Habits are strongest when they start in our younger years; we call this education, which is, in essence, nothing more than habits formed at an early age (c) Francis Bacon.
***I was able to breathe a sigh of relief and relax more or less only after arriving at the family estate and performing the appropriate rituals with the body of my godson, cutting off any possible traces and destroying the blood I had taken without permission.
It was good that the baby didn't wake up during the rituals, some of which were a little... specific. And there was no need for additional manipulations, since Sirius became a "godfather" in the magical tradition, and not in the way that Muggles understand the word. Strictly speaking, it was not a christening in the usual sense of the word. James, despite his beliefs, heeded the advice of his elders and performed the ritual of accepting his son into the family. The Potter family magic accepted Harry as an heir, and the Black family magic, in turn, accepted him as a relative... In short, it was a complicated ritual that now allowed Harry to benefit from the support of my family's magic and, in general, to live within the walls of the mansion.
Everything was ready for Harry's move: Kreacher tidied up Regulus's old room, and I did a little work as a designer, changing the gloomy interior of the bedroom to light colours and transforming typical children's toys... To be honest, I didn't even know what a child might like, so I settled on teddy bears, toy planes and other nonsense. I left the sleeping child on the bed for now, casting a spell to alert me when he woke up. In the meantime, I Apparated back to London and picked up the dog from the restaurant.
I think the owner wasn't too happy about that, as the kids had become attached to Lucky... Anyway, I advised her to get a similar one from a shelter. Not my problem. The dog survived the apparition unscathed. He reacted calmly to his new home. I already said that this dog is smarter than some people. I had several artefacts for familiars in my storeroom. I put one of them on the dog.
Using a special ring, I would know his location and condition, and the artefact also had some protective functions. Later, I would have to give the artefact to Harry so he could get used to responsibility. At least for the dog. Now Lucky was showing off his beautiful leather collar with the Black crest. Kreacher tried to protest, but sensing my displeasure, he quickly stopped. I let the dog into the bedroom with Harry. He knows Lucky, so it won't be so uncomfortable for him to wake up in an unfamiliar room... I don't think I've forgotten anything. Although there are always little things that can ruin the whole situation. But, as far as possible, I had covered all my bases.
"The devil is in the details," it seems. But a little more and I'll become completely paranoid. It's impossible to foresee everything.
"Ding... ding..." An invisible bell rang in my head. It was the alarm spell. My godson had woken up, which meant we had another difficult conversation ahead of us. I grabbed a small roll from the bedside table and hurried upstairs.
*** When he was very young, Harry dreamed that his parents had not died in a car accident, as Aunt Petunia had said. That they were still alive. He fantasised that they were actually super spies, like in the movies, just hiding from their pursuers and had given the boy to relatives to keep him safe. But someday the front door would open, and his mum and dad would finally take him home, away from the horrible Dursleys... But day after day passed, and the boy's dream, which he had wished for every birthday, never came true.
When Harry got older, he imagined that somewhere there were other relatives, on his father's side or elsewhere... But they definitely remembered him and would surely come to take him away. Over time, the dream faded and was forgotten, but somewhere deep down he still believed in it. People tend to believe in miracles. When the dream came true... Harry didn't remember that moment very well, everything was a blur after Petunia's words about Mr Black... Uncle Black. The boy still couldn't believe it wasn't a dream.
When he woke up, he didn't want to open his eyes for a long time, desperately hoping that it was all a dream. That he wouldn't wake up again in his little room in the house on Privet Drive to the sound of Dudley's footsteps, wouldn't go to make breakfast and then tend to the flowers... For several minutes, Harry just lay there with his eyes closed until a familiar voice called out to him:
"Wake up, godson!
The boy immediately opened his eyes, struggling to get up from the soft bed. For as long as he could remember, Harry's eyesight had always failed him, and without his glasses everything seemed blurry. Out of habit, the boy fumbled with his hand where his glasses always lay and shuddered slightly when his fingers touched something warm and woolly.
