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Chapter One Hundred: On the edge

Tom had been brooding since Harry’s conversation with Kreacher, though he was mature enough to know ignoring Harry outright would get him nowhere. After some stilted back and forth, Harry soon put the diary away, recognising Tom needed some time to cool off.

Hedwig had arrived home soon after, but she had quickly fallen asleep after letting Harry stroke her feathers for a few minutes. Without her distraction, Harry unpacked his trunk, and when that task was done, he wandered downstairs.

He found Sirius and his grandfather sitting together in the parlour room, talking quietly with each other.

When Harry entered the room they both smiled, and Sirius patted the couch beside him as he said, “Harry - there’s something we wanted to talk about with you now that we’re home - before our guests arrive.”

Harry sat himself down beside his godfather, curious what his guardians wanted to say.

“I have a bit of a strange question to ask you,” Sirius continued once Harry was settled. “What do you think it means to be a lord or lady of a house of the Sacred Twenty-Eight?”

Harry’s brows furrowed as he considered the question - it was a strange thing to be asked, particularly out of the blue.

“It means you’re responsible for protecting your family’s heritage,” Harry answered slowly. He recalled the last words Cygnus Black spoke to him as he lay on his deathbed, echoing the man as he continued, “It is a sacred duty to honour and uphold the traditions of your family.”

He glanced to his grandfather, but Arcturus seemed content to let Sirius lead the conversation, sitting back in his chair as he watched them both. 

“That is an important part of being the head of a house of the Sacred Twenty-Eight,” Sirius agreed. He appeared to hesitate slightly before adding, “There’s another duty though to being a lord or lady, one we’ve never explicitly discussed.”

Harry’s eyes flicked uncertainly between Sirius and his grandfather, wondering what he was missing.

Seeing Harry’s uncertainty, Sirius assured him, “The only reason we’ve never discussed it directly, is because we never needed to. The lesson I had to learn again and again, you embraced instinctively, without anyone telling you to do it.”

Still, Harry scoured his brain for an idea of what Sirius was getting at.

His godfather continued, “The Sacred Twenty-Eight are unique in the wider aristocracy of the wizarding world, as you know. We created our titles. But for those in other parts of the world, like the Drozdov family, their titles are attached to ancestral lands. It has always been the duty of noble families like theirs to guard their lands and the people under their protection. The Sacred Twenty-Eight though…our titles were once attached to our political role - our families formed the first system of government.”

Sirius paused for a moment to let Harry digest the direction of the conversation. It was then with pointed care that Sirius asked him, “Do you understand what I mean when I say a lord or lady has a duty to lead through service?”

Harry considered it, finding the concept momentarily confusing. How could someone serve people but also be in charge? But then it clicked -  Sirius had mentioned the original political role of the Sacred Twenty-Eight for a reason.

“When our families governed - we served all of wizarding Britain. We were responsible for leading the country and also protecting it,” Harry realised.

“We were not only responsible for the protection of wizarding Britain - but the preservation of our history, traditions and culture too,” Sirius explained. “Our titles may no longer grant us political power. But we still have great social power. And a responsibility to use our influence to promote our traditions and preserve our history.”

Arcturus finally spoke then, a hint of a smile on his face as he stated, “You see, perhaps, why we did not need to have this conversation with you before now?”

Harry understood all too well - he had never shied away from championing wizarding traditions. From devouring everything he could get his hands on in relation to history and culture, to establishing the Heritage Society at Hogwarts to share wizarding traditions with his peers - Harry had never hesitated to step up.

“I understand,” he said at last, expression thoughtful. “But why are we having this conversation now? Is it because of the plan for the Drozdovs to re-introduce our family to the rest of Europe?”

“It is precisely for that reason,” Arcturus confirmed, before deferring once more to Sirius with a pointed look.

Sirius picked up the thread of conversation again, explaining, “The Sacred Twenty-Eight don’t have ancestral lands like the aristocratic families of Europe do. Our titles don’t fit into their hierarchy of nobility either. We understand this has created a certain misconception amongst some of those families that we have less of a role to play in the traditionalist movement.”

“You’re suggesting we don’t have to just be worried about anti-traditionalists taking issue with our family - but traditionalists too,” Harry stated grimly.

“It’s not going to be a straightforward process to establish ourselves,” Sirius replied diplomatically.

“Having the Drozdovs be the ones to introduce our family - you picked them carefully, didn’t you?” Harry realised suddenly. “They’re royalty. Just about as important and influential as a family can get.”

“It will mitigate any potential negative opinions among the traditionalist faction, or at least make them consider their interactions with us with greater care than they would otherwise,” Arcturus confirmed.

A little discomforted at the idea of using his friend’s family, but understanding his guardians’ logic, Harry probed, “What exactly do the Drozdovs get out of this arrangement?”

“New allies and a connection to Britain,” Arcturus answered promptly. His expression grew serious as he added, “It goes deeper than that though.”

He glanced to Sirius, before elaborating, “We understand from our conversations with Nikolai and Anouk, that their values align with ours when it comes to honouring this duty to serve. We all serve our family’s interests, yes, but we also serve our community. If the House of Black is one day in a position to aid another family to find their footing, we will do so. Do you understand?”

“Our title means we have a duty to lead through service,” Harry answered.

“Very good,” Arcturus praised him, a glint of pride in his dark eyes.

“You’re a natural,” Sirius shared suddenly. When Harry and his grandfather looked to him questioningly, Sirius looked a little chagrined as he explained, “I struggled for years with what it meant to be the future lord of this house. But you, Harry, have never once stumbled with the responsibility…you were born to lead.”

Harry flushed a little at his godfather’s sincerity, not sure what to say.

“I have always said, it is up to you the kind of lord you will be,” Arcturus spoke up, meeting Sirius’ eyes. “Remember the lessons you’ve learned, but put the past behind you. What matters now are the choices you are yet to make.”

Sirius straightened under his grandfather’s gaze, declaring quietly, “I won’t let you down.” Grey eyes turned to Harry as he insisted, “Either of you.”

Harry smiled at his godfather, reaching out to take his hand in his own, squeezing it in silent acknowledgment of the promise.

“You’ve gotten taller,” Remus declared fondly, a soft smile on his face.

“Sirius thought so too when he picked me up from school,” Harry replied with a pleased grin.

“We’ll blink and you’ll be seventeen,” Remus said warmly. His amber eyes looked behind Harry, growing a little more reserved as he stepped past Harry to shake hands with Arcturus. He murmured respectfully, “Lord Black - thank you for having me stay.”

Harry shared an exasperated look with Sirius behind Remus’ back - they had both given up trying to convince Remus to drop the formalities around the head of the family.

“You are most welcome,” Arcturus replied graciously.

Finally, Remus turned to Sirius, face easing into a grin as he said softly, “Hey, Sirius.”

The two men hugged each other, Sirius tightening his grip when Remus tried to pull away, complaining, “Let me get a proper hug in. I can’t believe you’re leaving us.”

“I just arrived,” Remus protested from where he was being crushed in Sirius’ arms.

Harry began laughing watching the futile struggle, his grandfather raising a brow as he watched the two old friends together.

“You know what I mean,” Sirius replied, arms still wrapped tightly around an increasingly disgruntled Remus. “You’re moving overseas in a week.”

“We can still see him,” Harry pointed out. “International Portkeys exist.”

“Listen to your godson,” Remus pleaded, still trying to extricate himself from Sirius’ smothering hold.

Harry was just glad it wasn’t him - Sirius could be a proper clinger.

“Sirius, perhaps it is prudent to show our guest to his room before he decides against telling you his new address,” Arcturus suggested mildly.

“It’s tempting,” Remus muttered, still trying to peel Sirius off him.

Sirius finally released Remus, who stepped back hastily and straightened his robes, shaking his head.

There was a warm look on his face though.

Harry added, “I know we can visit - but we’re still going to miss you.”

Remus’ expression grew somehow softer as he replied, “I’m going to miss you too.” He seemed to brighten as he added, “Once I’m settled in, I’d love to have you come visit me.”

“Have you found a place?” Sirius asked keenly.

“I have - Rosie went to a few inspections with me last week and I ended up signing the lease for an apartment we both liked,” Remus explained. “It’s in a wizarding residential block, so the fireplace is connected to the Floo, which will make commuting to the institute easier.”

“Rosie went with you?” Sirius enquired, and Harry could detect the trace of envy in his godfather’s voice from a mile away.

“You were away,” Remus said gently, “and I needed to lock something in. Rosie was kind enough to come with me to Copenhagen.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t around,” Sirius replied, brows furrowed.

“It’s fine,” Remus assured him.

“When do you leave?” Arcturus enquired politely, changing the topic effortlessly

“New year’s day,” Remus answered. “My course starts in the second week of January, and I want to finish moving into the new place and have the apartment set up before then.”

“I wish I could help you move in,” Sirius sighed. He exchanged a brief look with Arcturus, before saying, “Harry is back off to school on the second, and then grandfather and I are traveling to Budapest for a couple of weeks.”

“Budapest?” Remus echoed, looking intrigued.

“It’s a miracle I got the time off work, on top of what I took this past week” Sirius confessed.

“I’m hoping to do more travel around Europe in the next couple of years,” Remus admitted. “Getting out of Britain will be good for me, for a lot of reasons.”

