[New Potter Residence, New Hampshire- August, 3rd 1993]
The next day had come swiftly and the Potter family did not wait to make their next move.
Harry whined and batted away his mother's spit-slicked fingers, scowling as she traced the outline of a dark purple spot on his neck, coating it in her saliva. "Stop touching it!" he huffed, trying to shrug her hand off.
Lily just giggled, completely unapologetic. "Now, now love." She poked the spot hickey again with a smug smirk. "You bit me first, remember? Right here," she added, pointing to her covered chest. "You left your mark on me, so I returned the favor. Several times."
"That was yesterday, you shouldn't go to sleep with a grudge mum!" Harry protested as she straightened his shirt. "And it was an accident! I didn't mean to bite you so hard."
"Liar, but it doesn't matter." she said casually, running her fingers through his fringe to neaten it, "I made sure to suck and bite you hard enough to leave a message this time."
Harry let out a long-suffering groan, muttering under his breath about his barbaric and immature mother.
The love bites were dark and prominent on his pale neck, and that was just the beginning.
His body was covered in them, bruising, and painful reminders of the intense pleasure and slight humiliation he had endured. She had sucked and bitten him everywhere, leaving her mark on his chest, neck, nipples, and even the sides of his balls. Some of the marks still had faint teeth imprints visible, the evidence of the "torture" he had gone through before his mum was finally satisfied.
Without his wand, he was still a bit too young to completely overpower his mum without hurting her, so he could only stay and take the punishment. He'd stubbornly refused to use any healing charms on the marks, hoping she'd feel guilty. Unfortunately, his mum was a bit mad and rather proud of herself for marking him so thoroughly.
"Where are we even going?" he asked, as she only hummed and resumed buttoning up his collar as if he hadn't just accused her of mauling him. Her hands were quick, neat, clearly used to dressing and undressing boys in a hurry.
"Sirius called when he heard we were coming back. Honestly I'd like to visit my friends first but he was quite passionate." Lily said. "Said we could kip at his place, just while the enchantments go up on our home and we sort the Gringotts contracts for today."
"He's letting us stay at his place?" Harry was a bit excited.
He'd heard plenty about the ancestral home of the Black family, all from Sirius, who spoke of it like a bad memory.
According to him, he'd spent years scrubbing, burning and selling every cursed trinket, bloodstained curtain and blatantly illegal book, and the place had more gloom than 'a room full of Death Eaters', in Sirius's own words.
From the way he described it, Grimmauld Place wasn't so much a house as a dark artefact waiting to murder someone in their sleep.
Harry had never been allowed to visit before of course…So now the chance to see it was far too tempting to pass up.
"Well, technically he told us to 'invade as needed,' so I'm calling it a welcome."
With a satisfied nod, she leaned back and patted his cheek. "All done."
Harry stood, giving himself a once-over at the cream linen shirt, dark blue knee-length trousers, polished boots, and a belt with a brass buckle. A bit smarter than usual, but not enough to look like a total ponce.
Just a bit of one.
Then he glanced up at her and wondered if this was the same person whose mouth couldn't remove itself from his body last night.
As always, his mum looked like she'd just walked off a runway and into wizarding society. Her red hair cascaded down to her mid-back, with a few loose curls framing her face perfectly. Her eyes, sharp green and bright as leaves, were rimmed in just a hint of shadow that made them stand out even more.
She wore a deep green summer dress made of Acromantula silk, tailored to hug her curves in all the right places and plunged low, revealing a generous amount of her bouncy chest. The dress was short, ending well above her knees, showing off her long, toned legs and she completed the look with a pair of high-heeled shoes that made her arse jump.
Finally, a gift from Harry, a diamond necklace around her neck, glinted softly, the jewel nestled perfectly between her pale white cleavage.
Lily caught him staring and arched her brow. "Well?"
Harry shook his head. "Bit much for Sirius's place, isn't it?"
She smirked and offered him her hand, interlacing their fingers together. "Never hurts to remind people who they're dealing with."
They stepped out of the bedroom and walked towards and into the cool, stone-floored hallway leading to the Floo room.
When they walked in, Euphemia was by the hearth, dressed in tight, black robes that hugged her body like a second skin, a standard traditionalist design.
