Soooooo… This is a thing. To be honest, i don't quite know what I'm doing uploading this, but it kept bugging me and eventually I just had to surrender. Sure, i could just toss it in One, Two, Five and be done with it, but I don't feel like doing that. Besides, I've been stagnating recently and need something to keep my interest up. So, here we are with… this. To put it simply, this will be a 'Harry growing up fic' which basically explores what would have happened if that fantasy series about his adventures as a child were true. There will be a lot more to it than that, of course, but you'll have to read to find out more. So with that, I will leave you to it. Have fun!

XXX

Regulus was not having a good day. He wasn't having a good week, month, or year, really. That tended to happen when you were supposed to be dead.

But I'm not, am I? That was one bright spot in the darkness. The problem was that it didn't even seem to matter. He couldn't go back to the Wizarding World, not without the Death Eaters who had escaped prison-and there would be a lot of them, he knew- descending on him like rabid dogs on a bone. Even worse, most of his own people didn't quite realize they were his own, so there wouldn't be anyone to help, if they didn't just throw him in a cell and lose the key. So no, returning home wasn't an option. But the mission he had imposed on himself, his one source of purpose, had hit brick wall after brick wall, and Regulus was starting to wonder just what he hoped to accomplish by endlessly chasing after every half-spun lead he could find, which weren't many in the first place.

"Hey misser, why you sad?" Shocked by the tiny voice that intruded on his thoughts, Regulus's head shot up. A little boy, with messy dark hair that looked like it had been caught in a wind blower and bright green eyes was standing in front of the park bench Regulus sat on, staring up at him with the undeniable curiosity only a child could manage.

"I'm not sad, kid." Regulus said, trying to offer the kid a small smile. He couldn't be much older than two or three, but there was a childish intelligence in his eyes that didn't seem convinced by the pathetic attempt.

"You look sad." He said boldly, pointing a small finger at Regulus's face. "Li'e you about to cw'y." The outright bluntness of this statement, surprisingly accurate, managed to wring a choked chuckle out of Regulus.

"I suppose I might. Thank you for warning me." He said, reaching out a hand to ruffle the kid's already messy hair. He ducked away at the last second, a cry of indignation piercing Regulus's ears, but not before the grown man caught sight of something that stole the breath from his lungs. Before he could speak, however, a woman's voice called out, catching the kid's attention.

"Harry! What have I told you about talking to strangers?"The boy, looking as if he had been caught with his hand in a cookie jar, froze, before turning slowly around. Regulus, eyes following, nearly laughed aloud when he saw what had stopped the kid. A young woman, barely the same age as him and with a giant mass of bushy red hair, was marching towards the two boys, a fiercely mother-like expression on her face. Her arms were filled with yet another child, Harry's age and just as bushy of hair but colored brown.

"But Miwi, he look like Pa'foot!" The woman, seeming taken aback by his sudden declaration, paused, looking at Regulus curiously. When her eyes found his, however, they went wide in surprise.

"It-it's you?" She breathed, and Regulus raised a questioning eyebrow even as his hand tensed, ready to flick his wand from the holster on his wrist. Anyone recognizing him was probably not good, especially if he didn't know them.

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" The wizard kept his voice carefully level, but the woman must have heard something in it, for she took a deep, shuddering breath, before moving to set her burden down.

"'Mione, go play with Harry for a bit, yeah?" She told the little girl, who bit her lip and looked between the woman and Regulus. After a moment, however, the child seemed to notice the tension between the two adults and nodded, before grabbing Harry's hand and pulling him away. The dark-haired boy struggled for a moment, obviously not wanting to leave what looked like a very interesting conversation, but eventually the girl managed with liberal use of more extreme stubbornness and childish authority, and the woman watched them scamper off with a quiet laugh. Eventually, however, she had to turn away, meeting Regulus's cold grey eyes apprehensively.

"No." She said quietly, a loose hand playing with the hem of her blouse. "You don't know me. But I know you. Your name is Regulus Arcturus Black. And you should be dead."

