YoFranco
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HPPJ 51
🕑 Added 2025-10-24 00:16:40 +0000 UTCN/A: Well, it’s time for the kids to start growing up a bit.
I’ve been debating how to show more of their past, so I’ll probably do it through a few flashbacks every now and then—or maybe as special chapters.
From here on, we’ll be starting the first official canon: HP – Book 1.
(Small spoiler: after that arc, the story will move straight into PJ – Book 1... though I might slip in a short original arc in between. You know how I am.)
….
Gifts, Grudges, and Glares
"All right, Harry. It’s time we both find out who the real older brother is," said ten-year-old Percy, pointing his wooden sword at his brother. His voice carried a heroic tone, his chest puffed out proudly as he struck a theatrical pose.
His body had grown a little; he was no longer the tiny hatchling he once was—just a slightly taller one.
He wore a leather armor set he had earned during one of his missions with Aunt Mor, after offering all the items he’d collected as tribute to the Goddess of Magic. For some reason, every time he made an offering, he could feel a faint tremor under the ground and hear a soft, almost annoyed whisper in his mind. It had frightened him at first, but eventually, he stopped paying attention; the rewards he received in return were far too good to care about strange tremors or voices.
Once, he received a black helmet that made him invisible three times a day; another time, a small ceremonial dagger that would return to his pocket after being thrown; and finally, the wooden sword he now wielded, which could deflect spells if struck precisely at their center.
His outfit looked like something straight out of an RPG adventure: practical, durable, and stylish—perfectly matching his personality. Anyone would think whoever chose those gifts knew Percy’s tastes by heart. He had tried to get Mor to explain where those items came from, but she always dodged the question, saying that if he ever found out, he’d be in “serious danger,” and that if he talked too much, she’d have to “silence him.” Percy knew the latter was a joke, but the first part… probably wasn’t.
Even so, Mor had promised to tell him everything when he turned twelve. Percy didn’t understand why he had to wait so long if only two years remained, but according to her, “those were the rules set in stone.”
Standing before him was Harry.
Since they were six, they had trained together almost every day, and Harry had lost all his baby fat, leaving behind his round, chubby look. Still, the nickname “Piggy Potter,” given to him by his brother, seemed impossible to shake.
Even so, Harry had changed a lot: his body was leaner, his stance more confident, though not nearly as athletic as Percy’s. He preferred to spend more time studying magic with Aunt Mor or learning to channel spells through his magic tome, while Percy focused on swordsmanship and a bit of water-based magic.
Right now, Harry was wearing a reddish tunic that matched the wizard hat he’d received when he was six. One day, he discovered that wearing it helped him learn magic faster; he could sense the tiny particles floating in the air—what Mor called mana—and while he couldn’t yet control them all, he could manipulate the ones that brushed against his fingertips.
Adjusting his glasses calmly, he looked at his brother with a mix of weariness and mild irritation. Sometimes he wondered if all that physical training had turned Percy’s brain into pure muscle. To be fair, though, ever since their mother had allowed them to study at home using ancient Greek texts, both had improved significantly in their magical lessons… except for Percy, who sometimes answered his tests in Ancient Greek and failed them again and again.
And yet, Percy was still determined to claim the title of “older brother,” as if it were some kind of epic trophy won through battle. A ridiculous contest that only proved how far his foolishness could go.
“I’m busy. Don’t bother me,” muttered Harry with mild annoyance, turning his attention back to his magic tome.
Unlike when he was younger, the book now contained more advanced spells—some requiring specific items to cast. One of them was the Goat Transformation spell, which he had seriously considered trying on Percy just to test it.
“And I already told you, since I was born first, I’m the older brother. There’s no debate about it. I was born in July, and you in August,” he added, eyes still on the pages.
“It’s only a few hours’ difference,” Percy shot back stubbornly.
“It’s eighteen days,” Harry said flatly, looking up at him without fully lifting his head.
“But days have hours, so it’s still a few hours,” Percy argued quickly, with that twisted logic of his.
Harry sighed in exasperation. “Why don’t you go bother Cousin Dred? I’m sure he’d love to give you another beating.”
“No. It’s impossible to beat him. So I’d rather mess with someone my own size,” Percy replied with a mischievous grin, lifting his wooden sword in challenge.
Harry glanced at him sideways, then ignored him completely, flipping another page.
“Come on, fight me! We need to break the tie we’ve had for years. What better reward than becoming the official older brother?”
“I already am the older brother,” Harry replied without looking up.
“Piggy Potter,” Percy taunted, trying to provoke him.
“Four eyes. Weakling.”
Harry kept ignoring him, though his brow began to furrow.
“Come on, nerd,” Percy added, realizing his tactic was starting to work.
“You’re really annoying,” Harry said with irritation, slamming his tome shut and glaring at him.
Percy grinned excitedly, raising his sword and taking a fighting stance.
“Oh, are you two fighting again? How many ties is that this year? Two hundred? Two hundred and ten?”
A teasing voice interrupted them suddenly. Both turned to see Harry’s godfather, Sirius Black, standing nearby with a sly grin.
“Hey! You’re interrupting our epic battle!” Percy protested, pouting.
Harry, on the other hand, greeted his godfather calmly, though he didn’t take his eyes off his brother.
Sirius chuckled at the sight. After several years of visiting the house, he’d grown used to this routine—and to the two troublemakers who seemed locked in an eternal duel.
He’d seen them run all over the place, always together, defending their little world with the same intensity with which they looked at him: wary, but no longer afraid.
After all, they knew Sirius had been a bully in the past… but also that he wasn’t one anymore.