It was trimmed with silver, but it was her curves that stole the show. The robe clung to her wide hips, thin waist and accentuated her hourglass figure, leaving little to the imagination. The deep V-neckline plunged low, giving a clear view of her ample cleavage, the black lace corset beneath, matching her lips, painted a dark shade.
Just like Lily, a silver pendant in the shape of a Thestral's wing rested near her cleavage, nestled and sunken perfectly in between the cleft of her breasts, another gift from Harry.
She didn't look a day over thirty-five, despite her silver locks, which she may as well be considering a powerful witch or wizard could live well over 300 on average.
Where Lily looked like a hot scandal waiting to happen, Euphemia looked like a regal burlesque queen and not someone you'd want to disappoint, especially with her impressive rack.
Harry had remembered when he was younger, and hadn't seen the world, asking her if all pretty witches were dressed like her.
At the time, she had just laughed and said, "Wizarding Society might seem all high and mighty to outsiders, but under those frumpy robes? They're just like the most debauched muggles, Harry. Even worse, they just hide it better. This? This is tame. You should see what goes down at those 'proper' and 'well mannered' tea parties."
She'd had a wicked glint in her eye.
"Welcome to the open secret sweetie.."
At present, she looked them both over, then nodded once.
"Ready, are we?"
"As we'll ever be," Lily replied, giving Harry's hand a light squeeze with Harry nodding in affirmative.
Euphemia glided across the room and stopped right in front of Harry, a soft smile playing on her lips. Without a word, she pulled him into a tight, lavender-scented hug, squeezing him firmly, eliciting a surprised yelp from him. She held him there for a moment, her body pressed against his, her eyes crinkling at the corners with amusement and affection.
She leaned in, her lips brushing against his, a featherlight kiss that sent a shiver down his spine. Harry's ears turned pink, and he stood on his tiptoes, pressing back against her lips, smaller hands resting on her hips.
Euphemia deepened the kiss, her tongue gently parting his lips with a loving and knowing intensity. Harry's breath hitched, his heart pounding in his chest as he kissed her back, his hands tightening their grip on her hips, pulling her closer, mauling her firm, mature arse.
When the tips of their tongues barely touched in a lovers' greeting, Euphemia pulled away slightly, her lips hovering just above his, their excited breaths intermingling. "Sorry for not protecting you from Lily sweetie, she made me promise I'd stay out of it."
Harry nodded rapidly, his cheeks flushed, his eyes hazy. "It's fine, Gran. Mum is just like that sometimes. I'll get her back." he replied with guts, his voice barely above a whisper, his hands still possessively gripping her ass, savoring the feel of rubbing his hands up and down.
A soft growl came nearby. "Hey, I'm right here!"
Euphemia grinned, twirling a lock of stray hair from Harry's forehead, her eyes never leaving his. "That's my baby boy, you get the wicked witch." she said softly, her voice filled with affection.
She then turned to Lily, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Bit of British weather never hurt a Potter, now shall we get going?" she said, in amusement as she looked back at Harry, ignoring Lily's less endowed frame.
After one quick stop to Britain's International Portkey Station, a glorified roundabout stuffed with trunks, bureaucrats and far too many crying children, the family of three didn't bother waiting for the slowly dawning stares to settle.
They vanished with a crack, apparating straight to the kerb in front of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place.
Not inside, of course. Security reasons.
His mum had muttered something about Pettigrew and hadn't elaborated, but the way her mouth twisted said enough.
Now they stood in front of the house.
Harry tilted his head.
"...This is it?"
It didn't look like a house that needed hiding. Or cleaning. Or purging with fire.
Pale stone, gold-lettered door plate, wrought-iron railings gleaming and window boxes with flowers, the new Grimmauld stood bright, proud and very not dark.
"Yes Harry, this is Number Twelve."
Euphemia folded her arms, looking half impressed. "It wasn't this far along when we were last here. Was all damp corners and mildew and some hexed wallpaper that insulted your fashion choices."
"Walburga? I think Sirius finally got rid of her." Lily laughed as Euphemia shook her head.
Harry squinted at the white-curtained windows. "It's sort of nice."
That was when the front door swung open with a soft click, and a house elf appeared.
Or at least, Harry assumed it was.
