Even after the Daily Prophet's wild articles, some of the wizarding world had dismissed them as gossip. But now, in the heart of Diagon Alley, there was no denying what they saw with their own eyes.
Sirius Black—once condemned as a murderer, now standing tall and smirking in broad daylight.
Lily Potter—believed to be long dead, alive and radiant.
And Harry Potter—the boy who lived, casting wandless magic with more control than most Aurors.
The crowd surged forward instinctively, cries echoing from every corner.
"It's her—Merlin's beard, it's Lily Potter!"
"And Black—Sirius Black—he's alive!"
"Harry! Harry Potter!"
A rush of bodies pressed closer, but before anyone could touch them, a shimmering dome of crackling energy flared into existence. The crowd gasped in awe as translucent blue sparks rippled across its surface. Harry stood at the center, hand outstretched, face calm. He hadn't even raised a wand.
"He—he cast that without a wand," muttered a witch in disbelief.
"Not even a Hogwarts student yet…" another wizard whispered.
The protective barrier held firm, and when Harry lowered his hand, the dome gently shimmered away. Sirius grinned proudly. "Show-off," he muttered, clapping Harry on the back.
"Old habits," Harry replied, smirking.
The family walked through the parted crowd into Gringotts, where even the goblins paused their counting to stare. Sirius strode confidently to the Black Family account manager, his voice steady.
"I want to register my wife," Sirius said firmly, gesturing to Lily. "Lady Black."
The goblin eyed Wanda—Lily—closely, lips twitching. "You understand, Lord Black, that this grants her access to the Black family vaults, assets, and holdings?"
"I do," Sirius answered without hesitation.
Wanda's lips quirked. "I don't need his vaults. I've seen treasures greater than gold in my curse-breaking days. But I'll do this, for formality's sake."
The goblin's sharp teeth glimmered in a smile. "Then so be it."
Moments later, with goblin magic binding the pact, Sirius and Lily emerged from Gringotts wearing the Black family rings. To the astonishment of the Alley, Harry too received a smaller, yet gleaming heir's ring, heavy with enchantments.
They wandered into Florean Fortescue's ice cream parlor, where the shopkeeper himself nearly fainted. "I never thought I'd live to see the day—Harry Potter himself!" he exclaimed, rushing to serve them enormous sundaes on the house.
The family sat together, greeting old acquaintances and speaking warmly with anyone brave enough to approach. For once, the world saw Sirius not as a fugitive, but as a man free and smiling.
It didn't last long.
Aurors swept into the Alley, their badges glinting, led by a stern-faced Ministry official. The crowd parted nervously, whispers filling the air.
"Lord Black. Lady Potter," the official began, voice clipped. "The Ministry requests that you accompany us for questioning. To clear matters formally."
Sirius leaned back in his chair, spoon in hand, smirk plastered across his face. "Questioning? Is that what we're calling Azkaban now?"
The official stiffened. "We only mean—"
"No," Sirius interrupted flatly, his eyes gleaming with danger. "I went once with aurors before. Never walked out. No trial. You want me back? Bring a warrant signed by the Wizengamot."
Harry's hand twitched, sparks of blue lightning dancing briefly at his fingertips. The official swallowed hard and gave a short nod.
"Very well," he said quietly. "But this isn't over."
"Was it ever?" Sirius muttered as the Aurors left.
The crowd erupted again, cheers echoing through the Alley. For the first time in years, Sirius Black laughed openly, clinking his spoon against Harry's.
"Welcome back to the world, pup. Welcome back to the madness."
The next morning, the Daily Prophet hit the breakfast tables of every wizarding household and every Hogwarts table. The front page blared in thick bold letters:
"The Return of the Black Family –
Lord Sirius Black, Lady Lily Black, and Harry Potter Back Among Us!"
Pictures moved across the page: Sirius smiling broadly in Diagon Alley, Lily radiant beside him, and young Harry walking confidently, casting protective magic with a casual wave of his hand.
The article confirmed what many had dismissed as rumors: two witches and wizards thought dead had returned, and the Boy Who Lived was thriving under their care.
