Harry Potter & The Phantom Alliance

[AnthonyJay]

Beginning Notes

Authors Note #1: This is my first time ever writing a fanfic, especially one that's going to be as long as I think it's going to be. In fact, the last time I did a story was for a writing competition when I was 13 (I'm not counting school assignments) and even then, my mom was doing the heavy lifting.

I have been an avid fan of fanfiction that started in 2019, after I finished watching Your Lie in April and COVID only exponentiated that love.

But alas after years of consuming I have decided to create. I got the inspiration for this from most of the fanfics I've read, a few some of them popular, some of them not and some of them in another fandom, but a gentleman doesn't kiss and tell.

Feel free to critique however you like and please, if nothing else enjoy yourself.

Without further ado here's 10k words coming right at you.

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Prologue Part One​

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"Very well", said the mysterious man.

'Very well', thought the mysterious man.

Date

Location

Spell

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1985

The Bentall Centre

A five-year-old boy with bottle green eyes, raven black hair, dressed in oversized clothes was walking behind his family not too near, not too far, but just enough so that proper vigilance could still be maintained. He was looking down at the floor trying to be as invisible as possible, and ahead of him were his relatives: the Dursleys.

'If only Mrs Figg hadn't gotten sick, then she could've taken care of that Godforsaken boy. Of course I could've left him under the cupboard, but God only knows what'll happen to the house by the time we return. No, best to keep him away from the house but definitely not to close. Nothing is going to ruin the little tyke's birthday. I'll just drop off the freak in a random ball pit, take Dudley to see 'The Care Bears Movie, and that'll be that. A perfectly normal outing with no unnatural disturbances,' Vernon thought to himself. 'I'll pick him up after and if he magi—randomly disappears, then that's just a shame, isn't it?'

A few metres ahead of the family plus one was the mall when suddenly, a crack of lightning split the air, and from nowhere, a man materialised.

He had jet-black hair, aristocratic features, and piercing grey eyes that burned with intensity. A neatly trimmed beard framed his sharp jawline. His attire was unusual yet striking—a long, fitted black tunic adorned with mysterious, glowing symbols. If observed closely, the fabric seemed to shimmer with a faint silver sheen, though Harry couldn't be sure.

His pants were caramel-coloured, sleek and fitted well although they looked more suited to hiking than an urban outing. On his feet were red leather boots that went up just above his ankle the kind that looked like they could kick down doors and walk through fire.

He scanned the environment and then laid his eyes upon the four and started walking slowly and quite leisurely towards them.

'NO, NO, NOOO!! It's one of those, those…people!! That old bearded codger swore there would be no trouble if we took the boy in. Hell, he even made sure to provide a stipend each month so that the boy doesn't leech off us but I knew, I knew we should've dropped him at an orphanage!' Vernon internally panicked, shielding his family with his body as he spoke to the stranger.

"I know what you are! You're one of those f-f-freaks, aren't you? One of those, those magi—people. I'll have you know Dumbledore said we'd be protected. You wouldn't like that, would you? I know he's the strongest amongst your kind! S-so you b-best leave us alone!" Vernon exclaimed, stuttering all the while.

'I don't even like complimenting these abnormal people, but from the little Pet told me, she said Dumbledore was the strongest, wasn't he? He'll definitely come after him if he does anything to us,' Vernon thought, while simultaneously moving his family back towards the car.

"Dumbledore, eh? And where is he now? In the car where you're heading towards? Maybe in the mall where you were heading to? Or maybe and I personally think this is the truth, maybe—you ate him and now he's in your stomach hahaha—you ate him and now there's no Dumbledore left to save you." cackled the mysterious black-haired man.

Vernon opened his mouth to retort, but the stranger waved his hand, and Vernon fell silent.

A shrill voice shouted, "What do you want from us? We haven't done anything to you or your kind! Oh, is it the boy? Yes, it must be. Take him! Take him if that's what you want and leave us alone!"

"Heheh, even if I did take him, what's the guarantee I'd leave you alone? I could just appear again at any place and any time, at your work, while you're on holiday—where you live—at Privet Drive," taunted the mysterious stranger with a devious smile at the end.

Had it not been for the presence of her son Petunia was sure that she would have fainted. Vernon looked like he wanted to charge at the man but Petunia gripped his hand with a strength betraying her frail stature. On shaking legs and hurried breaths, she asked, "What do you want?"

The man pointed to the black-haired, emerald-eyed boy.

"And then me and my family can go? You will leave us alone?" she said hopefully.

He just shrugged.

Taking that to mean yes, Petunia turned around with her husband and child in tow and headed for the car in a rush.

Dudley, who had been stunned, eyes wide in amazement since seeing the man appear, opened his mouth. "But Mummy, Mummy, I want to—"

"That's enough! You will not speak another word till we get home!" she shrieked.

Dudley, for the first having not getting what he wanted on demand, didn't respond.

Dragging her husband and child back and glancing over her shoulder at the man occasionally, to make sure that he wasn't following them got in the car, they took off.

Looking in the direction of the car he wondered aloud, "I wonder when that charm will disappear, I give it an hour." Now looking down at the boy. "Ahh, it's just you and me now, my apologies for all the bogeyman drama you just saw. Those are some vile people, and I wanted to be rid of them although I cannot lie, I did enjoy myself. You want to sit down for a bit and have a chat?"

Harry who had been watching perplexed the whole spectacle asked, "Do I have a choice? Who are you and what do you want from me?"

"What do I want? Many, many things. But before that I'm curious as to why you didn't run or go with them? You certainly could've with the amount I was spending to your fam—ah relatives." questioned the still mysterious man.

"You appeared out of nowhere knowing where I would be, with the intention of getting me. Its better if I just stay where everyone can see me. It works whenever Dudley wants to chase me but won't cause of teachers, also they wanted to get rid of me." responded Harry who was still perplexed but more on guard now.

"Smart, very smart well for your questions who am I? I am Regulus Black of the Ancient and Noble House of Black, well not so noble these days, and what do I want from you? I want a chat now could we please sit down lest you burn in the sun."

"Ok over there." pointed Harry to a popular café with many patrons inside.

"Very well." Regulus responded with a smile.

---

Sitting down Harry immediately asked, "What else do you want from me? And what did you mean Ancient and Noble? Are you related to the Queen? Or are you a Duke? Or Earl? Or Baron?"

