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Chapter Text

November 1st, 1981

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Grand Sorcerer of The Order of Merlin, First Class, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, sat nursing a tumbler of fire whiskey in his office, surrounded by trinkets and portraits of headmasters gone before him. 

It all sounded rather impressive, didn’t it? The titles and accolades he’d managed to collect in his almost hundred years of life. He couldn’t help but look back on it all, especially on a day like today.

He was revered and admired, consulted by everyone who was anyone from far and wide, and he’d worked tirelessly to sit where he sat today. He was lauded as one of the best men in the world, a good man. Albus Dumbledore was good, he was kind and caring and righteous. He stood for what was right. 

Did he? Albus wasn’t sure anymore. He believed in the greater good, but the things he had done in its name had hardened his heart to the point of not caring. He had an end to achieve and he felt the means were justified.

It all began much like most things begin. A motivated young boy looking up at the enchanted ceiling of the great hall. History books have said he was motivated by kindness, by love, the betterment of their society. The truth of the matter was far more ordinary. 

He was driven by spite.

He was a young boy of eleven the first time he felt the sting of that which some call a chip on one’s shoulder. He was so happy to finally come to Hogwarts after his lonely childhood, spent only with his reclusive family. He was so happy to be amongst children his own age for a change, other magical children and learn about magic, the magical words his mother spoke when waving her wand around the house.

Instead, he soon learnt the meaning of many other words. Words such as notorious, mudblood, parvenu, upstart, and many others. 

He never really knew what happened to his father until he went to Hogwarts. His mother had taken great care to hide the ugliness of the whole affair. He only knew three bad muggle boys hurt Ariana and Father had taught them their lesson and for that he had to go away for a little while. Suffice it to say, society knew different, and they let him know it.

He’d read about Hogwarts extensively, and he knew that the Dumbledores were Gryffindors. Ever since his great grandfather was sorted into Gryffindor. 

He was so proud to be a Dumbledore, he loved his name, every name his parents gave him. Other’s weren’t so fond.

He managed to sort Gryffindor by convincing the hat after quite some time. To think the blasted rag wanted to put him in Slytherin! He was a light wizard! Preposterous. At least now he was where he was meant to be, and Mother would be happy, she would be proud.

Kendra Dumbledore was a special woman. She was a devoted christian, baptized in the Church of England, so her views on magic were varied. Her parents tolerated it, if only it brought them some advantage to better their hard living. Kendra thought light magic was a gift from god, and dark magic was the work of the devil, a lax and pragmatic view considering the Church of England had more relaxed views on morality than staunch Catholicism, taking into account its origins rooted in a horny king’s desire to divorce his older wife in order to bed a younger woman. 

A muggleborn witch intent on reaching the top of wizarding society, she used every tool in her box. She was pretty, she knew that, and her mother had told her so from a young age, scraping what little was left over of the family income to ensure her daughter married well. It was the only option back then, for a woman. Make an advantageous match and drag her family up along with her. As the daughter of tenant farmers in Yorkshire, options were limited, but as a witch? Who knew? 

Turns out her options were much more limited, as not only a mudblood but a mudblood of humble origins even by muggle standards, but she was observant and cunning. She refined her speech and manners and wrote essays for the lazy elites for extra pocket money, making the most of her Ravenclaw brains. In her final year, she caught the eye of a handsome Gryffindor, Percival Dumbledore, technically a pureblood but only two generations back. The family wasn’t wealthy but they were far off from being poor, richer than hers definitely, so she let herself be pursued and as soon as they were about to graduate, she became pregnant. They hastily married and seven months later they had a son, Albus. 

His father wanted to name him Albus Percival Dumbledore, as per wizarding tradition, but Kendra felt it too common, so she added the names of her father and Percival’s father. If they were to make their mark in the world? They needed to act as if they already had. 

Percival indulged his beloved, and for a while they were happy. Soon after, Albus was followed by Aberforth and later, Kendra’s pride and joy, Ariana Kendra Sybilla Marie Dumbledore. Boys were meant to continue the family name, but pretty girls with the proper education could bring wealth into the family by marrying well, and now Kendra had a little doll to prepare for her life as a wife and mother, and if she let herself dream big enough? A life as the lady of a noble house. 

Albus resented his sister for all the time she took from him with his mother. Albus loved his mother, wanted to make her proud, happy, give her everything she ever dreamed of having. 

His school career was not without hardship. He had to work extra hard to shake the image of the notorious muggle murderer’s son. He was polite, proper and even-tempered with everyone, including his bullies. How he envied the bastards.

He still remembered casually joining a conversation amongst Heathcliff Longbottom, Hedwin Potter and Cassandra Abbott outside the transfiguration classroom one day. He wasn’t exactly friends with any of them, friendly would be a stretch even, but they were polite. They were discussing something or other about balls and rituals, which sounded very obscure and surely something Mother would not approve of, and since Albus hated being caught in ignorance, it was easier to just reject it outright. They just explained that they would be leaving to celebrate Mabon soon with their families, and they were dreading the social aspects of it all. When they asked what his plans were for the weekend away, he had nothing to say. He didn’t know what Mabon was, but he knew he didn’t like it one bit. He said he’d be staying in the castle and then Longbottom tried to continue before Abbott just silently stopped him with a hand on his arm and politely wished Albus a good day. They thought he couldn’t hear them when Abbott scolded her friend for being so nosy, he knew that the boy’s mother was a mudblood and both knew nothing of their ways so rubbing it in was unkind.

He never got to shake that notion, all throughout his school years, he was the mudblood upstart. Brilliant mudblood, prodigy upstart, but never accepted. Instead of fighting for that acceptance, he leaned into it. So bloody what if his mother was a muggleborn? If his father’s line only went back two generations? He could dance circles around them, worked hard to surpass them and still hit that glass ceiling that only class could break.

Then, like parting clouds on a dreary day, Gellert came into his life. He still couldn’t believe someone as handsome and intelligent as Gellert had noticed him, really listened to him! He got so wrapped up in his plans with Gellert that he neglected everyone around him. But then he showed his true colors and Albus couldn’t follow him down the path of dark magic, it was devil worship! Evil. Albus was good. His greatest pleasure and shame came when his sister, both dear to him and the root of all his problems got herself killed in a duel. He worked hard to show grief, but the little vermin had killed his beloved mother, and even with how hard he tried, he just couldn’t be bothered to care, and that fact worried him. He was good, he should care. He wasn’t like Gellert. 

He never abandoned their plans though, instead deciding to play the long game. He would rule over all those weaker than him one day, have everyone who ever scorned him eating out of his palm, but it would take time.

His defeat of Gellert still hurt, the look on his beautiful mismatched eyes haunted him to this day as he watched him catch the Elder wand in his hand after disarming him. But it paid off in the end. At least he managed to get him imprisoned, when most people wanted him dead.

All the glory and accolades he received from being Grindelwald’s vanquisher, liberator of the wizarding world, had paid off indeed. People still scorned him though, talked behind his back, and Albus absolutely reveled in it. If they found his fashion gaudy? He ordered even more heavily embellished robes. If the color gave them a headache? He hoped they liked bubblegum pink! Bloody bastards.

The years went on and Albus only got more and more bitter, while still perfecting his carefully crafted persona of the benevolent patriarch of the wizarding world. Muggleborns flocked to him like beasts to the watering hole, enchanted by his flamboyant and caring persona, much reminded of the wizards in their fairy tales. He really should have sent some flowers and lemon drops to that Disney fellow. He deserved them for crafting the image Albus exploited so successfully.

The purebloods were always harder to charm, brought up since infancy with vast amounts of knowledge on the magical world and the families that made up its weave, a deeply rooted sense of belonging and heritage that Albus envied and knew he would never have.

Sometimes it took a little convincing to bring the more desirable targets into the fold, a little compulsion here and there on their Hogwarts letter always did the trick and then, if needed, it was just a matter of carefully dosing them with some potions. If they were compelled enough to ignore the warnings their heirship rings provided, then it was a done deal. Through those means, he had amassed himself quite the army of rich, influential light leaning purebloods to fight against the rise of that devil child Riddle. Sometimes, if the compulsion was strong enough and he got to them early enough, he could just wait and watch it fester and take root in their personalities as if it had been always there, embroidered in the still developing weave of their young character.

He had the heirs, but the longer lifespan of magical folk still slowed his plans. It had been his master move, the dragon pox epidemic of 1979. Never underestimate the man who discovered the 12 uses for dragon’s blood and had the cunning to change “biological warfare” for “oven cleaner”. His puppets came into their inheritances one by one and his adversaries perished under the modified strain he released and then magnanimously discovered and released the inoculation for, only after he cleaned house of course. 

Everything was turning out perfectly, and if he’d known he was going to be on the receiving end of a prophecy, he would have never decided to open the post of divination teacher. He’d never been one to believe in fortune tellers, but to witness a true seer utter a prophecy in his very office shook something inside him, especially if that prophecy foretold his demise. Albus was nothing if not practical however, so he pivoted quickly and started the plans that had been so swiftly foiled by just one little inconvenient detail the night before. 

When he crafted the prophecy Voldemort was meant to hear, he had planned everything out so he’d go after the Potters. He’d left them out defenseless, successfully taken them out of their impenetrable manor and into a shack with wards that could be much more easily broken, under a charm protected by a man he suspected was a traitor and a spy. He had even asked to borrow James’ cloak before that little rat man went to spill his guts to Tom, he thought he’d have to coerce him into going, turns out he had to charm him not to, until the right time at least. He’d made sure Lily found and would perform the ritual that would protect his most prized possession, and set everything in motion so he’d be orphaned, alone and at his mercy.

So why in Circe’s cursed name had the bastards survived! How would he get his little weapon under control now? To pit both his prophesied enemies against each other was the crowning jewel of years of expert manipulation. Raise a boy to be clay in his hands, pliant and submissive. Adoring, willing, self sacrificing. It was a thing of beauty. And it should have worked, but those blasted Potters managed to survive and not only that, vanquish Tom in the process. He’d lost his weapon, and with it the chance to finally snuff out the dwindling flame that was once the roaring fire of the House of Black. Regulus had died mysteriously sometime in the year prior, and Arcturus, the sitting Lord Black, had managed to survive the pox but not without aftereffects, as his health was not what it used to be. The chance to incriminate his heir had been just too good to pass up, but he wouldn’t even be able to do that now.

