Chapter Text
Magic came from the Soul.
If there was much that I was sure of in this world, it was this: it was not knowledge gained from study, or information obtained from experience of prior life.
It was a simple piece of universal fact that I was given in my new existence.
The mobile above my head spun rapidly, almost tearing free from the bar that held it.
Magic that tasted like fresh strawberries, the juice that traveled across your tongue carrying its faint sweetness.
My new existence was fragmented, incomplete; my thoughts and memories collided without rhyme or reason inside my skull. All I knew for sure was that I had awoken here in this room as something other than what I had been and that I had been inside this room for some time.
If I had existed before this moment I was unaware of such a fact.
A finger's breadth behind my heart warm violet light pulsed dark crimson waves through me. The violet currents that shifted deep crimson and back to violet swirled out through my limbs.
Yet the amount was small and seemingly inconsequential.
Yet I was thankful for the warmth, for I had nothing else to be thankful for.
I sat in my crib upright as much as my body would allow me. The faded peeling walls of what was an orphanage room lay outside my prison, and a glass pane let in the sunlight that I wished desperately to look out into, if only for a break from the terrible boredom of staring at the walls of this room.
I was kept from such a goal by, of course, a vile, white, wooden, painted prison that surrounded me.
An old woman walked into the room, seemingly to check that my existence had not reached its expiration date. She fussed, but the movements were perfunctory; this was not an actual parental figure, merely someone paid to care for a large number of children, but never given the opportunity to care more for a child that was not their own.
She left the room satisfied that I was alive, and I was thankful for that because what I was about to attempt didn't need an audience.
If I was to be stuck in this room any longer I needed something to occupy my mind before I went mad.
I focused on the violet energy within me, in a way I thought was only likely possible with a developed mind well beyond my body, and the realization of what the absence of the energy was like.
It was like trying to split molasses with a knife, and I struggled for some minutes, that turned to tens, that turned to hours.
It was with a great effort that I managed to draw the faintest spark to my fingertips, a chirping violet light that lit up the darkened room in harsh relief.
Strawberries rippled across my tongue once again, and I pushed the spark out to land on the wood surrounding me.
The wood of my crib screeched, and I was thrown to the side as the crib shot across the room to collide with the wall with a crash causing my body to roll into the side of the crib with a thud.
I hesitated for a moment, lying on my side still, wondering if anyone would come to investigate, before, eventually, as no one came, I shrugged away the thought.
Unsteadily, I got to my feet and reached chubby hands up to the edge of the crib and pulled a somewhat useless body higher, the strength ratio of my tiny body was relatively high compared to my weight, and so I clambered up till I grasped the windowsill.
With an effort that was half physical and half the magic that I pushed to my limbs, I pulled myself up and thumped down on the windowsill to look out on to a strange world of brick and glass.
I stared at this strange world and felt a smile shift onto my face, strangely twisting my chubby cheeks.
Why had I done this?
Because I could?
Because I had magic?
Something even less thoughtful.
I had wanted to look out the window.
The memory of a child was not something that one could ever depend on.
Even mine, it seemed to be. My head slowly cleared of its jumbled thoughts as time passed yet I was not able to shake my way clear of my memories or the strange ways they influenced my behavior.
I could only assume that because of my current existence as a child, combined with my former existence as an adult, that my mind had developed in strange and uncommon ways.
I was not quite either. My emotional regulation for example was poor. My vocabulary on the other hand was excellent.
The difference in my existence was difficult to truly conceptualize compared to the other children.
To the others at the orphanage I found myself at, I was sure I came across as a precocious child.
I wandered freely and avoided the company of others often making my way far past the walls of the orphanage where I was supposed to be confined.
To the students at my elementary school, I came across as a troublemaker.
I was not keen to do work I had done before, and thus, when I had completed the necessities, I found other things to do.
What other child would have found their way to the school's roof? A roof that they certainly should not have been on, instead of attending the elementary school lessons, the teachers tried desperately to fill their head with?
Unfortunately for my teachers, I had come to the realization that what they had to teach was not important.
Arrogant?
Of course.
Truth?
I could only assume so.
I knew the basics of Math, English, and History long before I had gone there; none of that had changed from my previous world, though this one seemed a good deal farther back, 1987 being the current year.
More importantly than that, the natural laws of the world simply became fuzzy when they encountered magic, so what was the point in learning them?
Magic, of course, was the one thing I found myself willing to dedicate my time to.
It was why I had come to the roof. In an orphanage, it was sometimes difficult to find time for oneself, so I would make private time whenever I could. There were few children brave enough or really stupid enough to climb this high.
I drew a spark of magic to my fingertip and took a moment to contemplate the energy sparking violet against my hold, yet it had no real purpose. I hadn't yet decided what I wanted it to do.
My investment in the topic I thought of as natural, this energy was one of the major differences in my current existence.
Yet it gave me no clues as to why my existence had come to be. Everything in this world seemed generally very non-magical.
Yet I could not shake my knowledge of this energy as magic. A deep intrinsic truth.
To be honest, it made me feel a little mad.
I couldn't be the only person with magic, right? Such an existence was already too lonely to contemplate, even more so than my current existence.
Not that, admittedly, I had done much to make my existence less lonely.
I had discovered, as I grew older, the story behind my admission to the orphanage. I had been dropped off with a single note that read my name.
"Antares Black," I contemplated the name thoughtfully aloud.
It was definitely an unusual name. What kind of people named me after a star? The star itself was no clue, 'the heart of the scorpion' was a red star, a supergiant, and its name in ancient Greek simply meant rival to Ares.
It was an exceptional name, but I seemed to be a relatively unexceptional orphan boy.
Besides the magic, and the flavors.
Of course, I had shortened the names myself and decided that while I wouldn't like to be called Ant, Ares was fine.