He'd never actually seen one before, not in person. America was much less tolerant of that sort of servitude. Openly anyway. You didn't exactly get house elves popping out to iron your socks in Brooklyn.
He was small, hunched, grey-skinned and looked like he'd bitten into something sour sometime around 1983 and never quite recovered.
But he was wearing a suit.
A proper little suit. Black waistcoat, shined shoes, and a pocket watch on a chain. His ears stuck out like battered flags, and his scowl could've curdled milk.
Euphemia barked a short laugh. "Well, bugger me. Sirius actually civilised the old goat."
The elf's scowl deepened as he gave a sharp bow, muttering something under his breath in what might've been Latin, Gobbledegook or just very old-fashioned swearing.
"House Black," he said stiffly, "Welcomes Miss Potter, Mister Harry, and Lady Euphemia. You are expected. Please follow me."
"Thank you, Kreacher," Lily said kindly, giving him a small nod.
That was clearly a mistake.
Kreacher's left eye twitched. His face twisted into something just short of a stroke, ears flattening tight against his skull.
Then he turned on his heel and hobbled inside.
Harry stared. Then, very quietly, he tugged his mother's hand, where their fingers were laced together, warm and familiar and leaned in.
"Mum," he whispered. "Why'd he look like that? All mad?"
And ugly but that didn't need to be said.
Lily snorted. Bent down so her red hair tickled his cheek and murmured into his ear. "Because he's not exactly thrilled about serving a mudblood, love."
Harry frowned. "Then why'd Sirius keep him?"
She smiled, kissed his temple.
"Because it's funny."
Harry considered that and nodded. That matched Sirius.
The house swallowed them up and inside and Grimmauld Place was well, it wasn't grim, not quite. But it hadn't entirely escaped its name either.
The hallway was long and shadowy, lined with lanterns not lit. The floors were polished wood, dark and rich, with a long runner in deep green winding up the stairs. The ceiling was high, the chandelier tasteful, enchanted crystal, not cursed bones and there was a faint scent of polish and firewood.
But the portraits were what made Harry stop.
A dozen frames lined the walls between doorways and corners, and in most of them, young faces grinned down at them, familiar ones. There was Sirius, maybe sixteen, making rude hand gestures behind Remus's head while his father tried to keep a straight face and failed miserably.
They moved in their frames like film reels on loop, full of laughter, but soundless. Only one frame was burned. A large scorch mark where a round-cheeked face had once smiled. Harry didn't ask who it had been.
Kreacher led them without speaking, his tiny shoes tapping sharply along the floor and at the end of the hall, he gestured to a sitting room. There were tea things already laid out, and the smell of something cinnamon-sweet wafted faintly through the air.
"Master Sirius." Kreacher said, nose wrinkling as if even saying the name offended him, "Is in a meeting. He will join you shortly."
He bowed again, less deep this time and stalked off with his coat-tails flapping.
Euphemia positioned herself into one of the armchairs with a sigh.
Lily pulled Harry toward another, bigger one, settling down and tugging him beside her without much fuss, her arms wrapping around him casually.
This was a family that didn't need words to enjoy their own company.
About fifteen minutes later, the door creaked open again, and Sirius Black stepped into the room.
He looked tired, collar slightly askew, shirt sleeves rolled up, faint smudge on his jaw like he'd forgotten to check a mirror but his face lit up the moment he saw them. That same boyish grin from the portraits flashed across his face, just with a few more lines around the eyes.
Harry glimpsed him for half a second before turning back to more important matters.
Namely: war.
His wand was clutched tight, brow scrunched in fierce concentration.
Suspended in front of them, wobbling dangerously in midair, was a velvet cushion, the poor, unfortunate battlefield of their magical tug-of-war.
Lily's wand pointed skyward, the levitation charm steady and elegant.
Harry's aimed stubbornly downward, pouring all the intent he could muster into the descending charm.
The cushion jerked, stuttered, bounced once like it couldn't quite decide whose side it was on.
"Come on." Harry muttered, glaring at it as if that alone would help.
He'd lost four times already.
Not because he was weaker, but because his mother was a wicked temptress, a seductress. The last round, she had traced her nails up his inner thigh, her touch lingering just shy of his clothed cock, leaving a trail of fire that shattered his focus.
Her breath was hot against his ear as she whispered, "Can't you concentrate, darling?"