At least, they’d vanquished him for now. One enemy down if only temporarily. He would return eventually. Albus still wasn’t sure how, but if Tom was one thing in his insanity? It was boastful, and he announced far and wide to anyone who’d listen that he’d taken precautions and had gone further than any wizard before along the path of immortality.

Too many things were hanging in the balance now, and only time could tell what would happen next, what they would raise him to be in contrast to the plans Albus had for the whelp.

Chapter Text

If you asked anyone who’d met him, they’d tell you James Potter was like the sun. A shining light at the center of everything, a force so powerful it drew everything to him much like the gravitational pull of the day star.

No one would say he was perfect though. He was happy, yes, carefree, self assured, rich, handsome, even well endowed if one believed the rumor mill, but perfect he was not. Warmth and kindness came to him with the same ease as the coldest cruelty. His haters would tell you he strutted around thinking he was better than them. His fans would tell you he was.

The truth though. The truth was far more complex, for the carefree, happy go lucky boy that went around pranking people with varying levels of cruelty and fooling around in broom cupboards with everyone that batted an eyelash at him, wasn’t quite as he portrayed.

James Fleamont Potter was born on a rainy afternoon, on the 27th of March 1960, in the master suite at Stinchcombe Abbey, the Potter family manor ever since the muggle crown broke with the Catholic Church and his ancestors scored a deal buying and refurbishing the Catholic Abbey in their hometown of Stinchcombe, Gloucestershire.

He was joyfully received by his parents, Fleamont Henry Potter, and Euphemia Potter née Kothari. 

Fleamont and Euphemia were slightly older than the average couple starting their family. They’d been married for a little over a decade before they were able to produce an heir and much desired child. 

He would grow up happy and spoilt, since on account of their advanced age, his parents couldn’t provide him with a sibling.

Fleamont and Euphemia raised him much like they had been raised, like a proper pureblood heir to one of the highest ranking houses in the land. They told him all about the history of the family, how Litesh and Indira Poddar left the kingdom of Mewar to establish themselves in Gloucestershire, becoming Linfred and Endora Potter of Stinchcombe. How the manor house down the road, where he’d live one day with his family before taking over the Abbey from them, used to be the family manor. He learnt to brew at his father’s side, albeit reluctantly, in order to take over the booming potions company his father owned. At his father’s side he learnt everything that would be of use to him later on. The art of a good deal, how to spot someone’s weakness and use it in your favor, how to smooth-talk birds and blokes alike, and most importantly, how the Potters came into their most important secret and inheritance, the source of his shame.

James could remember with shocking detail, the day his father sat him down in his study and shut the door with privacy charms. He never did that, so it sent an anxious shiver down his spine. He didn’t think he’d done anything wrong, had he? Mother wasn’t miffed at the vase he’d broken with his broom, even if she’d told him not to fly inside the house. She’d just laughed and said a gastly aunt had given it to them and she’d never liked it. So why would Abba call him to his study?

“Jamie dear, it’s an important time for you my darling. You got your Hogwarts letter yesterday and before we go and get all your things for school, we will stop by Gringotts so you can claim the heirship ring to our line.” He’d said, showing him his lordship ring.

“Before we go, I must tell you some more of our family history. It’s our most guarded secret, so you must promise never to tell anyone ok my boy?” His father had said warmly, though James could detect the nervousness in his voice.

“Yes abba, I promise,” he said solemnly.

He could still remember the chill that ran through his body, as if his blood had lost all its warmth when his father started the tale of how long ago, one of their ancestors had married a daughter of an ancient and powerful house. The House of Peverell was rumored to be touched by death, and they, as their descendants, knew it to be true.

“We are our lord father’s children, laadla, descendants of Ignotus Peverell, one of the greatest necromancers the world has seen. He left us our family’s most precious heirloom, this cloak.” His father had said, gifting him with his cloak, the cloak that saw him through more than his fair share of mischief and saved his life countless times during the war.

That word though, necromancer. It sent chills down his back. It sounded dark, dangerous, wrong. James didn’t like the dark. Dark was evil, light was good. He was a light wizard, a good wizard.

“When we go to the bank, you will take an inheritance test to see if you are eligible for the Peverell lordship. Don’t worry laadla. The House of Peverell is a friend to the Goblin Nation. We have a deal with them. Since our dark heritage is frowned upon, we never take the lordship, and the goblins look the other way when we simply claim stewardship over the seat. No one can know chhote, ok? But it doesn’t negate what we are, we just keep it secret ok?”

“Yes abba, secret,” James said back then, quiet and subdued.

Dark was bad, secret, shameful. Light was good. He couldn’t wait to get to Hogwarts and show everyone how good he was! To meet Headmaster Dumbledore! He’d make him proud, he was such a good man. He would be good like him.

He would always remember that September 1st as one of the best days of his life. He was so excited he ran straight into another kid on the train. He remembered Sirius Black from some of the social functions he was forced to attend as a child. He was always slightly wary of him. Even if his uncle Charlie was married to a Black, and he loved his Auntie Dodo, the Blacks were a dark family! But something in the pale silver eyes of the boy called to James, and the two were inseparable ever since.

He was of course sorted into Gryffindor almost as soon as the hat brushed his messy hair, and Sirius had been too! He was a clear hat stall but he was glad his new friend fought the hat against Slytherin. He would help him fight his darkness and they would be brothers forever.

And so the years went on, and James unknowingly collected his misfit group of misplaced darklings that flocked to his light like moths. He was happy, popular, smart and above all, he was good. But sometimes at night, he knew he was bad, he was rotten, cruel, a monster, and that just lit a fire under him to get up the next day and show everyone what a good boy he was. He helped Sirius be good, Remus as well, and Petey to be brave. He was good.

Around fifth year, a new little moth entered his orbit, and Jamie fell in love with the force only one’s first love can have.

Regulus was everything to James. If James was the sun, shining bright during the day, then Reggie was his star, his beacon in the night, and James did everything he could to save him as well, only to fail.

Sirius had taken his time to come round to the idea of him dating his brother, but once he saw how Jamie’s light dimmed once he gave Reggie up for him, he just couldn’t bear it. So he girded his loins and marched down to the dungeons to drag his prissy little brother back into his best friend’s arms. 

Regulus was the first to crack his carefully constructed shell. He questioned every belief James had to the point where he could almost agree, but something always pulled him back.

Dark is evil, light is good. I am good, I am a light wizard.

It wasn’t until Headmaster Dumbledore made him Head Boy along with that uppity mudblood Evans that he began to see her for who she was, and their previous pigtail pulling for what it was, just that.

If he had fallen for Reggie hard, he fell for Evans harder. They collided with each other like supernovas, two suns merging that would leave nothing in their wake.

Reggie had gone and joined the Death Eaters and it had broken both his and Sirius’ hearts to see him fall to the darkness they could have helped him overcome. If only he could have trusted them to help! 

Lily and him were swept in the whirlwind of love and war and hardship. They graduated with honors, top of their class and excellent NEWT results, but life wouldn’t be easy.

James struggled with the fact that Abba and his mother’s health wasn’t what it used to be, and he was given more and more responsibility. He hated managing the estate, he only wanted to fight. He would save their world and they would defeat the looming evil. The bright side was that fighting evil didn’t come cheap, so at least he could help that way. That is, until his father tied up every investment and property in trust so he couldn’t liquidate anything once he blew through the cash. It was their biggest fight ever, his Abba yelling that he had a son on the way now and he needed to think of him, James yelling back that he was, he was saving the world for him to grow up in, and James would regret it forever, because it was one of the last times he and his abba had spoken. His health along with his mum’s deteriorated rapidly, and they fell along with many of their peers to the dragon pox epidemic at the start of 1980, but at least they managed to attend the wedding, and even if they didn’t meet Harry, they died knowing the line was secure.

Lily and James moved into the Abbey after the wedding, and soon enough Lily was pregnant with Harry. James could not have been happier, looking at his beautiful wife as she waddled around his family home in whatever she found that fit at the moment. 

It was close to their due date when Dumbledore came to the Abbey and told them of the prophecy. You Know Who was coming for either their baby or Frank and Allie’s baby. He felt in his gut that it would be their baby. They had distinctly defied him three times. Three black envelopes, denied, one hand delivered by snake face himself, and they’d almost died that night. He rambled on about wanting them to go into hiding somewhere else, but they assured him that nowhere was safer than where they were. Stinchcombe Abbey was where the Potters belonged. Their blood was woven into the wards and their magic seeped through the walls. 

Dumbledore insisted that they’d be sitting ducks in the Abbey. Voldemort was powerful, he had ways of bypassing wards and would surely find the manor even if it was unplottable. Because yes, the house couldn’t be tracked or mapped, but their line was known historically to have their country seat in the village of Stinchcombe in Gloucestershire, so it was easily narrowed down. He might not know where to go once he reached the village, but he wouldn’t put it past him to just raise it to the ground entirely through fiendfyre.

James of course conceded, Albus would never lead them wrong, and even though he doubted something like that would happen he was also not keen on testing out that scenario, but Lily managed to convince him to at least wait until their child was born. If they were to be in hiding, they wouldn’t be able to go and have the baby in St Mungo’s so to have their experienced elves that delivered generations of Potter babies would be a godsend, and Mary could be called in discreetly enough if further assistance was needed, but not if their location was secret. 

Harry was born, just as James was, in the master suite at Stinchcombe Abbey. Delivered by Essie and Tipper just as he was. Mary was brought in to check on Lily but she’d been a trooper throughout the whole thing. James was beaming with pride! A healthy son and heir, and on the eve of lughnasadh! This was a blessing indeed. His eyes watered when he stepped out into the adjoining sitting room with the little bundle in his arms, to present the next generation marauder to his friends. He was just perfect. Golden chai skin just like his, and a wild tuft of black fuzz on his little head. His eyes were still that grayish blue newborns have before the color settles, and James prayed selfishly for one more blessing from Mother Magic, that they may settle green like Lily’s. He walked with pride through the portrait gallery, showing off the baby to his Abba and mother and the rest of the family. 