Not that I knew anyone in particular that I cared to tell my name to, yet my solitary existence was not miserable.
I had magic, which was a good enough gift in my mind.
Even if sometimes I had the faintest flicker of a dark-haired handsome man with cloudy grey eyes, and a raven-haired woman beside him with loving hazel eyes.
I shared the man's features for the most part, I had long black hair combed behind my ears, a few strands remained free to fall across my face, combined with the same grey eyes that I knew startled many I looked at, set in a handsome if not pretty face.
I had an uncommon appearance, not something I particularly appreciated, to be truthful.
It made keeping to the wayside more difficult, made my manipulations of the events around me somewhat harder.
All these things contributed to my isolation.
Looking strange as a child was a surefire way to be bullied mercilessly.
So I had been faced with two options: push back against the bullies and use magic to achieve peace built on fear.
Or simply fade so far into the background that I would never be noticed.
I had chosen option number 2.
Not out of particular affection for my bullies, yet I had decided it would be wrong to use my abilities simply to get my way.
They were children, and children could be cruel. There was no need for me to respond in kind, especially when they could be avoided so easily.
The only magic I had used on another person was what I called, the 'suggestion.'
If I looked someone directly in the eyes and said something to them while pushing my magic through my eyes slightly, I could convince them of a fact.
I had simply suggested to my teacher that Antares Black was a good student who was best left alone.
It was easy.
Too easy, I frowned at the sky, the idea that someone could be so suggestible concerned me, and I considered what would happen to me if someone did something like that to me.
"Occlumency," the word occurred to me along with a faint idea of what the word was.
To shift one's mind into a state that nullifies mental suggestion and further mental attacks. To organize the mind and at the same time obscure it. To organize one's mind into a better format.
Someone had told me about it once, was it in this life?
A memory of the dark-haired woman talking to me from a book resurfaced in my mind, and I frowned in thought.
"How strange," I mumbled.
But not necessarily unexpected either, either way, it was another avenue to attempt magic down.
Birds flew through the sky as my eleventh birthday approached, positioned squarely on the last day of July.
I reflected on them from my position on the orphanage's roof as their shadows passed over me.
Birds always flew together in the signature V shape, a flock whose movement together let them get farther with less energy.
It was one of the skies that I found particularly comforting to stare at, a pale blue with fluffy white clouds only marred by a dark shape flapping against the gentle breeze.
Having spent so much time on the roofs of various buildings, I had become a connoisseur of cloud watching at all times of the day, though early morning was my favorite.
It was during my cloud watching that I felt something strange walking down the path, a taste of electricity crackled across my tongue.
I looked down from my perch, and my eyes widened as I saw a woman dressed in a green robe walking up the path of the orphanage, easily spotted from the roof.
It was very odd to see her walk as something insistently poked at the back of my mind.
She stopped, then looked down at what looked like a piece of paper that she pulled from her robes.
Then she looked directly up at me, and I had to prevent myself from startling at the piercing gaze.
"Mr. Black," a voice spoke gently yet firmly next to my ear, "Please come down."
Magic.
Without a thought, I leaped, submerging my mind in the flavor of strawberries, slowing my three-story fall to a gentle crawl to land in front of the woman, the dust of the path gently kicking up at my feet.
She startled backwards, her eyes widened in shock, "The stairs, Mr Black, I meant use the stairs!" she cried out in shock, aged creases of her face widening as she looked at me, completely bewildered.
"You're a witch right?" I exclaimed cheerfully, before realizing I may have jumped the gun as the woman glared at me.
The woman sighed, giving me a hard look, "Young man, you shouldn't surprise people like that!"
"Ah," I froze up, realizing the poor impression I had made without a thought, low social interaction, and the immediate excitement of a young body made for a poor combination. "I'm sorry, Ma'am, I didn't mean to startle you."
The woman's eyes relaxed the smallest bit; she seemed to almost be drinking me in; a sad wistfulness in her gaze. Finally, she nodded, "My name is Professor McGonagall, young man, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts. Are you sure that was a wise decision to jump from a roof so high?"
I gave the woman a cheerful smile, "Antares Black, Ma'am. I'm sure! A fall like that is no trouble."
"Mr. Black," Professor McGonagall said as if tasting the words and I noted there was almost a pained note to her voice seeping through despite her expression as stony as they came, "I am here to take you for your Hogwarts shopping and to introduce you to the magical world, do you have a guardian I can talk to."
Her words were almost hopeful at the end as she glanced at the orphanage.
I shrugged, "Not really, Ma'am, sorry, you could talk to the matron, but she really isn't my guardian."
Professor McGonagall's eyes seemed to tighten more if anything before she slowly nodded, "Of course, Mr. Black, shall we get on with it then? You don't need any proof of magic?"
I didn't recall Professor McGonagall being particularly all that effusive or warm, but this thinly veiled trepidation of me was a little disconcerting.
I flicked a finger out, letting the taste of strawberries submerge my tongue as a small burst of force blew out around me, swirling the leaves around us, "No, I definitely believe you."
Professor McGonagall blinked, "That was surprisingly well controlled, young man," she said slowly, and I could almost see the wheels turning behind her eyes, "You did that on command?"
"Yes," I shrugged my shoulders, somewhat awkwardly, that really wasn't anywhere close to what I could actually do, but that seemed a longer explanation than was really worth it.
Professor McGonagall stepped forward and offered an arm to me. "We will be apparating, it's a magical form of transport, please grasp my arm, and brace yourself," she said.
I reached my own arm out and grasped hers, then with the feeling of being pulled behind my naval, we disappeared, and I felt my body being shifted and contorted, a taste I could only describe like frozen grapes ran over my tongue.
In the next instant, we reappeared in an alleyway.
Professor McGonagall was already looking towards me, seemingly expecting visible discomfort, though I felt remarkably all right, distracted by the strange-tasting grape flavor.
