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The Adventures of Harry Black, Year One by reptilia28
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The Adventures of Harry Black, Year One

reptilia28

DISCLAIMER: I own Elizabeth "Lizzie" Black, Michael Black and Whizzy the house elf. All other characters are property of J. K. Rowling.

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Chapter 3 - Ten Years Later…

The boy known as Harry Potter groaned as his alarm clock buzzed at 4:30 AM sharp. Slapping the snooze button, he rolled out of bed and put his round wire-framed glasses on. He grinned when he saw a picture of his parents waving a baby Harry's hand at him.

Gathering some clothes, Harry took a quick shower, then went back into his room. He sat cross-legged on the bed as he closed his eyes and meditated, building up his Occlumency shields. His godfather had impressed on him that shielding one's mind was imperative for security reasons, especially so for him, so he began this morning regime since he was six years old.

After an hour and a half of meditating, Harry snuck downstairs. On his way to the kitchen, Harry stopped to look at some of the other pictures that were on the fireplace. Among them were his parents' and godparents' weddings, with his father and godfather switching places as the best man, a three-year-old Harry trying to blow out a trick birthday candle, with another boy trying to help, and a picture of Sirius and Elizabeth Black holding their newborn son Michael Alphard Black.

Smiling at the happy memories there, Harry walked into the kitchen to start cooking breakfast. As he placed a frying pan on the stove and started turned on the coffee maker, Harry mused as to how he came into this position. When he was six years old, he told the house elf Whizzy that he wanted to learn to cook, something that his godmother supported completely ("It's not like they're going to be living here forever, Sirius!" she exclaimed when it first came up). Since then, it has been something of a game between the two to see who could gain control of the kitchen first. After testing to see if the pan was hot enough, Harry poured some oil in the pan and placed some strips of bacon in the pan.

Remus Lupin was a fairly deep sleeper, especially during the full moon, but his heightened senses immediately picked up the sound and smell of bacon frying in the pan and sneaked down the stairs. When he reached the kitchen, all signs of fatigue disappeared to the intoxicating scent of fried bacon.

"I see you beat Whizzy today," he commented as Harry pulled out the last of the bacon and started beating eggs. "You know he's not going to be too happy about it," he added with a smirk.

"Ah, he'll get over it," Harry said offhandedly as he poured off the grease and poured the eggs in. "Besides, he always cooks lunch anyway."

"True." Harry suppressed a chuckle as Lizzie shuffled into the kitchen, her hair wild.

"Morning Liz," Remus said casually, cracking a grin.

"Morning Mum," Harry said as he dumped the scrambled eggs onto a plate and gave her a cup of coffee. Muttering a barely audible good morning, Lizzie inhaled the scent of the black liquid in her mug before drinking it.

"I don't understand how you Brits can last the whole day on tea," she mumbled, her eyes still only half opened and nursing her coffee cup like her life depended on it.

"Well, not everyone is as wound up as Americans, hon," Sirius said, wrapping his arms around her waist and kissing her neck. "Good morning, love."

"Mmm," Lizzie moaned groggily, "it's morning, but not necessarily good," she muttered, draining her coffee and pouring another cup.

"No one told you to get up," Sirius laughed as he pulled out a butterbeer from the pantry.

"And who can resist that tempting smell of Harry's cooking?" Lizzie asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Michael," all three males present said simultaneously.

"Besides him," she said flatly. They looked at each other nervously.

"See, we don't know who can resist Harry's cooking because...no one else has had Harry's cooking," Sirius said. Lizzie nodded.

"Mm-hmm. So until we can get people over here, we can only assume that the reason why Michael can resist the smell of Harry's cooking is because the boy can sleep through a stampede of Hippogriffs. Speaking of which, it's time to wake him up."

"I'll do it," Harry said after setting plates of food on the table. He sneaked up the stairs. A minute later, Harry came back down with another boy around his age, but with long neon-blue hair that stuck up in all directions. Sirius burst out laughing at his son's appearance, while Remus and Lizzie both cracked a grin.

"Thanks for the support, Dad," Michael grumbled.

"You're welcome," Sirius choked out between laughs.

"Good morning, love," Lizzie said, kissing Michael in the forehead.

"Morning, Mum," Michael said.

"Eat up, Michael, you'll feel better." Grunting in response, Michael plopped into a chair and started eating.