A few days later, Lily was patched and potioned up enough for the trip to Gringotts. They’d discussed it previously, the week before the birth, and they’d decided to have Sirius blood adopt Hadrian just in case anything happened to them. Lily was adamant that they needed to have someone with a strong enough claim should anything happen to them, lest he went and ended up with her wretched sister, so naming him just as godfather wouldn’t do, and considering James had no one in way of close relatives to take him, just a few distant Poddar and Kothari relations back in Udaipur, he reluctantly agreed. Blood magic didn’t sit well with him, but protecting his little fawn was more important. Sirius was all for it, since he had no intention of becoming a father himself any time soon, and with Reggie missing he had been summoned by his grandfather and unceremoniously told to get his shit together because he was still the heir. Sirius refused, but even if he didn’t take it up and wear the ring, the heirship was his anyway. James encouraged him to take it! To do good with the power it brought, turn the house to the light! He didn’t notice the strain on his friend’s smile in return.

He pushed down his feelings about the whole blood magic aspect of the adoption and they went through with it, naming their son Hadrian James Regulus Potter-Black. It should have been Hadrian James Sirius, but James and Padfoot just shared a look and knew it should be Regulus, a tribute to the fallen and a nod to the brightest star in their son’s sun sign. 

Dark is evil, light is good, he was a light wizard, but Hadrian was more important, so after all was said and done, he shook off the sinking feeling that he had just betrayed his values by turning to darker arts. After the adoption and their wills were sorted, Lily was going to leave Harry with a recording, and even if she had urged him to do one too, he couldn’t. He would live through anything just to be with his Bambi. Death was not an option. He didn’t need to do that. So they relented and sent him home with his son. James did his best to tend to the days old baby for as long as he could before yielding and passing him on to a tisking Tipper.

Another checkmark in the long list of hypocrisies and double standards that made up the chopped salad that was James Potter’s character, came when Lily ambushed him in the study and told him she had hired a painter and he had to come sit with her for their portraits. He was absolutely against the idea of leaving behind a portrait. It was dark magic! Unnatural. But much like she always did, she wore him down with just one look and the crushing weight of her magic. He went quietly and sat for the portrait, which she reassured him would be appreciated if anything happened to them. Didn’t he want to leave Hadrian with something? He enjoyed showing Harry off to his parents’ portraits when he was born, right? Would he deny Harry the same when he had children to present?

As Yule approached, Dumbledore came on the offensive again and finally wore them down enough to move. James checked the property ledger and decided on a cottage in Godric’s Hollow that had once belonged to a great aunt who died childless, so it reverted to the estate. He sent a team of goblins to refurbish and update the wards, and then Dumbledore layered wards of his own. James and Lily had fun painting the house the muggle way and choosing furniture from the vaults to furnish the little shack. It was a dump compared to the Abbey, but it would only be temporary, until You Know Who could be dealt with, so they decorated it for Yule and James beamed with pride about the reindeer onesie he’d found in a muggle gift shop.

They managed to remain safe under the wards until one night when they let their guard down and left the house for Mabon. They almost didn’t make it out and after that Dumbledore suggested putting the cottage under Fidelius. Lily just grumbled about how they could have put the manor under Fidelius but James just shushed her. They would be fine, Dumbledore would protect them. The charm was more of a ritual than a charm almost, and it would take some time to prepare, so they just waited and talked about their options for secret keeper.

James wanted to use Sirius, obviously. There was no one he would trust more with his life than him. Lily said he would be the obvious choice and he was too good of a fighter, they couldn’t afford to take him off the field because he’d be persecuted so much he might as well come with them into hiding. Sirius accepted without a second thought, but suggested that if things got too ugly, they could switch to Peter, and both James and Lily thought it was an inspired idea. Peter! No one would suspect Petey. His most valuable asset was his ability to go unnoticed. It might be crappy in life but in a war? It paid to be unremarkable.

The week before the Fidelius charm was to be cast was one of the worst in James’ life. He’d gotten used to the routine, if not yet to the encroaching quarters, for which Lily teased him relentlessly. They’d taken to parenthood very well in his humble opinion, though he would admit that Lily was a natural where he had needed a bit of time to adjust. It helped that his Bambi was a very unfussy child. He slept through the night, so much so that Lily had to wake him up for his night feedings and he’d just drop dead afterwards. James wasn’t even sure he woke up fully during them. During the day, he’d just tag along with them. They’d set him on a high chair or a bouncy muggle egg thing that James had no idea what to call but Harry loved it and he would just giggle and babble away while they did their thing. 

By the time they were about to go under Fidelius, Harry was a little under a year and a half and already babbling a few words. He could say Mama, Abba, Padfoot, Moony and Pep, Lily’s crazy cat, though his friends’ names came out more like Pah foo and Mooey. He could also say up, making grabby motions that made James melt and give in even if Lily said she’d read in that book Molly Weasley got her that they shouldn’t pick the baby up that much. 

“I think Molly’s got the making part of having babies down to a tee, just by the sheer number of them, but I’m not sure she’s all that great at actually raising them. Have you seen them around headquarters? They’re a menace!” James said dismissively, which earned him a slap on the arm even if he noticed her hiding her laughter.

It had been domestic bliss so far, because that’s what James Potter did. James Potter was the sun, and what does the sun do? It shines. There’s no darkness to the sun. The sun is happy, sunny days are the best days, so he kept his mood up and concentrated on everything positive. Yes the place was a step away from dereliction in his books, but it was their little dump of a place, and they made it homey. He enjoyed preparing his specialty for breakfast so he could surprise Lily in bed, Weetabix and milk. She may mock his culinary skills, but a good bowl of cereal was an art form.

That’s why it hurt so much when Lily came to him in the living room at night one day, with a book in her hand saying they needed to talk.

At first he didn’t feel anything was wrong, so he just charmed some plushies to float around Harry’s baby bork thingy and gave his wife his undivided attention with a pleasant carefree smile.

His smile quickly fell when he took stock of Lily’s demeanor. She looked like she was about to confess to murder and carnage for Merlin’s sake! What could possibly be so wrong!

She then proceeded to tell him everything she’d been keeping from him. About the letter she received from Gringotts when she came of age, her adoption, her heritage and her practices. He felt like someone shifted his axis. How could his sweet tender Lilyflower be a dark witch? It was simply not possible! 

Resentment and betrayal started to bubble up inside him, at the secrecy, the lack of trust, the fact that she let him bleed their coffers dry for the good of the country while she stockpiled two fortunes worth of gold, dark gold that could have washed off some of its taint going towards their cause! But he pushed it back down along with everything else.

This was his Lilypad, and he was no stranger to helping those that fell prey to the darkness. He was glad she finally felt she could come to him with this. It would be ok, he’d help her. He knew the dark arts were seductive, and addictive, but she could manage to come out the other end with his help. Sirius did, Remus did! She could too! It would be fine.

He hadn’t expected her reaction when he told her as much. She looked crestfallen, like he’d just kicked her puppy. Did she expect him to embrace her perversion?

Dark is evil, light is good, I am a light wizard.

He asked her what the book was about and she said it was nothing related, just something she’d been flicking through when she felt the urge to come clean. She dabbed her eye and thanked him, which put him at ease a bit. At least she was receptive. They’d get through it, of course it wouldn’t be ok right away.

He turned to his baby, and a freezing chill ran up his spine at the thought of his precious baby fawn ending up dark as well. Was it possible? Now that he knew of Lily’s heritage, and his family secret, it could very well be possible. And the cherry on top? They’d had Sirius blood adopt him, so now he had to throw Black family magics into that festering swamp pool of a mix.

“Don’t worry chhote, I will help you. You will be good.” He vowed, looking at his perfect son.

“Abba, up!” Harry said none the wiser, smiling innocently at his father as he raised his little arms. 

He held his baby close, feeling his little chest rise and fall against his, and kept the silent promise going in his mind like a mantra.

You will be good, I will help you. Dark is evil, light is good, I am a light wizard.

On the eve of the Fidelius, they decided to risk a little goodbye dinner before they bid their closest adieu for however long they needed to remain hidden. They got Sirius, Peter and Mary to come. Remus was out on mission and James would be ashamed to admit that he was wary of his friend being so involved with those monsters. He feared they’d make him regress and all the years they spent helping him would be for nothing, or worse, he’d be convinced to join the other side with all the empty promises they were making to those cursed with the same affliction.

The mood was as festive as they could muster with the looming threat of being targets, along with the ever present knife of grief stuck in their sides. 

It was normalcy, the grief. They’d gotten used to it, storing it away for later inspection. It was truly like a knife, plunged in the ribs and with time and focus they had learned to move stiffly with it, avoiding the worst of its sting.

Still, being together like that just made it more evident, the absence of those that were gone now. 

It was quiet without Marlene asking for a drink before even saying hello, complaining about how they were so boring now they had a baby, even if she doted on Harry just as much as the others, or Dorcas looking at her fondly, rolling her eyes, whispering to Lily about how just a few days ago she started hinting at trying for a baby. Dorcas had fallen not long after Marlene, killed by Voldemort himself. It was a glorious send off, after the grieving killing spree she went on after they took Marls. 

Frank and Alice were in hiding as well, or else they’d have come along too. Neville was much like Harry, calm as a pond, big blue eyes ever observant and the same straw blond hair Frankie had. Whenever they got the babies together, they’d just gurgle happily at each other in their own little language while the grown ups got caught up. He felt a newfound sense of kinship with Frank after Lily’s confession. And a new understanding about the closeness between Lily and Alice, her being a Yaxley and a Rowle.

That had been the next one in the string of fights during that week leading up to the casting of the fidelius.

Lily wanted to be called Lyra, now that she’d told him. James refused, he didn’t know Lyra, he fell in love with Lily. He was married to Lily. 