"In reverse order, I am not any one of those titles and no I am not related to the Queen, yes, I am still noble, though not in the muggle world mind you, but in another world and lastly, it is this other world I want to talk to you about. You see Harry, this other world is run by magic or rather witches and wizards who have magic, and you are one of them. You're a wizard, Harry." explained Regulus bopping him on the nose.

Swatting his hand away Harry retorted, "You still didn't say what you wanted and how am I a wizard, magic isn't real."

"Oh, but it is haven't you ever felt a small sensation or done something that you couldn't explain, something wild and unbelievable?" asked Regulus, spreading his fingers and out of his palm a small white light emerged from it, then clenched it shut again.

'Oh, maybe I wasn't dreaming that time I thought I disappeared on to a roof when I ran away from Dudley', thought Harry to himself, still in awe of the small light. "There was one time where I disappeared onto a roof of my school when I was running away from some bullies"

Eyes widened for a moment, Regulus quickly schooled his features. 'Unbelievable accidental apparition even if uncontrolled at such a young age, a very, very young age, the boy definitely has the raw potential if nothing else. Though its only thought to be a theory, the age and level of accidental magic a child displays is said to predict whether or not that child will grow to become a powerful, not necessarily skilful, mage. I simply thought he floated a cushion or something but apparition especially at what eight? No, he was born in 1980, so five. FIVE. Harry could be the youngest mage ever display such powerful magic.'

Unknowing of the internal crisis Regulus was going through Harry continued. "But still you're a Noble man I'm Harry, just Harry, the bastard son of a prostitute and a pimp who died in a car accident." Harry continued looking down at the end.

Taking a deep breath, promising himself that he will not go down the path of his ancestors even if those miserable muggles deserved it, he spoke, "No you are not, you are the son of Lily and James Potter, two brilliant mages who had their lives cut tragically short. What I am about to tell you is a summary of events that happened years ago. When you were one years old, an evil but very powerful mage went after you and your family, your real family. He used dark magic to kill your parents and just as he was about to do so to you or when he did do so to you, you survived. You survived what no other witch or wizard has and rid the world of one of the most evil Dark Lords it had ever seen. That event made you 'The Boy-Who-Lived'."

"Kill?" asked Harry confused.

"Yes, it means that he made sure your family couldn't ever see you again" Regulus spoke softly.

Harry was shocked, 'A Dark Lord tried to…kill me? He killed my parents? Why?' upon asking himself this his shock turned into anger 'So, he's the reason I'm stuck with the Dursleys

"Why did he kill them? Why did he try and fail to kill me?" asked Harry barely retraining the anger in his voice.

"No one knows why he went after your family. And no one knows why he failed either. He had been the scourge of Britain at that point and everyone who was not Dumbledore was afraid, deathly afraid of him; no one felt safe, purebloods, half-bloods, muggles, everyone. Magical Britain was at its most chaotic and weakest, everyday people were disappearing and then all of a sudden on October 31st​ 1981…he was no more, gone just like that, never to be seen again, but his impact and presence still lingers. Even to this day people fear saying his name, only referring to him as You-Know-Who or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named." explained Regulus.

"What is his name" asked Harry almost immediately

Staring at the boy for a moment he responded, "Voldemort".

"Voldemort", Harry repeated committing the name to memory "And what are purebloods, half-bloods and muggles and who is Dumbledore"

"I'll explain those and wizarding culture as whole at a later point if you accept my offer. What I told you was a quick summary of the past which brings me here to the present. Though I am still alive, I am technically dead and thus unable to lead the House of Black, but you are not. Through ways I will explain later, you are a potential heir which means that when you are old enough you could lead the House, even if you are not named after a constellation." said Regulus.

"Why would I need to be named after a consto— costall— constilamination to lead the House?", questioned Harry confused.

"Constellation," he corrected absently "and because Harry it is Black tradition, our forefathers believed that every member of the House of Black should be named after a constellation to prove that its members are not only superior but also timeless. It is a mark of pride and honour to be named after such stellar deities and one should honour that pride by living one's life in accordance with that notion."

This he responded sounding as if he was reciting from memory.

Sighing he continued. "Though with how things turned out, I cannot help but wonder if my family should have gone for a humbler name like yours. Harry. Simple and clean with no baggage and allows for variations like Henry, Harold and Hadrian…Nope, strike the last one"

"How did things turn out, between you and your family?" Harry asked curiously.

Here Regulus scoffed, "Bellatrix whose name means female warrior turned out to be no more than a sadistic slave of a selfish tyrant. Sirius named after the brightest star, spent much of his life as a dim-witted fool, first an outcast now a prisoner. Narcissa despite being named after a vain man, lacks any self-esteem, backbone or confidence. And her son Draco meaning dragon, ha! I do not know what he will turn out like but if its anything like I suspect, then it is probably a spoilt little bitch. Andromeda unlike the princess of myth who failed to break herself free, did so herself but was ultimately cast out family and me…" Here he paused taking a moment to collect his thoughts. "And me Regulus, a 'little king' who ended up following a madman and lived the rest of his days as a coward."

Harry was confused. 'What does he mean he followed a madman?'

Sighing he said, "There is one more thing you should know, I used to follow Voldemort."

"You what! Why!?" exclaimed Harry feeling a mix of betrayal and anger.

"I was young and foolish. I thought that through Voldemort, I could live up to my name. Hell, even my family was proud of me—they had me lined up to be the next Lord Black and everything. But no one offers up a kingdom without crafting an empire for themselves, and the only thing Voldemort wanted was an empire of ashes and dust. That and more is why I left, and why I'm here: to right my wrongs and, hopefully, live up to my name in my own way." He paused for a moment, then continued, "While I cannot undo my past decisions, I can help make a better future—for you, for the wizarding world, and for the world at large. If you accept my offer, then I will, to the best of my abilities, help and support you in every conceivable way I can." He said reaching out his hand as he finished.

'Can I really trust him, would living with this man who I barely know, who said he used to follow this Voldemort, be better than living with the Dursleys. But then again, he's treated me better in these few minutes than the Dursleys ever have, and if he wanted to do something he already would have. And what is he offering? A chance to be more. A chance to be powerful. A chance to live without having to be beneath Dudley. A chance for a family.' With that final thought Harry had made his decision.

"Ok Mister Black, I'll join you." Harry said, clasping Regulus's outstretched hand.

"Please Harry for the time we're together call me Uncle Reg." responded Regulus with a warm smile.