So, other magic tasted different?
"You handled that remarkably well, Mr. Black," she said.
I shrugged my shoulders somewhat awkwardly, not sure how much knowledge I should or shouldn't show.
"You said to brace myself," I said, shrugging again.
Professor McGonagall nodded and then walked forward out toward the main street, "Please follow me then."
I did so, following along as she then turned toward a pub, with a sign with a drawing of a cauldron with a stirring stick on it and lettering on the sign that proudly proclaimed its identity as 'The Leaky Cauldron.'
As I approached, a strange tingly feeling crossed over my tongue like I had just run an electrical current through it, there wasn't so much a flavor to this, at least not one I could parse presently.
We stepped into the pub and were greeted by a warmly lit atmosphere with several groups of people huddled about their tables nursing drinks even as a tall bald man polished glasses behind the bar.
I followed after Professor McGonagall as she strode through the pub and out into an alleyway where she tapped a pattern of bricks with her wand, causing them to sift apart, revealing my first look at the real wizarding world.
People bustled about, and shops glowed with signs advertising their wares as I followed Professor McGonagall through as she walked down the alleyway leading me to a large marble building whose golden lettering proudly proclaimed it as 'Gringotts Bank.'
We walked up past a pair of guards that could only be goblins, as we then entered a marble lobby before walking to one of the free tellers who was fiddling with parchment and coins in front of him.
He looked up at our approach and sneered, "Key?" he asked shortly.
McGonagall glanced at me before looking back at the goblin, "Mr. Black does not have one. I'm actually unsure if he has a vault. Can you do a blood draw? If he has no family vault, I'll be accessing the trust vault for orphaned students."
The goblin sneered but nodded regardless, offering a sharp metal instrument to McGonagall, which she then handed to me.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Black, but this is necessary to set up your access to an account; you'll have to press your finger to the point and draw blood," she said.
I looked at the spike and hid a wince from the strong metallic flavor that erupted in my mouth from being so near it.
I nodded and pressed my index finger to the metal point, letting blood leak from my finger before removing it and handing it to the goblin. I focused on the taste of milk, letting a subtle wave of magic trail over my hand, bringing my flesh together. It was about the most I could currently do as far as healing injuries, at least at a rapid pace.
The goblin dropped the blood onto a piece of parchment and looked down, his expression shifting as he looked back up, "Heir Black, I did not expect to make your acquaintance today," he said.
I noticed Professor McGonagall shifting at his words as she seemed to take a glance at the other wizards in the bank to make sure they hadn't noticed.
Why was she so nervous?
Something nagged at the back of my head; there was a reason, I was sure of it.
"Uh, Heir?" I questioned, glancing at Professor McGonagall, who had said she was going to introduce me to the Magical World.
Professor McGonagall seemed together herself and looked at me firmly, "I had not wanted to presume, but it seems you are the heir to the Black family. I assume you have no knowledge of this."
Heir of the Black Family, wasn't that supposed to be Sirius Black?
A small headache pushed at my head, and I focused, letting the thought subsume in my mind.
"No, I still don't understand, heir? What does that mean?"
Professor McGonagall sighed, "I'm not sure if I can explain better, the Black Family is one of the Sacred 28 families in our world and holds a seat in the Wizengamot, our government. You are the heir, the next head of house, which means you will be in control of the Vault and, at the age of majority, the seat."
Oh, so it was like that, so I really was a Black, but how?
"Does that mean you know who my parents are?" I couldn't help but ask the goblin.
The goblin frowned, looking down, "Your mother was Marlene McKinnon, and your father is Sirus Black."
The first name must have been the woman in my memories, but the second…
What I still remembered of my parents flashed through my head, so that was Sirus, the cheerful face flashed in front of me, with striking grey eyes so much like mine.
Sirius Black. The Sirius Black.
And if my luck held true…
"You said his name in the present tense," I remarked slowly, "Does that mean my father is alive?"
"Lord Sirius Black is currently being held in Azkaban," the goblin said blandly.
Professor McGonagall's expression may as well have been carved from stone for all I could interpret.
"Azkaban," I turned to her, "What is that?"
Professor McGonagall looked as if she would have liked nothing better than to not say a word; her next sentence was reluctant: "Azkaban is the wizarding prison of Magical Britain. If Sirius Black is truly your father, then I should tell you he is serving a life sentence there."
"For what?" I whispered already, somehow knowing.
"Your Father was imprisoned for betraying the Potters, another wizarding family, to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, one of the most feared dark wizards that has ever existed in Britain. In doing so, he led to the Potters' death, that is, excepting Iris Potter, their infant daughter."
Bollocks.
Professor McGonagall's gaze burrowed into the back of my head as I looked through the books in front of me.
I was still dealing with the emotional shock.
There was a very distinct knowledge that in another time, another life, my Father had been found innocent later on. Well, found wasn't quite right, for all intents and purposes, he had died before his name was ever cleared.
Was he still innocent in this world?
It was possible. Yet there were already minor differences, for one, instead of one Harry Potter, there was Iris Potter.
Yet McGonagall's reaction told me that my time in this world might be complicated. She was obviously uncomfortable around me.
Which, on one hand, I guess was fair, my dad to her knowledge was a Death Eater criminal, on the other hand, it also definitely hurt, my dad was very possibly innocent, and even if he was a criminal, it hurt to be treated like this by one of my potential professors.
What would the rest of the Magical world's reaction be? My father was known as a Death Eater, one of the worst criminals in wizarding Britain, in fact.
All I had was a trust vault with a decent amount of galleons within. The Black Family Vault was locked off to me because of my young age, or so the Goblin had told me.
I flipped through another book before finally deciding on the last book I would get.
I had picked up several other books besides the main course books, words that pinged against my memory.