Things didn’t improve during the week, which only added to the somber mood of their little dinner party. No one stayed for pudding.

The mood lifted a bit once the charm was cast. They felt like they could finally breathe in the house. They were safe, at last. Sirius would die before they caught him, and even if they did, he was sure he would never give the secret away, just as James would for him if roles were reversed. Dumbledore asked James if he could borrow the cloak while they were in hiding. It would be a welcome boon for the cause if it remained in play rather than stored in a cupboard while they hid. It could save lives. James gave it away happily. 

Lily was livid at that, and when James tried to explain she wholeheartedly agreed, stating it could very well save theirs, if You Know Who ever got hold of the secret. James couldn’t argue with that, even if he bristled a bit. The sinking feeling wouldn’t leave him after she pointed that out, but he kept repeating to himself that they were safe now, things were good.

Their mood soured after Sirius apparated in with a broken leg and arm, bleeding onto the carpet before passing out as he said, “plan B Prongsy, get Petey and Albus.”

Albus was happy to switch secret keepers and Pete assured them he’d lay low and no one would know a thing, jittery mess as he always was.

After a while, it was getting a little boring without the comings and goings of various order members popping in for a cuppa or with a little trinket for Bambi, but they made do. At least they weren’t under so much stress anymore, so confident in the security measures they’d taken that one night they even managed to have sex. Decent sex even, not rushed. A proper honest to Merlin shag. James woke up with a renewed skip to his step Samhain day, and made the best Weetabix and milk of his life. Today was going to be a good day.

They went about their business much like any other day, Lily entertaining herself with a cookbook she found in a cupboard, making something out of it for lunch with enough leftovers for dinner. Harry flew around on his little toy broomstick chasing Pep around, tried to catch the puffs of colored smoke James cast for him, and napped a few times while James read and Lily cleaned the nursery. She’d been cleaning the nursery almost obsessively these past few days, but to each their own.

At night, James had just finished up a bowl of stew leftover from lunch, levitating it to the sink to wash later. He set his wand on the couch and stretched his back.

Lily came in to take Harry to bed, and she’d just picked him up when a loud bang sounded on the door, much louder than a common knock, even an angry knock. It was a blasting curse.

“Lily, take Harry and run! It’s him! I’ll hold him off.” James said, Lily wasting no time and running up the stairs with the confused baby.

James just had a moment to realize his wand was out of reach on the couch, when the door finally yielded and the world went to black after a blinding flash of green.

Chapter Text

Lily wiped her tears with her sleeve on Samhain morning, as she carved the runes required for the ritual into the frame of the crib with a knife from the kitchen, praying to every deity she could think of that it would be enough. Ritual blades were hard to come by when under house arrest after all.

She didn’t have much time, and she needed to finish up today or else James would get more suspicious.

Her husband was quite oblivious, but not even him would not think her obsessive need to “clean the nursery” for the past three days would go unnoticed. She had finally decided to tell him everything, after finding the ritual she needed in a book amongst Dorcas’ things Dumbledore brought them. Apparently she sorted some of her belongings for those she’d be leaving behind after her suicide mission, or so Dumbledore said in more or less words. 

He’d told James everything about herself, all her secrets, and he’d looked at her as if she were a leper. And to think she was going to ask for his help with the ritual. Lucky for her he was denser than a vault door so she played off the book successfully.

As she finished carving the last rune in the array, she sat on the floor and cast the glamor over the crib to hide the carvings. She let out a defeated sigh and carried on silently crying. At least now, if the worst came to pass, Harry would live. She was ready to die.

How did it come to this?

She tried to recall her earliest memory, hiding the knife under the cushions of the plush rocking chair by the crib.

It wasn’t hard, with her skills in the mind arts being what they were.

She could remember flashes of her birth parents. The fuzzy face of her mother nuzzling her cheek, blond locks tickling her nose. The sound of her father’s laughter, his hair the same auburn red as hers, eyes as green as hers and Harry’s.

Moving forward in the timeline of her life, she remembered her Evans parents. She loved them dearly and they loved her just as much.

“My little fairy,” her mum used to call her, on account of her slender ballerina build, fiery red hair and eyes that matched no one in the family. She’d asked about it once, why she didn’t look like anyone else in their family while looking at the wall filled with pictures of both sides of the family in the hallway that led to the kitchen, but her dad had just squished her tight in a hug from behind and whispered in her ear that it was because she’d been a gift from the fae folk and they found her on the windowsill in the kitchen, of course. To think she’d laughed silly every time he said that. It was probably the only way he knew how to tell her the truth.

She grew up loved and accepted, but with a keen sense of otherness. People commented on it, and graciously called her “the pretty one” in comparison to Tuney, who did resemble almost every female on both sides of their family in some aspect or other. 

It was true that she wasn’t the most aesthetically pleasing thing to behold, her older sister, as if taking every redeeming quality in her family and it just falling short.

She had their mother’s slender long neck, but on Petunia it looked less graceful, more giraffe-like than swan-like.

Her hair was the same burnished bronze their granny Prudence had in her youth, but whereas on Granny it looked shiny and healthy, on Petunia it looked brittle and lackluster.

Lily, on the other hand, had always lived up to her flower name more than Tuney. Even from a young age, Lily was long and nimble, moving gracefully with a natural ease to her, like a flower in the wind, that Tuney just didn’t possess.

They were both tall girls, but where Lily was long limbed and poised, Petunia was all elbows and knees and awkwardness. It certainly put a damper on their relationship early on.

They were fine when they were little girls, but as they approached ten years old and even more so after Lily got her letter, they drifted apart. Their parents were so happy for Lily. “My little witch,” her mother started calling her instead of her fairy, and Lily was glad they were accepting, not like Mr Snape a few streets down.

She had known she was different for a while now, after she became friends with Sevy. He’d seen her doing her flower tricks in the park swings close to their houses, and when Tuney left in a huff about something or other, he approached her.

They’d been inseparable ever since, and she’d spent most weekends and school holidays in his house, reading Mrs Snape’s books on magic and helping her brew her potions. Mrs Snape was nice, unlike Mr Snape, who was a mean drunk.

She couldn’t help but remember a particular conversation with her, as she taught her how to brew bruise balm and why her method was better than the text. 

“Why don’t you leave him Mrs S? You’re magic! You could just leave.” Lily had asked out of the blue, knowing the bruise balm they were brewing was not for sale like most of her draughts and salves, but for personal use.

She wasn’t bothered by the question, she simply sighed and looked at Lily with eyes far wiser than they should have been, wisdom forcibly smashed into them by sheer trauma and hardship.

“Love is a fickle beast flower, some call it a force, a feeling, but love, I have found, is like a dragon,” she said after some thought. “It’s beautiful, majestic and awe-inspiring, and it can render you powerless against itself. But it can also be oppressive, possessive, destructive and dangerous. It’s hard to tell the difference between the two, and sometimes it doesn’t matter. Its embrace can feel just as warm and comforting as it does crushing, and you start to overlook the bad because to live without the good is unfathomable.” She confessed, and after a moment, she added, “Tobias is awful at his worst, but at his best? He’s everything. I stay for those glimpses, even if I wish I could leave.” 

Lily vowed to herself then, as a wide eyed 9 year old, that she would never be in that position. Yet here she was, 21, and completely and irrevocably in love with a man who would never accept her for who she was, that loved an edited and curated version of herself, and she would stay and be that version for him if need be. Because as Eileen Prince once said, the alternative was unfathomable. 

At least a few years later Sevy managed to leave his home life behind for most of the year. They were so excited to go to Hogwarts together! Sev wouldn’t shut up about how they would be housemates in Slytherin, but Lily wasn’t so sure. She didn’t doubt she’d excel in any of the houses, since she was sure she had qualities from all of them and she found the sorting system reductionist and over simplifying, but she didn’t want to be in the center of wizarding bigotry as a muggleborn in Slytherin. So, as she walked up to the footstool to have the sorting hat placed on her head, she sent up a silent apology to Severus and argued the hat off the idea of sending her to the snake pit. The hat argued back that placing her would be difficult then. She had smarts and love for knowledge, but not for knowledge’s sake but for her own benefit, which led back to Slytherin. And she was fiercely loyal, but not as a badger would be, only to those that returned it, again a Slytherin trait. She was brave, but she wasn’t foolhardy, she was rational, calculated and even tempered, she was the perfect Slytherin, so why argue? 

“Because I don’t want to spend seven years as the ginger mudblood of Slytherin,” she argued back. “Look, why don’t you send me to Gryffindor, It’s clearly the house everyone seems to favor, and where most of the muggleborns go anyway. If you send me to Slytherin, I’ll just leave. Magic isn’t worth all the pain you’d bring me.”

“Even after that expert show of manipulation, you’d argue against your true placement? Very well, better be… GRYFFINDOR!” The hat had called at last. 

Sev looked sad, but she smiled apologetically and went to sit at the Gryffindor table, and after Sev was promptly sorted into Slytherin, the nice girl they met on the train sorted Gryffindor and went to sit with Lily immediately. She was mousy and frail, but her eyes were kind and her magic was chilly. Lily liked her immediately, and they remained thick as thieves for the remainder of their school years.

Her school years were hard, to say the least. She had to deal with a lot. Rampant blood prejudice, or so she thought, and also the fact that she had to come to terms with the reality that she was a dark witch. There was no escaping hardship it seemed, she’d dodged being the Slytherin mudblood only to be a closeted dark witch amongst light supremacists.

At first, before Hogwarts, she hadn’t really thought of magic in those terms. Magic was magic, and she only knew the magic in the books Sev’s mum lent her. When coming to Hogwarts, she found out that what she had been learning was dark magic, luckily from Alice, who came from a dark family herself, so it wasn’t so much that she cast a curse unknowingly in the Great Hall, but still. She went through her years in Hogwarts with a burning need to prove herself. Prove that she was just as good as the pureblood pricks who looked down on her. The wizarding world was so backwards, everything was stale and antiquated. What was so wrong with pens! She practiced like crazy until she had better penmanship with a quill than most of the pureblood ponces that sneered at her in the hallways. 