There was a moment of silence, a sort of sad understanding in the room.

“It’s going to be an adventure,” Harry spoke up. The adults all turned their attention to him, and although feeling a little shy under their scrutiny he insisted, “I’m excited for you.”

Remus wrapped an arm around Harry, hugging him to his side as he confessed, “I’m excited too.”

Harry sipped his Butterbeer, only half listening to the conversation between the adults as they waited in the parlour room for the Greengrass family to arrive. His eyes flicked periodically between the grandfather clock in the corner of the room and the fireplace, fingers tapping restlessly against his glass.

A melodic chime signalled the hour at five o’clock, and the fireplace immediately lit up with green flames, as though the person on the other side had been waiting poised to Floo through.

Harry was already on his feet, watching keenly as the green flames swirled high and then receded, leaving two figures standing in the hearth.

He was moving forward without thinking, attention narrowed to a single-minded focus as he reached out.

Daphne met him in the middle of the room, and then they were hugging each other fiercely.

“Harry,” Daphne breathed out a little shakily, arms tight around him.

“Hey Daph,” he whispered back, feeling a little emotional as he held his best friend close.

He could hear Gareth greeting Sirius, Remus and his grandfather behind him, and he knew he should be polite and say hello, but he didn’t want to let go of Daphne.

The fireplace flared bright green again over Daphne’s shoulder, and he heard an excited shriek of, “Harry!” before a small body collided with his, arms wrapping around both he and Daphne.

That was finally enough to convince him to pull back from Daphne, who surreptitiously wiped her eyes. Harry grinned down at Astoria who was latched onto him like a limpet.

“Aster,” he said softly, affectionally tugging at her dark brown braid of hair, causing her to pout at him for the teasing. 

He wrapped one arm around Astoria and the other around Daphne and told them, “I missed you both.”

“We missed you too!” Astoria said brightly.

Daphne took a moment to respond, and when she spoke there was a vulnerable edge to her voice as she admitted quietly, “The past few months have sucked.”

Harry’s arm tightened instinctively around her, but before he could say anything further, Rosie caught his eye over Daphne’s head.

“Hello darling,” she said softly, smile on her face as she watched Harry with her daughters.

The girls let him go without complaint, allowing Harry step out of their embrace to move towards Rosie.

She wrapped her arms around him when he reached her, and Harry felt warmed from the inside out when he felt her press a kiss to the top of his head.

“Thanks again for Firecalling me at school,” Harry murmured, face hidden against Rosie’s stomach. “I was really struggling, and you helped me through it.”

Rosie ran a soothing hand along the back of his head, assuring him gently, “I’m always here for you, if you need me.”

Harry wondered how he had gotten so lucky to have these people in his life.

The feeling deepened as Gareth stepped up beside his wife, placing a supportive hand on Harry’s shoulder as he said, “It’s good to see you, Harry.”

Harry turned his head to meet Gareth’s fond gaze, smiling up at the man.

Yuletide would always be a special time of year, and even though there were some important faces missing from the room, Harry felt impossibly grateful for the ones who were here.

They all settled around the parlour room, the Greengrass family’s bags discreetly whisked away to their usual rooms by Kreacher.

The adults sipped wine as they caught up with one another, while Harry asked Daphne about the train ride home and her last week at Hogwarts.

“Lockhart got permission to create a Duelling Club,” Daphne informed Harry, contempt twisting her face. “Only none of us knew it was Lockhart who had set it up until we arrived for the first session. I wouldn’t have bothered going if I had known.”

Harry winced at his friend’s acerbic tone, venturing, “I take it the club was a total waste of time?”

“I did get to see Professor Snape blast Lockhart into a wall,” Daphne said with vindictive relish.

Astoria gaped at her sister, as Harry asked, “How did Lockhart take it?”

“Pathetically,” Daphne replied. “He tried to pretend like he saw the Disarming Charm coming and let it hit him so we could see the spell in action.”

Harry shook his head, following up, “So is Professor Snape helping him run the club? If he’s involved in some way, perhaps you might get something useful out of it?”

Daphne was already shaking her head though, informing Harry, “He just came along to keep an eye on things - and maybe to get the opportunity to throw Lockhart into a wall.”

“Valid,” Harry muttered - he might not have experienced Lockhart himself, but from everyone’s letters over the past few months, the man sounded like an incompetent nuisance.

“Unfortunately he was not the only professor there to help out - Umbridge came along too,” Daphne added, and Harry’s face twisted with distaste.

“You mentioned she and Lockhart have been getting…chummy,” Harry said, hesitating over the right word to describe their alliance.

“Conspiring more like,” Daphne insisted. “Lockhart played off getting disarmed as a teaching moment, but Umbridge had a go at Professor Snape for being too violent, and setting a bad example for us all. She used it as grounds to insist the Duelling Club remain theoretical.”

“How can a Duelling Club be theoretical?” Harry asked dubiously.

“It can’t,” Daphne responded bluntly. “Lockhart and Umbridge demonstrated some spells for us - not against each other - that would be too ‘violent’.” Daphne’s voice was dripping with condescension. “They didn’t let us practice anything they showed us. There’s another meeting in the new year, but I doubt many people will go.”

Harry shouldn’t be surprised at the ability of Hogwarts to continue to disappoint, but he found himself stunned at the situation.

“Isn’t Professor Flitwick a former professional duellist?” Harry pointed out. “Surely he could set up a proper Duelling Club?”

Daphne shrugged jerkily, muttering, “It feels like none of the teachers have time to support extra-curricular activities. With the amount of homework they set us, they must spend every spare moment marking.”

Harry knew it was not necessarily the teachers’ faults - they were beholden to the Department of Education and its set curriculum.

An uneasy silence descended between them, and Harry struggled to find something encouraging to say to help lift Daphne’s spirits.

He was surprised when Astoria spoke up, who had listened to the back and forth between Harry and her older sister in silence.

“I’m not going to Hogwarts.”

Harry twisted his head to look at her in shock.

An excited smile broke across Astoria’s face as she added, “I’ve asked mum and dad to enrol me at Durmstrang next year.”

“What.” Daphne’s voice was flat and clipped.

Astoria’s smile immediately dropped, and she flinched slightly at her sister’s tone. “I-“ she began to say, but Daphne cut her off.

“When was this decided?” She snapped.

“Daphne…” Harry said warningly, sensing his friend’s growing ire and the dampener it had thrown on Astoria’s excitement. 

She ignored him, eyes focused on her younger sister.

Astoria’s own eyes narrowed in challenge, and she straightened as she said bravely, “I’ve been thinking about it since Harry enrolled. I decided recently though I was going to commit.”

“Just like that,” Daphne scoffed.

“What’s your problem?” Astoria exclaimed.

The adults’ conversation lapsed, heads turning towards the three children as they sensed the brewing discord.

Not finished, Astoria continued in a more subdued manner, “I thought you’d be happy for me.”

“Happy?” Daphne snarled. She rose suddenly to her feet, stepping out of reach of Harry, who tried to reach out gently to calm her.

Gareth quickly rose to his feet too, looking shocked at his daughter’s behaviour as he moved over to intervene.

“Daphne what-” Gareth was unable to finish his question, as Daphne exploded.

“You think I’m happy to hear everyone but me is getting what they want?”

There was a breathless moment in the wake of her words, before she turned on her heel and rushed out of the room.

Astoria burst into tears.

Harry’s guardians and Remus quickly made themselves scarce to give the Greengrass family some privacy to sort things out between the girls, vacating the parlour room to retreat to the kitchen.

Harry remained in the room, in no small part due to the fact that Astoria was sobbing into his chest and he could hardly extricate himself.

Gareth left to track Daphne down, and Rosie remained in the room on Astoria’s other side, running a hand up and down her youngest daughter’s back to help calm her.

Seeing the confusion on the woman’s face, Harry brought her up to speed on what had happened.

“I - I d-don’t understand,” Astoria said shakily between crying. “Why did sh-she react like that?”

Rosie seemed to be at a loss to explain Daphne’s behaviour, but Harry knew exactly why his friend had reacted in the way she did.

“Because she really wants to go to Durmstrang,” Harry told Astoria gently.

The girl sniffled, sitting back and releasing Harry. She wiped her eyes with her sleeve, and Harry procured a handkerchief for her.

Over her head he saw the soft look Rosie directed at him, before she turned her attention back to Astoria.

“She does?” Astoria asked eventually, after dabbing at her eyes with the handkerchief. “Then why doesn’t she just move?”

Harry could feel Rosie watching him, waiting for his response. If Daphne had not spoken candidly with her parents about her reasons for remaining at Hogwarts, Harry was not going to betray his friend’s confidence. 

“That’s for Daphne to say,” Harry hedged. Quickly he added, “No matter the reason, she shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

“I was so excited to tell you both,” Astoria whispered, looking miserable.

Harry’s heart ached, and he told her, “I am so proud of you. This is really exciting.”

A frail smile appeared on Astoria’s face, and she confessed, “I’m nervous. And a bit sad to not be going to school with my friends. But I know Uncle Ezra will be there. Maybe you too, if you’re planning on staying?”

Astoria’s voice was hopeful, eyes looking up at him imploringly.

Harry replied, “It’s very likely I’ll stay at Durmstrang, at least for another year.”