---

5 years later ​

1990

Mykonos, Greece

Regulus safe house #4

After five years, Regulus was more than satisfied with Harry's progress. Much to his approval, the boy was a fast learner—eager, determined, and, most importantly, a good listener. Teaching someone who genuinely wanted to learn made all the difference, ensuring that both of them enjoyed their time together immensely.

Regulus had come to love teaching and taking care of Harry, as looking after him had done more for his mental health than all his adventures abroad combined.

During their time together, he had made sure to educate Harry on all the major factions, magical creatures, political dynamics and dangerous players of the British wizarding world; granted this was before he had even reached thirteen, so he did it in such a way that his young brain could understand.

The two would travel all around the world and see other magical communities and learn just how big the world was, muggle and magical.

Beneath the night sky, he taught Harry the importance of astrology, particularly in rituals and potions. He showed him the constellations—the true forms of Bellatrix, Sirius, and Regulus, blazing alongside other celestial wonders.

For physical training he had acquired a spare wand for the boy to train in combat, ensuring that he grasped the fundamentals of Hexes, Charms and Transfiguration. While he had considered introducing him to the Dark Arts and Curses, he ultimately decided to wait—Harry was still young, and there was plenty chance that, that type of magic could ruin his growth in some way shape or form.

What he did instead was introduce him to Runes, Potions, Arithmancy, a bit of Spell Crafting.

Regulus made sure that Harry learnt no bad habits or sloppiness, so his control and precision while inscribing and brewing were impeccable as he expected Harry to be precise, calm and most importantly focused.

Under many teachers all around the world and in different magical communities he learnt many different disciplines of magic; of mind and emotional control in the cold, frozen blizzards of Siberia, Russia; of wandless magic through pure will in Accra, Ghana; of runes and hieroglyphics in Bergen, Norway and Luxor, Egypt respectively; yet the most unexpected skill was one they discovered at while at one of Regulus's many safehouses.

After months of rigorous training, an anomaly in Harry's magic revealed itself—one that neither of them had anticipated.

It began as a fleeting sensation, a strange pull in the air whenever he cast spells, like the lingering embers of a fire. At first, Regulus dismissed it as a trick of the mind, an oddity of magical exertion. But then, during an intense lesson in controlled spellcasting, something unusual happened.

Regulus had fired off a slow but steady stream of stunners, instructing Harry to practice countering it with various spells and dynamic movements. As soon as it passed him, the spell flickered—not from Harry doing anything, but as if something had pulled at their essence towards him. Every time he dodged it; it would continue onwards with a little less power than it had when it came towards him.

Intrigued, he devised another test. He waved a floating Lumos charm, one meant to glow for at least an hour. Yet, as it came towards Harry the light dimmed, faltered, and vanished completely all within 30 seconds.

Regulus observed the phenomenon carefully. The boy was not consciously absorbing the magic, nor did he seem to know himself what was happening. It was passive, instinctual—something woven into him rather than learned.

With proper training, Regulus knew he could shape this ability into something formidable and truly unstoppable.

Now ten years old, Harry had cultivated his magic to the point where—even without his mana-draining ability—he could likely hold his own against a pureblood Hogwarts first-year for five to seven minutes. That might not sound impressive until one considered that those 'first-years' were seventeen, already trained by their families for years.

The two settled into a rhythm: train, read, and explore hidden magical communities, punctuated by storytime sessions about Regulus's post-Hogwarts travels.

But one evening, a particular storytime session would change everything going forward.

---

One evening, as they sat together in the study of one of Regulus's safehouses, Harry looked up from the book he'd been flipping through.

"Uncle Reg, can you tell me more about the Statute of Secrecy?"

Regulus set down his quill, studying Harry for a moment. The boy was only ten, but his questions often carried more weight than most adults realized. "You know the basics, don't you? That it is a law that keeps the magical world hidden from muggles, right?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah, but…why? Is it because the I.C.W. is afraid?"

Regulus chuckled. "Not exactly. The Statute was created in 1689 because muggles were hunting sorcerers, yes—but it wasn't just fear. Before then, there were dark wizards who ruled openly, like Morgana or Herpo the Foul, who used magic to enslave muggles. And muggles, in turn, burned anyone they suspected of witchcraft, magical or not, more often women. The Statute was meant to protect both sides."

Harry frowned. "But if there was no Statute, the world would be better, wouldn't it? People wouldn't have to hide what they are." His voice dropped slightly, and Regulus caught the unspoken reference to the Dursleys.

Regulus hesitated. "It's not that simple. Even without the Statute, there would still be fear, power struggles—wars. And now, it's even more dangerous. Muggles have weapons now that could wipe out entire cities in an instant. They call them, nukes, short for nuclear bombs and it is terrifying. Magic is powerful, but I don't know if it can stop something like that."

Harry's eyes widened. "They have weapons that strong?"

Regulus nodded grimly. "And worse. A single muggle with a gun can kill a mage or two before they even draw their wand, never mind utter the spell. The world isn't like it was in Morgana's time. If the Statute fell now, it wouldn't just be about hiding—it would be a fight for survival, and no one would win."

Harry chewed his lip. "But people shouldn't have to hide what they are. Or be hurt for it."

Regulus sighed and pulled Harry into a gentle hug. "Harry, every day, in every moment, something terrible is happening to someone. The world isn't fair, and it never has been. The only thing we can do is give the best of ourselves to people—when and where we can."

Harry leaned into the embrace before pulling back, thoughtful. "So… I should give the best of myself to people…to everyone?"

Regulus gave a small, tired smile. "Sure."

---

This would be the first seed planted in Harry's mind for the things to come—quiet, unnoticed, but already taking root.

---

After a quiet moment, Harry shifted, his curiosity turning elsewhere. "Uncle Reg, tell me about your days at Hogwarts. I want to know what classes you took, if you played Quidditch, and—why is the Shrieking Shack called that?"

Regulus smirked at the barrage of questions, "My days at Hogwarts, eh? Alright so I had a passion for duelling and I really liked flashy things so I dropped History and Muggle Studies after the first year, then after the second I dropped Care of Magical Creatures and Divination, continued all the way till fifth, then I left when I got my OWLs as I wanted to be an international dueller and finally be free of my parents. Though before that I took DADA, Charms and Transfiguration very seriously. I added in my own self study of the Dark Arts, but I also needed to socialise as was required of a Slytherin. For that, I could've stuck to just duelling alone but I honestly liked flying so I played Quidditch, it also helped for popularity and attention from the fairer, and in my opinion, better gender, hehe. When I was not on the pitch, or studying— I was practising spells and perfecting my duelling techniques and form for my own personal goals and just for the love of it."