Another time, she leaned in, her lips brushing his cheek in many searing kisses that left him breathless and blushing. Her tongue had briefly darted out, teasing his skin, and he could feel her breasts pressing against his arm, soft and insistent.
The next, she slipped her fingers into his mouth, letting them wander around before tugging at the corner of his lips, ensuring he was reduced to a quivering mess of goo with her drool soaked fingers pulled out.
It was the reason he'd hardly, no…never ever won once back at home.
But now…now he had back-up.
"Should I come back later, or is this some sort of ancient duel rite I've interrupted?" The man drawled from the doorway.
Harry's head snapped up. "No! Stay there! She cheats!"
Lily gave Sirius a dry look.
Sirius raised an eyebrow and wandered in and dropped lazily into the armchair beside Euphemia, who handed him a sweet without even looking.
"Please." Sirius said, mouth half-full, "Continue your very serious magical combat."
Now that he had a proper audience, Harry gripped his wand tighter. No distractions this time.
The cushion gave a final, heroic twitch and then launched straight upward with a soft thwack, hitting the ceiling and sticking there like a stubborn bat.
Harry whooped and jumped up like he'd scored a goal at the World Cup.
He spun on the spot and blew a loud raspberry at his mother.
Lily folded her hands primly in her lap and said nothing. Her mouth twitched suspiciously, though.
Then he turned to Sirius as if just seeing him.
"Sirius…!"
"About time you noticed me," Sirius said, straightening. "I was starting to feel like a chopped flobberworm."
"Wait. How long have you been waiting?"
"Long enough."
"Long enough to what?"
"To see you blow raspberries at your mum, obviously," he said cheerfully. "But forget about that, why wasn't I invited to see your competition?!"
"The what?"
"The competition," Sirius said. "You know, the one where you threw up a shield like something out of a bloody fairytale and made half the audience weep into their robes."
Harry paused, then broke into a wide grin. "Oh, that. Forgot all about it. Brilliant, wasn't it?"
"You forgot? Brilliant?! Pain in the ass is more like it!" Sirius said, moving over to give him a light cuff on the back of the head. "You wouldn't believe the number of people who've come knocking, trying to get me to get you to teach them the spell. Like I'm your personal secretary or something."
Harry laughed. "Are you?"
"Absolutely not. Not unless you start paying me."
Before Harry could reply, his gran spoke up.
"Is that why you left us waiting for 15 minutes, Sirius Black?"
Sirius winced, let out a slow, tragic sigh, turning to face her with the weariness of a man wronged. "Yes, well, my boss had only just left when you all came here. Took ages to say nothing."
Lily seemed mildly interested. "Nothing?"
"Oh, you know the type," Sirius said, waving a hand. "All nods and meaningful pauses. She didn't ask for the spell, of course. That would be too easy. She just happened to mention that your little invention would be a terrific boon to the Auror department and guilt tripped saying it would save a lot more lives. Then smiled like she hadn't said anything at all."
Euphemia gave a snort. "Sounds like Bones."
Harry frowned. "Who's Bones, Gran?"
Lily stepped in before Euphemia could say anything, ignoring said woman's glare. "One of the strongest, perhaps the strongest witch in Britain. Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."
Harry didn't react.
Lily sighed.
"And very attractive."
Harry's eyes lit up. "Ooooh."
Lily looked down at him, unimpressed. Sirius snorted, then barked a laugh.
"She once took down three of Voldemort's inner circle on her own," Sirius added once he'd stopped chuckling. "They went after her manor. She nearly died and went into a coma, mind you, but she still got the lot."
"So not the sort you want turning up on your doorstep, Harry. Or catching you making eyes."
Harry grinned, thinking it was great to have someone like that on their side. He'd love to meet her. "Brilliant."
"You say that now. Wait till you meet her." Sirius muttered.
A short silence followed, then Euphemia stood, brushing down the folds of her robe with a brisk hand. "Well, now that he's finally arrived," she said, giving Sirius a pointed look, "We can leave him here with you and finish the rest of the errands. I'd rather get back sooner than later."
Sirius gave a lazy salute. "Aye aye, ma'am. I'll guard him with my life."
Lily stood too, smoothing her summer dress with a graceful flick of the wrist, then turned to Harry. "Be a good boy, alright?"