Astoria smiled properly then, shoulders relaxing and the excitement she had been displaying earlier beginning to rekindle.

Harry could sense Gareth and Daphne approaching the parlour room before he saw them, Gareth’s magic feeling mostly calm to his senses. Daphne’s magic was like a tempest though, stirring agitatedly within her.

He knew the moment they appeared in the doorway to the parlour room, even though his back was turned; Astoria’s expression dropped again as quickly as it had lightened. She stiffened in her seat, mouth set in a mulish line as she glared at her sister over Harry’s shoulder.

Harry turned around, seeing Daphne looking determinedly at the floor in front of her. Gareth looked uncompromising and stern as he prompted, “Daphne.”

Daphne reluctantly lifted her head, and Harry could see his friend’s face was blotchy from crying.

“I’m sorry for yelling,” she muttered. Her blue eyes cut to Astoria, taking in her younger sister’s obvious signs of her own upset. Harry saw the moment a flash of regret crossed Daphne’s face, and she continued in a more genuine tone, “I’m sorry I upset you. I was…angry. Not at you. And I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

“Why were you angry?” Astoria asked boldly, not immediately forgiving her sister.

Daphne’s face hardened, and she looked expectantly to her father beside her, who sighed, looking tired.

“Astoria, do you accept your sister’s apology?” Gareth asked her.

“I will if she tells me why she was angry,” Astoria said stubbornly.

“Astoria…” Rosie chided, but did not say anything else, letting the admonishment speak for itself.

“I admit I would like the answer to that myself,” Gareth spoke up, causing both Daphne and Rosie’s heads to snap to him.

“She apologised, Gareth. If she doesn’t want to talk about it further right now, she should not be pressured to,” Rosie insisted protectively.

Daphne shot her mother a grateful look, and then her eyes found Harry.

Tell them, he mouthed.

Daphne’s mouth twisted with dislike at the idea, but Harry kept her gaze, projecting as much assurance and encouragement he could his friend’s way with his expression.

Daphne was stubborn, but perhaps deep down she knew Harry was right. Or she was tired of keeping her feelings to herself.

“I’m angry at the situation,” Daphne confessed. “The fact that you can decide to go to Durmstrang on a whim, and I can’t.”

“You want to go to Durmstrang,” Rosie clarified, having been told as much by Harry just previously, but needing the confirmation.

“More than anything,” Daphne declared hollowly.

Rosie and Gareth exchanged perplexed looks, and Gareth pointed out, “Daphne, there is nothing stopping us from enrolling you there, if that is what you want. We even suggested it over the summer break. Why do you think you can’t attend?”

“I know I can. But I feel like I shouldn’t,” Daphne blurted out. “With Harry gone, I’m the only one who can continue what we started at Hogwarts with the Heritage Society. All the progress we made, it’ll all be for nothing.”

Daphne rushed to add, “I don’t blame Harry!” Her eyes met his and he gave her a sad smile, recalling their previous conversations around this point. “He didn’t have a choice to move schools, and now it just makes sense to stay at Durmstrang. But that leaves me to finish what we started. To make an impact at Hogwarts.”

Daphne fell silent, looking uncertainly between her parents, who looked stunned and concerned.

“This is the only reason why you turned down the opportunity to enrol at Durmstrang?” Gareth eventually found his voice.

“Yes,” Daphne confirmed in a small voice.

“Daphne,” Roșie breathed out incredulously. “Sweetheart, it is not your responsibility to educate your peers.”

“I want things to change,” Daphne insisted. She looked to Harry silently in need of support, knowing he understood exactly how she felt.

“Things are bad at Hogwarts, and getting worse,” Harry spoke up. “But in just a year Daphne and I were able to get through to people. We were able to prove being a dark witch or wizard is something to celebrate and not fear.”

“And we could not be prouder of you both,” Gareth assured him, meeting his gaze warmly, before turning back to his daughter. “But your mother is correct. It is not your responsibility to undertake this task.”

“I know that,” Daphne replied, “but if we don’t do anything, who will?”

The despair on her face resonated with Harry like a punch to the stomach. Things felt so hopeless not only at Hogwarts but in Britain in general.

Rosie and Gareth shared a stricken look with each other, Gareth quickly kneeling to look Daphne directly in the eye.

“Your health and happiness are the most important things in the world to us,” Gareth insisted. “All of you,” he added, looking over at Astoria and Harry too. He turned back to Daphne, picking up his daughter’s hands in his own as he told her, “Your mother and I say it is not your responsibility to take on this duty. But let me be clear - it is not your responsibility to do anything at the cost of your health or happiness.”

Daphne opened her mouth to argue, but Rosie spoke up then, “How can you help others if you don’t first look after yourself?”

Harry’s eyes widened at the simple question, and he met Daphne’s equally wide eyes across the room.

“But if we…if both of us are gone from Hogwarts, nothing will change. Things will get worse, and there will be nothing we can do to stop it,” Daphne said quietly.

“You’ve already changed things for the better at that school,” Gareth declared. “Perhaps in your absence things will worsen. But that is not your burden. This is not your battleground. You need to look to the future and give yourself every opportunity now to be best prepared.”

“But isn’t it also important preparation for the future to lay the groundwork at Hogwarts now?” Harry found his voice.

“It’s not Daphne and Harry against the world,” Gareth said gently but firmly. “You’re not alone. There are people fighting for change all across Britain.” Gareth squeezed Daphne’s hands as he stated, “People like your mother and I, who are standing where we are now because we had the opportunities to become the best versions of ourselves.”

“Don’t mistake sensibleness for selfishness,” Rosie implored, looking between Harry and Daphne.

“Durmstrang will give you opportunities Hogwarts cannot,” Gareth stated simply.

“I know,” Daphne whispered, still looking conflicted.

She found Harry’s gaze again, searching for something in his expression - trusting him to know her well enough to help ground her when she was lost.

“They’re right, Daph,” he murmured. “If you want to enrol at Durmstrang, you should.”

The tension slowly bled from Daphne’s body, shoulders dropping as she confessed quietly to her father still kneeling before her, “I do. I really want to enrol there.”

“Then it will be done,” Gareth promised, a tired smile emerging on his face.

He pressed a kiss to Daphne’s forehead like a benediction.

“This means we’ll all be together next year,” Astoria announced.

Harry echoed her smile, and then looked over to Daphne to say, “I think that decides it for me. I’m going to stay at Durmstrang for at least another year.”

How could he think about returning to Hogwarts now, with Daphne and Astoria soon to become Durmstrang students?

Daphne’s smile lit up her whole face.

It dimmed a little uncertainly as she looked to Astoria beside Harry, and she moved towards her younger sister.

“I really am sorry about before,” Daphne murmured.

“It’s okay,” Astoria said, finding forgiveness easily in the wake of her excitement for what next year would hold for them all.

As the children began to speak excitedly about the future, Rosie watching over them all with a fond look on her face, Gareth rose back to his feet with a muttered complaint under his breath about his joints.

“All okay in here?” The quiet voice of Sirius came from behind him, the man joining Gareth by the doors to watch Rosie and the children.

“Yes,” Gareth replied, taking a moment to enjoy the sight of his wife with Harry and the girls.

“We have remarkable children,” he eventually murmured.

“We do,” Sirius agreed quietly.

Harry felt distracted meeting his new mind arts tutor, Ismini Stone, the following morning.

The woman had been invited to Grimmauld Place the day before Yule to be introduced to Harry and to discuss a teaching plan with him, having already been vetted by Sirius and Arcturus from the shortlist of names Professor Sylvan had recommended.

Harry magic hummed underneath his skin from the moment she stepped through the fireplace, and Harry knew there was something different about her.

As he reached out with his magic, he sensed her neutral magical core, but threaded through the rest of her body was magic of a different kind entirely.

It was frustratingly familiar - she felt the same to his senses as Fleur Delacour and Dion Lykaios.

If Harry’s theory was correct, Ismini Stone was not entirely human.

Sirius made the introductions between them, and Harry politely offered his hand, goosebumps rising on his skin as he made contact with her directly.

Ismini Stone looked to be around Sirius’ age, though it was hard to tell for sure. Her black hair was pinned back, but curls seemed to stubbornly spill out, framing her face. She had large, dark eyes that met Harry’s own curiously as she shook his hand.

“I am honoured to meet you.”

She had an ambiguous accent when she spoke, a product of being raised in both England and Greece no doubt.

There was a certain weight behind her words that made Harry wary.

“Thank you for meeting with me,” Harry replied, releasing her hand as soon as it was polite to do so.

It was not that she made him uncomfortable per se - but he felt like his magic had him alert to something he did not yet understand.

He nearly startled when he felt Sirius’ hand on his shoulder, his godfather asking him lightly, “Would you like me or your grandfather to sit in on your meeting with Ms Stone?”

Sirius squeezed his shoulder comfortingly as he suggested it, and Harry felt the concern hidden in the gesture.

Sirius knew him well enough to pick up on Harry’s hesitance around the woman.

“It might be good to have your opinions on the teaching plan,” Harry said casually.

“Of course,” Arcturus said smoothly, and then directed to Ms Stone, “If you’ll follow us to my study?”

She fell into step with Arcturus, saying, “Please, just call me Ismini.”