Alice tried her best to settle her in, make her see that it was just a different culture that she should explore before passing judgment, but if Lily Evans was anything in this world? It was stubborn. She held onto her beliefs like a dragon to its hoard and wouldn’t budge for the life of her. She was powerful, skilled and intelligent. She excelled in both light and dark arts along with Sev and Alice, studying in secret with them. She had complete control over her mind and her capabilities, and she had carved herself up like a Christmas ham with blood rituals, perfected and enhanced to the brim. She would take them by storm, and they wouldn’t know what hit them.

She was pretty and popular, so she made friends easily and widely. It wasn’t odd to walk the halls and hear a chorus of “alright Evans?” from people in every color of robes. She transcended the divide even in spite of her blood status, to the point where she became the head of Slytherin's darling pupil. 

The thorn in her side throughout school was always James fucking Potter. Handsome, arrogant, rich, pureblood, popular and nasty James Potter. She loathed him with a passion, because he represented everything she thought was wrong with their world, the embodiment of privilege and entitlement. It didn’t help in later years that every single one of her friends minus Alice had had some sort of run in with the twat. According to Rachel McCormick in Hufflepuff, he was very well equipped, like a baby’s arm she’d said. She just blushed and huffed in disinterest. She might as well add slag to the list of things she disliked about him.

She couldn’t understand how sweet quiet Remus could be friends with someone like him. She had found out his secret at the end of second year, because no one’s aunt could be sick that long and that regularly for two whole years and still be around. She put two and two together fairly quickly once her curiosity piqued and decided to confront him. The poor boy was so frightened it would get around that she told him her own secret as proof that she could be trusted with his. They became close after that, sharing books and giving Remus a much needed outlet for intelligent conversation, which the marauders were short on. They were brilliant, magically talented, but maturity was not their strong suit, and they excelled only in what interested them or benefited them. He couldn’t discuss a novel with James or Sirius, and even if Peter could be brighter than those two at times, he almost always shied away from expressing individuality in an effort to fit in and keep the peace.

Fifth year was an eventful one, the year she broke her friendship with Sev. It broke her heart to hear her oldest and dearest friend call her that word, but it also hardened something in her. They had been having trouble for some time before that, because Lily didn’t like the company he was keeping. It wasn’t that they were dark, they were all dark, but just how cruel they were.

Lily could be cruel too when she wanted to, when someone crossed one of her own. No one had been able to track Mulciber’s broken legs to her after what he did to Mary after all, but needless cruelty wasn’t something she could overlook. It was just the last straw when Sev called her a mudblood. Alice had tried to explain as best she could that it wasn’t meant as a slur or against her birth, but Lily would hear none of it. She was unmovable in her stance and cut him off completely, no matter how much he groveled.

Then, on her birthday during sixth year, just as she turned seventeen, she got the letter that changed everything. She wasn’t Lily Evans, but Lyra Schwartzstein. Her mother explained everything to the best of her ability without the letter dragging on, but the gist of it was that she and her husband were attacked as they left a ICW assembly in Paris and her husband was killed in the attack. She escaped and fled to England, where she set everything up for Lily and put her up for adoption so she could remain hidden.

She was not only dark, but a duchess and a baroness from ancient lines in the continent, and from what Alice could tell her once she showed her the letter, also quite famous, almost like the wizarding version of the missing muggle princess Anastasia. It caused a lot of conflict within her though. She spent most of her life in the magical world resenting everything she now stood for. A privileged heiress, a pureblood.

She spent her time until Easter break discreetly researching her families in the library. For all the praise she’d heard about the Hogwarts library, she found it awfully biased and lacking. Even the restricted section felt disgustingly tame. She came across the names several times in history books, notable dukes and duchesses of Monténèbre and Barons Schwartzstein, but there wasn’t much in the way of genealogy books. She couldn’t do much else until the break, since she couldn’t just up and go to Gringotts on a whim while in school and she was still scared that the reasons her mother chose to hide her away were still an issue. 

She became so insufferable, that one day, Alice sat her down and gave her a proper dressing down like she never had before. Alice had always been careful about how to voice her concerns with Lily. She valued her friend too much to lose her by antagonizing her. Lily was not a forgiving person, so she toed the line carefully. 

She sat her down and didn’t let her leave their dorm until she got it in her head that this was good news. It was important for every witch and wizard to know their heritage, and the family magics they might inherit upon their majority. It wasn’t just about the money or the prestige. Ancient families were custodians and caretakers of a legacy far greater than just money and old houses and artifacts. They literally had old magic. Magic carefully nurtured through centuries! This was a gift and she should take the care to know what she had come into and how to represent her houses well once she was sure she could take up the mantle safely. She answered all her questions and rebuked all her arguments until she got it into her thick head that purebloods weren’t evil. Yes, some were bigoted arses, but most weren’t and by calling her a mudblood they meant she rejected wizarding culture in favor of forcing muggle ways down their throat. She even got the courage to agree with Snape. She was a mudblood. Everyone had tried to ease her into wizen ways many times. Invitations to celebrate the turning of the wheel at different sabbaths, subtle etiquette explanations, Frank had even invited her to the Longbottom Litha Ball, which apparently was a very big deal and he’d been very offended when she turned the invitation down, thinking stuffy events like that just weren’t her cup of tea. She constantly complained about everything to do with wizarding customs to the point many were secretly hoping she would just give up and go back to the muggle world that apparently was so much better in comparison. 

Lily left her room walking a tight line between humbled and humiliated. Not before asking Alice for books of course, because she was Lily Evans and Lily Evans thought there wasn’t a problem in the world that hadn’t happened before and therefore had the solution documented in some book. 

She read about etiquette and wizarding culture voraciously, waiting for the day she may go to Gringotts. She felt so ashamed as she read on, recognizing a new blunder and insult she’d committed every few pages. No wonder everyone thought she was rude, she was perfectly pleasant by muggle standards, but apparently she was appallingly rude by wizarding ones.

She timed things perfectly the day she would be going home for Easter, no, Ostara break, as she reminded herself constantly. When she got off the train in London, she bought a ticket on the last available train to Cokeworth, which would leave her plenty of time to take care of business at the bank. 

She took the bus to Charing Cross just outside the station and after going through the Leaky Cauldron into the Alley, she popped into Madam Malkin’s and bought a simple day robe to throw over her muggle clothes, suddenly self conscious. She didn’t own any wizarding clothing other than her uniform and she didn’t want to present herself as a muggle in the bank.

She’d always remember the feeling of the towering marble building looming over her as she went into the appointment that would change her life.

She queued patiently until a teller became available and she gave the customary greeting she studied beforehand and asked for an inheritance test. The teller gruffly told her the cost of the test, since it wouldn’t do to perform it only to find she had no claims to cover the cost, but she knew it wouldn’t be an issue so she simply nodded in understanding.

She was led to an office where another sour looking goblin instructed her to prick her finger and let three drops of blood fall onto the parchment. 

The results confirmed everything the letter said, and the goblin changed his tune instantly, respectfully asking her to follow him.

“Madame La Marquise, King Ragnok IV will see you know,” the goblin said, opening the large gilded doors. Lily just nodded and walked in in a daze.

The next hour was a crazy ride as the goblin king himself explained everything to her with surprising patience. Her family was a friend to the Sovereign Goblin Nation, and their affairs were handled by the king himself, unless the families preferred a different manager.

She claimed both titles once the goblin king assured her that she was not in danger anymore, the terrorist organization that targeted her family had been disbanded and its remaining members imprisoned years ago, but Lily still made sure to keep it a secret just in case. It was a turbulent time after all, with squib and muggleborn uprisings and He Who Must Not Be Named at the height of his power. 

They went through the whole portfolio with a fine tooth comb, reallocating funds from expired investments and surveying properties.

She had castles and villas and manor houses around the continent, even a house in London. Hundreds of millions of galleons in the bank and countless books, heirlooms, jewelry and artifacts in her vaults. It was all quite overwhelming.

After the hour was up and everything was sorted, the king congratulated her on her birthright and told her he expected great things. She said she’d make them proud and what the king said next struck a chord, and she’d remember it forever.

“While it is your duty to represent your houses well, your grace, there is no one to make proud. This is your birthright, inherently yours. It’s not something one has to earn or even deserve. Circe knows there are plenty of subpar lords and ladies undeserving of their titles. So, if I may be so bold, embrace it, and stop trying to prove a point, as it is mute. You have a place in this world that no one can take away from you.”

She made it just in time to catch the train home, deep in thought all the way over. Would her parents tell her she was adopted now that she was an adult? She was just an adult in the wizarding world, perhaps they’d wait for her 18th birthday? She didn’t think so though, all she knew was that she wasn’t going to say anything. Her mum had shown her pictures of herself with a pregnant belly and told her it was her in there for crying out loud! She’d heard stories about women stuffing cushions up their dresses until spontaneous trips abroad or away, where they would visit the local convents and orphanages along with museums and tourist attractions for picture’s sake, and they’d come back with their babies, having “delivered” on holiday. She was adopted in Dover from what her mother wrote in her letter, and the Evanses had always lived in Cokeworth or around the general vicinity. That didn’t sound like someone gearing up to confess.

Her break at home was uneventful, normal rows with Tuney and an ever present ache whenever the urge to visit the Snapes hit and she realized she couldn’t. No mention of her adoption whatsoever.

Upon her return to school, something settled within her. She didn’t feel like she had to prove herself anymore. Yes, people didn’t know yet, but she knew, and that newfound self assurance did not go unnoticed.

She caught the eye of the headmaster, which didn’t sit well with her one bit. He was always kind to her, but now he seemed to observe her with a renewed twinkle in his eyes and she didn’t like it. His magic always felt cloyingly sweet and sticky, like golden syrup and artificial scent, like rotting citrus. She didn’t trust him. He was kind, polite and acted as if he cared, but she could see through the act just fine. He cared alright, but only as far as one could be of use to him. It felt transactional and conditional and she felt no loyalty towards him. 