Harry gave him a knowing look. "You practised your form alone? Was there no one who helped you."

"There was. Bellatrix." And here he gave a particularly heavy sigh. "She was the only one who could keep up with me and seemed to enjoy it as much as I did. Though with me I loved the rush, the adrenaline and the thrill of a fight. With her it seemed like she just loved to inflict pain and make her opponent suffer. By my fourth year I had stopped practising with her and went out of my way to avoid her."

It was silent for a bit before Harry circled back to his last question. "And the Shrieking Shack?"

Regulus leaned back in his chair. "Now that is an interesting one. The villagers of Hogsmeade started calling it that because on a full moon they would hear agonised screams coming from inside, followed by deep howls of pain."

Harry frowned, intrigued. "That sounds awful."

Regulus merely hummed in agreement before Harry's curiosity took him down another path.

"Bellatrix aside, what were the others like before Hogwarts? Before everything changed?"

Regulus exhaled, considering his words, "Exactly as I described them—just tamer versions of their current selves. Narcissa was timid and withdrawn, only spoke up when things got too bad; Andromeda still listened to our parents, though she always asked too many questions and that got her lots of spankings; and Sirius… well, he was always the same. I think he purposely made his life harder in that house just so he could further distance himself from the family."

Sirius was a topic that Uncle Reg avoided a lot. The only thing Harry knew about him was that he was his brother and somehow responsible for Harry becoming a possible heir to the House of Black but beyond that nothing, but today would find out more about him.

He had to.

"Were you close to him?" asked Harry.

"No," Regulus admitted, shaking his head, "He fashioned himself a new brother in the form of James Potter."

Harry's eyes lit up. "My dad? Really? Were they that close?"

Regulus nodded crossing his index underneath his middle finger. "Like two thestrals pulling a carriage. Best of mates really and as thick as thieves. That is why it was so surprising when it came out that he was a Death Eater. But, given that he's a Black, of course, no one questioned his sentencing."

Harry frowned in confusion. "Why would people think he was a Death Eater?"

"Because the trial revealed Sirius as Voldemort's chief lieutenant—the one who betrayed your parents to him. Of course, it's all lies," Regulus answered dismissively.

Harry tilted his head. "How do you know?"

"Because I would've been with him during missions," Regulus said simply. "We all had codenames to hide each other's identities when out in the field and such, but as a general rule, family members were always paired together during outings for better chemistry—though, in our case, there would have been none. Also, I had requested to be alone, but the offer would still have been made."

Harry processed that information before asking, "Where is Sirius now and is he still alive?"

"Azkaban. And I am not too sure, I would say yes, as Azkaban is meant to prolong the final days of its criminals as a form of torture."

There was a pause before Harry responded. "Can't we help him? If we can get him out, maybe we can talk to him. Maybe he'll tell us the truth of what really happened that night and how and why he got framed."

Regulus sighed, rubbing his temple. "No. Azkaban is one of the most heavily guarded places in the wizarding world. The despair and depression alone would be a nightmare to deal with, and then there's the wards and guard patrol. But…" His voice trailed off as he tapped his fingers against his knee, "I cannot help but wonder if there's a way it can be done successfully."

Harry hesitated before asking, "Do you miss him?"

Regulus let out a breath, "I really wish I could say yes to that. We were not close at Hogwarts, but we were never outright cruel to each other, either. Even before Hogwarts, when we were made to fight each other in that house there was never any malice, nor was there comradery; also when he would get shouted at or disciplined by mother of father, I never spoke up or defended him. It was always just…apathy."

Harry didn't respond immediately, but his expression was thoughtful. After a moment, he asked, "Was there ever a time when things weren't like that? When it wasn't just apathetic distance between you?"

Regulus leaned back in his chair, staring at the dim light flickering from a nearby candle, "There was this one time," he began, his voice laced with an odd mix of nostalgia and happiness "where I was on prefect duty, making my rounds through the castle. It was well past curfew, and I was patrolling near the Great Hall when I spotted movement out of the corner of my eye. At first, I thought it was a house elf, but when I looked closer, it was him—Sirius, sneaking toward the kitchens."

Harry leaned forward, intrigued, "What was he doing?"

Regulus chuckled lightly, shaking his head, "Stealing food, of course. Typical Sirius. He always had midnight hunger, even before Hogwarts though I suspect this was likely the result of staying up late and preparing pranks. I caught him just as he was slipping inside."

"What did you do?" asked Harry even more interested.

"For a moment, I considered turning him in," Regulus admitted, "Not because I wanted to get him into trouble, but because I thought… I don't know, maybe if he got in trouble enough times, he'd stop making everything so damn difficult for himself. But instead of reporting him, I followed him inside."

Harry raised an eyebrow, "You went in with him?"

Regulus nodded, "The house-elves were already fussing over him, placing on his tray mini pies and roasted chicken legs. They absolutely adored him or rather adored making food for him. I stood there, watching, until one of them noticed me. I thought they'd be horrified—a prefect had caught a student in the act. But they just blinked up at me and asked if I wanted something to eat too."

Harry grinned, "And?"

Regulus sighed, a small smile tugging at his lips, "And I sat down. Sirius looked at me like I'd grown a second head, but he didn't say anything. He asked a plate of cottage pie for me, its…it's my favourite dish and the elves had it made for me. We didn't talk about our family, we didn't argue…we just ate. He told me about a prank he and the other Marauders were planning, something about charming Slughorn's moustache to be rainbow-coloured and flap like wings, during his next class. I listened, I laughed—really laughed—and for the first time in a long time, we weren't pretending the other didn't exist, we just enjoyed each other's company. It is one of the only good memories I have with him, in fact of the very few good memories I have of the family most of them are with him or Andromeda."

Silence settled between them for a moment before Harry spoke.

"If we broke him out," he asked carefully, "do you think you could create more good memories, with him I mean?"

Regulus stared at Harry; his expression unreadable. The thought had never crossed his mind—breaking Sirius out of Azkaban. It was impossible. Insane even. But then again… so was a lot of things that couldn't be done until they were. Like the boy in front of him and the things he could do and what he had survived.

Harry continued, inhaled deeply, "Also, Sirius knows things about my parents, and about that night—the night my parents died," Harry continued, "as well as things that I can only confirm with him."