Harry and Sirius brought up the rear. Sirius did not say anything, but his hand remained on Harry’s shoulder.

Harry glanced up to his godfather, wordlessly communicating he was fine. Sirius gave the slightest nod of acknowledgment, letting his hand drop.

The meeting proceeded without a hitch - Ismini Stone quickly proving herself competent and adaptable to what Harry wanted from a tutor. She would work on honing his Occlumency skills up until the summer break, and if she assessed him as ready to commence Legilimency training she would get him started on the basics of the skill. That would place Harry ahead of his peers, who would not begin learning Legilimency until the start of their third year.

Harry felt more at ease around her the longer they spoke, his magic seemingly settling from the initial reaction upon meeting her.

It was important he felt comfortable around someone who would be training his mind.

Sirius and Arcturus looked to Harry for his cue as the meeting wrapped up, and Harry told the woman, “We’re keen to have you stay with us next week.”

Taking his implicit approval in stride, Arcturus confirmed with Ismini, “You can arrive at any time of day that suits on the twenty-fourth. The Floo will be connected.”

“I look forward to working with you,” Ismini told Harry warmly.

As they escorted Ismini back to the parlour room to Floo out of Grimmauld Place, they encountered Remus on his way downstairs.

“Ismini, this is our family friend, Remus Lupin,” Sirius began to introduce the man as he neared the bottom of the stairs.

Remus’ expression was curious as he looked towards Ismini, aware Harry’s new tutor had been expected to visit Grimmauld Place that morning.

Harry saw the moment Remus froze, one foot still on the stairs.

His face shuttered, curiosity giving way to wariness as he looked at Ismini.

Harry quickly glanced to Ismini, to gauge her reaction.

Her face gave away nothing, perfectly blank as she looked back at Remus.

Sirius and Arcturus were tense, unsure at the cause of the sudden negative response of Remus.

“This is Ismini Stone, Harry’s new tutor,” Arcturus finished the introduction when it was clear no one was going to say anything to break the tension.

Remus slowly finished stepping down to the ground floor, but made no move to approach Ismini.

Harry noticed his hand was clutching the bannister of the stairs like a lifeline, fingers bloodless from how hard he was gripping the wood.

With not an ounce of sincerity Remus grit out, “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Ismini said evenly, giving away nothing of how she actually felt. She turned to Sirius and Arcturus, saying carefully, “I had best be on my way.”

Arcturus was quick to usher her through to the parlour room, and as soon as the pair were out of sight Remus’s shoulders dropped.

“What in Morgana’s name was that about?” Sirius hissed to his friend. He approached Remus cautiously, who was now leaning heavily against the bannister.

“Just give me a moment,” Remus muttered. He looked pale.

Harry shared an uneasy look with his godfather, standing together in silence for a few moments as Remus seemed to collect himself.

Arcturus returned soon after, confirming, “She’s gone.” His dark eyes pinned Remus in place as he said coldly, “An explanation would be prudent.”

“I’m sorry,” Remus breathed out, shaking his head. “I couldn’t control myself for a moment.”

“Do you know her?” Sirius asked tightly.

“No,” Remus insisted. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to find the right words as he explained, “I don’t know her. But my…the wolf…a part of me recognised something in her.”

The bottom of the stairs was hardly an ideal place for this conversation, especially given the Greengrass family were around somewhere - but they were all rooted to their places as Remus opened up about his reaction.

“I thought your condition was only symptomatic on full moons,” Arcturus pointed out cooly.

“Normally, yes,” Remus agreed stiffly. “Unless I am in the company of another werewolf.”

The Blacks froze.

“Ismini is a werewolf?” Harry burst out.

“I’m not certain,” Remus said hesitantly. “I’ve been around other werewolves before,” he explained, “but this felt…intense.”

“I’m not adverse to the idea of Harry being tutored by someone with the lycanthropy disease, where it is appropriately managed,” Arcturus began slowly. “It troubles me though that there may be something more at play here.” Dark eyes found Harry and he continued pointedly, “You seemed hesitant when you met Ms Stone, Harry.”

“I think she has some sort of non-human heritage, based on how her magic felt to me,” Harry replied carefully. “More than that though…there was something about her that made my magic react.”

“In a negative way?” Sirius pressed.

“No,” Harry assured his godfather, “it wasn’t negative or positive. I don’t know what exactly my magic was trying to tell me. I can’t really explain it.”

There was a moment of silence before Remus asked uncertainly, “Can you detect if someone is a werewolf with your abilities - could that be what you sensed in her?”

Remus was only peripherally aware of what Harry was capable of. He knew Harry was “Subject A” in Ezra’s research and that he was unusually sensitive to magic around him.

Harry was already shaking his head though, informing Remus, “I can’t detect medical conditions in people.” He smiled a little sadly at Remus as he added, “You’re entirely human to me.”

“Are you confident you wish to retain her as a tutor?” Arcturus questioned him. “It is not too late to cancel the contract and find someone else.”

“I think she’ll be a good tutor,” Harry responded. “And besides, you ran a full background check on her, and she comes recommended by Professor Sylvan.”

“It’s your decision,” Sirius said after a moment of consideration.

“I want her as my tutor,” Harry decided.

Harry knew she would do a good job teaching him - but he could also admit privately to himself that he was curious about her.

He wondered why she made his magic react in the way it did.

Yule passed in a blur of good food, gift exchanges, warm conversations and the ever present hum of ritual magic that settled deep in Harry’s bones.

The Tonks family were welcome company on the day, arriving for lunch and staying late into the evening as the shadows lengthened and the Yule log burned brighter.

Dora listened eagerly as Harry recounted his Metamorphmagus lessons with Nikolai. She was hoping to visit the Drozdov family herself early next year for lessons, but it seemed as a trainee Auror she had limited leave.

Harry was relieved to hear though after her difficult first year in the Auror program, that she had been assigned to a great mentor for the next two years of field training. Dora was effusive in her praise for her mentor, Kingsley Shacklebolt. Despite the man being a light wizard, he seemed to bear no prejudice against Dora for being a dark witch, and treated her the same as he did everyone else.

Aunt Cass made a brief appearance as promised, coming around after dinner to quickly exchange presents and spend some time with them all before returning home to Mira. Harry saw her talking quietly with Gareth and Sirius, no doubt filling them in on the latest with her charge, but he knew better than to attempt to eavesdrop.

Harry loved Yuletide, but this year he carried a burden with him into the festivities - tomorrow he would be tackling the test Aunt Cass and Sirius had prepared to challenge his right to enter the Peverell vault on his own.

He had turned his mind over how best to study for the test, before realising there was not much he could realistically do in terms of preparation. He was only twelve, his knowledge of spellcraft was limited, and he had very little experience with curse breaking. From what he had read, protections on vaults varied widely and were not generally documented in any detail in order to prevent people researching strategies to break into them.

Harry knew had he been an average twelve year old, there was absolutely no way he stood a chance facing whatever Aunt Cass and Sirius had cooked up together.

But his wandless magic created an element of uncertainty.

Harry wanted to get into the Peverell vault with a fierce, single-minded determination. Knowing what he did now about how his bloodline had come into the inheritance, and the risk of there being other claimants from Tristana’s bloodline who could potentially challenge him, sparked a terrible urgency in him.

He had to get into that vault.

Sirius offered to postpone the test by a few days to allow Harry the chance to properly enjoy Yule and to give him more time to prepare, but Harry did not feel like it would make a difference.

The morning after Yule, once Remus and the Greengrass family had departed Grimmauld Place to head home after the festivities, Harry and Sirius bid farewell to Arcturus who saw them off as they stepped into the fireplace together.

“Euphemia’s Cottage,” Sirius stated clearly, dropping the Floo powder a moment later.

Harry’s vision was obscured by the heatless green flames, before they dissipated to reveal the familiar living room of the cottage he had inherited from his parents.

Exposed wooden beams and the plush antique rugs across the floorboards created a cosy space, and the window seat tucked on the other side of the room captured the moody horizon, where the sea met the sky.

Gilt-framed oil paintings with various nautical themes decorated the living room and the rest of the house; as far as Harry was aware, none of his Potter relatives had sat for magical portraits, appearing to prefer decorating with paintings of landscapes and animals rather than people.

It had been awhile since Harry had last visited the cottage, and a long time since he had come in winter. Although the temperature was milder here than the rest of the country, the Atlantic sent some truly awe-inspiring storm systems smashing into the Cornish coastline.

It didn’t look like a storm was brewing today, but the sea was rough, waves crashing against the rugged headland in the distance.

“Aunt Cass is doing the final checks,” Sirius explained quietly, eyes tracing over the living room.

Harry knew his godfather had spent time in this house with Harry’s father and grandparents growing up. Every inch of the place held memories for him.

“Where did you two decide to set up the test?” Harry asked.

“Outside - don’t worry it’s undercover,” Sirius responded, with a dubious look directed to the grey skies outside.

Harry’s eyebrows raised hearing that. When he gave Aunt Cass and Sirius permission to use Euphemia’s Cottage as the staging area for his test, he hadn’t been sure how they would use the space, but he had imagined it would be inside.

