A/N Hi and welcome to my new book: The Black Heir, if you have come from one of my other books then you'll know that I haven't been doing much updating recently on my other ones and for that I'm sorry, but I'm really busy with tests at the moment but decided I earned a little break to write about a book idea I've had for ages

Anyway I hope you enjoy, I'm so excited about this book.

The Black Heir

Chapter One: The Aura of the Blacks

24th December 1985

Many words could be used to describe Cassiopeia Black, but the most accurate of all would simply be: formidable. She was a woman of great power and influence and also one who invoked fear into the hearts of many.

And those were the exact reasons as to why the sight of the eldest daughter of Pollux was such a peculiar sight to be seen strolling through a muggle neighbourhood at 6:36pm upon a cold, wintery night.

In the distance Cassiopeia could hear the gleeful squeals of young children as they talked of Santa Clause and the presents he would bring, but she simply ignored them in favour of quickening her pace as she approached her destination.

As to where her destination was? Cassiopeia knew as little as you or I, following the pulse of her family magic calling to her.

Cassiopeia Black was a highly gifted witch, one that could feel the ancient magic of her family, and for one of whom had been taken away she would be lead to them; she was the Black magic's voice upon this earth.

The woman was filled with rage upon the idea of someone stealing her kin but passed that rage aside in favour of focusing her entire being onto where of which it would lead her.

Finally the pulsing stopped, meaning she had arrived to where her magic was leading her, and found herself within a corner of an alley within a place she believed to be called Privet Drive within the county of Surrey.

At first she neither saw nor heard anything at all, that was until she laid eyes upon a stack of crates lying not far from her at all, central of the alley, and what seemed like a rather good hiding place for anyone muggle or of muggle-upbringing.

Cautiously, after sneering at her latter thoughts, she approached the crates and walked to the other side, only to be enraged by what she discovered.

A overwhelmingly skinny child lay in a pool of red substance, something she could easily identify as the metallic fluid of blood, bruises adorning the young child who, for a moment, she thought was dead until she saw the rise and fall of it's chest.

Growling at the horrendous sight before her the older witch grabbed a rather strange object out of her pocket, one that looked like an ordinary tissue box (even if it did possess moving Quidditch Players, and held onto it tightly. Gently taking the frail child's hand she muttered, "La maison noire," and her and the child were gone; without even realising the fact that the woman from Number 8 had seen them, and she let out a scream.

25th December 1985

On the third story of a chateau, hidden within the beautiful scenery of southern France, lay a young boy,

Though the boy was five he looked to be no more than four, most likely guessed to be less, with an obviously malnourished look, as thin as a rake. His hair was greasy, as if he had not been allowed access to any hygiene for months and had a colour of skin that one would associate with a corpse.

The boy looked rather strange amongst the richly room, larger than most's living room and laying upon a King-sized bed of violet.

Slowly the young child stirred before his eyes began to flutter open, tiredness clearly evident upon his features, as if this was the first time he had slept properly in months.

The boy was pleasantly surprised to feel no pain nor soreness from running from Dudley's gang and Vernon the past night, and wondered if life was finally done, if he could finally see his parents.

But he was bewildered to see his surroundings when he finally became fully awake, and even more so when he heard a 'pop' in the room.

"Master is finally up," stated a little elf rather joyfully as if came over to Harry's side, causing the young boy to attempt to crawl away from it, only to stop in his attempts when he saw the creature's sad look.

Seeing she was scaring him Moppy introduced, "I am Moppy and I am a House Elf, Mistress Black said to help you change once you were awake and then to show you the way to the dining room for breakfast."

Harry Potter nodded his head hesitantly, though slightly put off by the woman's rather intimidating last name, but he realised he was no longer at the Dursley's and for that he wanted to thank the kind lady – and perhaps, if she didn't want him (which he doubted she did as Vernon said that nobody likes 'freaks'), then to beg her to not send him back.

"Thank you," the five-year-old answered hoarsely, as if he had not used his voice in months and with that Moppu felt a surge of protectiveness towards the boy; she would not let her mistress be her normally intimidating self towards the boy when he so clearly needed some love.

"Master, I'll get you some of Master Alphard's old clothes," Moppy the House Elf told the boy with a bow, "he used to stay with Mistress a lot when he was little, as with Masters Sirius and Regulus."

Cassiopeia heaved out a sigh as she awaited the arrival of the young boy of whom was assumed to be 'Harry Potter'. Diagon Alley had been increasingly busy this Christmas Day, yet, to her immense joy, Knockturn Alley not as much allowing her to visit Avery's Potions and acquire the potion she needed.

Normally she could of easily owl ordered it but as a highly illegal, classification one, potion she had had to receive and request it personally; and it had put her in much higher spirits after giving Tanthon Avery a little threatening, merlin knows that she loathes the man.