"That little rascal wanted to sleep with you, and I didn't chase him away," continued the voice, until Harry recognised Lucky in the furry ball. The dog nudged his palm with his nose and licked his hand. "Sorry, I forgot about your glasses, just a moment..."
The dark silhouette, contrasting with the light tones of the large room, moved away briefly.
"Here, take these," and the glasses were placed in Harry's hand. The boy immediately put them on, getting rid of the unpleasant feeling of helplessness and blindness, and finally looking at the world with clear eyes.
He found himself in a large, spacious room painted in light pastel colours. The first thing Harry noticed was a dog lying nearby, sprawled out on a huge bed. In his mind, Harry's bed was truly enormous. He had only seen beds like this before in films about the lives of celebrities, which his aunt loved to watch. Next to the bed was a large carved chest of drawers with a small chair next to it, where Mr... Uncle Black was sitting.
"So it's not a dream?!" Harry asked with childlike naivety. Overwhelmed by his emotions, he wanted to laugh and cry at the same time.
"No, Harry, it's not a dream..." replied the black-haired man with a gentle smile, smiling guiltily. "Sit down, make yourself comfortable, I have a lot to tell you.
*** We talked for a long time. Several hours. I told Harry about his parents, about myself, showed him old spellbooks... Children are very naive at that age, prone to trusting their elders. I was even a little frightened by this complete and unconditional trust. No, seriously, in my case it's good, of course. Some of the "uncomfortable" moments in my story, questions that an adult might have asked... The only thing Harry couldn't believe right away was that he was a wizard too. "Just Harry," huh... Although I can see his eyes light up. However, in the future, the boy needs to be taught healthy scepticism. Especially considering his difficult fate.
Of course, I've already broken the canon quite a bit, but the fact remains that young Potter is already quite famous. Especially since he's the last of the Potter line, the future Lord. People who want to use him for their own ends will try to befriend him because of his origins or simply kill him, like Voldemort and the other remnants of the Death Eaters... And there are a whole lot of those people in the Wizarding World. "Trust, but verify" — unlike the canonical Sirius, I have never been particularly trusting. Careless... yes, but not naive. I hope I can raise him right.
By the end of the conversation, we had moved to the kitchen. Kreacher had outdone himself — a real feast. By the way, the godson liked the house elf. You should have seen the elf's face when Harry addressed him as "Mr. Kreacher, sir." I don't think anyone had ever addressed him with such respect before. In short, he won the old man over completely.
Next on the agenda was a visit to the French magical quarter to pick out some clothes for Harry, show him the sights, show him how wizards live... and most importantly, visit a magical doctor. Something I hadn't gotten around to doing myself. The restorative potions were running out, and we needed to prescribe a new course, individually tailored to me and young Potter. Of course, this would cost a pretty penny, but you should never skimp on health. Or on clothes, for that matter... Especially when you know how comfortable and useful a specially enchanted item can be.
For now, I shrunk Regulus's old school uniform especially for Harry. Heh, I'd love to see Dumbledore's face if he saw Harry looking so pleased in his Slytherin uniform...
Anyway, when the little one started to look like a human being, we headed for France. By plane. I didn't trust the Ministry portkeys. There are too many supporters of the snake-faced man and our grandfather there... It will be safer by plane. But we can travel back in comfort. But that's after we've done what we need to do... Hmm... And no one will stop us from talking to Harry on the way. Later, there won't be time for conversation.
In short, during the few hours it took us to get to Mullen Street, I realised that I would soon need a clone to keep the restless boy occupied. At first, he was mostly silent and listened, but then he started asking all sorts of questions: why this, why that, why... And you can't stop him. I know from my mother's stories that even in a normal child, curiosity should be encouraged. And in a future mage... I had to answer.