A book titled 'The Beginner's Guide to the Protection of the Mind,' which, from my flipping through, I determined to be the Occlumency term, and another one on the culture and tradition of the wizarding world called 'The Do's and Don'ts of the British Wizarding World."
They each had whimsical titles, but after flipping through them, I had determined that they had the potential for the information I needed.
I had focused on Occlumency simply because that seemed the best position to begin from, as the branch didn't revolve around wand use. Even as I flipped through the books, I was still thinking, I was a Black, that meant something, I remembered that there should be a house attached to that name.
Grimmauld Place, I thought.
How to get there was another issue entirely. If what I remembered was correct, even before the Fidelius charm was put into place, the mansion had all kinds of protections, certainly beyond the means a boy who hadn't even cast his first wanded spell yet.
I left Flourish and Blotts with Professor McGonagall as we finally made our way to the store I had been most excited for and was now slightly dreading.
I had remained anonymous easily enough through Diagon Alley, but no such luck would likely be found at Ollivanders, or at least so said my memories.
We entered the store together, packed with shelves of wands, and I walked to the desk, doing my best to calm myself.
I stood there for several seconds, waiting as Professor McGonagall stood behind me.
"Mr. Black," I startled at the words said suddenly behind me and turned to see the stooped form of an older man with somewhat misty eyes that seemed to pierce into me.
"Mr. Ollivander, sir," I replied.
Ollivander looked at me for a long moment, "I had wondered when I might be meeting you, my boy."
The words caught me off kilter, but I nodded slowly regardless, "Uh, the pleasure is mine?" I offered hesitantly.
Ollivander had already disappeared back into the store and returned within moments to offer me a box opened to reveal a wand on a plush pillow, the dark wood resting easily on the white surface.
"Go on, then," Ollivander said, "Give it a wave," he encouraged.
I reached down and was just about to touch the wand before Ollivander yanked it back, "No, not that one."
He vanished down another corridor in the next instant and returned carrying another box.
He retrieved another wand, which I had the opportunity to grab for the briefest of moments before it was yanked away again.
Another several wands were offered and I got varying stages close to actually waving, even managing to once create a plume of fire that nearly scorched my eyebrows before that wand too was yanked away.
Ollivander walked down another aisle, passing a lonely shelf with only a few boxes on it, before stopping and turning back.
He reached out and removed a box, mumbling something too soft under his breath for me to hear.
He opened the box and presented it to me, showing a smooth wand of a pale grey color. Hesitantly, I reached out and gripped the wand, grasping it gently.
Something like electricity shot through me, crackling through my veins, and wind blew around me in a soft storm, violet sparks shot off from the tip of the wand, bright gleams of light in the relative darkness of the shop.
Yet the most distracting thing of all was the taste, it was like my tongue was submerged in a thousand different flavors, yet I could taste each one individually, even though it was really all at the same time.
The sensation was strange, and as I held my wand it felt like meeting an old friend, something familiar, yet I could have sworn I hadn't felt anything actually familiar in…
I shook myself and looked at Ollivander, who regarded me solemnly, "Eleven inches, Phoenix Feather, Yew Wood." he paused regarding me with a strained look, "That particular phoenix feather is a solitary one in my collection, I had not expected to meet its match in some time. It is surprising… I had only made that wand recently and I had wondered why…" he trailed off giving me a long look, "Mr. Black I would be careful of the friends you make, your father is infamous in this world," he said simply.
Well, that was disconcerting.
Extremely so.
And were his words because of the wand, or was there something else?
"Thank you, Mr. Ollivander," I murmured.
Mr. Ollivander gave me a distracted smile, "It is my belief that the wand will aid you far into the future, do take care of it," he hesitated and then patted me on the shoulder, "And yourself."
"Thank you," I murmured again, unable to shake the off-putting sensation as I regarded the man.
Professor McGonagall apparated me back to the orphanage and handed me a ticket, explaining to me that I would need to get to King's Cross on September 1st. She had asked whether I would need assistance with the expression of a woman who was very sure I needed assistance.
Looking at her firm expression that could not hide her sad eyes as she looked at me, I shook my head, "I'm sure the Orphanage can arrange something," I replied automatically. Her air of discomfort was not something I wished to spend more time in.
She frowned, "It is no trouble, Mr. Black, I will have someone come to see you off. Good day."
She hesitated for the briefest of instances before she disappeared with a crack, leaving me to myself.
I waited several minutes before walking with my new trunk in tow back into the orphanage and back to my room.
Sitting down on my bed, I contemplated these strange events before sighing and shrugging to myself.
I popped open my trunk and, with a lazy finger, trailed over a couple of books before picking my first victim.
I had a little less than a month to kill time before Hogwarts started, a month that was to be rather boring.
I had a solution, though.
I checked my bag, which I had filled with galleons, and then nodded firmly to myself.
Copious amounts of money.
Getting somewhere as a small wizarding child was actually not the most difficult task. I had galleons, so the next step was obvious.
Or so I hoped.
I stood on the curb and raised my wand hand with a small amount of trepidation.
Several minutes passed before, with a loud bang, a gigantic purple bus appeared.
Out stepped a young pimply faced man in a bright purple uniform his speech leaving his lips before his feet even met the ground, "Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard just stick out your wand hand, step on board, and we can take you anywhere you want to go. My name is Stan Shunpike, and I will be your conductor this morning!"
The man grinned brilliantly at me after reading from his card.
"The Leaky Cauldron, please," I said before handing over the required currency as I stepped aboard.
No sooner than I was on board, the bus took off like a rocket.
I just barely caught a pole to prevent myself from flying as our journey went at a pace I could only consider ludicrous.
Bang. Stop. Bang. Stop.
I lost count of the witches and wizards that filed off at every stop, but gradually we made our way ever closer, it seemed, to our destination.
