Alexander Altair Black, the son of the infamous Sirius Black, found little enjoyment in life as the sole heir of a family known for nothing but its darkness and misery. The name has followed him around all his life, casting a shadow over everything...
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𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐨.
( the burden of a last name )
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In the first week of staying at the Leaky Cauldron, Harry had to get used to the strange new freedom that came with being independent. It was never an issue of taking care of himself, because he'd done that since the very first day he could remember, but living with the Dursleys meant that he'd had to make sure all of them were fed and ready for the day. Now, he could get up whenever he pleased or eat whatever he wanted. He could even go wherever he wanted without being yelled at, as long as it was in Diagon Alley. It gave him a better sense of the crazy world he'd suddenly become part of.
He'd eat breakfast each morning down in the pub part of the Leaky Cauldron, where he often watched other guests as he scooped whatever food was available onto his fork. There was an assortment of different people, all looking straight out of one of the storybooks he'd read in the past: funny little witches with strong Welsh accents so thick it seemed like they were speaking an entirely different accent; old wizards who looked like they'd been around for decades if not centuries; a family of dwarfs somehow resembling the raucous Weasleys in their numbers and fanatics.
It was all very interesting.
But in the back of Harry's mind, he couldn't help but focus on the matter that was the most interesting at the moment, even more fascinating than the new and out-of-world things around him: the matter of Alexander Black.
Alec had somehow managed to dodge him for an entire week, even though they were housed in rooms right next to one another. The issue was that he never seemed to leave his room, preferring to seemingly sleep the days away rather than get out and go to the shops like Harry had been doing to pass the time.
Harry wanted to know more about the man in the newspapers plastered on all of the wanted sheets posted on every wall in Hogsmeade, the man who had the same last name as Alec. It didn't quite make sense in his head, how everyone seemed so terrified of a mere man. They were wizards for crying out loud; surely they knew how to defend themselves.
Somehow, as if the stars aligned, he'd finally managed to run into the boy in front of the Quality Quidditch Supplies shop, catching the tail end of other people fleeing as soon as Alec took a step closer to see what everyone was ogling over in the display window.
It was like watching the red sea part.
Harry watched as people tripped over themselves in their haste to get away. The big burly wizards were elbowing each other aside, and the more dark-looking witches seemed scared well. He watched as everyone disappeared until it was only Alec left staring morosely into the shop, his black robes looking expensively out of place and his hand clutching a bag at his side.