Along the way, I recalled the realities of the magical world. Although some questions stumped me at first. For example, why do magicians wear robes? The answer seems simple — tradition, centuries-old customs, blah blah blah... But that answer was only enough until the next question, "Why?" And really, why? Why, for example, do magicians write with quills instead of pens? And specifically on parchment paper, or on regular parchment. Why do modern wizards use wands instead of, say, staffs or rings... Anyway, when the next question came, I... no, I didn't give up, but I resorted to a diversionary tactic, popping into the first ice cream parlour I saw with my little boy. This bought me a twenty-minute respite.
"Another serving?" The pretty witch who ran the place looked fondly at Harry, who was concentrating on his third serving of ice cream with bubbles that popped in his mouth, giving the treat a completely different taste.
"Would you like some more?"
"Mm-hmm," the child nodded seriously, licking the moustache that had formed on his upper lip.
"Then, perhaps, another serving for this little rascal, and another hot chocolate for me, please," I smiled at the witch.
She blushed a little in response and winked as she walked away. After all, before Azkaban, Sirius was quite the heartbreaker, and I wasn't hiding my appearance now. So, some spells to distract attention and a couple more interesting amulets... I wonder how long I'll have to wait for marriage contracts from families not too involved in politics once everything settles down. Actually, I wouldn't mind, the services of brothels will never replace the warmth of a family. But I have one little problem that seems to be about to burst from an excess of sugar...
I looked thoughtfully at the little boy who was sadly contemplating his half-eaten dessert. I should have limited myself to three servings. Although, I should spoil the child. I never understood excessive restrictions. If you want something, go and take it... By the way, I need to find an etiquette teacher. Just so he has some idea.
"Don't worry, we'll buy some more later, let's go," I took the dazed child by the arm. He looked regretfully at the uneaten dessert, but clung tightly to my hand, allowing himself to be led away. It seemed like only a day had passed, but the boy trusted me more than the relatives he had known all his life... It was good that his trust was in the right hands.
So as not to tire myself or the child with unnecessary wandering around the shops and alleys of the magical quarter, I took Harry to one establishment, the only one, I would say, in the magical part of France, somewhat reminiscent of modern ones: the shop De la Fée, which sold magical toys.
Basically, the shop's purpose is clear from its name. Magic toys, flying broomsticks, talking picture books, toy wands, and even magical pets — all this was concentrated in a beautiful-looking building, significantly modernised inside by expansion spells. Significantly so... The interior was huge. The elaborately decorated hall in the centre was packed with children.
It was something like a testing ground, but in reality it was a children's room with toys, where the little ones entertained themselves by flying on mini-broomsticks and flying balls, firecrackers with confetti exploded everywhere, little girls played with stuffed animals with animation spells... In short, it was fun. There were a lot of children, which was due to the approaching holidays. Parents came here for gifts, to drink a little firewhisky, to drop their children off at the playroom, and just to meet friends and discuss the latest news. Too many people...
But to my surprise, my godson felt right at home here, so he was sent to try out all kinds of toys with instructions to find something he liked. I sighed again and went to a meeting that had been waiting for me for a long time, glancing out of the corner of my eye at the cheerful child.
***After a long day, I took my godson, who was already nodding off, home and put him to bed. As much as I wanted to follow his healthy example, I simply had no time to rest. Sorting through the mail brought by the house elf, I found a long-awaited letter from my dearest grandfather.
The letter, written in a terribly old-fashioned style, instructed me (yes, instructed, in the best traditions of my family) to appear before his bright eyes today... In half an hour, at his estate, to discuss "family matters." I was to obtain the portal from the potion maker himself. After reading this opus, written, among other things, in Old English, which did not improve my mood, I seriously wondered whether visiting my relative was such a good idea. I doubted that the old man would be interested in family matters, and I had no idea what he really wanted to talk about.
Especially since the family curse and his occupation (as far as I know, Pollux was and remains a practising chimeraologist) make me seriously fear for his sanity... But I wanted this myself. After all, he's not going to kill me, is he? And sooner or later, I'll have to talk to him. If I want to restore my family, I need to secure some support. Or at least neutrality.
But first, I need to cover my bases.
"Kricher!
