"No, you didn't," Harry interrupted, weary of talking about it and already regretting telling him about the Dursleys. Black was one of those people who would make a huge deal out of it, Harry just knew it. "But that's the point. You didn't know how things would turn out. What if I'd died in the attack Voldemort launched? What if the Dursleys had starved me to death through sheer neglect? You didn't know that taking me away from here was actually better than leaving me here, but you did it anyway."
Black straightened up then, and his mouth set in a very stubborn line. It occurred to Harry that he'd sometimes seen it when he looked in the mirror, both before and after he'd found out who he really was, and that if Mrs. Malfoy was related to the Blacks, so was he.
Before he could think more about that, Black leaned forwards and spoke in a low, intense voice.
"No. I promise, Harry, I took you away to a better life no matter what happened. It would still have been a better life even if you'd died with your parents, your real parents, in the attack. The Malfoys are straight-up evil."
"You mean, like the spell that Mrs. Malfoy cast at you?"
Black nodded once, his eyebrows rising a little, as if he didn't expect Harry to choose such a good example. "Yes. They live and breathe the Dark Arts. You can't do that without it corrupting you. I saw it when I lived with my family. Even Regulus, who was a good sort at first—well, at least not bad, just weak and too eager to please—fell to it in the end. Practicing that sort of magic darkens your soul."
Harry swallowed. "But you must know something about it, because you reversed it. You survived."
Black laughed again. The sound creaked at the edges, less than sane. Harry managed to squash the impulse to lean away from Black, but it was hard.
"Yes, that's the way I grew up. I didn't choose that knowledge." Black shrugged. "But Cissy could have run away from the family, and not married Lucius, and kept on practicing Dark Arts. Past a certain age, we have a choice. She didn't take it."
"I didn't have one."
Black didn't seem to notice the quiet tone that Harry's voice had taken on. He nodded eagerly. "I know. And I didn't want you to grow up as the child of yet another Dark family, abused the way I was. I took you and gave you a better life. And Lily and James…they were so desperate for children. They should have had the chance to have them on their own. But when they didn't, and I realized that I could do something about it, I had to do it. It would have been irresponsible of me not to."
Irresponsible. Harry bit his tongue hard and looked at the ceiling. Then he looked at Black again. "And you didn't think that Mrs. Malfoy and Mr. Malfoy would feel grief when I disappeared? And Draco, when he grew up and learned about me?"
Black stared at him blankly. Harry wished he dared reach out and shake him. "Didn't you?"
"No," Black said hoarsely, blinking. "I told you. They're evil. They can't feel that kind of thing. If anything, they would only have mourned because I deprived them of yet another pawn they could put in their stupid games."
He spat the last word, and Harry jumped. Yes, there was the Black madness peeking through. He didn't know if Black's mind had entirely shattered under the pressure of the Dementors, but it was clear that just because he could sit still and speak calmly and refrain from grabbing Harry sometimes, that didn't mean he was sane.
Harry braced himself. "I think they really did mourn me. Mrs. Malfoy acts like she did."
Black shrugged. "They have to be good at acting to fool the people who would otherwise never buy that Lucius was under the Imperius Curse. I think they're good enough at acting to fool themselves, sometimes. But it's not real. Don't let them make you think that it's real, Harry," he said, and his voice cracked, and he leaned near enough that Harry skittered another few steps backwards. "Don't. They'll just fool you and make you into another Regulus if you let them. I won't do that."
And his eyes were shining like flame. Harry backed away further, and Black stretched out his hand and kept it extended.
"Lily and James, your real parents, the ones who loved you, chose me as your godfather," he said, his voice unsteady. "I love you, Harry. Come with me, and you can go back to being Harry Potter."
"But how?" Harry exclaimed, glad that he had the chance to ask Black himself. Even with him being certain that he'd known what Black's plan was when he tried to snatch Harry in Diagon Alley, that didn't mean it made sense. "Everyone who reads the papers will know that I'm Henry Malfoy now. It's not like I could show back up as myself and have people just accept it."
"As yourself!" Black crowed. "You know it's true, Harry! You know that you're the Potters' son!"
"It's a way to refer to it," Harry said, while silently cursing himself for putting it in a way that would appeal to Black. "But you haven't answered me. How could I just become Harry Potter again?"
Black gaped at him in silence. Harry folded his arms and stared back. He didn't think of that. Typical.
"Well," Black said, his eyes widening as a new idea visibly occurred to him, "I can use a necromancy ritual."
....
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