"You're a little young to be taking the Night Bus by yourself, ain't cha?" Stan asked looking curiously at me.
I shrugged, giving the man a plastered-on smile, "It's not a big deal, I was just running some errands for my parents."
Stan shrugged seemingly giving no further thought to the question, "Trustworthy little blighter ain't ya?"
I shrugged my shoulders, letting the man return to his newspaper.
It was several minutes later that, with a screech, we appeared before the Leaky Cauldron.
"This is your stop little chap," Stan said giving me a smile.
I smiled and thanked the man before stepping off with my luggage, as suddenly as the bus had come, it disappeared into thin air.
I stepped into the Leaky Cauldron and walked through the building, looking for all the world as if I belonged there.
This was not the most important destination, though. After tapping the brick wall in the correct pattern, I stepped into the alley and then began my journey toward a place I had not yet gone, holding unknown mysteries beyond my ken.
'Florean Flortscues' read the sign I passed under in cheerful sparkling lettering.
I stepped into the shop and made my way to the counter. Politely, I pulled out some sickels and smiled at the owner, "Vanilla with Caramel Chunks, please!"
The man behind the counter smiled warmly, "Coming right up, young man!"
A month spent among the shops and people of Diagon Alley was an extremely pleasant experience. I read my books at the shops, lazily flipping through the pages for the most pertinent information.
When the day came, I woke early and took my packed trunk outside, waiting casually while sitting atop it.
I shouldn't have expected Professor McGonagall to be anything less than punctual, though I was surprised it was her, as she arrived at 9:00 o'clock sharp, appearing with a small pop.
She spotted me and gave me a soft smile, which I returned cheerfully, unable to truly contain my excitement even if I knew the woman had her own issues with me.
She walked up to me and we grasped arms once again before we disappeared with another pop.
We appeared in a small out-of-the-way courtyard, and moved quickly as several other people appeared in rapid succession.
We walked out of the area with purpose, entering onto King's Cross, and I found myself running slightly just to keep up with Professor McGonagall's pace.
I was moving so quickly that I almost didn't stop in time before I ran into a skinny black haired girl who had stopped right after platform nine, looking about, seemingly like a lost stray cat.
She immediately spun to face me, and I was caught off guard by the most vibrant green eyes that I had ever seen, her black hair covering her head in a curly curtain.
"I'm so sorry," she said quickly and with the air of someone who had said those words many times recently.
I shrugged, giving the girl a small smile, "No big deal." I glanced at the girl's luggage, immediately taking in an owl cage with a brilliant white snowy owl within, who seemed to be regarding me with a rather contemplative gaze.
Immediately, I put two and two together.
Definitely a new Hogwarts student. Probably a muggleborn.
"You're a new Hogwarts student, right?" I asked giving the girl what I hoped was a friendly smile and not the grimace it felt like.
The girl nodded, a minute motion of her head, "I'm supposed to be going to platform nine and three-quarters, but it doesn't seem to exist." The words were not quite plaintive, but I could see a small sliver of panic behind her eyes.
I wondered why exactly this girl did not rate an escort as I did, but for now, I shrugged the thought away as useless.
"Professor McGonagall," I called out, and the woman turned some steps ahead of me to look back with a quizzical expression on her stern face.
"This girl's also looking for the platform," I said.
Professor McGonagall turned, and I saw her cheeks pale slightly as she looked at the girl fully before she seemed to regain herself, "Of course, Mr. Black, what is your name, dear?"
"Iris Potter," she said quietly.
My brain ripped to a screeching halt before I rapidly began the first step of Occlumency and of clearing all feeling and emotion from my brain.
Professor McGonagall's eyes flashed toward me for the briefest moments, and I saw an undercurrent of nerves and the almost ever-present distrust.
Did she think I was about to take after my dear old dad and try to do this girl in?
Professor McGonagall refocused on Iris, "My name is Professor McGonagall I'm the deputy headmistress at Hogwarts, Ms. Potter. I'll take it, Hagrid did not tell you?"
Iris shook her head once, though it was a hesitant motion, I could tell she didn't want to get Hagrid in trouble.
Professor McGongall turned and pointed at a pillar, "Through there is the entrance," she turned back to us, "Feel free to take it at the pace you need, some prefer a run, others a walk."
The Iris's face lit up with a shy smile seemingly of its own accord as relief spread across her expression, though there was a mix of trepidation. "Right," she nodded her head firmly, and I could see her steeling herself.
Right, she had been told to essentially run face-first into a wall.
"If you want, I can go first?" The words spilled from my mouth without conscious direction, drawing both of their attention to me.
Iris, after a moment, hesitantly nodded. I turned back to the pillar, tasting the air for a moment and feeling the electric tingle across my tongue. Then, calmly, I walked forward, in the back of my mind desperately hoping I wasn't about to make a fool out of myself.
Yet my mind eased as I tasted the air again as I got closer, and got the overwhelming feeling of something like electricity running across my tongue,
Within a couple more steps, I went directly through and smiled in relief before turning off to the side and waiting for the Iris and Professor McGonagall to come through. Stepping out of the way but not quite into the tumultuous mass of parents and children on the platform.
Several seconds passed before I saw a cautious head poke through, followed by a skinny body as Iris stepped through, looking about with wide eyes.
She then went through entirely, pulling herself up beside me, her eyes locking onto the bright red of the Hogwarts Express.
Looking at it now was breathtaking, I admitted.
McGonagall stepped through behind us and came to our side, looking down at us, "There is the Hogwarts Express," she said, her eyes flicking to focus on me for the briefest of instants, before changing her attention to Iris, "Ms. Potter," she said, "If I might have a word."
"Of course, Professor," Iris said, turning to look at McGonagall with the smallest degree of trepidation in her eyes.
I already had a guess as to why.