Harry nodded.
"If you are," She added with a saucy wink, "We'll finish giving you your reward from last night."
Harry's ears went pink almost immediately, gaze fixed firmly on the floor, ignoring Sirius's questioning gaze.
Euphemia chuckled, stepping forward to press a warm hand to the back of his neck, then gave him a fond little nod. "We won't be long. Hopefully. You never know with these sickle pinchers."
She took Lily's arm, and with one more round of goodbyes and the familiar crack of Apparition, they were gone.
Sirius and Harry just stood there, looking at the spot where they'd vanished, then Sirius turned, squinting at the marks. on Harry's neck.
"Is that a bug bite?"
Harry slapped his hand up to cover up the hickey. "Yeah."
Sirius raised a brow, suspicious. "Hmm. Bit big, isn't it kid?"
Harry said nothing, cheeks still a bit red, and looked pointedly in the opposite direction.
"All right then."
"Still can't believe that shield," Sirius muttered, mostly to himself. "Protego Orbis. Merlin's pants, Harry. That's some Dumbledore shite."
Harry shrugged, trying not to grin. "Took me a while to get it right."
"I'll say. You realise half the department wants to name it after you?"
"They what?"
"They're calling it the Potter Shell. I'm not even joking."
Harry blinked. "No way!"
"Yes way. Now come on, let me show you the place, kid."
—
Sirius led him through the house with the sort of swagger that suggested he'd memorised every creaking floorboard as a boy and had been trying to forget them ever since. He talked a lot, mostly nonsense, about how different Grimmauld Place looked now. Less cursed. Less miserable. Still a bit haunted, obviously, but nothing that couldn't be handled with a strong Charm and a louder yell.
"Bit of a fixer-upper," he said breezily, as they passed a suit of armour that flinched when Harry looked at it.
Harry didn't say much. He trailed behind, taking it all in. Someone, probably Sirius with a wand and several choice swear words, had fought the house into something almost homely. Not quite friendly, but at least no longer actively trying to murder the guests.
They passed through the dining room. The big tapestry on the far wall gave a twitch, like it knew who they were and didn't much care for the reunion.
Harry kept his eyes forward.
By the time they reached the landing again, he'd worked up the nerve.
"Padfoot?"
"Hmm?"
"What's the best way to get… wittier?"
Sirius stopped mid-step. Turned. "Sorry, what now? Wit? You mean jokes? You're plenty funny Harry."
"No no. Wit. Cleverness." Harry repeated. "I hit a wall in training. I was dueling and… I don't know. I felt weak. I thought maybe you'd know something that could help. Like how to think faster. Be sharper. You know…something that can't be ignored."
Sirius looked at him properly this time. Not with the usual grin or raised eyebrow, but with something a little quieter behind the eyes. Like he was trying to weigh up whether Harry needed advice, or a joke, or both.
"Probably not the person you ought to come to for that, Harry. I ain't the best wizard around here but…." he said at last, voice softer than before. "But…come on, I'll try my best. Let's see what we've got to work with."
He turned and took the stairs two at a time, motioning for Harry to follow. They climbed past the familiar hallway and up towards the top floor. At the end of the corridor was a door with three locks and something that hissed like a kettle when Sirius touched it.
"Watch your step." he muttered, pushing it open. "And don't touch anything that looks happy to see you. I haven't managed to curse-proof the whole place. Some of it's just… stubborn."
The library of the House of Black was not a friendly room. The walls were packed floor to ceiling with grim-looking volumes, some chained shut, others sealed in wax, and one that growled lowly as they passed. A few of the books glowed faintly. One was weeping.
Harry stood in the doorway.
Sirius walked in like it was the sitting room.
"Right," he said, already halfway across the room. "My boss, mad witch she is, brilliant though, tried to get the Auror Corps to read these. Said it would raise the average IQ by at least fifteen points. Naturally, no one listened. It came from a muggle, you see. Must be nonsense. Idiots."
He yanked two battered-looking books off a shelf, blew dust off one, and handed them both to Harry.
Harry eyed the covers. The Book of Five Rings. The Art of War.
"Have you read these?" he asked.
"Of course I did."
Harry looked at him.
"..."
"I skimmed."