XXX

"Your name is Regulus Arcturus Black. And you should be dead." The second those words came out of her mouth, Miriel Puck knew she shouldn't have said them. But she did, and the dark-haired man's actions were exactly as she expected. Moving like a ghost, he had stepped into her personal space, close enough that the long stick of wood which appeared in his hands would be hidden by their bodies to any casual onlookers, even as he pressed it to her chest, and his face shifted into a look of barely-controlled fury.

"Who are you?" He asked in a harsh whisper, Making Miriel wince. "How do you know my name?"

"Miriel Puck!" She managed to gasp out, fear nearly catching the words in her throat. "My name is Miriel Puck, and I'm not here to kill you." The desperate exclamation did little to calm Regulus. In fact, his eyes narrowed, and his grip on his wand tightened.

"What did you mean, 'I should be dead'?" He asked, and Miriel struggled to get control of her panic as his grey eyes, sharp and lethal in their intensity, bored into her.

"I saw you!" She said, scrambling to gather her scattered wits. She wasn't afraid of Regulus, per se. She knew, without quite knowing how, that he was a good man, one who wouldn't hurt an innocent. But his reactions, forged in war, and well-justified for her thoughtless words, could end up with one or both of them hurt, and she didn't want that. "I saw you, in the cave, with dead men dragging you down, down into the dark and the cold to join their ranks." For a long second, they stood there, man and woman looking deep into each other's eyes, and Miriel wondered if she was about to die. But then, just as she was about to close her eyes, hoping it would be quick and painless, Regulus stepped away, a hint of uncertainty in his eyes.

"How?" He asked, and his voice was softer now, less filled with threat. Miriel gulped, a small hope blossoming in her stomach.

"I dreamed it." She answered, her voice quavering. She knew how ridiculous it sounded, especially with the way Regulus's eyes sharpened once again, but she couldn't stop herself. "I have the Sight, Regulus, and last night I dreamed a man with eyes of steel and hair like sin would be forged from light in the depths of darkness. I dreamed that he would steal the Savior from his pain and misery, flanked by Fire and Shadow, to name him heir and raise him a warrior." As she spoke, her voice steadied, as did her gaze, and by the time she was done, the fear that had gripped her heart was utterly gone. Regulus, for his part, studied her, completely unmoving as his eyes watched hers.

"You speak the truth?" The man asked finally, after several long seconds of silence, and Miriel nodded slowly. She was surprised at his reticence. It had been a long time she told anyone of her gift, or curse depending on the day, and even less since she told what she had seen. The Sight had plagued her since she was a child, and few people liked to hear of their future. Most chose to believe she was making stuff up rather than believe it. "So you're a witch." Again, She nodded.

"Muggleborn, but yes. And I was homeschooled, or rather, I taught myself. DIdn't want to leave my friends to go to some stuffy boarding school in Scotland." The last was said with a quiet, sad smile. None of those friends had lasted very long, and while that old Professor helped her out a lot, Miriel always felt she was missing something as a witch. Regulus, saying nothing, gave a short, understanding nod. Before she could say anything else though, he had turned away, his eyes seeking out the two children who were still playing.

"Are they yours?" The man asked, and Miriel, who had followed his gaze, winced.

"I wish." She answered bitterly, shrugging when those ever sharp eyes turned to her questioningly. "Hermione is mine in a way. We're distant cousins, but I look after her now." The woman left out why, and Regulus, surprisingly, didn't ask.

"And Harry?" He prompted, when she didn't say any more. Miriel opened her mouth to answer, but stopped. There was something in his voice, a sense of urgency that set warnings flaring in her mind.

"Why are you so interested?" She asked instead, leaf-green eyes narrowed. Regulus froze, but his expression gave nothing away as he continued to watch the children play.

"I-" He started, before cutting himself off. After several seconds of silence, spoke again, voice turning soft and quiet. "How much do you keep up with the news from the wizarding world?"