It had made sense to use Euphemia’s Cottage - it was a home that was rarely occupied, and the privacy allowed Sirius and Aunt Cass to discreetly prepare the test without alerting anyone else to what they were doing. Harry was also not feeling particularly fondly right now towards the property built and named for the woman who had bound her descendants to a betrothal contract they had no say in, so had been quick to offer it to be used in whatever way was needed. 

Harry followed Sirius through to the plant-filled conservatory, which offered a wider perspective of the coastline and the grounds of the cottage. A rustic pergola, smothered in creeping ivy, perched on the edge of a dramatic cliff in the near distance, offering panoramic views of the coastline.

The grounds descended through tiered gardens, and winding paths led to a secluded beach with a private boathouse, hidden from view from this vantage point.

Situated on a flat stretch of grass outside the conservatory’s glass paned doors was something that was certainly out of place - what looked like a marquee had been set up, the structure swaying slightly in the strong winds. The entrance was currently fastened shut, hiding whatever awaited inside.

“Not what I was expecting,” Harry admitted as he took in the marquee.

“We didn’t want to move around any of the furniture,” Sirius explained, “or cast any spells to alter the house without your permission.”

“I wouldn’t have minded,” Harry replied with a shrug.

“We know that - but we didn’t want to risk it with the wards around the property.” Sirius opened the door of the conservatory, letting a gust of freezing air blow through, causing the plants inside to nod and sway. As Harry huddled deeper into his cloak, stepping outside onto the patio, Sirius continued, “We felt like we were pushing it as is just visiting the property without you in order to set up, even though you gave your explicit permission for us to be here.”

Harry took a moment to breathe in the fresh sea air, though the icy wind nipped at his face, considering what Sirius had said. He was not surprised Sirius and Aunt Cass had decided to act cautiously as visitors to the property.

Although Sirius was his legal guardian, and held the property in trust for Harry until he came of age, the wards around the property were surprisingly complex - and old.

It was rather strange - although Fleamont Potter had built the cottage for his wife Euphemia in the 1910s, there were indications that the wards around the property were far older than that.

Just how old they were was unclear, but to Harry’s senses the magic felt at least as old as the  wards around Black Castle. He could feel the magic rooted deeply into the headland, interlacing spellcraft, runecraft and ritual magic into a complex web of protection.

He had explored along the edges of the wards, which were deceptively spread out - although the cottage sat close to the coastline, the property sprawled across the headland and back into rolling fields and ancient woodland for some two hundred acres.

They knew the Potter family had owned the land for some time before Fleamont Potter had decided to build a house on it - there was no contract of sale on file anywhere to suggest Fleamont had purchased the land.

In fact, there was no contract of sale at all - it was impossible to determine just how long the Potters had owned the land.

Perhaps the clearest clue for Harry that the property had been owned by his family for a very long time came from the fact it was in Tintagel of all places.

According to some stories, Morgan le Fay had been born to Igraine and Gorlois of Tintagel.

Not too far from Euphemia’s Cottage, the ruins of Tintagel Castle were perched on a nearby headland overlooking the sea.

Although claimed to be the birthplace of King Arthur, the castle ruins only dated back to the 1200s. There were also ruins of a much older settlement dating back to the mid fifth century but the site did not hold much interest to wizarding society given the lack of magical evidence to suggest it had ever been a wizarding settlement.

The link between Morgana and Tintagel had come from somewhere though - and it did not seem outlandish to Harry that the land had been inherited through his Peverell ancestors and potentially as far back as Morgana.

He had searched for clues each time he visited; walking the fields and woodland, combing the beach and cliffside for any sign of something more to the property.

If there was some definitive tie to Morgana or the Peverell family, Harry had not found it.

Harry was pulled from his thoughts by the appearance of Aunt Cass, who appeared from around the side of the marquee. A smile lit up her face as she spotted Harry and Sirius, calling out, “Good morning!”

As they echoed her greeting, Aunt Cass approached them both, wrapping her cloak more firmly around her.

“I’m glad to see the cottage and grounds in such excellent care,” she said warmly. “I had been meaning to ask - have house elves been maintaining the property?”

“They come around once a month to look after the house and garden,” Harry confirmed. “The place was pretty run down when I first visited.”

“Unsurprising,” Aunt Cass mused, “given Charlus never retained a house elf.”

“I had wondered about that,” Harry said with an edge of curiosity. “The Potters are not a member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, but we are an old family and we had people marry in who were from those families - Black and Prewett most recently. Surely they would have brought a house elf along with them?”

“It is tradition as a coming of age present to grant the younger siblings and sometimes the cousins of an heir a house elf,” Aunt Cass agreed. “I myself have had Rinna since I turned seventeen, but had I decided to have children of my own, Rinna would not have entered their service after I had passed. When I die, Rinna will return to the Black family estate.”

“In saying all of that,” Aunt Cass continued with a thoughtful expression on her face, “I know Dorea was granted a house elf too when she turned seventeen. But Charlus was adamant about not keeping the house elf when they married - it caused a few fights between them before they settled on a compromise and agreed to hire some human staff to look after their properties.”

“I always found it weird the Potters had no house elves,” Sirius commented. “I remember Uncle Charlus once explained he had grown up fine without any around catering to his every whim.”

“But they still hired staff,” Harry pointed out. “Did my grandfather have some other problem with house elves?”

Sirius looked to Aunt Cass, seemingly not knowing the answer, and Harry did too.

The elderly woman seemed to consider the question before answering slowly, “If he did have some other reason for his refusal to keep a house elf, he did not speak about it with me. Perhaps he would have told Dorea, but if he did, she kept his confidence.”

Harry felt there must be something more at play, but he couldn’t guess what his grandfather’s issue might have been.

It did make him feel a little guilty about allowing the Black family house elves into the property every month to maintain it, given his grandfather had apparently gone to such lengths to prevent any house elves from being around.

Sirius spoke up, changing the subject as he asked, “Is everything ready to go for the test?”

“I’ve done the final checks,” Aunt Cass confirmed. She looked to Harry expectantly as she added, “We are ready when you are.”

Harry took a deep breath to steady himself, and then nodded sharply, saying, “I’m ready.”

He walked towards the entrance of the marquee, Aunt Cass and Sirius falling into step with him.

As he reached the entrance he stripped off his cloak, passing it to Sirius. He didn’t want to risk the edge of the fabric accidentally touching something he didn’t mean to.

He adjusted his wand holster for a moment, strapped to the underside of his forearm; he anticipated his holly wand might not be used for most of the test.

Harry would be relying on his wandless magic to give him the necessary edge to succeed.

He already knew the parameters of the test, but for completeness and to temper his nerves he clarified, “I automatically fail the test if I activate any of the triggers inside. As agreed, a trigger is activated only by touch, not proximity. I pass if I navigate through the space to the other side. There’s an exit at the back I assume?”

“There is,” Aunt Cass replied. “You will pass the test if you successfully navigate from the entrance to the exit without activating any triggers in the space by touch.”

Harry wouldn’t cheat or try use a loophole for the test, but he understood why Aunt Cass had clarified it in the way she did - Harry could not exit through the same way he had come in and claim to have properly passed.

He was lucky Aunt Cass had prepared the test with Sirius - if Sirius had his way, every trigger would have been activated by both touch and proximity. Aunt Cass had advocated on Harry’s behalf and with her experience as a Curse-Breaker, that vault defences were not designed to operate on proximity. It was too risky for anyone the owner of the vault might authorise to go inside on their behalf, such as a goblin manager or a relative. Touch triggered defences were the standard - if someone managed to get inside a vault they were not permitted to be in, they would quickly find they could not touch anything without triggering the vault defences.

Ultimately, the Peverell vault should recognise Harry has the rightful owner, and therefore any defences that might be lying in wait should remain deactivated.

Harry just needed to prove in the event that something went wrong he could identify and avoid a threat to make it back out safely.

Harry knew nothing in the marquee was designed to actually hurt him - the “curses” were just charms and runecraft designed to react in some way to alert Aunt Cass and Sirius that Harry had failed the test.

Despite that fact, Harry knew there was a proper challenge awaiting him inside. Sirius did not think he was old enough to enter the Peverell vault on his own, and he would be determined to prove that point.

Harry was equally determined to prove to Sirius he was capable of navigating his way through a vault that was potentially covered in defences, and make it out safely on the other side.

He caught his godfather’s eye, noticing the stressed slant to Sirius’ mouth and the furrow between his brows.

Sirius could only be stressed for one reason, given the test posed no actual harm.

He suspected Harry might actually be able to pull this off.

Then Sirius would have no choice but to honour his promise and allow Harry to enter the Peverell vault alone.

It sparked a fire of conviction in Harry, and he found the confidence to declare, “See you on the other side.”

He stepped forward, feeling the intense scrutiny on his back from Aunt Cass and Sirius.

Right before reaching the covered entrance to the marquee, he pulled his holly wand out, and muttered a quiet, “Wingardium leviosa,” under his breath. As he waved his wand, one side of the entrance cover levitated high enough to create space for Harry to pass underneath, and avoid touching any part of the marquee.

He could not resist looking back over his shoulder at Aunt Cass and Sirius, the former who looked proud and the latter who looked even more stressed.

A small smirk curved Harry’s lips - if they thought trapping the entrance would trip him up before the test had even properly started, they were underestimating him.

Had he touched the entrance covering directly, it would have immediately triggered a reaction and caused him to fail the test.

