Hadrian Peverell: High Lord of Skagos

Chapter 6: Bound by Blood and Choice

Harry walked through the quiet streets of London, heading back to Grimmauld Place with the letter and potion from Sirius tucked safely in his pocket. The weight of it was more emotional than physical. He hadn't expected to find anything from Sirius today, let alone something so personal. As he reached the doorstep of Number 12, Grimmauld Place, the familiar sight of the battered door felt more like home than ever before. With a flick of his wand, the locks clicked open, and he stepped inside, the musty smell of the old house greeting him.

Kreacher appeared at the end of the hall, giving Harry a respectful bow.

"Master Harry is back. Shall Kreacher prepare dinner?"

"Not yet, Kreacher. Thanks," Harry replied, his mind still occupied with the letter. "I need to go through something first."

Kreacher gave another nod and disappeared with a soft pop.

Harry climbed the staircase to his room, the old wooden steps creaking under his weight. Once inside, he sat on the edge of the bed and pulled the letter out from his pocket. He stared at Sirius's familiar handwriting, running his fingers over the envelope. A part of him wanted to hold off opening it, afraid of the flood of emotions that would come with reading Sirius's words. But he knew he needed to. Taking a deep breath, he broke the seal and unfolded the parchment.

The writing was unmistakably Sirius, sharp and hurried, it made Harry feel as though Sirius was sitting beside him, talking to him again.

Harry,

If you're reading this, then... well, I suppose I'm not around anymore. Trust me, I didn't plan on it happening, but considering the life I've led, I'd be stupid not to prepare for the worst.

First of all, I want you to know something. You were the most important thing to me in the past year. I wasn't the best godfather—hell, I wasn't even around, but I tried at least when I was availabel. Nevertheless, you became like a son to me. No, scratch that. You were my son in all the ways that matter. James and Lily would've been proud of the man you've become.

Now, down to the business side of things. There's a potion in the vault—if you found the letter, I assume you've got the potion too. It's called a Blood Adoption Potion. I had it brewed by an old friend of mine. I had a feeling I might not make it through the war, so I wanted to make sure that, no matter what, you'd have a proper family connection to me. Yeah, I know, sounds sentimental, but bear with me.

The potion is simple. You just drink it, and it binds you to me as an official blood relative, like father to a son. The effects aren't drastic—your name will change slightly to reflect the adoption, but nothing about your parentage with James and Lily changes. This isn't meant to replace them—no one ever could—but it makes me officially part of your family. More than just in name.

Normally, something like this would be required if you were to inherit anything from the Black family, but... well, you already have the realtion. Since your grandmother, Dorea, was born a Black, you didn't need this potion for inheritance reasons. That part's sorted. So really, this is more symbolic than anything else. A way for me to say that I see you as my own, and if I couldn't tell you in person, at least you know now.

If you decide to take the potion, great. If not, that's fine too. You don't have to. But I wanted you to have the choice, because, Harry, you deserve every bit of family that you can get after everything life has thrown at you.

Take care of yourself, Harry. I know you'll do great things. I believe in you. And remember—no matter what, you were never alone. You always had me, and I hope in some way, you always will.

Sirius

Harry stared at the letter long after he finished reading it. His eyes blurred as he reread the last line, his heart aching with the memory of Sirius's voice. He had never heard Sirius speak so openly before, not like this. The letter carried so much warmth, so much affection that Harry had always known was there but had never quite heard in words.

His fingers brushed over the edges of the parchment as he considered the potion sitting in his pocket. It was a simple thing, really, just a small vial, but the meaning behind it was massive. Sirius had wanted to give him something more—a connection that wasn't just legal or formal but something deeper.

Harry pulled out the potion, staring at the glowing blue liquid swirling in the vial. A blood adoption... The idea wasn't foreign to him. He'd read about it in some of the old books in the Black family library. The process was ancient, used by pureblood families to solidify lines of inheritance or bring outsiders into the fold. But what Sirius was offering wasn't about lineage or wealth—it was about family.

Without hesitation, Harry uncorked the vial. There was no need to second-guess this. He had loved Sirius like family, and if this potion could make that bond even more real, he would gladly take it. Raising the vial to his lips, he whispered, "Thanks, Sirius," and drank.

The potion tasted faintly of mint and honey. There was a warmth that spread through his body, starting in his chest and flowing outward, but it wasn't painful or overwhelming. It felt... comforting, like a protective embrace. After a few moments, the sensation faded, and Harry sat there, alone in the quiet room, clutching Sirius's letter.

"Harry Black," he whispered to himself, testing out the name. "Harry James Potter-Black."

It felt strange on his tongue, but at the same time, it fit. He wasn't just Harry Potter anymore. He was a part of the Black family now, too, in a way that wasn't just because of inheritance or bloodlines. He was family because Sirius had chosen him, just like his parents had chosen Sirius to be his godfather all those years ago.

Later that evening, as Harry sat in the drawing room, his thoughts still swirling from the day's events, Kreacher appeared once again, carrying a tray of tea.

"Master Harry looks troubled," Kreacher said in his usual gruff voice, though there was a gentleness there now that hadn't been there before.

"Not troubled, Kreacher," Harry replied, accepting the cup. "Just thinking."

Kreacher's large, bat-like ears twitched, and he eyed Harry curiously. "Is it about Master Sirius?"

Harry nodded, understanding the complicated history Kreacher had with Sirius. "He left me a letter. And a potion."

Kreacher's eyes widened slightly, clearly intrigued but not daring to ask more. Harry smiled faintly, sipping his tea.

"He wanted me to know that he saw me as family," Harry continued. "He left a potion that makes it official. Not that it changes much, but... it means a lot."

"Kreacher understands," the elf said with a deep bow. "Master Sirius cared for Master Harry deeply. Kreacher knew."

For the first time, Harry felt an unexpected bond with Kreacher. They had both lost someone in Sirius or in Kreacher's case Regulus, and while their relationships with them had been vastly different, they were united in their grief.