My stomach sank slightly. I suppose I should have expected it, but I hadn't really thought McGonagall would take it upon herself to tell Iris exactly who I was.
"I'll be seeing you then," I said to Iris, not truly meaning the words, hesitating as I looked between the train and my companions, I gave Iris a small smile before turning away to the train.
I imagined this was the last time I would have a friendly interaction with Iris for the foreseeable future. Once she discovered what the world believed my father had done, I could only imagine the anger and suspicion.
It would be best that I stayed away from her on the train, despite my own concerns at leaving the small girl to fend for herself.
I didn't quite run, but it was a near thing. I heaved my trunk onto the train before beginning my journey down the aisles heading further and further back till I finally found an empty compartment.
With a gesture of my fingers ad a burst of strawberry flavor my trunk easily rose to slot itself neatly into the rack, and I settled into a seat, looking out the window thoughtfully.
I definitely had to expect that my being at Hogwarts wouldn't exactly be treated as the best thing by many parties, I reflected.
The kids of the Death Eaters may not realize I wasn't one of them, but I knew for sure that I wasn't.
The kids from the general population would likely have their own issues with me as the son of a 'known' Death Eater. A betrayer of the Potters, in fact. It definitely seemed to have affected Professor McGonagall. Any students who were muggleborns would likely learn in short order just exactly who I was as well.
Still, these obstacles didn't seem insurmountable.
I would just have to be prepared. Moreover, I needed to find the truth of whether my Dad was innocent or not.
It wasn't just about potentially setting my father free; this was about the fate of someone who was potentially an innocent man who had been imprisoned for over a decade.
Not to mention the fact that there was a Dark Lord waiting in the corners of this world in all likelihood.
I sighed, flicking a hand at my trunk, unlocking it with one gesture, and then summoning my book on the culture of the wizarding world into my hand, reeling my hand back as if pulling in a line.
I immersed myself in the book, flipping the pages without touching them, merely with the gesture of my finger.
I didn't use my magic merely out of laziness or a desire to show off; I had noted that the more I used the magic, the more the energy flowed in my body.
The more magic I had, the healthier I felt. I had noted that I could only assume my magic assisted in such, yet that idea felt incomplete.
More than that, I had noted as my magic grew, there seemed to remain a passive amount that grew denser in my flesh yet was not accessible.
I had no idea if such was normal, though, and I had no idea where to begin researching as such.
I continued flipping through the pages for some time before I felt the train start and shudder into motion.
A knock at the compartment door startled me, and I turned to see a rather bushy-haired girl standing at the door.
"I'd like to sit here," she said, and while her tone was bossy, I had to contain a smile of amusement as I noticed her fiddling nervously with a string on her sleeve.
"Feel free," I grinned at her and shrugged my shoulders before easily rising to my feet and meeting her in the middle of the compartment, "Let me help with the trunk?" I said, though I kept my tone questioning.
The girl blinked, looking at me, seeming befuddled, before she slowly nodded.
I grabbed her trunk and pulled at the handle before immediately realizing just how heavy the trunk was, easily twice the weight of mine.
I let my magic flush through my system, focusing on a strawberry flavor, and then lifted again the trunk, now feeling lighter than a feather, before I heaved it into the compartment above.
I turned and grinned at the girl, a lopsided smirk tearing my lips, "I'm Antares Black by the way, but you can call me Ares."
The girl blinked, seemingly caught off guard, before she replied, "My name is Hermione Granger," she said, and her tone had reduced its snootiness slightly, "Are you also a first year?" she asked.
Yeah, I had expected as much, though perhaps not to meet her so soon.
"Yeah," I nodded, "Excited to be going to Hogwarts?" I asked.
Hermione nodded, her expression lighting up, "I've been reading all about it. I had no idea I was a witch, you see, and I'm so excited to be learning, I've already been going through the first few chapters of our books."
I grinned despite myself, enjoying the sheer passion in her voice. There were worse ways to pass the train ride.
The topics had been wide and varied as I let Hermione wax on about the books she had read and her interest in magic, it seemed I had become the recipient of a tirade that she had long been thinking of as she moved onto the Hogwarts Houses.
The Hogwarts Express was traveling through green valleys now, and I find myself sneaking the occasional glance out the window to take in the scenery.
"What house do you think you'll end up in?" Hermione asked, asking one of the first questions that gave me a chance to really respond.
Of course, the answer to that was difficult, "I don't really know," I shrugged my shoulders, "I'd never given much thought to what traits might be chosen as particularly egregious about me?"
"Egregious?" Hermione questioned.
"It's just," I shrugged my shoulders again, "What traits do you think really determine where we go, not to mention who knows how it's decided?"
"I'm not sure; I wanted to go to Ravenclaw," Hermione said, "I read that was the house focused on knowledge and learning, it seemed," she hesitated, the faintest touches of red reaching her cheeks, "Well, it seemed like it'd be a place I fit in well."
I could tell the subject was slightly sensitive as she averted her gaze, so I decided not to press on the topic. From what I remembered, Hermione's somewhat abrasive personality and focus on learning had isolated her at Hogwarts at least at first, and that such things had likely been true prior as well.
What might have been insufferable to a fellow eleven-year-old didn't really apply to me; right now, I kind of find it adorable.
Still, her words made me question why she went to Gryffindor in the first place. A difference in this world, or was there something I was missing?
"Anything from the trolley!" A voice cried out a ways down the hallway, and I perked up, glancing at the door before I looked back at Hermione, "Would you like to try some wizarding candy?" I asked.
At the word candy, Hermione visibly flinched backward, slightly shaking her head, "I'm really not supposed to; my parents are dentists."