"Not much." Miriel answered apprehensively, wondering at the sudden change in topic. "I heard there was a war, and an evil wizard of some kind. Then about six months ago there was a whole bunch of celebrations, even the Muggles noticed, but that's about it." The woman watched Regulus carefully as she spoke, noting the way he grimaced, and even more when the man crossed his arms.

"There was." He said slowly, as if testing each word on his tongue before saying it. "The Dark Lord Voldemort waged a reign of terror the likes of which haven't been seen since the last great war. He was lethal, unstoppable, and possessed an army of followers that would give their life and soul for him." Again, Miriel felt that penetrating stare, as if Regulus were looking into the core of her being and judging her worth. She could see the pain, too, and fear, reflected in those grey eyes that had seen too much for a man so young. "But then one night, he attacked a family. A man and woman, who by some merit of skill or luck had fought him and survived three times each, and their son. The parents were caught off guard, their protections betrayed by a believed friend, and he killed them easily. But the baby…" Regulus paused then, turning to look at the two children, laughing as they played. "When he tried to kill the boy, something happened. The spell rebounded, destroying the Dark Lord's body, and leaving the house in ruins." HIs eyes returned to Miriel's, this time burning with a fiery determination that stole her breath and left the woman gasping in shock. "The child was left marked with a lightning bolt scar, etched into his forehead as a permanent reminder."

Miriel, reeling as Regulus's story washed over her, glanced to where Harry and Hermione were, her mind racing. She had seen Harry's scar before, the thing was hard to miss after all. At first, she had simply assumed that it was a remnant from the car crash the boy's monstrous aunt claimed killed his parents, but there was always that lingering doubt, a sense of unease every time she looked at it, tickling the back of her mind. Now, all the pieces fell into place, and she gasped.

"He's the savior," She breathed, turning to Regulus with a frantic light in her eyes. "From my dream, he's the savior, and you're here to take him away and-" She started babbling, unable to control herself as joy filled her. She had watched for months as Harry suffered, left forgotten, alone, and bereft of love by his so-called family, and unable to do anything for him except provide a place to get away, a few spare meals when she got the chance, and a friend in Hermione. It wasn't enough though. The child tried to hide it from her, in the way toddlers do, but she knew the Dursley's beat him; He flinched any time she moved too fast, or raised her arm too high, Not to mention how skinny he was. She doubted they fed him more than once a day, and little enough at that.

"Stop." Regulus's voice was commanding, but not harsh, as he held out a hand and brought Miriel's ramblings to a halt. When the woman realized what she had been doing, her face was consumed in a fierce blush. "I'm not here to take anyone away. I just wanted to make sure the kid was alright." Regulus looked apologetic, but Miriel shook her head, looking at him aghast.

"Alright?" She asked, disbelieving. How could the boy ever be alright living in that household. Before she could start screaming at him, however, Miriel caught hold of her emotions, stopping herself. He doesn't know. She thought, looking into Regulus's grey eyes which were only mildly concerned. "No, Harry's not alright. In fact, he's about as far from alright as you can get." Regulus raised a surprised eyebrow at her words.

"What exactly do you mean?" He asked, and Miriel sighed, looking away.

"Harry lives with his aunt and uncle now." She said, trying to keep her bitterness out of her voice and failing miserably. They…" She stopped, glancing at her watch. It was about five in the afternoon, when she was supposed to be bringing Harry back. Miriel bit her lip. "Actually, why don't I just show you?"

XXX

Regulus knew something was wrong as he stood on the doorstep of Number Four Private Drive. The woman Miriel had said as much, of course, but it was Harry that convinced him. As soon as she called out to the children, stating that it was time to go home, the boy's eyes had dulled with a pain and fear Regulus knew well. Even now, Miriel glanced down at the child, biting her lip and practically shivering with tension. HArry looked like he was walking down Death Row, fear and desire warring on his face as he looked up at the woman.

