Chapter Text
“How much longer?” Harry requested as he twirled around and around.
“You have another fifteen minutes,” the portrait of his distant cousin, Leta Lestrange, answered for him.
“I don’t understand. Why do I have to spend so much time on dancing lessons?” Harry grumbled.
His grandfather had given him a few days to acclimate to his situation. He’d brought his tailor to Lestrange Manor to craft an entirely new and expensive wizard wardrobe for Harry. Then the older wizard had sat him down to plan out a schedule for the lessons that he would be taking over the summer. Harry needed to learn their family history, which included their family magic. His grandfather also insisted on Harry learning pureblood etiquette.
Pureblood etiquette included a plethora of different things from what forks to use at dinner parties, to manners, to wizarding laws and politics, and even to Harry’s great distress dancing.
“Learning to dance is a great way to train the body in grace and swiftness. That training can vastly help when it comes time to learn dueling,” Leta answered.
“I do want to learn how to duel,” Harry eyed his dance instructor.
It looked like a mannequin from a muggle department store except it moved. When Harry’s grandfather had first introduced it Harry had been rather disturbed by the featureless thing. Harry spent a half hour everyday on his dance lessons except the weekends.
His grandfather was a fair and loving guardian. He set firm rules, and had high expectations for Harry. He encouraged Harry to succeed and try his hardest. His grandfather had comforted him when the newspaper found out who his real parents were, and decided to label him as being as terrible as his parents. It had been eye opening to Harry to have such vitriol spewed his way when he had done nothing to deserve it. His grandfather had helped him see none of it was his fault.
Harry had been living with his grandfather for nearly three weeks now, and so far it had been some of the best weeks of his life. He’d learned so much about the wizarding world in the last three weeks. More than he had in an entire nine months at Hogwarts.
The things his grandfather had taught him were things he’d never even thought to ask about.
“Your father was an excellent dueler,” Leta commented.
“That’s what my grandfather said,” Harry reminisced.
Harry and his mannequin instructor shifted into the next traditional Pureblood dance set.
“Harry.”
Harry and his instructor paused in their dancing and turned towards the entrance to the ballroom.
Romulus Lestrange stood in the entrance to the grand room. A small smile graced his features, and his amber eyes were bright in excitement.
“Hello, grandfather,” Harry greeted as he made his way towards the older wizard.
“Your dance lessons appear to be going well,” his grandfather praised.
“They’re alright,” Harry shrugged.
He wasn’t sure how much progress he had made since he wasn’t exactly giving his best effort.
“The sooner you’ve made some substantial progress in your dance lessons and your spell work the sooner we can start learning some dueling forms,” his grandfather offered.
“I’ll try harder,” Harry promised.
Harry had been working a lot harder on the spells his grandfather had been teaching him than he had his dancing lessons.
“Excellent, I’m very proud of the progress you’ve made so far, and I think your father will be quite proud when you tell him about it,” his grandfather smiled widely at him, the older wizard’s excitement shining in his eyes.
“You think so?” Harry still wasn’t quite sure how he felt about his incarcerated parents.
The stories his grandfather told him about his father were wonderful and it made his father sound like someone Harry wanted to know. But it didn’t change the fact that Rodolphus Lestrange had done something terrible enough to get a life sentence in prison.
“I know so, and you’re going to get the chance to hear it for yourself in a just a couple of days.”
“You mean…”
“Yes, I’ve finally heard back from the Ministry about my request to see your parents on your birthday. It’s been approved,” his grandfather announced.
Harry’s heart was pounding in his chest. He couldn’t believe he was going to get to see his parents, and on his birthday. “Oh.”
“Yes, oh indeed,” his grandfather clapped him on the back. “I know your father is highly anticipating the visit. He has been since I first told him about you several months ago.”
“I can’t wait to meet him too,” Harry was being honest about it despite being conflicted about his parents in general.
“Wonderful, now I think you’ve had enough dance lessons for one day. Let’s start your spell work lessons early,” his grandfather wrapped an arm around Harry’s shoulders.
“I can’t argue with that,” Harry was all too happy to get out of his dance lessons.
The next three days leading up to his birthday were incredibly nerve-wracking. Harry vacillated between extremely excited and extraordinarily nervous about his ever-approaching birthday.
The morning of his twelfth birthday arrived, and Harry donned the nice robes Sanni had laid out for him. He and his grandfather had a nice breakfast together, and his grandfather presented him with several birthday presents. Harry was given a book on dueling techniques and dueling champions, a new watch, and the best of all several framed photos of his father and bearer.