Still, over time, both boys had begun to accept him. Sirius knew it hadn’t been easy, but he’d managed it in his own way—through gifts.
Yes, technically, he had bought their affection, but really, what other choice did he have?
The brothers were so closed off from others that, honestly, Sirius still wondered how the mysterious red-haired woman who lived in the house—the one they called “Aunt Mor”—had managed to earn their trust so easily, according to the stories he’d heard them tell.
There also seemed to be an entire circle of people close to them whom Sirius had never met.
There was a man the boys called Dred—though Sirius had never actually seen him—a goblin named Einjard, Adrien of the Pendragon Knights, a woman named Gema, and even that fraud Dorian, who apparently got along with them as well.
Then there were Luther and Arthur, who often received visits from the boys whenever they wanted to challenge someone to a fight.
Sirius sighed as he remembered it all.
He realized that, somehow, he ranked below all those people. And the worst part was that none of them shared any blood ties with Harry, while he, being the godfather, seemed to occupy the last spot on the list of importance.
Just thinking about it depressed him, so he preferred to drop the subject altogether.
“His mother said she had a lot of work and went off with that serious-looking guy. And as for his Aunt Mor… well, I never really knew what she does, but she said she had something important to take care of. That’s why they asked me to look after you two,” explained Sirius with a slightly tense smile.
The two boys paused their fight and looked at him curiously.
“They asked you?” Harry asked, his tone light but incredulous.
“That means even Mark’s busy,” added Percy mockingly.
Sirius felt the blow to his pride in full force. It was obvious he’d been called as a last resort.
And although he was happy to be “almost” the second choice, the fact that even that guy, Mark—who, in Sirius’s opinion, didn’t get along with the kids and acted like another brat himself—had been considered before him… stung.
“Ahem, well, let’s put that aside,” Sirius said quickly, trying to regain a shred of dignity. “If they asked me, then I’ll take care of you. In fact, how about I take you two out for a bit? You always go places with Aunt Mor, but never with me.”
It was his master plan to climb the ranks in his personal hierarchy.
“No need to try so hard,” Percy replied, waving his hand dismissively. “We’ll just have our daily fight and then go bother Dred.”
Harry nodded in agreement.
Sirius frowned, annoyed by how easily they dismissed him. When both ignored him again, he ended up sitting in a corner of the yard with a defeated expression, watching as they prepared for another duel.
The boys looked at each other, ready to continue, but upon noticing their godfather’s gloomy stare, they exchanged a silent sigh.
“Let’s just go see Dred,” Percy said finally. Harry simply nodded, and together they walked toward the fireplace.
Sirius watched them vanish in a flash of green, his face slightly downcast.
“Heartless brats,” he muttered bitterly.
From the large portrait hanging on the wall, Fleamont let out a hearty laugh.
“Haha! The past really defines a man. What a shame for you, Sirius.”
The old man knew perfectly well that the boys liked to tease Sirius using stories he himself had told them about his youth. And to be honest, Fleamont found it rather entertaining.
“Don’t worry, Siri,” said Euphemia gently, trying to comfort him. “They’re just having fun with you. Deep down, they both like you… a little.”
Sirius ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “So what am I supposed to do then? Go and apologize to that Snivelus…?”
His voice dripped with disgust even as he said the name.
“I think the first step would be not to call him that in front of the kids,” sighed Euphemia, clearly tired of repeating the same advice.
“By the way,” Sirius added with a hint of jealousy, “who is this Dred they keep talking about? Why can’t I go meet him?”
He was far too curious about the man. The kids mentioned him often, and once Sirius could’ve sworn he heard them talking about “freeing” him. For a brief moment, he thought they were planning an Azkaban escape, but quickly dismissed it. After all, Azkaban didn’t have any chimneys connected to the Floo Network… and there was no way two children could get in there.
“It’s better not to ask questions you’re not ready to hear the answers to,” said Fleamont with a mysterious tone.
“Yes, yes, you tell me that all the time,” grumbled Sirius as he sank onto the couch. He decided to wait for the boys to return; he still held onto a shred of hope that he could convince them to go out with him.
But he didn’t have to wait long.
Suddenly, a burst of green fire illuminated the fireplace, and Harry and Percy shot out of it, landing one on top of the other.
Harry ended up on Percy, who lay face down with his cheek pressed to the floor.
Percy raised his head slightly, resting his chin on his hands. “Looks like Dred’s getting wild too… and he’s supposed to be our henchman,” he said sarcastically.
“Idiot,” replied Harry, smacking him on the head. “Do you have any idea how much I love those cream buns Aunt Mor sends him? And you just went and ate them like it was nothing!”
“Well, they were just sitting there, out in the open,” said Percy without the slightest hint of guilt.
Then he turned to Sirius, who was still sitting there, watching them with a mix of resignation and hope.
“Well, Sirius, looks like you got lucky. You can take us on your weird trip,” Percy said with a mischievous grin, as if granting him a favor.
Sirius stared at him for a moment, tempted to say no and just go home. But deep down, he truly wanted to spend a day with them—just once.
“If you call me Uncle Padfoot, I’ll take you,” he said arrogantly.
“Then never mind. I’ve got homework,” Harry replied immediately.
Percy made a disgusted face, turned around, and began walking away.
“Wait! I’ll take you to the zoo! Don’t leave—hey!” Sirius shouted, rushing after them as the boys laughed their way down the hall.
Comments
ZephyrZepar
Idk how I feel about this Sirius, think I've read to much fanfiction that glaze him lol. This is definitely how he should be treated in relation to the actual books but still after reading a few fanfictions where he raises Harry I can't help but to have him as my favorite fannon character. 🤔