Her seventh year book list came with a little pin. She’d been made Head Girl, and she would have been elated if she hadn’t seen it for what it was. Tit for tat. 

To her distaste, Potter had been named Head Boy, which meant they would have to spend more time together than she would like, which was no time at all. They were also recruited into the headmaster’s little army, and she couldn’t say no. It was a kind and concerned offer to help prepare them for the dangers of a world at war upon graduation, but the subtext was clear. Join me or be against me.

To her surprise, Potter wasn’t half bad that year. Something seemed to have settled in him as well during the summer. They talked more, got to know each other, and he confessed that it had been a rough couple of months and he had to quit his antics and grow up. His parents' health wasn’t great and he had a feeling they weren’t going to be around long, so he would be called to fulfill his duties, not to mention the fact that his boyfriend left him to join You Know Who. They leaned on each other for support, and by the end of the year they were madly in love.

She’d say it was closer to a toddler’s arm than a baby's arm, and he knew how to use it. At least he learnt a thing or two by being the school slag and if she got there in the end to reap the rewards then it was fine with her. 

They pushed each other and got near perfect scores on their NEWTs. Well, his were near perfect, hers were spot on.

After graduation, she went on a little holiday to the continent. James wanted to tag along, but he had to take care of his parents and Lily quickly reassured him it was quite alright. She wanted to visit her ancestral homes and she couldn’t bring herself to shatter their bubble, James being the light supremacist he was.

It was an illuminating summer. She spent days just sipping tea in front of portraits, chatting with her parents and grandparents where they hung in their château in France, as well as in her father’s castle in Germany.

Her mother recommended she buy a couple of learning amulets, since she’d need to learn French and German to study the family Grimoires and various books in their libraries and vaults. They were illegal and dangerous, but she managed just fine. She was fascinated to learn that her exceptional skills in the mind arts were an innate gift of her mother’s line, and was shocked to know the secret history of her father’s family.

To most, the Schwartzstein line descended from a wizard who lent aid to a vampire coven, and in return was healed of his injuries after battle by a drop of the regent’s blood, which gave him and his progenie many gifts. 

The truth that her family kept secret, was that the patriarch of her line wasn’t a wizard originally, but a squib that was turned into a vampire after a battle, which healed his magical core and released his trapped magic. He married a witch and started the line, the vampire blood diluted enough through the centuries that it didn’t make them creatures, but the magic remained in the family, giving them many vampiric traits that would cause them to be scorned in society if made public. 

She met that ancestor, Grandfather Himbold, as he asked her to call him, when she visited Schloss Schwartzstein in Bavaria. He explained that she now had enhanced speed, strength and a longer and better preserved lifespan than the average witch or wizard. She could also manipulate shadows if she mastered the craft, which she doubted she’d manage soon. According to him, to master the shadows one had to completely accept oneself, conquering one’s own shadows before attempting to master any other. If that meant coming out as dark in the current political climate and losing everyone she cared about? Then she was fine without them. He asked if she could speak to snakes by any chance and she said she couldn’t. He said it was fine, that one sometimes skipped a generation or two. What worried her was the thrall.

Himbold explained how they could infuse their voices with compulsory magic, seducing the weak and subduing the strong. She didn’t like the implications of it and he said it was the main trait that they kept secret, because it made people distrust them. She agreed. Down the line, Baron Ernst Von Schwartzstein, her father, married Camille de Monténèbre, 48th Duchess of Monténèbre. Her family had mastery of the mind arts, and Ernst and her would theorize about the potential of the synergy between their gifts in a hypothetical child of theirs. He warned her to study it though, because it tended to manifest spontaneously if she was arguing passionately and more powerful wixen could pick up on it.

Lily laughed at being a science experiment, but it felt oddly comforting, like the academic curiosity she too had. Besides, she had always been sensitive to magic, so at least she had an inkling as to who might be a good candidate and who wouldn’t. She’d be fine.

She came back to England to find a black envelope in her mail. She knew what those meant, You Know Who sent those to the people he wanted in his ranks, people that caught his interest. A letter from James said he’d gotten one too and he’d burned it on the spot! But Lily opened hers and read it. It was nonsensical dribble drabble and sugary compliments to her talents and proficiency in spite of her “unfortunate parentage”. That made Lily laugh, if only the madman knew about how fortunate her parentage truly was, he’d have hand delivered the note. Another reason to keep it secret still.

Lily and James joined the Order of The Phoenix, the group Dumbledore was grooming them for in order to fight You Know Who. She was sad to see Alice dragged along by Frank, and they gave each other discreet knowing looks during the first meeting.

At the end of that year, they married. It was a quiet affair, western since Monty and Phee were not well enough to handle the hassle of a full week of Indian festivities and the war wouldn’t allow it. James and Lily still wore full Indian wedding attire to the ceremony, and changed into something more comfortable for the reception. She wished they could have had a traditional wedding, the sari Phee had gifted her was beautiful, and the jewels! It was a dream come true, and James looked so good she would have pounced him in front of everyone without a care in the world.

They moved into the Abbey and not long after that Monty and Phee passed away. James was inconsolable and poured himself into their vigilante work. 

She feared for her life after the third black envelope was hand delivered by the Dark Lord himself, sitting nonchalantly in front of them at the muggle cafe they stopped in after a mission, and they barely managed to escape alive after refusing. No one refused that psycho, and they’d gotten away a third time. Third strike, you’re out next, Evans!, she thought in a loop. 

She went home to visit her parents, who were not doing well. Her father had never taken proper care of himself, and her mother hadn’t either, neglecting herself to take care of her husband. They wouldn’t last the year, according to the live-in caretaker Petunia’s husband was paying for. She’d offered to pay herself, but of course her cow of a sister refused only to lord the fact that she was paying over Lily’s head. She could rot in her ugly muggle suburb for all Lily cared, because Rose and Patrick Evans would always be her parents in her heart, but Petunia stopped being her sister the day she refused to come to her wedding.

She almost said something about her adoption, but the sight of her frail parents with oxygen tanks and those little tubes taped to their noses, sitting in front of the tv, discussing Coronation Street as if it were a factual BBC documentary, eating their tray dinners, softened something inside her enough to dissuade her. She couldn’t break their bubble. If they wanted to take the secret to their grave, she’d pretend for their sake.

Upon leaving, her feet took her to the Snapeses old house of their own volition, and before she could stop herself she was knocking on the door.

Severus answered the door clad in a heavy dragonhide apron, surely she had interrupted his brewing, but they reconnected all the same. She told him everything, and they promised to keep in touch in spite of the divide the war created.

The rest of her life up to now, sitting on the floor of the nursery after finishing to prepare the ritual that would take her life in exchange for her son’s was a big blur.

She had once meant to sort through the last year of her life after the war, but now there was no need. She wouldn’t make it out. She just hoped James managed to survive, but chances were slim. 

She’d taken care of Harry just as her mother had taken care of her, setting up everything for him to grow up cared for and happy, and just in case Dumbledore meddled like she suspected he would, she’d meticulously hidden all of her own money away so Harry would only figure as the Potter heir to anyone trying to exert guardianship rights before the heirships were claimed. Dumbledore had an unhealthy interest in her child. She could tell he knew they would be the ones chosen to fulfill that stupid prophecy, and she feared for Harry’s future in the hands of either of the madmen that had them caught in their stupid tug of war.

She finally stood, walked out of the nursery and threw her wand into her bedroom on the way to pick up Harry for bed.

She had just picked him up when the banging started. She ran upstairs, not even listening to James. She closed the door to the nursery and pulled the dresser in front to slow him down as much as she could.

She set Harry on the crib, who was agitated but still not outright crying, and picked up the knife from under the cushions.

“I’m sorry baby,” she said as she held him down and carved the last rune of the array on her son’s forehead, sowilo.”

Harry wailed and cried in pain, but Lily just cooed and shushed him.

“Hadrian James Regulus, by blood I bind you to this realm, protected by my love and my sacrifice. No harm may befall you at the hand of Tom Marvolo Riddle, as I give my life for yours so he will never touch you by hand or magic. Maiden, mother, crone, three times I bind the dark lord Voldemort, three times I offer my life for my son’s. Harry you are loved baby, so loved! Mama loves you, Abba loves you. Be safe baby, be strong!” She chanted as Harry settled a little.

“Mama! Mama ouch! Up!” He cried, pointing at his forehead and asking to be picked up.

Then, Voldemort blasted the door and Lily cast herself between them.

She succeeded, three times she pleaded and three times he refused her, and it took almost all the magic she could infuse into her pleas until she finally welcomed the flash of green knowing, hoping, that at least her son would be safe.

Chapter Text

“Was it just a dream?” James thought to himself as he woke up, laying on what he thought was his bed.

It was so soft and comforting and warm, it must be morning, it must have been just a nightmare, of course it was. Pete would never betray them, everything was fine!

But if everything was fine, he shouldn’t be this afraid of opening his eyes and finding out it wasn’t a dream, right? Then why was he lying here, eyes closed, convincing himself everything was fine?

Well, he had to. He had to keep telling himself he was in bed, even if he didn’t feel the bedding over him, or Lily’s soft snoring that she absolutely denied she did. He was completely ignoring the fact that the softness underneath him felt irregular, not at all mattress-like.

Everything was fine.

“You have to get up laadla, open your eyes.” He heard suddenly.

“No, it was a dream, you’re not here,” he said, eyes shut tight.

“We are here chhote, it wasn’t a dream.” His mother said.

“If I don’t open my eyes, then it can still be a dream, maybe it was a dream within a dream and I’m still dreaming.” He said, tears escaping from the sides of his scrunched up lids.

“We have all the time in the world Jamie, if that’s what you need to tell yourself for now, then we can wait with you.” His Abba said.

James just lay there a while longer, convincing himself this was a dream, everything was fine, and in a little while he’d wake up to his normal routine. It was his turn to handle the morning with Harry, do the nappy change and feed him the porridge Lily left ready in the stasis cupboard. He’d dress him in his quidditch jumper set Moony got him, the one with the little snitches and whirling bludgers. He’d recite to him Babbitty Rabbitty as he made his world famous weetabix au lait and then he’d put Harry in his baby Bork egg and jump on the running mat like most mornings to get his blood pumping and forget he was trapped in a shoebox waiting to die. 