Fortunately for Harry, his magical sensitivity meant he could already tell there was a spell layered over the covering, though he could not tell what exactly it would do if he had touched it.

He turned his head forward once more, magic stretched out around him, and stepped into the marquee.

The first thing he noticed was that the space inside was a lot bigger than it appeared on the outside - there was clearly an Extension Charm in play.

He carefully guided the cover to the entrance back down with his wand, letting it fall gently into place, before turning around and taking his surroundings in with a cautious eye.

Aunt Cass and Sirius had done an excellent job turning an ordinary marquee into a highly realistic bank vault.

Heatless blue flames shed dim light from wall sconces spaced out around the mock vault, revealing stone walls, flooring and an arched ceiling. Shelves were built into the walls in two sections on each side of the space, where all manner of items were displayed. Harry thought he recognised some trinkets from Grimmauld Place amongst the valuables placed to fill the mock vault with items.

Tapestries hung in the spaces between the shelving, and again, Harry definitely recognised some of the pieces from Black Castle.

Most eye-catching of all though were the piles of gold around the space, glittering under the low light.

Harry could tell the gold was as fake as the vault itself, each pile resonating strongly in his magical awareness with traces of spellcraft.

There was more to it though - when Harry closed his eyes and brushed over the nearest pile of gold with his magic, he could detect multiple layers of spellcraft and some runecraft too scattered in amongst everything.

It seemed the fake gold had been further charmed and influenced by runecraft in some way, and he suspected if he touched any of it, it would cause him to fail the test.

The piles of gold were spaced out though, with a clear path forward through the middle of the mock vault, until it reached one large pile in the centre. The path then split to the left and right around the central pile until it reached the back of the space.

The exit to the marquee could be seen directly opposite where Harry was standing, the coverings shut.

Harry stood there and took it all in, and then he shut his eyes and took it all in again, but using only his magical perception.

The path forward through the middle of the vault was checkered with magical pitfalls -  sections of the stone flooring hummed with spellcraft and runecraft, each pocket of magic indicating a lurking spell or rune sequence waiting to be triggered and cause him to fail the test.

He would need to be very careful in how he navigated the path.

Turning his attention to the shelving built into the walls, and the items displayed, he felt confident each item had some sort of spell on it. There was runecraft too he could detect on the various items spaced along the shelves.

There was no way to navigate around the sides of the space with the gold piled up against the walls, leaving the only path forward the one through the middle of the vault.

Stretching his magic even further to the back of the marquee, Harry could sense the exit itself was also heavily layered with spellcraft and runecraft. He would no doubt need to be careful to remember to levitate the coverings open and not touch anything.

Harry opened his eyes slowly, considering the stone flooring in front of him.

He knew where to step to avoid the magic lying in wait.

But something nagged at the back of his mind, causing him to hesitate by the entrance.

Sirius and Aunt Cass knew how his wandless magic worked.

They knew he would be able to detect any traces of magic around the space, and avoid touching anything that registered as magical in his senses.

Harry reminded himself that there was no time limit on the test, and this was not something he should rush.

If he failed the test, Sirius would not let him try for another year.

Shutting his eyes again and taking in the space once more with his magic, Harry examined the spots of magic, trying to work out if there was a pattern or some clue to be gleaned.

His mind kept returning to the Curse-Breaking workshop he had taken over the summer at the DAYS gathering.

He didn’t remember everything his instructor, Mr Fournier, had told them.

But one piece of advice kept circling his head.

‘When you are investigating an area, you should not only be identifying the curses, but asking yourself why the caster chose to put a curse where they did. Sometimes, it is the protective mechanisms that give you the clue for what you are looking for.’

The room had been designed to force Harry to take the path straight through the middle of the vault.

Sirius and Aunt Cass knew Harry would be able to navigate the path safely without touching any points of magic.

Harry’s eyes widened.

Sirius and Aunt Cass wanted Harry to step onto the parts of the flooring that were clear of spellcraft and runecraft.

The safe sections were not safe at all.

But how else could Harry cross to the other side?

The piles of gold blocked any path around to the sides, pushed right up against the walls-

The walls.

A victorious smile crept onto Harry’s face.

The shelves built into the walls were raised, but the lowest shelf looked like it sat around his head height. The items on the shelves carried traces of spellcraft and runecraft - but the shelves themselves were clear.

And Harry just happened to be small enough to fit in the space between each shelf if he lay flat on his stomach and pulled himself forward. He just had to levitate the items down to the floor so the shelves were clear.

Harry took his time, guiding each item off the shelves and down to a clear space on the floor. The free spaces around the piles of gold were soon littered with trinkets and valuables.

Aunt Cass and Sirius had not seen the need to use a Sticking Charm on any of the items to keep them where they were, which made Harry more convinced they had not considered Harry might attempt what he had planned.

The area of flooring around the entrance of the marquee and leading up to the closest bit of shelving to the right seemed to be totally clear of any spellcraft or runecraft, but Harry still started walking with extreme caution, wand at the ready.

The bottom shelf started around the top of his head, and as Harry drew closer and surveyed the height of it he took a moment to be thankful his Martial Magic classes had been improving his strength.

Who knew the pull ups Professor Björnsson had been making them all do would come in handy?

Harry holstered his wand, gripped the edge of the shelf with two firm hands, and grit his teeth as he pulled his upper body up inch by torturous inch. His arms shook with the strain, and he was quick to press his chest into the space to take some weight off. It was awkward, but he slowly shuffled himself further up and into the shelving space. He rotated around with a bit of difficulty, facing his head in the right direction and tucking his feet up behind him.

Harry took a moment to catch his breath, and then he began crawling, using his arms to drag himself forward and keeping his head low to avoid banging it against the shelf above him.

He imagined the looks on Aunt Cass and Sirius’ faces if they saw him now, going completely off script from what they had expected him to do, and he laughed a little breathlessly.

His humour faded quite fast though as he reached the end of the first section of shelving.

Standing outside looking at the set up he had optimistically pictured himself somehow swinging his legs out and finding a foothold on the next section of shelving and pulling himself across.

Craning his head out now to look at the gap between the two sections, Harry realised he had seriously underestimated how hard it would be to cross the divide. The shelf above him limited his range of movement; he couldn’t jump the gap or get a run up. His small size had worked in his favour to allow him to fit in the space between shelves, but it also meant his arms and legs might not be long enough to reach across the gap to the next section of shelving.

Looking down, a pool of gold coins had accumulated in the gap between the shelving sections, flowing over from the main pile to the side.

He couldn’t touch any of the coins without failing the test.

Looking up to see if there was anything sticking out above him he could use, an idea came to Harry.

If he could wiggle his upper body out, and reach for the edge of the shelf immediately above him, he might be able to pull himself upright. With more room to manoeuvre and his limbs free of the small shelf space, he could attempt to jump to the next section.

It quickly proved to be laborious work, and a serious core and upper body work out.

If Harry had found the pull up before hard with his feet planted on the ground to start with, it was nothing compared to attempting to do a pull up while half his body remained flat. His arms trembled as he tried to lift himself towards the shelf above, half twisted as he rotated his upper body out and up from the lower shelf. His legs scrabbled for purchase, half bent in the small space, and Harry’s breath came in shaky pants as he tried desperately to pull more of his body up and out without losing his balance or grip.

He felt a jolt of panic in his stomach as his grip weakened, arms properly shaking now trying to work at the awkward angle.

Harry refused to let this be how the test ended, failing because he wasn’t athletic enough, and not anything to do with his magical ability.

He needed to be stronger.

And there it was.

A familiar, sudden surge of energy flowed through him like lightning.

His magic had answered his plea.

But Harry had no idea how long it would last - when it had happened during his Martial Magic exam it had lasted for less than a minute and left him feeling exhausted afterwards.

Not taking another moment to fret over how long it would last and what the fallout might be, Harry used his newfound strength to finish pulling himself upright in one smooth motion. He turned, holding onto the shelf above with only one hand, feet hooked onto the shelf below as he perched on the edge of the section looking at the gap to the next.

Feeling his magic course through his veins, sharpening everything into clarity and infusing every muscle with power, Harry held his breath and jumped.

It was not a large gap, but he still had to use a reasonable amount of force to push off from the shelving, and he crashed a little painfully into the next section.

His fingers scrabbled for purchase, but with his temporary strength he was able to find grip. In another smooth motion he crouched, shifting his grip from high to low as he twisted into the bottom shelf head first.

Lying flat on his stomach once more, panting heavily, Harry took a moment to blink and process that he had actually pulled it off.

The urgency of the situation pressed him to push forwards though, crawling quickly in case the magic suddenly left him bereft of strength. He got to the end of the shelf, and from here he could see the exit to the marquee was only a few meters away.

Like the entrance, the flooring immediately around the exit across the back wall was completely free of any spellcraft or runecraft. Harry lowered himself carefully down from the shelf back onto solid ground, tensing for a moment as his feet reached the floor.

Nothing happened though, and he relaxed as he turned around to survey the last few meters to the finish line.

His body shook slightly, not with fatigue, but from an excess of energy from the magic still coursing through his limbs, lighting up every nerve.

He didn’t need the strength anymore, and he knew every moment was making the eventual fallout worse. Wondering how to consciously switch it off, Harry shut his eyes and turned his attention inwards, slowing his breathing.