By the time the owls delivered the paper, Hogwarts was buzzing. Students crowded around tables, pointing at the moving photographs.
"It's true then!" shouted a Ravenclaw fourth year. "He's alive and back in the Alley!"
"Alive?" muttered a Slytherin sixth year bitterly. "More like hiding. Probably wanted all this attention."
But the real commotion was at the Hufflepuff table.
Nymphadora Tonks, a seventh year, slammed her goblet on the table. "I told you lot! I told you I met him—Harry Potter himself!"
A group of skeptical Gryffindors laughed. "You said that last year too, Tonks. We thought you were just making up stories."
Before Tonks could snap back, Kyle Walker, the Hufflepuff fifth year, stood up with a grin. "Not stories. Proof."
He held up several wizard photographs: himself, Tonks, and Harry laughing together at a party. In one, Harry blew out candles on a cake while America Chavez clapped in the background. In another, Harry had an arm slung casually around Kyle's shoulders, grinning.
The table erupted.
"Where did you get those?"
"That's him! That's Harry!"
"Merlin's beard, you actually know him!"
Even some professors leaned closer to see, though they pretended not to.
Tonks smirked, folding her arms. "Told you so. Best birthday party I ever went to."
Not to be outdone, Fred and George Weasley stood up on the Gryffindor bench, waving their arms dramatically.
"And we," Fred began.
"Also met Harry Potter," George finished.
"You two?" a Gryffindor girl scoffed. "You'll say anything for attention."
But Fred pulled something from his school bag: a long, sleek broomstick, polished to perfection.
"Behold," he declared, "a gift from Harry Potter himself. Our dear friend, who has excellent taste in broomsticks."
Some students laughed, others gasped. "That's not proof!" someone shouted.
But Fred smirked. "We made a deal with him, actually. Even our sister saw him too."
The hall went silent for a beat before erupting into laughter and chatter again.
At the staff table, Professor McGonagall lowered her paper slowly. Her lips were thin, but her eyes betrayed shock.
"Albus," she said quietly, "they must have thought there is no reason to hide—"
Dumbledore's expression was unreadable. He tapped the paper with a long finger, his blue eyes narrowing. "We must tread carefully, Minerva. They don't even consider us friends anymore."
By the end of the day, Tonks and Kyle had become the most sought-after students in Hogwarts. Everyone wanted to hear their stories.
"What's he like?"
"Did he really cast wandless magic?"
"Does he talk about You-Know-Who?"
Tonks rolled her eyes at the attention but secretly enjoyed it. Kyle, though, was overwhelmed, clutching the photos like precious treasure.
Meanwhile, Fred and George relished in the sudden belief that their wild stories might just be true.
And in the shadows of the Great Hall, owls carried letters swiftly—letters from curious parents, worried officials, and scheming pureblood families—all trying to make sense of the return of the Blacks and Harry Potter.
The clock had just struck midnight when a crimson spark flared across Wanda's bracelet. She froze mid-step in the Highland Manor's study, eyes narrowing.
"The ward," she whispered. "Someone's entered the Granger property."
The bracelet was directly linked to the defensive web she had spun around the Grangers. It only reacted if some one magical breached the boundary. Tonight, it wasn't one… it was five.
Her lips pressed into a thin line. So, they've come sooner than expected.
She was already pulling her crimson magic into her hands, ready to open a portal straight to the Granger's front garden. But she paused.
Harry's words echoed in her mind—how he wanted to face challenges himself, how his training in Asgard and under her tutelage are going waste without no real life experience. If anyone in the wizarding world needed to see what Harry was becoming, it was these intruders.
Wanda closed her hands, letting the magic dissipate, and went to Harry's room.
Harry was awake, sitting on the edge of his bed, reading a book on alchemy. His emerald eyes flicked up immediately when Wanda entered.
"What is it?" he asked.
Wanda nodded. "Five of them. Strong signatures. They breached the Granger's ward."
Harry stood, already shrugging on a dark cloak. "Order members?"