Except he didn’t have to wait anymore. James knew what happened had indeed happened, but it was just too much to bear. If he keeps his eyes closed, he can keep telling himself the story of an uneventful day, and maybe at the end, when he goes to bed and falls asleep, he’ll wake up.

It doesn’t happen though, even after he went through a whole day, he’s still there, lying on top of what feels like a meadow. 

“Oh Merlin’s balls Potter! Open your eyes and smell the Odgen’s will you? This is getting really tedious really fast.” He heard… Marlene?

No, it was another trick. Everything was fine, this was a dream. An awful dream.

“It’s not a dream James, we’re all dead, just open your eyes so we can explain, will you?” He heard Dorcas say with her usual bluntness, never one to suffer fools.

He finally dared to open his eyes, and it took a moment for his vision to clear from the tears and the shock of the light. Once he adjusted, he saw he was in fact lying on a field of white flowers, and around him were many people, more than those that had spoken to him.

His parents were next to him, along with Marlene and Dorcas, but also Benji Fenwick, Eddie Bones, his grandparents, uncles, and so many others. He couldn’t help but look for Regulus, but he wasn’t there.

“Where’s Lily and Harry? Did they survive?” James asked once he regained his composure.

“They survived in the sense that they haven’t died yet, but time is different here. You’ve had us here holding vigil around your fine arse for a whole day, not how I imagined I’d spend my life in paradise by the way, thank you very much.” Marlene said with an eye roll, “but in the mortal realm, your body hasn’t hit the ground yet.”

“What?” Was all James could manage to get out.

“It’s rather fascinating really, we are completely outside the natural laws of the physical plane. Here time and space don’t exist in the same way, think of it like a weave. Time and space make the warp and weft of the weave, and the world of the living exists in the fabric, things moving along either one, with time being linear. We are on the fabric, so it can be bent and stretched and manipulated. It holds no meaning here.” Dorcas said, ever the academic, even in death.

“So you can see the future? If we are outside time and space, then you can see what happens right? Do they make it?” James asked as he connected the dots.

“Not exactly. I don’t want to fry your brain with the theory of it quite so soon, but the future isn’t set in stone and at the same time it is. We can see things in real time, not ahead, because it keeps branching out as people live life. Wearing red or blue robes branches into futures where you wore either color, get it? It really is a mindfuck though so just go slow with things ok Jimbo?” Dorcas said soothingly.

“But how do you know which one is real? When you want to watch over your loved ones or whatever.” James said, scrunching his nose in confusion.

“They’re all real. It’s not that hard. Minor choices generally don’t cause much divergence and the timelines are usually so similar you can follow them like one. It's the canon events that you need to watch out for. That’s when a timeline splinters into a completely separate and different one. For example, a canon event for the universe where we came from, is your death. If you had survived, that timeline would have splintered off into its own different timeline, a parallel universe where the opposite of a canon event dictates the future until the next canon event inevitably splinters off another new one.” She said as simply as she could.

“That’s… a lot,” James said in a daze.

“I told you, don’t agonize over the theory, it’ll be the same whether you understand it or not so why bother, just accept it.” Dorcas said with a comforting hand on James’ shoulder.

“Ok, so this is the afterlife huh? Not quite what I was expecting.” James said after some thought.

“Not quite, darling.” His mother said, “it’s the space between life and what lies beyond.”

“Ok, so you came to get me? Thank you, and sorry for the whole waiting thing,” he said sheepishly.

“Yes, that was quite unexpected, but as we said, time has no real meaning here, as we are suspended in time until you make your decision, so it wasn’t that bothersome. We do need to talk though, chhote.” Fleamont said.

“What do you mean? What decision?” James said warily.

“Do you remember our talk when you got your Hogwarts letter?” His father said softly.

James thought back to that day in his father’s study, when he told him the family secret, and a chill went up his spine.

“The Peverells… death,” he whispered.

“Yes laadla, as I said, we are children of death. And as such, we have some options if we meet some requirements, which you do.” Fleamont said.

“No, that can’t be!” James said.

“Let me guess the words running through your mind right now huh James?” Edgar Bones said dejectedly. “Dark is evil, light is good, I am a light wizard.”

“How..?” Was all James could say.

“Finally! The good stuff.” Marlene clapped excitedly. “Gather round my fire master Potter, and hear the woeful tale of a master manipulator who worked the masses to his favor since he was but a wee bearn.”

“What?” James said, confused.

“Marls, you’re not helping.” Dorcas said with an eye roll. “How do you feel James? Take a really good look at yourself and feel.” She commanded.

James thought it was funny but did as asked. He was sad, of course, and angry, but there was peace there too, which he supposed came with the whole dying thing. He didn’t feel as much inner conflict all of a sudden, or any at all to be honest, which surprised him.

“How do you feel when you say those words to yourself Jamie? Our mantra. Dark is evil, light is good, I am a light wizard.” Edgar asked.

James thought about it, and he found he didn’t feel anything at all about it, it didn’t bring him the comfort it once did, and it somehow felt wrong. It was a silly statement really, wasn’t it? His father had said the Potters were children of death. How light could that be? So why would he think that way?

“I don’t feel anything. It sounds so silly all of a sudden.”

“Can I? Please? Can I tell him? Please? Pretty please with cherries on top?” Marlene said, hanging off Dorcas’ arm.

“Fine! I’ll just have to do it again after you anyway.” Dorcas said, pulling her arm away so she would stop pulling on it.

“Tell me what? I don’t get it Marls, what’s going on?” James said, annoyed all of a sudden.

“Dumbledore compelled us.” She said with a manic grin.

“Are you joking? That’s impossible! Our heir rings would have…” James said, but she interrupted him before he could finish.

“He did it through our Hogwarts letters. Masterful really, I’d give him props for it if I didn’t hate him so much I could scoop his eyeballs out and pour salt on the sockets. None of us had claimed our rings yet, we were vulnerable and at a formative age. It was such a small nudge, enough for it to take root and grow with us. Not a sloppy obvious one like if he had compelled us to trust him or something evident like that. Simple, elegant. Dark is evil, light is good, I am a light witch/wizard. It shaped our character from then on. And he, as the epitome of the light, the Light Lord as opposed to the Dark Lord if you like, would be primed to be a figure we’d flock to. After that, once we truly trusted him? We could ignore the signs, the heat on our fingers once he started dosing us for real. He groomed us since we were eleven, his own little army to fight his war. Do you really think any of us would have given him every last Knut in our vaults if we hadn’t been brainwashed into thinking he was the second coming of Merlin?” She rattled on fervently, as James just held his head in his hands, shaking off the beginnings of a panic attack.

“Breathe chhote, breathe.” His mother said, rubbing soothing circles on his back.

“I know it’s hard to believe, but really think about it. Would you have done the things you did now that you can think without the compulsion pulling you back? Think about it. We have all the time in the world. I know you know it’s true even if you haven’t accepted it yet.” Edgar said.

So James sat and did as he was told. He thought back and evaluated every choice he’d made in his life, every moment that caused him suspicion.

He was sure he would have sorted Gryffindor even if he wasn’t compelled. It just fit him, and he had wanted it since he learnt to read and read Hogwarts: A history. So that didn’t bother him. He did remember the sudden urge to meet Dumbledore and prove himself to him, so perhaps his letter was a little more heavily tampered with than Edgar’s or Marlene’s. He remembered how conflicted he’d been when Abba told him about the Peverells, and he thought he would have been nervous at the thought of Azkaban of course, but that deeply rooted sense of shame surely was on account of the compulsion. He would like to think that his attitude towards Slytherins and dark wix was too, but he knew he could be an arse and cruel when he wanted to be, so perhaps that was him, or an aspect of him exacerbated by it. He’d have to make amends either way once those he’d wronged passed on. He would have definitely been friends with Sirius and Remus, perhaps not as savior-y as he had been. More accepting, encouraging even of their truest selves. 

“Oh fuck, Sirius,” he said when he thought of his brother, probably under the same foul enchantments right now, hating his nature and his family. Would he have had it as bad as he did without it? Would he have fought the hat? James knew that without the compulsion he wouldn’t have cared a bit if he had been sorted a snake. Their friendship had been cemented on the train and James wouldn’t have thrown him over.

“Yeah, he’s had it rough, mate. Imagine being a dark wizard compelled to believe he’s light. I’m not sure how he isn’t absolutely bonkers really, especially when you take into account that he’s a Black and they’re rather famous for it.” Benji said.

“And Lily,” James said, thinking of his wife, how he’d treated her when she confessed! He felt such shame at how he’d treated her like some disgusting leper. He loved her completely, all of her, even the parts he didn’t know because they all made her who she was, and he loved who she was. He hoped she took her sweet time getting to him, but once she did he would apologize for eternity if he had to.

“Lily wasn’t compelled. She wasn’t important to him. She was a muggleborn, of little value to him at first. He let those find their way to him naturally. It was only once she proved herself to be powerful and competent that she caught his eye, and by that time she had mind shields stronger than the walls of Hogwarts so none of his tricks took root. She mainly suffered in silence because she was a dark witch in the lion's den like Alice, and we were all coerced light bigots.” Marlene said with a snort.

He was getting progressively more nauseous as he revised his life up to his death. He had all but depleted his family’s vaults, centuries of Potters hard work down the drain to feed into the old fuck’s megalomania. He’d handed out their cloak! Their precious family heirloom, like it was just a winter cloak. It could have saved them and Lily had said as much, and he could vividly remember agreeing before the compulsion took hold and pulled him back. Just like when he was with Reggie and he’d be on the cusp of an epiphany and something would pull him back to “normal”. He wondered if he would have ended up with Regulus after all if he hadn’t been under Dumbledore’s thrall. On the one hand, he’d like to believe they would have, considering their love had to survive outside influence, but on the other? If they hadn’t broken up, he wouldn’t have Lily or Harry, and the very real love he felt for them trumped any longing for a hypothetical future even if it might have included other children. They didn't exist, but his Bambi was as real as the sun rising in the east and setting in the west.