For the first time ever, Regulus allowed himself to imagine a future where Sirius was free. Where maybe—just maybe—they could sit at a table again, not as enemies, not as strangers, but as brothers, while also giving Harry the closure and information he needed.

He inhaled sharply and gave Harry a small smirk.

"Then let's break him out."

---

2 years later​

1992

Azkaban, North Sea

Azkaban loomed before them, a grim imposing triangular fortress of stone and despair, rising from the crashing waves of the North Sea. The air was heavy with dark and oppressive magic, thick with the unnatural cold that stabbed into bones. Thousands of Dementors circled the prison in slow, ominous patterns, their presence intending to suffocate any hope to those that came in, guard or prisoner.

Over the past two years Regulus and Harry had stocked up and made items that they would need, items like potions and rune seals, while also refining any magic needed for combat.

They had come here via boats by timing exactly when the change in guard would happen, they successfully replaced the ones who were supposed to be taking the shift with Polyjuice potions.

Regulus having legitimised and perused the minds of would-be guards, now had intricate knowledge of Azkaban's layout so he knew where Sirius was and the best and most efficient means to get there.

Leaving the boat Regulus inhaled deeply, gripping his wand tightly. "This is it," he murmured to his partner next to him. "Everything we've prepared for, for the last two years, you ready my boy there's no room for error here one step one mistake and it's not death were talking here but life as a permanent husk."

Harry, despite the sheer magnitude of what they were about to do, nodded without hesitation. "I'm ready, it'll be fine I remember my part in the plan and so long as we get the timing right, nothing should go wrong."

Regulus glanced at the boy, pride shining in his eyes. Harry had helped with suggestions to fine-tune their rune seals, potions for Sirius to temporarily counteract the soul-draining effects of the Dementors, and even modified some of the explosive seals they would need.

Regulus was quite sure that a twelve-year-old child should definitely not be on the most dangerous and depressing island in the world and had demanded that Harry stay at the safe house till he got back.

Objecting vehemently, Harry said that if the problem was that he was too young then they should change that and after a few moments of back and forth they found a solution.

Over the past two years during the waxing moon stage of the moons cycle; they had tested and perfected performing a ritual where Harry's mental and physical age would be increased by ten years for a temporary twelve hours.

Usually something like this required personal or magical sacrifices but Regulus knew that doing so when the waxing moon was at its peak while also doing it on a magical ley line would be good enough. Those two energies would combine and be sufficient enough to power the ritual to make the change.

While it didn't magically give him experience that he didn't have, it fortified the existing memories (mental and muscle) he had so that he felt as if he had his existing experience for far longer that he should have. Those memories of course being the preparation of the breakout.

Having found out a date when the waxing moon and guard shift would happen simultaneously, they completed the ritual during yesterday's waxing moon at midnight a few hours later they then went to the guards house replaced them, then went on the boat, they had approximately three hours before the effects were going to diminish.

They had planned and prepared thoroughly, so that the mission would only take fifteen minutes at most.

The key to this mission succeeding would be Harry's mana draining powers. Over the last two years Regulus and Harry had experimented relentlessly on the latter's mana draining ability. It had become far more controlled and precise, where once had been an unconscious pull it was now something he could activate at will. He could absorb magic (whether wholly or partially) from wards, enchantments, and even spells so long as they were not too dense in magic.

However, the most unexpected breakthrough had come when he realized he could temporarily store the drained magic, holding it within himself for a short period before either dispersing it or channelling it into his own spells. It wasn't an infinite well of power, nor could he directly drain magic from living beings, but it was enough for what they intended to do.

After enduring a cold plunge of Thieves Downfall, their modified Polyjuice was still working, the disguised duo continued onwards.

Walking to the entrance they would normally they would be swarmed with dementors but thanks to the patronus powered amulets that they got from the security checkpoint after surviving the Thieves Downfall they could now traverse unhindered, though it wasn't as full proof as having a fully corporal patronus charm. Oddly enough Harry thought he kept hearing a woman saying in a very far-off voice, "No, not him, please anyone but him." And an even stranger softer one saying "Yes, he's the one, the one who will...".

They had four types of rune seals with them; the first seal was an alarm, that would alert them if over three guards rapidly stepped on or over were the rune was planted; the second were fake explosives where a bright flash would occur, loud sounds would go off and smoke would appear but ultimately no real explosion as they didn't want to kill the guards who were just doing their jobs; third was an isolator that spanned in a five metre radius, once placed on the floor Harry could then drain the power of the wards in that five meter radius essentially carving out a gap for them to portkey out. Though once drained an alarm would sound and the DMLE would be notified that their ward had been broken. The last one was a real explosive meant to destroy all evidence; one they would plant by the cell Sirius was set to go off in 0.5 seconds after a portkey was used.

Phase one, the infiltration was complete and so, it was a (temporarily) twenty-two-year-old Harry and a thirty-three-year-old Regulus, who were polyjuiced as guards, that went inside the prison to commence the rest of their plan.

---

Phase two of the plan was the distraction set-up and Regulus wasted no time, flicking his wand in various locations and releasing the alarm seals in walking paths and fake bombs in the corners of every room and cell block, while making their way to where they would have to check in.

They moved quickly through the corridors keeping their steps long and quiet. Harry followed closely behind.

Somewhere in the distance, a prisoner screamed, another moaned.

Shivering they picked up the pace they headed to where they knew Sirius to be.

But before they could commit to phase three.

"Oi! You two! Roberts! Baxter! Get your asses over here—the Minister's come for a visit!" barked Harold Newman, his voice like gravel dragged over stone.

The head of Azkaban's security was a pale, wiry man with a permanent scowl, his fingers drumming impatiently against his thigh as he glared at the two guards who had been walking towards the left wing.

Regulus—currently disguised as Roberts—exchanged a tense glance with Harry, who was doing his best impression of Baxter's usual dull-eyed compliance. 'Of all the damned days for Fudge to show up.' He cursed internally.

They had planned this meticulously, waiting for the shift change when it perfectly lined up with the waxing moon cycle. Now, here was the Minister, waddling in with his usual oblivious cheer, flanked by his entourage like a parade of peacocks in a graveyard.

"'Ah, hello! All in order, I presume? Splendid—on with the inspection!" Fudge declared, beaming as if he were strolling through a garden party rather than the foul, dripping corridors of the most feared prison in wizarding Britain. His bowler hat sat comically askew atop his head, and his garish plum-colored robes clashed violently with the dour stone walls.