Almost as soon as everybody sat down, two owls swooped in and dropped letters in Michael and Harry's lap. Everybody glanced at each other before the two boys flipped their letters around. It bore a wax seal bearing a lion, a snake, an eagle and a badger.

"Looks like our Hogwarts letters came," Michael said neutrally. The eyes of the adults widened. "They really skewed our address, though," he continued, handing his letter to Sirius. He looked at the front and sure enough, it read:

Michael Black

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/ London

"Huh," Remus said, looking at the address. "So that's what happens when an auto-notes quill tries to write an address under Fidelius." Sirius shrugged and gave Michael back his letter, who promptly opened it.

"Does it say things like `Welcome to Hogwarts,' `Please be there by September first,' `Your list of books is included,' that kind of stuff?" Sirius asked. Both boys nodded. "I wonder if McGonagall has all these pre-written and just writes in the name, `cause I swear these letters never change." Harry shrugged.

"So...who's taking them to Diagon Alley?" Remus asked. Before anyone could answer, Whizzy the house elf popped into existence.

"Whizzy is so sorry for not preparing breakfast! Whizzy shall clean these dishes for youse, masters," he said in his squeaky voice.

"Really, Whizzy, that's not-" but before Harry could finish, the elf and dirty dishes had vanished from existence. "...Necessary." No one said anything for a minute.

"So...who's taking them to Diagon Alley?" Remus finally asked.

"I guess you are," Sirius sighed. "I can't show my face anywhere. I guess you could take Lizzie with you; I don't think you've ever been to Diagon Alley, have you?"

"No, I've been there a couple of times with...Lily," she said softly. Immediately the whole table went quiet.

"I guess that's settled then," Sirius said, breaking the silence. "Michael, get dressed." Nodding, Michael excused himself and ran upstairs.

Remus looked at the book list. "Book list didn't seem to change since we went to school, so they can just take the ones we have. That will save some time." Michael came back down wearing black jeans and a black shirt reading "How do you keep an idiot entertained for hours? (Look on other side.)". His hair was also back to normal, his black hair reaching past his ears.

"We ready?" he asked.

"Almost," Remus said, "let me just grab my cloak and my shoes, then we can go."

"Great!"

Ten minutes later, Remus, Harry and Michael arrived at the Leaky Cauldron via the Knight Bus ("Pure madness, I tell you," Michael grumbled). After checking to make sure that Harry's baseball cap was secure, they walked in.

"Hello sir!" Tom the toothless barkeep announced. "Can I get you something?"

"Not today," Remus said. "Just taking these kids to Diagon Alley."

"Ah," Tom said. "Right over here, then gents," gesturing to the back. Thanking him, Remus took the two boys to a blank brick wall with three dustbins. Remus whipped out his wand and stared at the wall.

"Let's see," he muttered to himself. "Was it two up and three across? Or was it three up and two across? Ah hell," he said, and started tapping random bricks until he hit the right one. Luckily for him, he only hit two wrong bricks. "Oi Tom! Maybe you should mark the entry brick!" Remus shouted as the wall shifted away to reveal Diagon Alley.

"Your father gave me some money to buy your supplies, so we don't have to go to Gringotts if you don't want to," Remus said.

"Yeah, I think we could do with a bit of spending money," Harry said. Michael merely nodded; his attention focused on Quality Quidditch Supplies. Rolling his eyes, Remus nudged him out of his stupor, and the three of them walked to Gringotts.

When they made it to Gringotts, Michael tried to not seem afraid of the Goblins milling about the building. Remus made it to a desk.

"Yes?" the Goblin snapped.

"I'm here to make a withdrawal from..." Remus paused to look around before leaning over and continuing in a whisper, "the vaults of Harry Potter-Black and Michael Black." Nodding, the Goblin asked, "Do you have their keys?"

"Yes," Remus said, producing the two gold keys. The Goblin examined them for a moment, then nodded.

"Very well, Griphook!" the Goblin shouted, and almost immediately another one showed up.

"Takes Mr. Black and Mister Potter-Black to their vaults." The Goblin named Griphook's eyes widened slightly, but bowed and led them to the carts. When they got there, Remus quickly turned his head away as a large man at least twice his height and three times his width climbed out of another cart, looking slightly green and swaying. Soon the three were rushing towards their respective vaults. After grabbing a few fistfuls of gold, they zoomed back topside, and continued their shopping.