But now, the new difficulty that faced her would be getting the boy to drink the potion for she had no way of knowing as to whom he really was when he was glamoured by such a powerful potion; a potion that covered up his parentage.

Finally the boy arrived downstairs. Alphard's old clothes were ridiculously baggy on the young boy but Alphard had been the smallest of all the Black's that she had once looked after, even though, ironically, he had later became one of the tallest.

However the emerald t-shirt and black jeans did fit him a lot better than the ones he had been wearing beforehand, he was simply swimming in those.

"Hello," she stated as the boy's eyes widened when he finally saw her, clearly finding her stern and lean look intimidating, "my name is Cassiopeia Amalthea Black and am a relative of you."

The boy seemed to stare at her for a moment, "hello Cass-i-a-pe-aa-i,"

Seeing he had some difficulty attempting to say her name, one that caused the young child to look mightily embarrassed, she said to him, "you can call me Aunt Cassie if you find that easier."

Nodding eagerly the boy's look suddenly turned into one of awe, "are you really related to me, Aunt Cassie?"

"Yes," she informed him, offering the boy a small smile, "but to find out just how I need you to drink this," she motioned to the potion nearby, a dark mixture bubbling.

He eyed her, looking both afraid and doubtful, as if he thought she was playing some cruel prank on him, "it won't hurt you, and think of it as chocolate milk if you like. All it does is will show you who you really are. You see, a witch or wizard put a glamour potion on you."

"Witches? Wizards?" He questioned, looking completely and utterly confused.

It was only then that it dawned on the intelligent witch, who felt she really should have figured it out earlier, after all, she did find him within a muggle neighbourhood. And Moppy had told her of his reaction to the House Elf, along with giving her a mouthful about making sure to be kind as the boy wasn't used to her in the same ways that Alphard, Sirius and Regulus had been when they were children.

She got out her wand as casted a water charm, manipulating the water to follow her will and dance around the young boy she suspected was the one the hailed to be the future 'saviour of the wizarding world'. What kind of saviour would he be if he didn't know how to use magic? Didn't know how to act? Didn't know of century old customs?

Five-year-old Harry James Potter stared in awe at the water before looking back at Cassiopeia in wonder.

"Tell me," she bagun, choosing not to state the boy's name as it was bound to change, "have you ever done something you can't explain?"

And with that his head, along with mop of black curls, nodded ever so slightly, still in a state of shock upon what he had just seen.

"If I take the potion will I be able to have a family? Could I say with you? Please don't send me back," the inquires came all at once but, used to it, Cassiopeia gave him her best smile – not a very large one but it was effort none the less.

"You'll never go back," Cassiopeia promised.

Hesitantly the boy took the potion into his hands and gulped it down in one, making a face of disgust right after, once it was finished he stared back up at Cassiopeia once more, "have I changed yet?"

"Not yet, but soon," and before Cassiopeia had finished her words the young boy was unconscious, the changes ready to take effect as Cassiopeia ordered Moppy an Lobny to take the boy upstairs, and to inform her once he had awoken.

When Cassiopeia was finally informed that her new charge had awoken she ordered them to make sure he was in something that fit him more, as though she knew he would still be skinny from what she presumed was mistreatment it was very possible that he had grown a fair bit.

It was several minutes before the young boy was downstairs, and in those moments Cassiopeia's patience had been waning, but all of that changed into utter bewilderment when she saw the boy.

His hair was, if possible, darker than before and instead silky and straight, he was still remarkably pale but not so direly and corpse-like, he was a good head taller and now looked like he was five rather than three, his eyes were like ice, a blue that both pulled you in and froze you.

He looked uncannily like one Sirius Black, from his hair, to this eyebrows, to his ears, to his height. In fact, she could safely say that he looked almost as like Sirius and he had James but neither his nose, eyes nor lips were that of Sirius'. He had Sirius' razor sharp jaw that seemed as if it could cut through mountains but his very high cheekbones were higher and sharper than Sirius' and clearly from his mother.

There was no doubt within her mind that this boy was not the son of Sirius Black, but she could not successfully guess his mother and it never did well to have any doubt at all.

"pater eius," she cast and watched, just as she suspected, the grinning face of Sirius Black at the time he was around twenty/twenty-one, the words: Sirius Orion Black, born 3rd November 1959.

"matrem suam," she cast and observed as the picture of a platinum haired, ice eyed, rather beautiful, woman appeared, an earnest smile upon her lips of whom looked to be around twenty, the words: Ceres Dione Malfoy, born 13th August 1961.

A large grin found its way forming upon Cassiopeia Amalthea Black's lips. Not only was this boy the product of a Malfoy and a Black but he was also to be the Black Heir, oh how her relatives would squabble over the boy, as would the Malfoys, but she would not give the boy up. For he represented a new era of Blacks, one that she intended to play a part within.