"I'm here, my master," the elf appeared in front of me with a light clap, bowing slightly.
"Here," I handed him several envelopes with my seal stamped on them. "If I don't return by morning, send these envelopes to the addresses indicated. And open this envelope. Further instructions await you there. Do you understand?"
"Yes," the house elf hung his ears. "May I ask, master... Will you return?"
I was taken aback by the question. Was he really worried? How much can people change... Elves. He used to hate me sincerely. At least, that's how it seemed to me. I'll have to do something for the old man, maybe his attitude will improve. Maybe I'll buy him a female elf companion...
"Of course, Creacher, it's just a precaution. I need to visit an old relative. The main thing is to take care of my godson while I'm away.
"Yes, master," the elf cheered up.
After giving out valuable instructions and getting ready, I went through the portal to France. I found the right shop pretty quickly, so I even arrived a little early. Its owner, an old potion maker, made sure it was really me and handed me a pink portal ball. Hm... It's off to a fun start. Well, here we go!
***Seconds flashed before my eyes like a kaleidoscope, and I was already at the gate of Pollux's residence.
To be honest, I was expecting something a little more impressive. It was just a mansion. Stone, slightly Gothic in style. Surrounded by a beautiful garden with various sculptures. In magical terms, everything looked more impressive — hundreds of threads of protective spells entangled the house like a spider's web. And I think any fly that decides to fly in there will be extremely unlucky. I just hope I'm not that fly...
Meanwhile, the wrought-iron doors opened inward, inviting me to enter. Well, let's go.
I stepped inside confidently, keeping the strongest protective spells I knew at the ready. Knowing the nature of my family members, the old man might forget to lock up some chimera in the "garden." Just for guests, by accident.
And not for nothing. As soon as I stepped over the fence, an unknown spell immediately struck my defences, causing them to drop by almost half.
"BAM-S" — my head felt like it had been placed in a church bell. The strongest mental blow made my eyes dark. And that was on top of the shield starting to suck my reserves at a frantic pace, giving me an indescribable feeling of exhaustion rolling over my whole body. After a couple of seconds, I clearly understood that in a moment, all that would remain of my mortal coil would be a wet spot. I had to do something. The worst part was that in order to do something, I had to weaken the pressure on the shield for at least a second.
"Aquakoubis!" A powerful stream of water rushed out in all directions around me. Whatever was attacking me, the spell clearly reeked of darkness. Elemental spells, especially water and fire, unlike light, cannot "overpower" darkness. Only specialised defences are effective against them. But conjured water, which is quite material, can serve as a good barrier for a while. At the same time, I...
"Waddi waise gannme maxima!!!" — the ground around me cracked and whole layers of it flew towards the supposed enemy. Darkness enveloped my defences from all sides. It seemed as if I was surrounded by some kind of black fire that greedily devoured the mana from my protective spell. But for a moment, while the darkness receded under the pressure of the water, I noticed the owner of a very powerful aura, towards which my projectiles were now rushing.
"Got it! And now — Konfigeredmelomaxi...
"StunningSpell," a red beam hit me in the head and prevented me from finishing what I had started. I fell without completing the last swing of my wand."Well, ****, you got me."
I couldn't move. I couldn't even turn my eyes. I just stared at the unusually bright sky until its beautiful view was obscured by a smug face, exactly like the one on the family tapestry.
"Well, hello, grandson. I see that in this day and age, any Hogwarts dropout can become the head of the family," he said, looking at me intently with his faded, shark-like eyes, his lips twisted into a contemptuous smile. "However... Finite. Let's go."
With these words, Polux turned around, waving his cloak dramatically, and, ignoring my reaction, strode towards the mansion.
"Don't get sick, old man..." I groaned as I got up, shaking the stiffness out of my limbs and, struggling to contain my excitement at our first meeting, followed him. I had, of course, assumed that my family was a little "off," but this old man clearly surpassed all the Blacks I knew.
***
The entire story has already been written at:
patreon.com/posts/reborn-as-sirius-142654970