He could feel his own magic churning through his body like a flash flood, wild and powerful.

It was impossible to pin down or attempt to slow.

Harry realised then that if he couldn’t redirect the flood, he could dam it at its source.

He found his magical core, magic spiralling out, and it was overwhelming for a moment. Then he found his focus, grounding himself in his breathing.

He pictured his magical core contracting, pulling everything inwards.

Harry could feel his magic buck against him, revelling in the fierce freedom of being unleashed without restraint.

He was the one in control.

Harry repeated it like a mantra, tightening his grip on his own core and tugging his magic inwards.

It fought him for another moment, before easing back like the tide receding from the shore.

Harry breathed slowly in and out for a few minutes, until he was certain his magic had gentled and settled. His limbs felt heavy with fatigue, but it was nowhere near as bad as it had been after his Martial Magic exam.

Only once he was confident he was fully in control, did Harry allow his magic to venture out again, in order to sweep the area between where he was standing and the exit.

It seemed unreal that the exit was right there.

He took his time examining the spellcraft and runecraft on the coverings, even though it seemed to be identical to the entrance in his magical perception. A simple Levitation Charm should do the trick again, and allow him to exit without touching anything.

But Harry knew Sirius and Aunt Cass.

They were both the type to throw in one final trick at the end to trap an opponent when they thought victory was in sight.

It was a Black family tradition at this point.

Harry pulled his wand out, pointed it at the exit, and cast a quiet Levitation Charm.

He was as stiff as a board with tension, but one side of the covering lifted easily under the spell, allowing natural light to spill into the space. He could see a glimmer of green from the grounds outside, and hear the distant crash of waves.

Harry hesitated in place, trying to decide if it was safe to approach or not.

He remembered another piece of advice from Mr Fournier in that moment.

‘The lesson to learn here, is to be cautious of what is presented in plain sight.’

Sirius had agreed that triggering a spell by proximity would not count as a fail, but that didn’t mean he had agreed to avoid using any proximity activated spells or runecraft at all.

It was very possible that there was something of that nature waiting to be triggered at the exit, forcing something into contact with Harry and causing him to fail the test.

Perhaps Harry should cast the Shield Charm around himself - surely it would only count as a fail if something made actual contact with him.

As Harry weighed his options, he shuffled his feet to try and keep warm against the chill emanating from the back wall. A faint breeze stirred his hair, causing the strands to tickle his face. Slight movement in his peripheral vision caught his attention, and Harry looked sharply to the tapestry hanging on the back wall.

It depicted the Black family crest; three ravens and the words ‘toujours pur’ underneath. As Harry watched, the tapestry swayed slightly.

He slowly lowered the covering to the exit with his wand, letting it settle back into place.

Harry then watched the exit, observing the covering move slightly in the breeze from outside. His eyes turned back to the tapestry, which also moved slightly.

His eyes widened in realisation.

Mr Fournier had warned his students about what was presented in plain sight, but he had also warned them that it could mean the thing you can see is not what you are looking for at all.

Harry slowly pointed his wand at the tapestry and cast the Levitation Charm.

The bottom of the tapestry folded up, and behind it, Harry could now see another covered exit to the marquee.

He could tell with his magical awareness that there was no spellcraft or runecraft on this exit.

Mind made up, breathless in anticipation, Harry walked forward. He passed under the lifted tapestry and reached out to cautiously push the covering aside.

He walked out of the marquee to find Aunt Cass and Sirius waiting for him.

Aunt Cass’ eyes were wide with shock, and Sirius looked pale.

Harry had passed the test.

He could enter the Peverell vault alone.

Harry knew it would be wise to wait to enter the vault, to recover his strength after tackling the test, but he felt like he could not wait even a day further.

Sirius simply nodded reluctantly when Harry made his wishes clear to go to Gringotts without delay, expression pinched. He had not said a word since Harry stepped out of the marquee.

Aunt Cass had recovered quicker from her shock, pressing Harry for details on how he had beaten the test.

When he admitted he had removed all the items from the shelves and then pulled himself up onto the nearest one and crawled along it across the room, Aunt Cass had laughed incredulously, asking how he had managed to get from one shelving section to the other, without touching the ground.

She and Sirius had clearly not placed any defences on the shelves themselves, dismissing them as a possible route, because of how they were spaced out.

Perhaps too in their efforts to create a challenge that even an adult would struggle with, they had forgotten the simple fact that Harry was a child, and could fit himself into spaces adults could not.

Harry explained how he had manoeuvred himself and then made the jump to the next section to finish crossing the room. Hearing that, even Sirius found it in him to look impressed.

Harry found out that had he tried to walk along the main route through the mock vault, stepping on the ‘safe’ areas would have triggered a proximity spell on the piles of fake gold in the room, sending them cascading into the path.

If he had somehow reacted fast enough to cast a Shield Charm to avoid the initial fallout, it would not have saved him for long, with the whole space filling with more gold each time he activated another proximity spell.

Even if he had somehow made it to the other side of the room while avoiding the gold, there had indeed been a final trap awaiting him at the exit, which was impassable.

The only passable exit had been the one Harry had found hidden behind the tapestry - that had been Aunt Cass’ idea.

Harry had beaten the test, fair and square.

Still shaking her head in disbelief, Aunt Cass had parted ways with them to return to Mira, who she had left in the care of her house elf.

Sirius finally found his voice to murmur, “A deal is a deal. Let’s stop by Grimmauld Place to let grandfather know, and then I’ll take you to Gringotts.”

It was a blur after that - going home to Grimmauld Place, Arcturus’ stoic acceptance of the result, a cautionary word to remind Harry to be alert and prepared when he entered the vault.

Harry travelled to Gringotts with his grandfather and Sirius by his side, having a quick meeting with Skarde when he arrived, who had been very pleased by the turn of events.

The head goblin escorted them down into the depths of Gringotts without delay, and as Harry set foot into the familiar tunnel lit by the glow of the ashgaräz he could barely believe this was really happening.

It was his grandfather’s first time seeing the tunnel, and the tap of his cane on the stone faltered as he took it all in.

But Harry only had eyes for what waited for him at the end of the tunnel.

The darkness beckoned him, the crystals that framed the gateway unable to shed any light into the black void beyond.

Their group stopped a short distance away, a hushed silence settled over them all as they took in the gateway.

Harry’s heart raced in his chest, and his stomach felt like it was tied in knots in anticipation.

He had been waiting for this moment since he was eight years old.

Harry peeled his eyes off the gateway, sparing a glance to Sirius, his grandfather, and Skarde. The head goblin had a look of eager anticipation on his face, no doubt satisfied this moment had finally come after Harry had been delayed years prior.

His grandfather’s eyes kept trailing over the countless ashgaräz around them, awe and disbelief clear on his face. It was one thing to have heard about the hidden wealth in the tunnel, and another thing to see it.

Sirius met his gaze, grey eyes concerned.

Seeing the struggle in Sirius, his desire to protect Harry warring against his sense of honour in upholding his end of the deal, Harry stepped towards his godfather and hugged him.

Sirius’ arms circled around him, hugging him back tightly.

“Be safe,” Sirius whispered.

“I promise,” Harry assured him.

He stepped back out of his godfather’s arms, Sirius letting him go reluctantly.

Arcturus placed a warm hand on the back of Harry’s head, cradling it as he said quietly, “You’ve been waiting a long time for this.”

Then, like a silent blessing, his hand moved down to Harry's shoulder blades to gently push him forward towards the gateway.

Skarde lowered his head in a gesture of respect as Harry passed.

Harry breathed out slowly, pushing through his tiredness to let his magic reach out around him.

Eyes forward and magic open he stepped through the gateway.

He could only describe it like the moment of slipping underwater.

This magic was ancient.

It took him in completely, surrounding him in cool darkness.

When Harry moved forward cautiously, it allowed him to proceed without resistance. He was all too aware though that danger lurked in the depths of the magic, like a sheer drop hidden under the surface.

His own magic contracted, pulling inwards to his core as though cloaking him protectively. Compared to the depth of the magic around him though, his own magic felt like a drop in the ocean.

Just as he wondered how long he would be walking forward in total darkness, the world brightened.

He blinked at the sudden shift, stopping to take stock of his surroundings.

Harry was standing in some sort of cave.

Every inch of the walls and ceiling was covered in ashgaräz, lighting the space up brightly.

But it was not the sheer volume of ashgaräz that caught Harry’s attention - but rather what stood in the centre of the cave.

Two trees were growing inexplicably out of the stone.

There was space in between them, but their branches intertwined overhead, forming a natural archway.

Despite being underground and having no sunlight, the trees appeared to be very healthy, the bright green leaves growing on the branches showing no sign of decay or disease.

It almost made him stagger in place to brush his magic against the trees, so steeped in ancient ritual magic it made Harry dizzy.

His eyes scoured the gnarled trunks, the shape of the leaves, and then finally spotting small patches of red berries tucked in amongst the foliage.

They were hawthorn trees.

He stepped forward, breathing out shakily as he tried to adjust to the overwhelming pressure of the ancient magic in the space.

Harry walked slowly and carefully around the outer edge of the cave, seeing the gateway he had come through framed by the ashgaräz as it was on the outside, no light penetrating the dark void.