Harry flipped through the first few pages. Old ink diagrams. Stark, precise language. Strategy. Tactics. Sword stances. Something about being like water. It was strange, but oddly compelling. Not tutoring compelling but real-world compelling.
"Wow. These look good. You think they'll actually help?"
"Haven't the foggiest," Sirius said cheerfully. "But if she recommended them, there's something in there worth nicking. And if not-" he flashed that familiar grin "-I'll just teach you a few Black family favourites. The ones with names that start with Mortem and end with something that makes your eyebrows catch fire."
"Why don't you just teach me those now, and while I read the books later?"
Sirius paused.
"Good point."
He clapped Harry on the shoulder with enough enthusiasm to count as minor assault.
"Come on. Let's go blow a hole in my mum's room. Then we'll see if your broom skills are still up to scratch. Can't have a Potter slacking off!"
After rotting the mattress, splitting the headboard, and setting the curtains on fire with a spell Harry was fairly certain had no business being spoken aloud, they were summarily chased from the room by a shrieking Kreacher wielding a soup ladle like it was a cursed dagger.
Sirius looked extremely pleased with himself.
Harry was wondering if he could even use these spells.
"Right," Sirius said as they made their way down the hall. "Duelling chamber?"
"You've got a duelling chamber?"
"Of course we do," Sirius said, as if Harry had asked whether the house had walls. "What sort of self-respecting, stuck up pure-blood family wouldn't keep one, back in the day? Expansion charms, very handy. Especially when done by someone who does it for a living..."
They reached a tall door set and Sirius pressed a palm to the middle panel and it creaked open.
The room inside was vast, smooth stone floors, high vaulted ceiling, and enough space to fly a small broom circuit if you were feeling brave. It looked more like a Ministry training arena than something you'd find tucked behind a house like this.
Harry's mouth fell slightly open.
"Hmm," Sirius said, looking around with mild satisfaction. "About the size of a Quidditch pitch cut in half and stacked sideways."
"That's very specific."
Harry stepped inside, looking around curiously.
"Where's Moony, by the way? Thought he'd be here."
Sirius's face softened slightly.
"He wanted to. Really. Was talking my ear off about it when he heard you were coming. But he's stuck at Hogwarts for the summer, teaching the curious minds that torture themselves willingly."
Harry looked up sharply. "Teaching? I didn't know Hogwarts did summer classes."
"Neither did he, until McGonagall started reorganising everything. She's a woman on a mission these days. Ministry funded too, apparently." Sirius grinned, clearly impressed. "Honestly, place might end up the best magical school in the world if this keeps going. More staff, new course options, actual security, can you imagine it?"
Harry thought about it. He didn't know much about Hogwarts but he definitely heard numerous snide remarks about the so-called "Best School in Europe". Backwater, backwards, rampant favoritism-
"I'd say it's about time." Harry said quietly when he remembered his encounter with the…maybe founder? He wouldn't want her school to be so broken down.
Sirius nodded for a different reason.
"Yeah. It is."
Then Sirius gave a sharp whistle and tossed Harry a practice wand from a nearby crate. They were made of far less powerful materials than most regular wandshops, so spells casted from them had their effects and power mitigated.
Mostly.
"I thought we were flying?"
"We are. Just after this. I want to see what you got that has you looking for more ways to improve. I won't go too hard."
Harry stared at the wand and shrugged.
"Okay."
"Right," Siruis said, stepping onto the duelling platform. "Let's see if you can disarm me without blowing a hole in the ceiling. And if you can't…well, that's what ceiling repair charms are for."
Harry stepped forward, wand raised, focused.
"Ready when you are, Padfoot."
"That's good sport. I'll let you get the first hit."
Though they said that, they simply circled each other like predators eyes never straying.
"...Harry, aren't you going to attack?"
"All in good time."
Harry's wand was loose in his fingers, not pointing, not aiming, just there. Sirius was watching him carefully now, eyes glinting with the kind of mischief that usually preceded something on fire. They kept circling, slow and deliberate, steps echoing across the platform like it was counting down.
Truth be told, Harry didn't really like the so-called 'proper' duelling forms.
His tutors had tried to teach him. Told him it was important. That posture, poise, precision, all of it mattered. And he'd listened. For a bit. Until he realised all that neat footwork and elegant arm movements got you hexed in the face by someone less interested in looking graceful.