Newman's jaw twitched. "Yes, yes, Minister. On we go." His tone suggested he'd rather be anywhere else, preferably with a stiff drink in hand.

Before they could move, a shrill voice cut through the dank air. "Hem hem." Dolores Umbridge, clad in her usual sickening pink, clutched a clipboard to her chest like a shield. "Do you mind if we—"

"Yes, I do, actually," Newman snapped, already striding forward without waiting for her to finish. "Bit of a tight schedule we have here."

Umbridge's smile tightened further, her toad-like eyes glinting with barely concealed irritation. "I was merely going to suggest we review the prisoner logs first. Protocol, you understand."

Fudge waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, I'm sure everything's in order, Dolores! Harold here runs a tight ship, don't you, Harold?"

Newman grunted something noncommittal, already leading the way down the hall. The entourage followed—Fudge with his pompous stride, Umbridge scribbling furiously on her clipboard, and a pair of junior Ministry officials trailing behind, looking as though they'd rather be swallowed by the Dementors than endure another second of this farce; though Regulus knew it would only be a few years before they actively contributed to said farce, they all start innocent.

Regulus forced himself to keep pace, his mind racing. Every second wasted on this ridiculous inspection was another second closer to the Polyjuice wearing off. He could feel Harry's tension beside him, Baxter's usually slack face now tight with barely concealed impatience.

As they passed the high-security wing, Fudge paused dramatically in front of a particularly grim cell. "Ah! And this must be where you keep the real troublemakers, eh?"

Newman barely glanced at it. "Mostly, as you know, Death Eaters and the like. Not much to see, Minister."

Umbridge, however, peered inside with unsettling interest. "I do hope proper disciplinary measures are being enforced. Rehabilitation is all well and good, but some prisoners require a firmer hand."

Regulus' fingers twitched toward his wand. He could practically feel Harry bristling beside him.

"They get what they deserve," Newman said flatly. "Now, unless you lot want to stand around all day, we've got three more sections to cover, especially sections where dementors presence starts to really pick up."

Fudge blanched. "No, no! That won't be necessary! We've seen enough!" He turned on his heel, already retreating toward the exit. "Jolly good show, Newman. Carry on!"

Umbridge lingered, her smile saccharine. "We'll be back," she trilled, as if it were a threat.

Newman watched them go, exhaling through his nose. "Like hell you will."

Roberts snorted. "Ten Galleons says Fudge doesn't set foot here again 'til next election."

Unfortunately, even leaving tended to take quite some time as all the pomp & circumstance delayed any chance of them leaving discreetly. So even though they were done with the inspection, it was still after a while that Fudge and his cronies left the prison.

Luckily, the Polyjuice they made would last for 4 hours ending at roundabout the same time as Harry's ritual.

Unluckily, having been delayed by the Minister they only had ten minutes left to make their way to and break Sirius out of his cell.

---

Phase three of the plan, was the extraction phase, collecting Sirius from his cell.

Regulus had memorized the layout he saw in the Robert's mind and knew that the most dangerous prisoners were kept far away from each other, he had hoped that if he could get to Sirius fast enough maybe he could thin out the remainer of Voldemort's forces but with the time they had left, the Polyjuice soon to expire and Harry's ritual boost ending soon, it was not meant to be.

Approaching the high security left wing where Sirius was there were two guards patrolling the corridors, shivering slightly even in their heavy cloaks. One muttered something about what is taking so long for the change of guard to happen. The other grumbled about how he wanted to get back home to his wife, who was likely cheating on him with the guard that was supposed to take his shift. That got a dry chuckle out the other.

Regulus tapped his wand to one of the potions he had bought, Somnumbruma. A thin, nearly invisible mist spread from it, curling toward the guards. Within seconds, their eyes shut, and they collapsed, unconscious.

Beside him.

Regulus stepped over them, levitating them out the way and opening another potion this one called: Mordantus Miasma, a thick, miasmic green and foul-smelling (banned in 15 countries for good reason) and levitated it against the enchanted lock on Sirius's cell. The metal hissed and bubbled before dissolving like ice.

Inside, Sirius Orion Black sat slumped against the damp stone wall. A once healthy young man now skin and bone, handsome features now gaunt, his hair long and matted and stench unpalpable. He didn't even react to their presence at first, thinking this to be one of his hallucinations.

Regulus stepped forward. "Sirius."

Sirius's head jerked up at the sound of his name, his hollow eyes widening in disbelief. "You lot here to torment me again…" His voice was hoarse, barely a whisper.

Regulus smirked. "No, I'm not, I'm getting you out. I can't give you my name but all I can say is the Wailing Bitchy Hag is dead" Sirius's eyes lit up at the phrase and Regulus not waiting for a response. He reached into his cloak and pulled out a vial. "Drink this, we only have a few minutes left. It'll counteract the Dementors' effects for a little bit."

Sirius hesitated before figuring that if this was truly a trap, they the guard could've knocked him out and forced it in his mouth. Downing it in one gulp, coughing at the bitter taste. Almost immediately, some color returned to his face. His eyes, once dull and unfocused, sharpened.

Sirius's gaze flickered to the other figure behind Regulus, "Who is he?"

"My partner in crime" he said with a smile.

The runic alarms had been silent up until now, only having the occasional guard walk over it, so that was good.

Regulus holding a tie made Sirius grab onto it, "It's the final phase Baxter, activate it. Hold on Sirius."

Harry nodded, grabbed the isolator and placed it on the floor where is spread in a geometrical pattern in a five-metre square radius, then grabbed the explosive and pressed it to the floor above it, then pressed his palm on the isolator his hand glowing in a yellowish red before stopping. The moment he finished, they knew they it was active for only three seconds, but it was all they needed.

After Harry quickly grabbed onto the tie Regulus intoned "Portus".

But a guard had rounded the corner and saw the trio, shock registered on his, a red spell came their way-

PLOP

Regulus, Sirius and Harry with him disappeared on the spot leaving displaced air.

A large explosion where Sirius's cell had been gone off.

Prisoners screamed as the other sudden mini fake explosions went off.

Guards were moving about in a hurry. Dementors were shifting about startled. But the trio were out.

Somewhere else in the DMLE the alarms went of signifying that the anti-portkey wards had been taken down even if only briefly.

---

Copenhagen, Denmark

Regulus's Safe House #8

They landed in one of Regulus's safe houses, far from Azkaban's reach.