"Not likely." She studied him, her voice softening. "I was going to go myself."
Harry smirked faintly. "But you want me to deal with it instead."
Wanda's gaze hardened, but her tone was gentle. "Harry… you've trained under Asgardians. You can wrestle storms into submission, cross realms with a step, and wield chaos and thunder both. No wizard from this world can truly threaten you anymore. But this—" she touched his arm—"is not about showing them. It's about showing you what you've become."
Harry fastened his dragon hide cloak, slipped on his glasses, and morphed his features into James Potter's likeness, complete with faint scar on his forehead.
"I'll make it quick. I don't want Hermione's parents to be scared," he said firmly.
Harry raised his hand. Sparks of blue lightning crawled between his fingers, building until they engulfed him entirely. The room filled with crackling energy—then with a thunderclap, Harry vanished.
The five cloaked intruders crept toward the Granger's front door, Death Eater masks glinting under the faint streetlight. Their movements were careful, deliberate. Wands were already drawn, their whispers sharp with anticipation.
"Quick and clean," one hissed. "No mistakes."
But before their hands could even reach the door, the night split open with a crack of thunder.
A blinding bolt of lightning struck the pavement, and from within its sparks a boy stepped forward—tall for his age, dark-haired, emerald-eyed, his cloak billowing with static energy.
They froze.
"Impossible," muttered the tallest one. "A child—?"
Harry raised his hand. "Not just a child. You picked the wrong house."
They tried to raise their wands, but Harry's Asgardian-trained speed was unlike anything they had ever faced. With a blur of motion, one wand after another flew out of their hands. Magical ropes coiled around them before they could even breathe a spell.
In seconds, all five men were bound, gagged, and flat on the ground, their disarmed wands hovering in Harry's hand.
Harry crouched down, his expression cold. "Death Eater masks. How quaint. You really thought you could waltz into a Muggle house and not be stopped?"
Lucius Malfoy spat through his mask, "You'll regret this, boy!"
Harry pressed a palm against the bindings, weaving Asgardian runes over them. The ropes glowed faintly blue, pulsing with suppressive magic. The men stiffened—unable to call on their wands, their magic silenced completely.
"Regret?" Harry smirked. "No. But you will."
Harry rifled through their pockets with methodical precision. He removed their concealed potions, smashed a couple of vials against the cobblestone, and pocketed their portkeys.
"No escape tricks," he muttered. "Not tonight."
With a flick of his fingers, he opened a star-shaped portal, shimmering and alive. The men thrashed against their restraints, muffled cries vibrating against their masks as they were dragged through.
On the other side, the world shifted to America—a quiet city corner where neon signs buzzed faintly in the night. Harry morphed his face into that of a stern, middle-aged doctor: trimmed beard, sharp glasses, immaculate coat.
Inside a nearby mental hospital, the night staff blinked in surprise as he arrived with five struggling men in strange attire.
"These are my patients," Harry announced, voice calm but commanding. "Transferred from a cult facility overseas. Dangerous drug users. Schizophrenic, violent tendencies. But harmless once medicated."
The staff hesitated, but Harry's subtle mind-tricks, laced with chaos magic, clouded their doubts. Within an hour, the five were processed, documented as delusional cultists, and placed in long-term care.
Their names were logged in false files:
Lucius Malfoy became Luke Malin, delusional aristocrat.
Franklin Goyle became Frank Godwin, violent tendencies.
Jason Crabbe became James Carver, obsessive cultist.
David Parkinson became Daniel Parkins, paranoid schizophrenic.
George Flint became Gregory Finn, violent arsonist.
Harry signed the forms with steady hands, thanked the staff, and walked out.
As he stepped back into the cool night air, his disguise melted away, revealing his emerald eyes once more.
He muttered under his breath, "Enjoy your new life, gentlemen. Far away from wands and dark lords."
A ripple of lightning danced across his fingertips. With a thunderous crack, Harry disappeared—back to Highland Manor before anyone in Britain realized five pureblood lords had been erased from the magical world.
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