for Sirius to somehow cheat death. It had to happen after it was too late for anyone to truly go back.

RELATIONSHIP SCORECARD:

If you didn't read the Intro, you missed that. This is so you can keep up with who's with who and how. Changes in abbreviated version are for change in bond status, birthdays and so on.

Key:

Names in Italics = OC

Gr – Gryffindor, Hu – Hufflepuff, Ra – Ravenclaw, Sl – Slytherin.

SG – St. George's School, PE – Prince Edward School, SA – St. Andrew's, SP – St. Patrick's, SD – St. David's.(Number indicates last year completed. No number means they finished all seven years.)

P = pregnant.

Harry James Potter, age 16.* HOUSE POTTER