Harry recognized Sirius from the photo album of James and Lily Potter Hagrid had given him. He was a handsome young man with thick black curls, and mischievous gray eyes. Harry already had seen several pictures of Rodolphus around the manor at various ages. But it was nice to have a picture that was all his own now of the tall broad shouldered man with straight dark brown hair, and familiar amber cat-like eyes.
Once presents were opened and breakfast was finished his grandfather ushered him into the foyer so that he could apparate them to where they needed to go. It was the first time Harry had left the Lestrange manor home since he arrived.
Hedwig had found the black stone castle after about a week. But she still didn’t have any letters with her. Harry had tried to send a few more letters to his friends but so far he hadn’t gotten a single response. He thought they would have at least sent him a letter on his birthday.
Harry would have thought it was because of the discovery of his parents. But they hadn’t been sending him any letters before that either. What had happened? Were they angry with him about something? Harry shook the thoughts away he was about to meet his parents for the first time. His friends were something to think about for another day.
“Are you ready?” his grandfather asked him.
Harry nodded unable to speak. His grandfather wrapped an arm securely around his shoulders, and then twisted. The squeezing sensation was just as unpleasant as the previous times.
But it was getting easier for him to orient himself afterwards, and he didn’t feel like he immediately had to throw up his stomach contents. Harry glanced around himself. The two of them had apparated onto a dock beside a churning ocean. A rickety looking rowboat was tied to the dock, and a haggard looking man sat dozing in the boat.
Harry’s grandfather heaved a sigh of annoyance. “Incompetence. Unfortunately, Harry, the journey to and from Azkaban is quite unpleasant.”
“I remember what you said.”
His grandfather had warned him about all of the things he would encounter in Azkaban in order to prepare him.
Lord Lestrange stepped closer to the boat and loudly cleared his throat.
The man in the boat startled. “State your business.”
“I am Lord Romulus Lestrange. I am here to take my grandson, Herakles Lestrange, for a visit with Rodolphus Lestrange and Sirius Black,” the austere wizard announced.
“Papers,” the disheveled wizard grunted.
Romulus pulled the parchment for his approved visit from his robes, and handed them over. The wizard looked them over and then nodded before handing them back to Harry’s grandfather.
“You’re good,” the wizard waved them into the boat.
His grandfather helped him into the boat, and then climbed in to the wobbly boat with practiced ease. Romulus had made this trip frequently, and was aware of how to get in and out of the boat.
Harry gripped the sides of his seat tightly as the boat lurched forward. This was his first time seeing the ocean let alone crossing it in such a small boat. The ocean was vast and dark, and it rocked the small boat. The rickety thing had to be held together with magic to keep it from shattering into a million pieces in the turbulent waters let alone actually cross it.
They didn’t say anything as they sped across the waves. The trip took nearly half an hour before Azkaban even came in to view. The moment Harry saw it a pit formed in his stomach. As much as his first view of Hogwarts filled him with awe, Harry’s first view of Azkaban filled him with dread. The colossal black structure was made of sheer black rock jutting out of the rocky little island.
The closer they got the colder it got, and the clearer the black figures floating around it became. The Dementors, he and his grandfather had a long conversation about them and their effects. The visiting area was far away from any of the Dementors but since Azkaban was riddled with them there was still some lingering effects from them.
Harry could feel the effects even from the dock as they disembarked. He didn’t want to go inside Azkaban, and he had to steal all of his Gryffindor courage in order to follow his grandfather inside.
Azkaban was just as dark and depressing inside as it was outside. It was gloomy and dirty, and the guards were rough and rude. One whispered something about saving an open cell next to his parents for him while they were patting him down for weapons or contraband. His grandfather didn’t hear but Harry figured he was already angry enough so he didn’t say anything. Harry could tell that his grandfather was upset by the whole process but he endured it because he knew it was the only way to see his son.
Eventually they were taken to a small damp room with worn and decaying furniture. The chairs were highly uncomfortable but Harry didn’t focus on that. He was too keyed up about meeting his father for the first time.
The door swung open and the guard brought his dad inside. Harry’s grandfather had warned him about his father and bearer’s appearances. Azkaban was a harsh place. It wasn’t like a muggle prison where there were laws about keeping prisoners healthy, clean, and well-fed.