"I wouldn't worry about that," I shook my head, recalling something I had learned at Florean Fortscues, "Sugar and wizards and witches actually react differently than those without magic. Our bodies love sugar more than people who are mundane, and we don't experience the same effects from overconsumption. Actually, it's why food's so important to us, what we eat directly fuels our magic."
"Really?" Hermione's eyes lit up at the new knowledge I had supplied, before her eyes flicked to the doorway, "Well…" she muttered, seemingly on edge.
I grinned, appreciating for a moment one of the small things I had learned from my book on wizarding culture. The book had a whole chapter dedicated to the subject of the difference between those with magic and those without.
It definitely explained some things, the strange wizarding durability of our bodies, for example
I stood up and walked to the door, sliding it open and peeking out, taking the words for an agreement, "Excuse me, can we have a bit of everything?" I asked the witch who was just now coming up to us.
The woman smiled cheerfully, "Of course, deary."
"Ares!" exclaimed Hermione, "That's really too much!"
I shrugged, waving her off with a grin.
"How are you supposed to know what you like if you don't try everything?" I said, raising an eyebrow at her.
I ignored her sputtering as she attempted to poke a hole in my flawless logic.
I congratulated myself internally for beating a witch who was often referred to as exceptionally bright in my memories.
That I had achieved no real logical victory was of no importance.
"Licorice wand?" I offered with a grin.
The night was beginning to darken the sky as the Hogwarts Express slowed to a stop.
Both Hermione and I had changed into our robes, exiting the compartment to allow each other privacy.
We stepped out of the train with the crowd of students, most of whom were headed off the platform to carriages that appeared to be drawn by nothing at all.
"Firs' Years this way! No more than four to a boat!"
A loud cry echoed, and I turned to see a giant of a man in a massive brown coat holding a lantern like a lighthouse in the midst of a turning sea of humanity.
Hermione and I forged through the crowd till we made our way to the boats, settling inside one in short order.
All the students began settling into the boats along the dock, and we were joined by two other students, both girls, one with flaming red hair, and another with blonde.
I didn't pay the girls any real mind, focused on enjoying the trip as the boat detached from the dock on its own, and our journey across the Black Lake began.
Across the inky blackness of the lake, we traveled until we curved around the bend to see Hogwarts in its full glory.
It was a shining spire of lights and stone, the glow of the castle sending sparkles of fiery orange and yellow across the water.
I heard the gasps around me, and truthfully, I found it also astounding. I had never seen something so astounding, innumerable flavors trailed over my tongue, too many to parse, but somehow creating a cohesive taste.
The boats slowly made their way to shore, and we disembarked before making our way to a massive courtyard and through a massive set of open doors, where Professor McGonagall stood.
They exchanged words before Professor McGonagall raised her voice and spoke, "First Years, please follow me," she said before turning to walk into the castle, her tartan gown sweeping behind her.
We followed her for a short distance before we arrived at a massive set of doors where Professor McGonagall turned to address us again.
"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall, "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room."
"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours. "
"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."
Professor McGonagall's eyes lingered on a boy with a cloak fastened underneath his left ear, and a small flash of something moved through her eyes before it vanished, and she said, "I shall return when we are ready for you. Please wait quietly," she turned and walked through a side door presumably into the hall.
Whispers began to move through the crowd, but I found myself ignoring them, amused as I saw Hermione practicing small wand movements as if we were about to face a test. My eyes flickered about the crowd and I caught a glimpse of Iris standing seemingly by herself, a small solitary silhouette of black.
I frowned, that wasn't right.
The mutterings died the instant the doors creaked open and the Great Hall was revealed to us, along with the turned faces of the student body. Professor McGonagall stood there, "We're now ready," she said, and then turned, leading us into the Great Hall.
We walked in under the gaze of the other students, and up ahead, I saw an old brown pointed hat on a stool like a lump of clay. Then it moved, opening what looked like a mouth, and began to sing.
Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,
But don't judge on what you see,
I'll eat myself if you can find
A smarter hat than me.
You can keep your bowlers black,
Your top hats sleek and tall,
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat
And I can cap them all.
There's nothing hidden in your head
The Sorting Hat can't see,
So try me on and I will tell you
Where you ought to be.
You might belong in Gryffindor,
Where dwell the brave at heart,
Their daring, nerve and chivalry
Set Gryffindors apart;
You might belong in Hufflepuff,
Where they are just and loyal,
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true
And unafraid of toil;
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,
If you've a ready mind,
Where those of wit and learning,
Will always find their kind;
Or perhaps in Slytherin
You'll make your real friends,
Those cunning folk use any means
To achieve their ends.
So put me on! Don't be afraid!
And don't get in a flap!
You're in safe hands (though I have none)
For I'm a Thinking Cap!
I withheld an amused snort for fear of capturing McGonagall's attention, and I smiled to myself at the cheerful song.
It was just about what I had imagined.
Then the names began to be called,
"Hannah Abbot," McGonagall said sternly.
The blonde girl from my boat hurried up and settled on the stool, after which the hat was placed on her head.
"Hufflepuff!" The hat crowed.
Applause echoed from the table with the yellow banner with the badger over it.
"Antares Black," Professor McGonagall called out.
I stepped forward, walking toward the hat, as eyes turned toward me, and I heard the faintest beginning of whispers echoing through the hall. It seemed that people were finding something to say about me, unlike the previous girl.
I suppose my last name preceded me, though I wondered if it was only suspicion right now, or was it true knowledge.
I settled on the stool, and then the hat was placed on my head, falling somewhat over my eyes.
'Deary me, I had not expected to meet another Black,' a voice whispered into my head.
I didn't shift an inch, 'That bad, huh?' I thought back.
'My dear boy,' there was heaviness to the hat's voice in my mind, 'Once people figure out who your father is…' the hat trailed off for a moment before it finally said, 'I expect you'll find few in your corner.'
Well, it had been what I expected, 'Figures, I suppose.'