Sirius collapsed to his knees, panting and shaking, the strengthening potion already starting to wear off. He looked up at Regulus, then at the other figure whose Polyjuice Potion had begun to wear off—something unreadable in his eyes. "You nutters actually did it…"

Regulus exhaled sharply. He was exhausted, but it was done. "Yeah," he muttered. "We did."

Sirius stared at the figure before him, his expression twisting in disbelief. "James? Is that you? But—you're supposed to be dead, and you look like you haven't aged since Harry was born, but your eyes they're like Lil—"

"I'm Harry," interrupted Harry, smiling mischievously.

Sirius paled. "No…how?" He ran a shaky hand through his matted hair. "Circe, how long have I been in there?"

Harry chuckled. "Long but not as long as you're thinking. I'm under the effects of a temporary aging ritual—it'll wear off in a few moments. I'm actually twelve." He walked to the couch, collapsing onto it as the ritual faded, taking the last of his strength with it.

"You're twelve, and you went to Azkaban?!" Sirius's voice rose to a furious pitch. He turned to Regulus, his face contorted with anger. "Reg, how could you allow this? What if something had gone wrong?"

"Initially, I objected—heavily," Regulus admitted. "I thought once he saw himself all that I was doing and needed to be done, he'd realise how truly underprepared he was. But to my immense surprise, he adapted far better than expected. In the end, he was more essential to the mission than I anticipated." He shrugged before his tone turned serious. "But the second, more important reason—I felt something during our preperation. A tingling—very faint, almost unnoticeable—sensation on my arm, where my mark used to be." His voice dropped slightly. "And that could only mean one thing."

Sirius stiffened. "Voldemort," he breathed.

Regulus nodded.

"But still! What does that have to do with endangering my godson?" Sirius snapped.

Regulus's expression hardened. "My," he said, putting extra emphasis on the word, "son needs to be prepared. He needs to be pushed into situations he's not fully grown for—because when Voldemort returns, and make no mistake, he will. There won't be any time left for gathering experience or preparation or training…only execution."

Sirius fell silent, still reeling from the shock of what Regulus had called Harry.

Regulus scoffed. "There were Death Eaters in there," he murmured, almost to himself. "High ranking, very dangerous Death Eaters. If I'd had just enough time, I could've taken out some of the more dangerous ones out, at least four of the top six; Lucian, Theron, Augustus, Sebastian but especially Lucian; and better our chances when Voldemort comes back."

Sirius let out a rough, unpractised laugh. "Since when do you care about killing Death Eaters? Weren't you one of them?"

Regulus smirked but didn't answer. Instead, he turned back to Sirius. "Since I took this little tiger in." He nodded toward Harry, who was resting on the couch. "We're not done yet. We still need to clear your name."

Sirius blinked, then slowly grinned. "There's still more. Circe's tits, Reggie. What the hell have you been up to?"

Regulus just glanced at Harry. "Writing my wrongs and raising my legacy."

---

Taking a few days off to recuperate and get their strength back up, the two and a half men got back to business.

"So, we were talking about how we're going to clear my name, eh?", said Sirius, lounging on the lazy boy. He was most definitely still reeling from the eleven years he'd spent in Azkaban.

"Before that, what happened that night? How did you get falsely arrested?" asked Harry, who was sitting on the couch.

Sirius gathered his thoughts for a moment before beginning. "Your father and I had concocted a plan—one that was foolproof and sure to work, or so we thought. Lily used a spell called the Fidelius Charm, which hides a location so that only one person, the Secret Keeper can reveal it. Since I was his best friend, anyone with a right mind would've assumed I was the Secret Keeper. But I wasn't. It was Peter." He gave a heavy sigh. "It was always Peter."

Harry scrunched his eyebrows in concentration then his face light up in recognition of the name. "Peter…Pettigrew, right? Uncle Reg told me about you guys and how you would cause mayhem and trouble. Yeah, I think I remember there was another named Remus, right?"

Sirius's nod carried the weight of old memories. "You're right—there was." His voice dropped, roughened by time and regret. "Remus... well, he had his own battles to fight. By fourth year, he'd stopped running with us completely—terrified Greyback's pack would come after us when he refused to join them."

A mirthless chuckle escaped him as he leaned forward, elbows on knees. "But the real turning point? Fifth year. That's when the war went from whispers to wildfire. from being rumours in the Prophet and started spilling into the corridors. However much they wanted those N.E.W.T.s, they weren't about to risk it while a quarter of the school was evil."

Sneering at that Regulus angrily said, "Oi, I resent that, Peter was in Gryffindor, wasn't he?"

"Yeah, but an outlier doesn't account for the rest of the ninety-nine percent." Sirius said waving his hand.

"Pfft, it's probably that line of thinking that got you locked you up"

"Yeah, well–"

"Hold on," Regulus interrupted trying to get the conversation back on track. "I thought the Fidelius Charm could also be used by those inside, so why didn't you? Lots of people who knew the spell did."

Now sitting up somewhat straighter, Sirius leaned forward and used his fingers to emphasize his points on the table. "Well, yes, but there's a caveat. Let's take 12 Grimmauld Place, for example. It's situated between 11 and 13 Grimmauld Place. If it was under the Fidelius Charm and you were actively looking for it, you wouldn't even think to question that it's between 11 and 13 Grimmauld Place—even if you logically know that twelve follows eleven and precedes thirteen."

"You still haven't answered my question," said Regulus impatiently.

"Hang on, I'm getting to that. Be patient—I'm explaining this to Harry too. Now, where was I? Ah, yes. You want to find 12 Grimmauld Place, but if you had a general sense that it was like in Islington—where it actually is—or narrowed it down even further to 11 or 13 Grimmauld Place, you could cast a wide range of heavy destructive blanket magic over the area. The hidden place would flicker and glimmer for a split second, and at that precise moment, the location would be revealed, leaving it open to penetration. Bear in mind that Voldemort had a lot of power. While he could've blanketed the area, one of his many nasty Death Eaters could've penetrated the house and broken inside, permanently revealing the location," Sirius finished.

"So, if the spell is that weak to brute force, why use it?", questioned Regulus incredulously.