Still their conversation hadn’t prepared him for just how harsh a place Azkaban was. The man before him looked nothing like the strong, fierce wizard in all of the photos Harry had seen of his father so far. It made Harry’s heart ache to see how gaunt his cheeks were. His dark brown hair was a matted greasy mess that Rodolphus had attempted to tie back with a strip of dingy cloth, and his beard was just as long and unkempt.
The wizard’s eyes were the only things that were the same as the pictures. They were a clear amber gold, and an exact match to Romulus and Harry’s eyes. Those eyes seemed to bore into him. Rodolphus’s gaze swept over every inch of Harry that he could see with an incredible intensity. It was slightly unnerving.
“You have an hour,” the guard barked before slamming the door shut.
“Rodolphus, son, how are you?” Harry’s grandfather stood to greet his son.
Rodolphus reluctantly tore his eyes away from Harry to address his father, and stated in a deep rumbling voice, “I’m better now, father.”
“Good, that’s good. Harry, come here,” his grandfather waved him to his side.
Harry went, and his grandfather wrapped an arm across his shoulders. “Rodolphus, my son, allow me the privilege to introduce you to your son Herakles Lestrange. Harry, this is your father, Rodolphus Lestrange.”
“Hello, Harry, it is so wonderful to finally meet you,” Rodolphus reached one trembling hand out to cup Harry’s face, a smile stretching across his face.
“Nice to meet you too, father,” Harry greeted, smiling back at the man. It was hard not to with how utterly happy the man looked as he gazed at Harry. Harry was fairly certain no one had ever looked at him like this before. The closest he could think of with was his grandfather.
“I believe a Happy Birthday is in order. Twelve years old?” Rodolphus questioned.
“Yes,” Harry smiled.
“Let us sit down,” his grandfather guided his father to an empty chair.
Harry sat in the seat beside his father while his grandfather sat across from them. Rodolphus kept his eyes firmly on Harry.
“Tell me, my son, how has living with my father been?” Rodolphus smiled, however, he was careful not to smile too widely to keep from showing off his yellowed teeth.
“It’s been wonderful,” Harry enthused, and told his father all about his room and the lessons he’d been having.
“Good he’s not been too strict then?” Rodolphus asked conspiratorially.
“No, well, maybe a little bit with the dancing lessons,” Harry grinned.
Rodolphus chuckled. “Is he still using those awful mannequins?”
Harry nodded vigorously. “They’re terrifying.”
“They’re tradition,” Romulus sniffed.
Harry and Rodolphus laughed together.
Eventually their conversation turned to Hogwarts. His father was notably impressed that he was on the Quidditch team in his first year.
“A Gryffindor, eh?” Rodolphus teased.
“Yes, but the Hat wanted to put me in Slytherin,” Harry admitted, wanting to impress his father.
“Did it?” Harry’s grandfather had been content to let Harry and his father converse by themselves for the most part. He broke his silence now to ask Harry about his sorting.
Harry told his father and grandfather what happened with the Sorting Hat.
“A Slytherin at heart,” Rodolphus enthused, clapping Harry on the shoulder.
Harry smiled, for the first time wishing he had let himself be sorted into Slytherin if it made his father happy. He never would have expected to have such a thought.
The guards returned to collect Rodolphus. Their time together was far too short for Harry’s liking. It was far too short for Rodolphus’s liking as well. The tall, gaunt wizard wrapped his arms around Harry, and Harry hugged him tightly back.
“I love you, my son,” Rodolphus whispered in to his hair.
“I love you too, father,” Harry murmured back, tears stinging his eyes.
Rodolphus very reluctantly released him when the guards came to take him away. His grandfather wrapped an arm across his shoulders as Rodolphus was led from the room.
Harry leaned in to the embrace as they both wait for the guards to bring Sirius to meet them next.
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Rodolphus felt as if he could cast the Patronus Charm. The meeting was everything he had wanted. His son! The boy was a perfect blend of himself and Black. He had the Lestrange eyes and the Black curls.
Seeing his son in the flesh filled Rodolphus with determination. He would not miss the rest of his son’s childhood. He would not let himself rot in Azkaban. He would not let his brother or friends rot any longer. Rodolphus would not leave his son fatherless any longer.
Rodolphus tuned out his fellow inmates and began to plot. The dark haired wizard only came out of his reverie when the guards returned Black to his cell. Rodolphus could see a similarly awed expression on the man’s face as his own.
“Black,” Rodolphus called.
“Lestrange,” Black answered.
“I think we should talk,” Rodolphus was getting out of Azkaban and he would need Black on his side to do it.