Sirius growled. Now he understood what this was about. "In that case, Potter, I'd best watch where you step. I'm sure you've heard of what happens to the people that displease us."
"Get out Black. Leave. Now. And don't you ever come back."
Sirius smirked, cocking his head to the side. A beautiful shred of insanity marking his features; the Black family madness settling in. "With pleasure."
*END OF FLASHBACK*
He had run back to his family after that, a state of tears and sorrow- begging for forgiveness. Willing to learn what he should've learnt all those years ago. They had accepted him, even if it was to gain back their heir. To use him as a spoil of war. To replace the ones, they lost to Azkaban. They raised him back up from the ground he had been left on. He'd turned his back on James forever; on all of it; the Marauders, Lily, Saeviour…
Sirius realized now just what a fool he had been; he had thrown a tantrum for years- not willing to listen. And once he had, he knew just how right his family was. Muggles were a dangerous stain on the Earth; they needed to be separated and quickly. Mudbloods had to be taken from birth, if only to stop the muggle pollution that infected their world like a disease; stripping away their rights and traditions. And if the Ministry wasn't going to do it- then they had to turn to the one person who would. And that was Lord Voldemort.
There was one person he refused to turn his back on, however… Harrison.
Sirius was not a fool; he knew the child hadn't done what he had been imprisoned for. But he also knew that the boy had been the unwanted twin for a very long time before the incident had occurred. And that Harry had known it. Always living in his brother's shadow. Always being ignored in favour for the savior that had been so aptly named. Sirius often wondered if that had been how Regulus felt, but he always pushed such a thought away; what was done was done. There was no love lost between the youngest Potter and the rest.
Growing up in Azkaban would not have been easy for him, and if anything would only help the hate flourish. Influenced by the Death Eaters around him, he would learn all the politics, the principles, the ways of the Pureblood circles and he would undoubtedly choose the side of Lord Voldemort. There was no room for anything else; if anything Harry would join the Dark Lord simply for revenge on the world that had left him behind to rot. To die.
Sirius took a sip of the bitter fiery liquid, a grimace forming on his face. A plan, or the foundations of one, danced in his mind as the thought on how best to contact his godson. Would he even want anything to do with him? Surely he knew by now that Sirius was estranged just as much as he was. James had probably gloated about his first day back; 'Look, you don't even have a godfather anymore because he's just like you. An insane psychopath.'
Sirius knew from his protégés in Hogwarts that the eleven-year-old had been sorted into Slytherin; outwardly displayed a cold, mad look; was unpredictable; kept everyone on edge with the way he handled himself; no-one ever knew when he was going to snap. And it was only the first night at the prestigious school.
However, the two he mentored could also see the calculating way the boy looked at things. The empty, angry, hateful shell inside the hardened exterior. Azkaban had cursed him in many more ways than the questioning sanity- that much was obvious to them. However, however, however… Harry played his part in such a way that you could never be sure if that was part of the part he played.
Sirius knew his protégés were good at what they did, and very well versed in their own roles; their own acts. But they were still learning and had the much easier, later approach than most in Slytherin were given. He still remembered how he had met them.
Unbeknownst to the other Marauders, Sirius had added one more spell to the Map. Just a little one, one that allowed him to get the feel of whoever stumbled across it when they left. The fact that his link with Map showed him a pair of identical, Dark signatures that were angry and resentful to their own blood was a surprise. But not as much as a surprise when he discovered who the new owners really were.
Fred and George Weasley.
The twins were disillusioned with their muggle-loving father and their over-bearing mother and the propaganda spat out by the ever patent Ministry. The two were ambitious and wanted more than the hand-me-downs they received because their father cared more for muggles than the dignity, welfare and pride of his own family. They wanted more and they were sneaky and clever enough to get it, if only given the handshake they needed.
Sirius had given them that handshake.
....
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