There did not appear to be any other ways in or out of the cave.

It was a dead end.

And other than the ashgaräz on the walls and ceiling and the two hawthorn trees, it was totally empty.

He finished circling the cave, returning to the place he had started.

His eyes kept being drawn instinctively back to the space between the two hawthorn trees.

It looked like a gateway.

It was difficult to make out anything clearly beyond the overwhelming power of the ritual magic around him, but Harry could tell everything emanated from the two trees.

Mind made up, he approached the trees, holding his breath as he drew closer.

His heart began to pound hard in his chest, eyes watering slightly in reaction to the pressure of the ancient magic on his senses.

It felt like physical weight bearing down on him, making each step difficult.

His ears began to ring, a distant humming that set his teeth on edge, and made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

Still he grit his teeth and pushed forward, concentrating on forcing his legs to cooperate against the invisible weight pressing down and against him.

The humming grew louder in his ears, and a faint sense of dread began tightening his stomach.

Breathing shakily through it, Harry did not let himself falter, committed to this course he had decided on.

His magic, tired from earlier, still leapt to answer his silent call, new energy coursing through his limbs. It kept him going, but each step was a battle. 

Nearly bent over now under the weight of the magic, Harry dragged his back leg forward again and finally stepped under the archway.

It drove him immediately to his knees.

He fell forward on his hands, gasping for breath under the now crushing weight of magic bearing down on him mercilessly.

The ringing in his ears sounded more like a shriek now.

That sense of dread deepened into terror, as Harry realised he couldn’t breathe.

Panicked, he lashed out with his magic, but it was like trying to force back a mountain. He tried to reach for the ashgaräz, hoping to draw on their magic, but the ancient ritual magic blocked him. He was cut off from everything.

Harry couldn’t move, paralysed under the crushing weight of the magic, as it viciously bore down on him.

Desperate, he abandoned his attempt to push back against the magic around him and turned his attention inward, reaching into his magical core for his reserves of power to try and steel himself.

He cursed his own arrogance and insistence on entering the vault without delay, not back to full strength after the test that morning.

His arms gave out beneath him and he collapsed onto the stone flooring face first.

Darkness began creeping on the edges of his vision, and Harry’s mind went blank with horror.

This couldn’t be it.

This wasn’t how things were supposed to go.

He reached deeper inwards, desperately hunting for something, anything to help.

As he danced along the edge of unconsciousness, his mind beginning to slow and drift, he felt something inside him tug like a loose thread.

Harry’s eyes slipped shut and he felt it tug harder.

Something inside him shifted, urgent and familiar.

All at once, the pressure around him abruptly lifted.

Harry relaxed, but that sense of urgency cut into his peace.

The tugging inside him became almost painful, and he grimaced.

The familiar presence shifted to his chest and suddenly his lungs began to burn.

Harry reflexively gasped in a breath.

His eyes flew open, gasping and choking as he inhaled and exhaled. Tears streamed down his face, and he shook on the floor of the vault, every nerve alight.

Everything hurt.

The awful pressure was gone, though the ancient ritual magic loomed threateningly around him still.

He had no idea what had caused it to retreat, but he did not plan on sticking around for the situation to change. 

Harry all but dragged himself out from underneath the hawthorn trees to the other side of the vault, getting all the way to the other side of the cave and bracing himself against the wall.

He leaned his forehead against the cold stone, shakily drawing on the ashgaräz now that the ritual magic was no longer blocking him.

It bolstered him enough to sit properly upright, looking back towards to the hawthorn trees that had nearly killed him.

There was no sign of his struggle, everything looking exactly as it had before he walked between the trees. 

The magic would have killed him, if not for…

Harry’s brows furrowed and he reached inwards cautiously.

He remembered a tug, and something that felt familiar reaching through him, but he couldn’t put his finger on what it had been.

Whatever it was, the ancient magic of the vault had receded when it passed through Harry.

As Harry searched inwards he found no trace of whatever had answered his desperate call.

Whatever it was, it had saved his life.

Turning his attention back to the hawthorn trees, Harry felt despair build in him.

It was obvious the magic of the gateway had deemed him an intruder.

All the fear that had been building since he found out how his ancestor had inherited the Peverell vault came bubbling to the surface once more.

The legal contract had been enough to satisfy the goblins to give him the Peverell inheritance, and the fact he was a direct descendant of Morgana and he had a dark magic core granted him entry to the vault itself.

But the gateway had soundly rejected him.

All those years of waiting and wondering, his hope for the future, his pride in his legacy, all of it was dashed on the floor of the vault.

The ancient magic of this place knew Tristana Peverell’s bloodline was out there. It didn’t care for legal contracts or particulars around legitimacy.

Harry was not the rightful heir.

If Tom had a body, it would have been shaking with exertion.

His usual reservoir of magical power had been reduced to a flicker of strength, almost all of it channeled out through a bond he had known must exist but had only been subconsciously aware of.

Until the moment he had felt it tug.

The moment his magic brushed against the bond he had felt it.

Terror.

Harry.

It was instinctive to follow the call.

As he reached down the bond it drew the magic out of him with vicious intensity, stretching him thin. Yet he still pressed forward, driven by the urgent understanding that Harry was dying.

He reached the other side, the familiar embrace of Harry’s magical core wrapping around him, desperate and clutching.

For a moment he could feel unbelievable magical pressure on him, nearly forcing him straight back out.

He grounded himself in Harry’s magical core and pushed back, surprised when the ancient ritual magical immediately receded.

Not sparing any time to ponder it, Tom turned his attention to Harry.

The connection between them was rapidly weakening, tugging Tom’s presence back towards the diary like a gravitational pull.

Their connection thinned further as Tom felt the life slipping out of Harry.

He desperately flung out his magic around Harry’s body, trying to anchor him to the world of the living while also searching for the cause of his deterioration. 

Tom identified the issue quickly - Harry was not breathing.

He reached into Harry’s lungs with his magic, determined to inflate them himself if he had to, willing Harry to breathe.

And finally, Harry did.

Each breath stabilised him further, and Tom could no longer resist the pull backwards.

He was wary of that ancient magic returning, resisting the inexorable pull and slowing it down by wrapping Harry’s magic around him.

Tom was aware of Harry moving, hopefully taking himself to a safer place than wherever he had been before.

Soon though he could not stop the pull backwards, Harry’s magic clinging to him but unable to stop Tom’s presence being hurtled back down the bond.

He snapped back into the diary, magical reserves decimated, trying to process what had just happened.

Tom knew Harry was a Horcrux, and that there was a connection between them.

He had never anticipated though the connection being strong enough to feel Harry call from so far away, and to let him reach Harry in turn.

He felt relieved that his intervention had saved Harry's life, but an alarming thought was brewing.

If Tom had felt Harry’s desperate call for help through their Horcrux connection - he was probably not the only one.

“My lord?”

Red eyes slowly opened to look at Barty Crouch.

The oppressive heat in the room left a sheen of sweat on the man’s brow and exposed arms as he slowly stirred a large cauldron above a furnace in the room. His fair hair had grown long, tied back from his face.

When the weight of the red gaze fell on him, the man stiffened but kept his composure as he asked carefully, “Is everything well?”

There was silence in the room in the wake of the question, broken only by the crackle of the fire and the hum of the delicate instruments around the room.

“I must return to Britain.”

The voice, high and cold, carried decisive authority despite coming from such a frail creature.

Voldemort was but a shadow of his former self, but it was a dangerous shadow nonetheless.

Taking the announcement in stride, Barty responded smoothly, “Now, or after the elixir is ready?”

“We cannot abandon over a year of work,” came the declaration. “I will attend to this business in Britain personally once my body is restored.”

“Yes, my lord,” Barty replied.

He turned back to his task, stirring carefully and consistently. The runes around the furnace kept the flames at the perfect temperature, but the solution was highly volatile, and required precise stirring by hand every day.

Voldemort returned to his thoughts, troubled by what had just occurred.

He had sensed one of his Horcruxes in peril.

In this rudimentary form he had limited control over his magic, but in truth, he had rarely been able to sense the bonds between he and his Horcruxes even at the height of his power. 

He had felt one today though, tugging desperately on their connection.

Voldemort could not discern which of his Horcruxes had reached out, or the nature of the threat it had faced.

The bond had soon fell dormant once more, and Voldemort could only conclude the threat had been dealt with.

He would surely have sensed it if one of his Horcruxes had been destroyed.

The situation awakened an urgency in him though.

He needed to check on his Horcruxes, to ensure each one was safe.

It was a task he would entrust only to himself - no one knew the exact steps he had taken to ensure his immortality, and he would keep it that way.

The arrival of Nagini drew him from his thoughts, the large snake coiling up the armchair Voldemort was seated in, and then wrapping herself protectively around his frail form.

He stroked her head absently, thinking it fortunate he had decided against turning her into another Horcrux.

Voldemort needed to ensure the security of his existing soul anchors, before he would consider making more.

To do that, he needed his body restored.

Slytherin’s research journal had been indispensable, combined with his own notes and research accumulated over the years, and a certain breakthrough with unicorn blood.

The solution they had been brewing for over a year was nearly ready to be transmuted, but they needed a sacred day to do it.

The next one was Imbolc, just over a month away.

It seemed fitting that on the day of purification and healing his body would finally be restored.