You didn't need to look like you were dancing. You just needed to win.
He didn't drop into a stance. He didn't announce his spell. He moved.
One flick, clean, sharp, efficient.
Silent.
A streak of red burst from his wand, fast enough to blur, aimed straight at Sirius's chest. There was no time to block it. No time to dodge. No conceivable way he should even be able to register the surprise attack and cast a spell in time-
And yet-
With a sudden shimmer and the faintest rustle of cloth, Sirius wasn't there anymore.
A great black dog leapt sideways out of the path of the spell, paws hitting the ground with a thump, fur bristling. The Disarming Charm smashed into the stone behind him.
Harry blinked.
"Bloody hell."
Padfoot stood a few feet away, tail twitching in astonishment, then changed again with a blur and a crack, Sirius standing in his place, robes rumpled, hair windswept.
Wand raised.
His eyes were wide, still slightly startled behind his newly raised Protego. "You really don't mess about, kid! That wand didn't seem to weaken you a bit!"
Harry didn't smile. Just gave a small shrug.
"Speed over style," he said. "All that 'stance equals strength' nonsense only works if you've got time to show off."
Sirius's mouth twitched. "Your mum would've hexed your kneecaps for that kind of talk."
"She's the one who agreed with me." Harry said dryly.
Sirius laughed, then raised his wand again, more serious now.
"Alright, no more warm-up. Let's see what else you've got, little Prongs-" The man choked when a spell nearly clipped his temple.
A sharp slash of Harry's wand and a streak of cobalt-blue and orange cracked across the platform. The spell buzzed low and fast, a shield-breaker by design, more of a tool than a weapon but only just. Sirius raised a barrier out of habit, strong and solid and it shattered like glass.
The second spell, hidden behind the first, hissed through the gap.
Sirius didn't block and instead, he shifted, just so, a twist of shoulder, a tilt of spine, and the beam glanced past, close enough to singe his sleeve but not enough to stop him.
Harry narrowed his eyes.
Too slow, he thought. But not Sirius. Him.
He was doing it again, throwing spells like a flurry and hoping one would land. No planning, no pressure, just reflex and speed..
He wasn't clever with it. He just happened to be quick. And quick only worked if the other bloke was slower, alone and not thinking.
Sirius was alone but wasn't slower than him.
So he changed tactics.
The next exchange came fast. They traded spells quickly, bright blasts, ricochets of light and shimmering shields. A red stunner missed by inches. A golden jinx curved in mid-air.
Harry twisted aside as the floor beneath him cracked, only just avoiding the splitting tile. Sirius sent another volley, fast and smart, a dual-cast meant to trap his foot and flatten his wand arm but Harry's well mastered, personal omnidirectional shield spell snapped up, instinctive and perfect, the hexes fizzing harmlessly against the glowing barrier like pebbles on a windscreen.
Sirius clicked his tongue. "That's not fair."
Harry said nothing. Just breathed out, and the shield flickered away.
He wanted the fight, not the safety.
He flicked his wand up and a ripple of magic tore from it. Seventy-five birds, conjured in one perfect snap, scattered to the rafters. They zipped above like smoke-wisps given wings, and Sirius hesitated.
Only for a second.
But that was the second Harry wanted.
He launched another chain, wordless and clean. Expelliarmus, followed by a Bone-Softening Hex, then a blunted Blasting Curse aimed near Sirius's feet, not to harm, just to herd, pushing him back, pressuring him.
Sirius batted aside the first two, counter charmed the blasting curse, and with a neat flick of his wrist, sent a spell up into the birds, a wide-area finite.
What should have happened was that all those birds should have dispelled. Instead, thanks to Harry's powerful intent, only a third of them fell apart, puffing into feathers.
The rest, Harry transfigured mid-air in the gap of casting.
Their wings snapped shut. Feathers hardened. Beaks turned to deadly points, ready to shatter skulls.
Then gravity took them.
Down they came, like stones from a catapult, silent but deadly and Harry refrained from using the descending charm.
That'd be overkill.
Sirius's eyes widened. He stepped back, raising a shield, but Harry had moved again.
"Accio shoes!"
The man blinked. "Oh, you little blighter-!"
And then his shoes flew clean off, yanked from his feet with a comical flap.
