Harry nodded. He was sure that the ritual had helped Sirius even more than it had helped him. Looking at him Harry noticed the dark shadows in his eyes seemed to have diminished further and even his magical aura seemed more stable and content. "I didn't know the traditionalists," Harry questioning.
Potters said, his
were voice
"Well they were purebloods and your grandmother was a Black by birth," Sirius explained.
Harry made a noise of understanding. He murmured, "I see." He remembered seeing that on the family tapestry but hadn't made the connection. It made sense to him though.
"They were really traditional in most of their views, but they didn't mind muggleborns or halfbloods."
Harry nodded. "That's good. It's nice to think they would have accepted me." Sirius spared Harry a bittersweet smile. "They would have loved you. They tried for so long to have children and simply adored James and even me when I ran away and ended up living with them. They were wonderful and very doting parents - you would have been the most spoiled grandson in the whole of the wizarding world if they had gotten the chance to meet you."
~
Malfoy Yule ball, 24th December 1992
"Come on Harrison, we're going to be late if you don't get a move on," Remus called up the stairs. Sirius leaned up the side of the wall next to him with a slight pout on his face. He too had been forced by Remus to get ready and look presentable but, unlike Harry, he was given little leeway in what he was allowed to wear. The werewolf had given him implicit instructions which he had to abide by as he was the current Lord Black, meaning he was left wearing black and silver robes as a nod to the Black family colours, with the Black family crest and house motto on the left side of the robe.
Upstairs Harry sighed as he straightened his robes. He couldn't say he hated the dressing up part of the evening, in all honesty he thought he looked rather good in his formal robes: dark grey trousers, a white shirt, with a dark emerald robe lined with silver. Harry had also allowed his hair to fall in its natural waves for the night, making him appear like a proper little heir.
With one last glance at his appearance, Harry quickly picked up his wand and placed it into his holster.
~
Arriving at the Malfoy's, Harry was struck by how grand the manor was. He had visited it a few times since returning to the past but never had he seen it so done out. The white marble walls seemed to glitter and the Yule decorations, although simple, played well with the Malfoy's more exuberant decor.
"Welcome Lord Black, Heir Potter-Black, Mr. Lupin, to Malfoy manor. May we wish you a happy Yule and may magic bless and renew you," Lucius said. Narcissa and Draco stood next to him, both bowing their heads in greeting.
Sirius nodded. "Thank you, Lord Malfoy. May magic restore you and your family."
Harry nodded to them all and exchanged similar formal greetings before smiling at his friend.
"Have a good Yule, Draco?" he asked. The present- giving tradition that magicals had adopted from the muggles wouldn't be until the 25th of December but Harry hoped that the Malfoy's own Yule ceremony had been as fulfilling as his own. "Yes, thank you. It was pretty normal. How was your first Yule?" Draco asked curious.
Harry grinned slightly. "Magical," he said, thinking not only of the ceremony but also Tom.
Lucius, subtly eavesdropping on the conversation, smiled at the insinuation and made note to get either Black, Lupin, or Harrison alone later to find out if the ritual had been a success.
~
Once they had entered the ball, Harry looked around for familiar faces and was glad to see a few. However, he still wished to be anywhere but here—already he could hear whispers about not just himself but Sirius as well.
"The Boy Who Lived," they murmured. "Such grace, beautiful eyes - I heard he will inherit it all," they whispered. "Murderer, guilty, I don't care what you say," they hissed.
With a sigh Harry gradually floated towards a corner, hoping to hide until it was time to leave.
"You do know you can't hide there all night, right?" an amused voice said, drawing Harry out of his thoughts.
Turning, Harry met a sight that shocked him to the core: Standing before him with hair was Quirrell. Unsure what to do and if the man was aware of what had happened to him, Harry stood staring.
"Professor?" he said eventually, the word coming out as a question.
The man smirked slightly. "Well, technically not anymore Mr. Potter. Sorry, Potter-Black."
Harry nodded slightly, confused. 'What does he know? Did Tom know who he is, did Quirrell?'
"So, professor, how have you been since leaving Hogwarts?" Harry asked. He wanted, no, needed to know more. Unlike in his first life, the man hadn't interacted with Harry much in his first year beyond their classes. He was a Ravenclaw who was very rarely alone and didn't get detentions and hadn't fallen for Dumbledore's ploys. Yes, he had felt himself being watched, had felt the man's assessing gaze on him multiple times, but he hadn't felt the overwhelming hatred Voldemort's stare had once held. To put it mildly, Harry hadn't really cared about Quirrelmort being around in his first year after he had gained the stone. The man, spirit, shard, whatever, had seemed to be holding back on attacking him.
Harry had simply assumed that Quirrell had gone down through the traps at the end of the year and been caught trying to steal the fake and died once again in some manner, not stealing the fake stone or just simply going into hiding after failing his master. Harry had thought that Dumbledore had hidden this fact and the fact the stone was stolen in order to maintain control and keep face.
The man gave Harry an assessing look for a moment before seemingly coming to a conclusion. "Well, I thought I would try my hand at a new branch of magic—much more obscure, alchemy. Perhaps you have heard of it?"
Harry was surprised by the frank answer. "Yes, I have heard of it. Although I find myself surprised by your interest, first Muggle Studies then Defence Against the Dark Arts, now this…." Harry trailed off, wanting to see where the man would take the conversation. "Yes, I find myself restless. It was though I have lost my purpose for the moment. I need to find it or perhaps more correctly I need to find somebody to tell me what to do with myself."
Harry nodded. Was the man admitting to trying to bring back Voldemort? Or was it something else?
"I see. Well from what I have read alchemy is a hard subject to master; what about it struck your interest?"
"I have always been fascinated with powerful magic, powerful people. Recently I heard talk of the Flamel's—it sparked my interest."
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