"Miwi, I don' wanna go." He muttered in his childlike voice, and Regulus felt his heart shatter at the pain in his voice. What could possibly break a child so badly? The question was answered a moment later when the door sprung open, to reveal a tall, horsey woman who looked more like a stick than person.

"It's about time you- oh, who's this." Regulus found himself surprised as he stared at the woman. Everything about her, from the tone of her voice-hard, bitter, and vicious- to the way her eyes suddenly gleamed with dark interest when they settled upon Regulus, disgusted Regulus.

"Hello ma'am." Regulus said carefully, inclining his head slightly. "My name is Regulus. I'm a friend of Miriel." The woman, Petunia Miriel had said her name was, looked him up and down, a hungry interest burning in her gaze.

"I'm sure you are." She replied, with a poisonous smile, before turning back to the red-haired woman. "Thank you for watching him. I'll take it from here." THe words, courteous in theory, held none of the sincerity one might expect, and it was with a hard heart Regulus watched Petunia grab Harry roughly by the arm and drag him inside. The child didn't even protest, dully accepting the harsh treatment as due soon as the door slammed shut, Regulus turned and stormed away, hating himself with every step.

"Regulus." The wizard stopped when the soft voice called his name, whirling on Miriel with a desperate fury.

"What the bloody hell was that?" he demanded from grit teeth. His anger, already a ferocious blaze, only roared higher as Miriel looked at him with calm, thought there was a hint of something beneath that stopped him from cursing her right there.

"His aunt." She said, and there it was, the venom she put into that single word mollifying Regulus in an instant.

"Harry was afraid." He said coldly, grey eyes burning into Miriel's green with a desperate question.

"They beat him. And starve him. I'd be surprised if the kid got more than one meal a day, and they're likely small. But the worst is the cupboard." The words, spoke as matter-of-factly as possible when the speaker seemed to be struggling not to scream, sent ice creeping into Regulus's heart. Regulus had never been a person to rage overtly, with screams, shouts, and throwing fragile objects. His emotions were quiet things, but no less deeper or meaningful for it. But now, as he stared up to the house, appearing so plain that none would think such horrible things might happen inside it, perhaps throwing things might be a good idea. Namely curses at the monsters who lived within.

"Cupboard?" He asked, with his voice barely holding back the anger that burned coldly in his veins.

"He sleeps in it." Was Miriel's reply, filled with heat to match Regulus's cold. "And they throw him in there whenever they don't want to bother with him, which is most of the time." Regulus's eyes snapped to hers, and for a long second, he stared at the woman. Then, finally, he closed his eyes, drawing in a deep breath. Murdering the muggles, as pleasant as the idea might sound, wouldn't help. But whatever he did, this would not stand. "Come," He said, turning to the car where little Hermione was waiting. We can do nothing for him here." Miriel nodded, and together, they walked away.

XXX

"We can't leave him there." Miriel said, as she stepped into her living room. She had just put Hermione down to bed, and Regulus looked up from his seat on the couch at her entrance.

"I agree." He said, rising. "But there must be a plan if we are to do anything at all."

"And I assume you have one." Regulus only smirked at the comment, and Miriel felt her heart give a flutter. Not for the first time, she noticed that Regulus was an extremely handsome man. WIth his dark hair that seemed both boyish and refined, not to mention the sharp grey eyes that seemed to pierce her to her core, he was just her type. A little bad, a little good, and a whole lot of dangerous. Maybe she should stop staring at him.

"I am a Slytherin." was his answer, and Miriel found herself raising an eyebrow. That was a whole lot of pride right there.

"So what is it?" She asked, and Regulus's smile turned sly.

"I have no right to Harry." he started, leaning against the back of the couch with crossed arms. "Even if I took him and ran, he doesn't know me, and would barely trust me."

"He knows me." Miriel pointed out, pleased when Regulus nodded.

"Yes, but it would still be kidnapping. well-deserved, but still illegal."

"So what do we do?" MIriel asked exasperatedly. Regulus, looking amused at her reaction, smiled.