First thing they did was go to Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions.

"Hello dears," the slightly stocky woman said brightly. "Heading to Hogwarts?" The two boys nodded. Remus placed five galleons on the desk and mouthed "I'll be next door" while the woman took Harry away to be measured. When he went into the fitting room, there was already another boy there. He had platinum blonde hair and held an arrogant air.

"`Lo," Harry said simply as he stood on the stool and the measuring tape started making random measurements.

"Hello," the boy said, sneering. Harry just rolled his eyes as the woman came back in.

"Your robes are ready sir," she said to the blonde boy. He jumped off the stool and snatched the robes out of her hands. She sighed as she started grabbing rolls of cloth and holding them up to Harry.

"Get that kind of clientele a lot?" Harry asked conversationally.

"More than I would like," the woman admitted. Within minutes, he was done and thanked the woman before walking out, robes in hand.

"Did you see the boy that came out before me?" Harry asked as he sat down.

"Only that he was blonde and walked like he had a stick shoved up his arse," Michael snorted. Harry grinned at this.

"Bet you a Galleon that he's related to the Malfoys," Harry challenged.

"You're next, dear!" the woman said to Michael. As he got up, he looked at Harry dead in the eye.

"You're on."

After that, they went to Eeylops' Owl Emporium, where Harry got a snowy owl he named Hedwig, after a witch he read in one of his history books. Michael got a black owl with gray rings around the eyes, which he couldn't help but name Smoke-Rings. Surprisingly, the owl seemed to like it.

After that, they went to grab their potion ingredients. Needless to say, none of them wanted to stay in there longer than what was absolutely necessary.

"Alright, now all that's left is you're wand," Remus said as they stopped in front of Ollivander's. It looked run-down, with a wand in the window the only decor.

A chime tinkled as the door opened, and an old man walked in.

"Ahh...Mr. Lupin. It's been years. Willow and dragon heartstring, was it?" Remus shifted nervously.

"Uhh...yeah. These two are buying their first wands," he said, placing a hand on each boy's shoulder.

"Oh yes. Mister Black, I presume?" Michael walked forward nervously. "Yes, I remember your father...Ash wood and unicorn hair...a shame that it was used for such evil deeds..." It took all he had to keep himself from shouting that his father was innocent. Ollivander pulled out a wand and gave it to Michael.

"Ten and a half inches, Holly, unicorn hair. Give it a flick." Michael flicked it and a vase levitated into the air.

"Excellent! It usually takes two or three tries to find a good wand. Now, Mister...Potter, you're next." Harry stepped forward nervously. "Yes...I remember your parents too...such a shame." He pulled out another wand and gave it to Harry. "Eleven inches, yew and dragon heartstring." Harry flicked it at the vase Michael levitated earlier, only to have it explode. "I suppose not," Ollivander said, snatching the wand away and giving Harry another one.

Harry tried out wands for over an hour, with no success. Remus and Michael were sitting in the corner of the shop, growing increasingly bored.

"A tricky one, I see," Ollivander mused as Harry blew up the same vase for what seemed like the hundredth time. "I wonder..." the old man said, then disappeared into the back of the shop. He came back with yet another wand.

"Eleven inches, holly and phoenix feather. Try that." Harry grabbed the wand and immediately he felt warmth as red and gold sparks flew from the tip.

"Curious," Ollivander said. "Very curious."

"Why?" all three visitors asked.

"Because, Mister Potter, the phoenix that gave the feather for your wand gave another, just one other! And the boy who had that wand did great things. Terrible, yes, but great. You hold a powerful wand, Mister Potter, and its brother gave you your scar." At this news, Harry couldn't help but swallow nervously.

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And that's the end of that.

The computer I'm on right now seems to log me off my author account every time I leave the control panel, so I can't make author's comments, so I'll just answer this now.

For those who are concerned about Harry still cooking, even though there's a house elf, I always felt that Harry's culinary skills is one of those things that makes Harry "Harry." I've seen one or two fics (it was a long time ago, so I can't name them) where, after 16 years living with the Dursleys, Harry as an adult has no cooking skills whatsoever. That infuriated me to no end. I also think that his cooking skills would translate into his potions skills if Snape would just lay off the insults.

And although both Harry and Michael are sons of Marauders, I don't have a good mind for pranks, so don't expect to see too many in this story.


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