Somehow the man hadn't charmed his clothes against the most basic but debilitating spells. One of the most important things for anyone of note.
A mistake he wouldn't make again.
He skidded, stumbled, socks slipping on smooth stone. The stones crashing down like thunder, smashing into the platform around them in a violent BOOM BOOM BOOM, sending cracks racing across the floor.
One smashed beside him. Another clipped his shield and sent sparks spiralling as it cracked. Sirius dropped into a roll and vanished in a crack.
A big, shaggy black dog skidded where he'd had been.
Padfoot, tail low, fur bristling, teeth bared.
Harry was already casting, mind turning a mile a minute. The shattered stones from the floor buzzed. They twitched. Then lifted.
He transfigured them, too. Not into birds. Into hornets. Asian giant hornets to be exact.
The air filled with a furious hum, the broken bits turning sleek and buzzing, alive and angry. The swarm shot forward, chasing after the dog like a cloud of vengeance.
Padfoot dodged, ducked, darted. But not blindly.
He didn't just react. He anticipated. Far faster than any normal dog should be able to.
But Padfoot wasn't a normal dog. He was a grim. An omen of death.
Every spell Harry flung, the red bolt, the slicing arc, the silvery lasso, all went wide. Not because his aim was poor, but because the dog wasn't there anymore by the time they landed.
But that was fine. They were only herding spells after all.
Harry kept moving.
His wand was a blur. The hornets flanked, cornering, narrowing the chase. When a panicked, cornered Padfoot got close, he turned, lunged, paws thundering, and leapt.
Massive, dark, fast.
Harry's wand moved. Not at the dog. Not at the ground but around him.
"Vallum Orbis." An offensive variation of his shield spell, meant to contain not protect.
A sphere of golden light erupted mid-air. The grim hit it with a muffled thud, legs scrambling, snout pressed to the inside of the humming dome.
The hornets closed in, circling. No impact, the shield kept them out but the hum rose to a pitch, angry and rising.
Harry stood still. Wand loose. Chest rising and falling.
That clever enough?
Inside the orb, the dog shimmered, then shifted.
Sirius sat cross-legged and he looked at Harry with faint disbelief, then slow, crooked admiration.
He dropped his wand. Arms spread.
"Well shite, kid."
Harry wiped his forehead with the back of his hand.
Then he grinned.
"Rematch?"
Hour later, Harry woke flat on his back, arms flopped out to either side like someone dropped him from a great height. His mouth parted in a yawn, long and lazy, and he stretched once, twice, blinking up at the enchanted rafters.
His whole body ached. In a good way.
He grinned, still flat.
That'd been freeing.
Sirius was better than he'd expected. Smarter, for sure. Quick. Creative too. Not just raw talent and tricks, but that thing some duelists had, the way they read a fight like a map and walked it as it shifted.
A proper challenge.
Though he did seem a bit rusty at first…
Harry turned his head to one side, half-expecting to see smoke still rising from the tiles. The duelling platform was cracked in places, smudged in others, showing they had duel far more than once.
His eyes flicked past the edge of the window.
Dark sky.
Hadn't noticed it'd got so late.
He was just about to sit up when he paused.
There.
Something-
He tilted his head back, blinking upside down. And stared.
His first thought was, 'Mum?' But Harry immediately dismissed that notion. He knew his mother's outer labia was fuller, plumper, and she always kept herself clean-shaven. He also knew she had worn a pair of high-cut red panties today, the ones that always had her wondrous, milky ass completely covered. This was different.
Instead, what he saw was a pair of thick, mature, creamy thighs, tapering up to sexy green panties that were both satin and lacy, slightly askew, revealing more than it concealed. Well-trimmed pink lips peeked out from beneath, the beginning swells of fatty cheeks peeking out, teasing the bare hints of a round ass.
The sight was so unexpected that Harry found himself unable to look away.
Until-
"Wotcher there, little mate."
Harry looked up. Three faces, two very similar-looking. One more mature than the other, but all of them peering over him, standing just behind his head, like he was some sort of curious mushroom that had grown out of the floor. The younger one, the daughter no doubt, gave him a grin.
Harry's mouth worked as he finally spotted Sirius laid out beside him, stunned from their last duel. "...Moony?"
The werewolf smiled. "Hello, Harry."