"My brother is Harry's godfather. In fact, I'm not really sure why he didn't get Harry in the first place, but I can ask that when I've found him." That confused Miriel, and she frowned.

"Why don't you just owl him?" She asked, but regretted it a second later when Regulus's expression turned bitter. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"No it's fine." the dark-haired man waved away her apology, grimacing. "It's just that Sirius thinks I died while fighting for the other side. He wouldn't exactly want to hear from his dead, traitor brother would he?" Miriel winced at the pain in Regulus's voice, and before she could think better of it, stepped forward to wrap the man in a tight hug.

"You are a good man, Regulus." She whispered into his shoulder, even as she marveled at the strength in his lithe form. Fter a short second where Regulus stiffened in surprise, she felt his arms go around her to return the hug, though they were hesitant.

"I'm not so sure about that." He said, and Miriel jerked back, keeping her arms around him, to glare up into his eyes.

"And why not?" She asked fiercely, hands bunching in the soft material of his shirt. "You sacrificed your life to get that locket, you can't stand to see Harry suffering-what's there not to like?" Regulus, taken aback by the sudden vehemence of her words, was speechless for several long moments. Finally, he answered.

"I still joined the Death Eaters., I couldn't even destroy the locket. And I sided with our family over him when they threw him out for not wanting to be a perfect little Pureblood and joining the Dark side." Crack. Regulus's head snapped to the side as Miriel's hand connected with his cheek. The redhead, surprised even at her own actions, stared at her hand. When he looke back up, however, her face hardened, and she pushed even closer, until their breaths were mingling in the air between them.

"That was a long time ago, Regulus Black, and you were barely a child then." The words, though Miriel didn't quite know how she knew what she was talking about, rang with anger and truth. "But the man I see standing before me is no Death Eater. He is a man who died to defy Voldemort, who found the light hiding inside himself even when things seemed darkest, and he is the man I very much want to kiss right now." As the last words left her mouth, Miriel closed her tried to move forwards, but was stopped when Regulus beat her there, pressing his lips against her in a fierce kiss that stole her breath. One of his long slender hands reached up to tangle itself in her bushy mane of hair, and Miriel reciprocated, losing herself in the feel of the man as her hands trailed up and down his didn't know why she was doing this, kissing a man she barely knew, but as she pressed herself against him, something clicked inside her. With all she had seen in this short day, and all the nights she had dreamed of the man of Light, she knew him. She knew the strength in his heart, the quiet steadiness and brilliant soul hiding under years of shame and fear that had led him to that cave. And she knew that she would love him. Not now, it was too soon for that, but she felt the connection between them in her very soul.

When they separated, the witch and wizard gasped for air. For a long time, it was all they could do to just stare at each other, chests heaving with deep breaths and pounding hearts.

"I… don't know why I did that." Regulus said slowly, and for a moment, Miriel thought he might pull away. But the arms encircling her tightened, not loosened, and she smiled softly as she leaned against his chest.

"Because you realized you were being an idiot." She said quietly, reveling in the feel as he hummed quietly.

"I was? I can't quite remember what we were talking about." Miriel drew back, looking at him with shock when she saw a spark of mischief in his eyes, however, she laughed and slapped a hand against him.

"Harry, you prat. How we were going to get him away from those horrible monsters."

"Mmm," He replied smirking. "Well, as I said, my brother won't take me showing up on his doorstep well. So we'll need someone who can convince him not to kill me. Luckily, I know just the man."

"Oh?" She asked, reveling in the thrill that ran through her as he smirked.

"Sirius's last living friend and the one man besides Dumbledore who knows I turned my back on Voldemort. His name… is Remus Lupin."

XXX

So, that's done, and I am now hating my life. I just know this is going to drive me insane in more ways than one. But, ce'st la vie and all that, so here we are. Anyways, please leave review, (And make a profile if you do, I would love to respond to each and every one of you, but when you use a guest account that becomes impossible) And I will see you all later. See ya!