"The strength of the Fidelius Charm depends on the Secret Keeper's constant proximity to the location," Sirius explained. "If the Secret Keeper is someone who stays in the location every single minute of every single day, the charm wouldn't be working at its greatest potential and would become weaker over time—and be suspectable to, as I just said destructive blanket magic. It was a risk we weren't willing to take, especially with Voldemort actively targeting them. But here's the thing: if the Secret Keeper is far away, the charm becomes virtually unbreakable. Not even the combined destructive might of Grindelwald, Dumbledore, and Voldemort could penetrate it at its peak. That's why we chose Peter—he was the furthest from us, and we thought he'd be the safest option."

"Ahh," concluded Regulus. "So, Peter, who had the most distance from you guys, would've made for the best choice—seeing as he was, as you thought, trustworthy and, I'm assuming, hadn't been in close proximity to where the Potters stayed."

"Yes, exactly," said Sirius sadly. "Though it was that lack of proximity that bit us in the end. And before you ask, no, this isn't always an issue. If the area where the Fidelius Charm has been used isn't under constant threat, it can hold just fine. But with Voldemort hounding your parents, we couldn't take any chances."

"So, everyone thought it was you when it was really Peter. Why didn't you say anything?" asked Harry.

"Because I killed him, or so the world believes." Sirus replied bitterly.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, confused.

"After the attack, I chased him down, and that was the worst decision of my life I had ever made and I have made many, but none come close to that. I should've just taken you and left but consumed with anger and grief as I was and seeing James and Lilys's corpse just pushed me over the edge. I'm truly sorry for not being there for you like I should have Harry, there wasn't a day in Azkaban where I didn't regret not taking you and leaving."

Silent for a moment he took a deep breath and continued, "as I was chasing Peter, I cornered him in a muggle passageway confronting him about his betrayal and as I was duelling him, he blew himself up along with the other muggles in the vicinity. Or at least, that's what it looked like. It was an illusion, his death I mean, not the killing of muggles. He did that to disorient me and that, executed with him synchronously changing into his Animagus form. That's how he framed me."

"Still, surely as a member of the Noble House of Black, your testimony at the trial would have held weight in court?" Regulus asked in disbelief.

"Court? Trial?" Sirius scoffed. "What trial? Crouch threw me straight into Azkaban. He used his authority to bypass any hearing, and since everyone with a right mind thought I was the Secret Keeper, no one questioned it."

"What! You didn't receive a trial? How was this not contested or noticed by Dumbledore? Or by Bagnold?" asked Regulus, outraged.

"Who's Bagnold again? I remember you speaking a little of her." Harry asked, frowning.

Regulus explained quickly. "Millicent Bagnold, the former Minister. She kept Britain together during and after Voldemort's war,"

"Dumbledore? No clue. But Bagnold though, the reason she didn't was most definitely because she had an unmatched and unfettered hatred of all things Black." replied Sirius bitterly.

"Oh, is it?" replied a now curious Regulus

"Yeah. Her son Randolf—an Auror fresh out of training—was killed in public by Bellatrix using Fulminara." sighed Sirius.

"Oof, yeah and I suppose Peter…" trailed off Regulus.

"Yep, that's right used a veeery similar looking spell when he "died". I suppose that more than anything sealed my fate with her." finished Sirius sighing defeatedly at the end.

"What's Fulminara?" asked Harry.

"One of the most destructive spells associated with the Black family," Regulus said before Sirius could answer. "It refines raw magic into purple lightning. The victim is superheated from within and explodes—leaving nothing but ashes left. All things considered a quick way to go out"

"Whoa" replied Harry more so with curiosity than horror. Something that did not go unnoticed by either men.

"Yes, very dangerous yet, very effective." said Regulus slowly.

Bringing the conversation back on track Harry asked, "Do you think Peter could be alive? That way, maybe we could bring him to justice."

Scratching his head Sirius replied, "Perhaps, but I don't see the point. Knowing him like I do know, with the fall of his master he probably fled the continent entirely, holed himself up in some forest in South America under the Fidelius Charm himself."

"Isn't there…I don't know something like a magical energy locator tool that you could use." asked Harry gesturing vaguely.

"Heh, it's not that easy," Sirius chuckled. "Besides, if something like that existed, Voldemort would've used it."

"But probably didn't because he found Peter soon enough," Regulus countered. "And actually, one does exist—The Mage Magnet."

"Never heard of it." said Sirius looking at his brother weirdly.

"You wouldn't have," Regulus replied smoothly. "It was never in Britain. The last known person to have it and use it successfully use it was…Grindelwald."

Silence stretched between them.

Sirius's face darkened instantly. "Oh, brilliant. And what, you're suggesting we ask him nicely for it? Just send an owl to Nuremgard saying, 'Hello, Dumbledore sends his deepest regards you know about the whole defeating you thing and locking you up, but could we borrow The Mage Magnet, you know the one that allows you to find anyone?'"

Regulus smirked. "Something like that."

Harry tilted his head. "What exactly does it do?"

Regulus leaned forward, voice dropping to a hush. "It's not just any old tool—it's one of the only artifacts as shrouded in legend as the Deathly Hallows, and twice as infamous. Most of the wizarding world has no idea it even exists, and that's exactly how the I.C.W. wants it."

He tapped the table with one finger. "No one knows how it was made. No one can recreate it. And unlike normal tracking spells—which rely on recent magical traces—this thing latches onto the raw core of a person's magic. Polyjuice? Useless. Fidelius? It'll still point you to the general area. There's no hiding from it."

Sirius let out a low whistle. "That's...bloody terrifying."

Regulus gave a grim nod. "Which is why the ICW obliterated any record of it. Find it in a book? Burned. Mention it in a school essay? Obliviated. The Ministry doesn't have it. The ICW won't touch it—too dangerous to even acknowledge. As for Grindelwald..." His mouth twisted. "He probably doesn't possess it. But he likely could've kept it in a secret location."

"But how do you know about it?" asked Sirius.

"Something I picked up during my travels." replied Regulus rather vaguely.

Harry's expression was thoughtful. "Then we need to find and talk to Grindelwald."

Eyes wide Sirius barked a laugh, though there was no humour in it. "Harry, this is not like breaking me out this is a whole new level of dangerous we're talking about, who's to say that Grindelwald will even entertain the idea of giving us information."

Regulus's smirk widened slightly. "It's not impossible. Grindelwald has always played by his own rules. He might be willing to help…for a price."

Sirius narrowed his eyes. "And what price would that be?"

Regulus met his gaze, unfazed. "That's what we're going to find out."

---

End Notes

Hello hoped you liked it, please excuse any spelling, grammar or punctuation errors.

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