'Oddly prepared for that aren't you considering your upbringing, yet you seem to think your father is innocent, how unexpected' the hat mused idly in my head, 'such a strange mind with strange memories, yet if true…'
The hat trailed off again, and I couldn't help the next question, 'You believe me?'
The hat shifted about on my head in a thoughtful motion, 'I do not know, yet I cannot entirely discount your belief, I've had several students with visions of the future or of the past,'
The hat seemed to be mulling things over, but I couldn't help but ask, 'Do you know if there's a way to get the answers?'
The hat hummed a soft sound in my mind before a dry raspy chuckle echoed through my head, 'You'll push through regardless, eh? For better or for worse, I suppose, you're just like your father, better be-'
"Gryffindor!" the hat cried out, and after a moment, a small polite applause came from the Gryffindor table. I was too shocked to move for a moment.
He wasn't going to ask my opinion? The wry thought went through my mind before I shrugged the thought away.
I glanced at the table and couldn't readily quantify the dread I was feeling. Slytherin would have been probably worse, I imagined, but only slightly.
How many of the Gryffindors had family that Death Eaters had killed? How many students in general?
'Good luck, Mr. Black,' were the hat's final words before it was pulled from my head, and I stood up, consciously not making eye contact with Professor McGonnagal, and made my way to the Gryffindor table.
Immediately, I found an empty seat as far down the table as I could in a somewhat isolated section with only a few students.
I took a deep breath, attempting to clear my mind.
No one probably knew yet what exactly my last name meant, but I also imagined it wouldn't be too long before the realization had occurred.
The best I could do in the meantime is figure out how to mitigate things.
The sorting continued, and I focused on it, taking note of each placement. I wasn't completely sure, but everyone I knew about made their way to the typical houses, until-
"Hermione Granger," the bushy-haired girl walked up to the stool quickly and sat down, and the hat was settled on her head. Some tens of seconds passed as I looked on with the rest of the hall, before, "Gryffindor!" the hat crowed.
Hermione stood up, a small grin on her face, as she took the hat off and rushed down the table, taking a seat directly next to me.
I looked at the girl, bemused, she had talked about Ravenclaw, but it was unsurprising that she had gone to Gryffindor. Yet I couldn't shake the feeling that it wasn't necessarily a good idea for the girl to be associating with me.
Not that, of course, I could tell her that.
"Hello again!" she whispered cheerfully to me, though I saw the smallest bit of anxiety in her eyes as if expecting me to brush her off.
"ello Hermione," I gave the girl a lopsided smile.
More students walked up to be sorted, and I tried to make sure I remembered each one, my memories about the majority of their placements was fuzzy but everything seemed to be generally the same.
"Iris Potter," the small girl emerged from the shrunken crowd, and the whispers floated through the hall in a fog.
All I could think looking at her was how thin and small she seemed, my eyes flicked to Dumbledore, wondering if the man would have any reaction, but his face remained an impassive mask, a small pleasant smile quirking his lips.
Was I the only one noticing that she really was rather too small? Was it just my prior knowledge that made me suspicious?
My interactions with Iris made me almost positive that the Dursleys had not treated her any better.
I noted my utensils and plate had risen slightly from an uncontrolled flare of magic, and I took a deep breath, relaxing my magic consciously to settle them down gently on the table, and the taste of strawberries faded.
I frowned at myself for the loss of control.
I noted that the hat was taking some time before suddenly, "Gryffindor!" crowed the hat, and Iris Potter stood up as the hall erupted into cheers, specifically from the Gryffindor table, a far cry from my own sorting.
I clapped along softly and was startled in the next instant as Iris walked directly past several open seats cleared for her by various Gryffindors hastily to settle across from me, I noticed the faintest flash of discomfort on her face before her eyes found me and grey locked with emerald green.
I was surprised for a moment by the steel in her emerald gaze, a firmness that belied her frail appearance. "Hello again," she said softly, settling down on my free side.
"Hello," I said, caught off guard, had McGonagall not told her what I thought? I figured I'd be the last person she'd want to talk to.
Yet her disconcerting emerald eyes did not seem to hold the trepidation or anger I would expect; there was hesitation and an almost ever-present loneliness, but not anger.
Iris opened her mouth slightly, a question seemingly on her tongue, yet no sound emerged.
I cocked an eyebrow at her, the right corner of my lips tugging upward in a small smile, "How was the train ride? I didn't see you." I asked, I was curious who exactly she had spent the train ride with and what friends she had managed to make.
Iris shrugged her shoulders, the motion minute, "It was fine," she mumbled softly. She seemed just as small and lonely as before, and I read in between her words with ease.
My heart sank like a rock, and I nearly choked on my own spit.
The emotional dysregulation caused a flicker of strawberries to run through my mouth, and my goblet to lift off the table slightly before I rapidly got my magic under control.
Shouldn't Ron Weasley have befriended her on the train?
My eyes trailed to the assembled students and immediately picked the red hair out of the group, covering the head of a freckle-faced boy.
So, he was still here.
Yet I had made an assumption, even knowing how things were different, I didn't think my existence would truly change all that much.
Which meant I had abandoned Iris to a solitary ride on the Hogwarts Express.
Was it simply because Ron hadn't seen a fellow boy and so had decided not to interact with the girl? Had it been because Iris hadn't encountered them on the platform?
So, Iris had gone to the first familiar face during the sorting.
Alright, damage control it was.
"Well, it's nice to see we're in the same house," I grinned at her, "I didn't introduce myself before, my name's Antares Black, but just call me Ares."
Iris blinked before her lips twisted faintly upward, "I'm Iris," she murmured, "Iris Potter."
Behind my faint smile, I suppressed my concerns as my eyes flickered to the head table, spotting a man in a purple turban.
Even if some things were different, I couldn't expect everything to be.