“What a fucking mess,” he said, letting out a defeated sigh. 

“I’ll let that one go dear because it’s quite accurate.” His mother tisked disapprovingly at his choice of words. “And now that you know everything, you have a choice to make.” 

“A choice?” James said with a confused look on his face.

“Yes, but it’s not our place to say. We’ll leave you now and we’ll see you soon, or not.” Marlene said with a devilish grin, and everyone faded like smoke, dispersing in the wind.

James was left alone and reeling. Choice? What choice? And how is he supposed to know what to do next if everyone’s left him. He looked around frantically, but all he could see was fields of white flowers, stretching into infinity, their pristine beauty a stark contrast to the turmoil within him.

After some time, he got his breathing under control and sat in defeat. A choice, they’d said. He just needed to calm down and think properly. They’d gotten sidetracked by all of the Dumbledore stuff but what had his father said before they started on it? 

He tried to remember everything about the conversation they’d had at eleven. This had something to do with his Peverell heritage. He knew they were children of death, and his abba had said that as such they had certain options? Was it a choice between those options? He also remembered him telling him that when their time came, they would greet death as their friend like their ancestor did. He’d interpreted it as accepting the natural course of things, but what if it was more literal? He took a deep breath and tested out his theory.

“Death?” He said hesitantly, half expecting nothing to happen. He knew Beedle the Bard portrayed Death as a being, but he’d always understood it as a concept.

“Finally, took you long enough didn’t it? Child of Peverell.” A voice said wryly from behind him. The voice made all of James’ hair stand and an electric shiver ran through him. It sounded completely otherworldly, like he wasn’t meant to hear it, as if it were made out of a cacophony of many voices, both melodic and grating.

James turned to see a tall cloaked figure, much like a dementor but not as decrepit. Porcelain hands peeked out of the cloak’s sleeves and the lower half of a pristine alabaster face could be seen under the cloak’s hood. He instantly fell to his knees, and greeted the entity with a shaky “My Lord Death.”

“Rise child, we have much to discuss now that you are of sound mind at last. As your father said, you have a choice to make.” Death said.

“Yes, though I don’t know what that choice might be.” James asked expectantly.

“I’m here to tell you, of course,” Death said, and James could feel the entity’s eyes rolling even if he couldn’t see them. At least they had a sense of humor, he could work with that. 

“As you’ve been told, you are of the line of Ignotus Peverell, one of my most illustrious children. I’ve blessed the line with the gift of necromancy, the manipulation of life and death, though they are not born with it, just the potential for it. For them to claim the gift, they need to fulfill certain requirements, which you technically do,”

“Technically? My lord?” James asked, a sense of dread chilling the pit of his stomach.

“Yes, you see, most things in life derive their force from the trinity, a most magical number. One will always conquer, two will divide, but three will balance. My sister is thrice bodied, maiden, mother and crone, thrice light, gray and dark. Life and death seem binary in nature, but it also comes in a trinity. Birth, life and death. For one to become a fully fledged necromancer, one has to fulfill three requirements. A life saved, a life claimed and one’s life surrendered.” Death explained.

“I haven’t killed,” James said in realization. It was resolutely against his morals, to stoop down to the level of those he fought in the war. 

“Yes, and that’s where we enter the realm of technicality and perspective. Magic is all about intent, its most basic tenet. So if I were to follow the rules to the letter, you’d be forced to move on to my realms and your heritage would be forfeit.” The entity said. “But, even if you haven’t consciously killed, with the intent of taking a life, your actions have led to the death of some. Wounds intended to maim and weaken have led to the death of your targets, for example.”

“It sounds pretty cut and dry then, my lord. If the intent wasn’t there, and I assure you it wasn’t, then why would I be given the choice?” James asked, resigned to his fate.

“You’ve been educated in the absolute truths of existence haven’t you? I have already seen what happens if you are denied your inheritance and move on. And as with any multiple choice, a timeline where the opposite option was chosen exists. So naturally, I have to grant you your place amongst my children. If you are amenable, of course.” Death said with mirth.

“What would that entail exactly?” James asked after some thought. He was a Gryffindor through and through, act first, think later, but he was aware of how living his life that way resulted. Trusting to a fault and paying the price for it. Never again would he make a decision without all the information.

“Necromancers can manipulate life and death to my will. My children are children of the dark, and you should know that going in because it will color your magic accordingly if you come into the full power of your family magics. You can resurrect the dead if I deem it right, animate their remains and create illusions and trickery that imitates life closely, such as golems and inferi. Most importantly, my children have the choice to either move on or return to the realm of the living to continue my work. If your body is damaged or destroyed, I will either repair it or fashion you a new one.” Death explained.

“So I would be able to go back?” James asked, a sliver of hope blossoming. “What would happen if I didn’t?”

“I cannot say, but I’m sure you’d be able to make an educated guess. With that said, and considering it will always happen in any timeline, I can say that your son would have survived. As for the rest, I’ll let you draw your own conclusions.” Death said.

James thought about it. Harry would be left alone, but Sirius would do a fine job raising him, that’s why they did the blood adoption. But come to think of it, if they both died, the only person who’d know about the switch in secret keepers would be Dumbledore. That just didn’t bode well. Remus would never manage to get custody, especially with Albus meddling, and then the list grows thin, all the way to Lily’s rotten sister. That wouldn’t do.

“I’ll do it.” He said finally, resignation turning to resolve. He would not leave his Bambi alone.

“Very well, but not just yet.” Death said. “Normally, you’d train in the realm of the living once you take over the Peverell estate. But circumstances merit you returning fully trained. You will stay here and study until you are ready to return.” Death said.

“But Lily and Harry,” James started to say, only to be cut off.

“Will be fine. You’ll be returned moments after your death, and if by any chance you don’t manage to save your wife or you arrive too late then you will return with the ability to bring her back.” Death said as if answering an annoying toddler, which James assumed he was to an eternal being like them.

As the deity finished speaking, their surroundings shifted to an expansive library, making James lose his footing a little.

“Welcome to the Halls of Knowledge James Fleamont Potter, I’m Ignotus Peverell, I’ll be your teacher in the necromantic ways until you are deemed ready to return.” Said a voice from behind James, startling him yet again.

Chapter Text

James opened his eyes at the foot of the stairs, a dull ache in the back of his head the only sign something had happened. Almost as soon as he regained his bearings, the blast occurred. Panic swept through him as he lost his footing momentarily due to the magical backlash of the blast.

He had work to do.

He extended his arm and his wand flew into his hand, summoning it wandlessly. He took the steps two at a time, keeping the dread at bay and trying to remain focused on the task ahead, but Harry’s crying as he called for Lily and him were making it difficult. He had prepared for this, he knew what to do.

Nothing could have prepared him for the sight before him though, and it made him falter for a second as he took in the trashed nursery, Lily dead on the floor in front of the crib, bleeding from a head injury and Harry wailing with a nasty cut on his forehead.

“Abba! Abba! Mama ouch!” Harry sobbed when he saw him, throwing his arms at him to be picked up.

“Yes baby, Mama has an ouch and Abba is going to help her, can you wait for Abba to help Mama? Be a good boy and wait for Abba Bambi.” James said as he repositioned Lily’s… no, Lyra’s body in the center of the room to begin his work. She’d been killed merely moments ago, with a little luck her soul would be still at the crossroads and he wouldn’t need a proper ritual chamber. He spread her arms and legs and got to work drawing the necessary death runes in all proper spots with her spilled blood.

Harry’s crying mellowed to a soft hiccupy whimpering as he watched curiously as James worked.

“Abba, Mama night night?” He asked curiously between hiccups and gasps.

“Yes chhote, Mama is taking a little nap but she’ll wake up soon, don’t worry, Abba is helping Mama.” James said distractedly as he finished with the runes. It was a delicate process, drawing the runes that would anchor her soul back in its vessel, and he hoped the blood would strengthen the bond, happy she was already bleeding and he didn’t have to cut her and massage it out. The dead don’t bleed like the living, no pumping heart.

“What are you doing to her!” He heard a voice seething from behind him, punctuating each word with venomous rage. James turned, startled by the fact that they were no longer alone.

“Severus, there’s no time to explain, Lyra’s dead, but not for long.” James said, drawing the channeling runes on his hands with Lyra’s blood. 

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean Potter.” He said, poison still dripping with every word.

“As I said, she won’t be dead for long. There’s no time to explain. If you’re here then soon more people will come and I need to work quickly before her soul decides to move on, otherwise I’ll need to get her body to a proper ritual room and things get way more complicated.” He said, annoyed at the man he’d been so cruel to before. “Bambi, the nice man there is your Uncle Severus, he’s Mama’s friend,” James said to Harry, who was eyeing the man inquisitively.

That seemed to pacify Harry instantly, as if just the declaration that Severus was his mama’s friend meant he could be trusted just like every other friend they had. 

“Severus, we can hash things out after Lyra’s back, please, tend to Harry while I chant? I can’t be distracted.” James said as he positioned himself behind Lyra’s head.

“You’re not calling her Lily.” Severus said shrewdly, catching on quick like the Slytherin he was.

“Her name is Lyra, I know she told you. And I’m not the James Potter that tormented you, I’ve been reborn a different man. Please tend to Harry, we don’t have time now.” He said insistently, before closing his eyes and placing his hands hovering over Lily’s temples at either side of her head.

Severus heard as the man he hated most in the world started chanting in a language completely foreign to him. Guttural and primitive, with no discernible structure. He stood there in a daze before movement in the periphery startled him back to reality.

Harry was making grabby motions at him to be picked up.

“Sevus, up! Ouch!” He said, pointing at his forehead.

Severus stared at the child he’d sworn to protect, throwing his arms at him so trustingly. Innocently asking for comfort from the man who’d put all three of them in this position. He’d come straight to the cottage after the Fidelius fell and his still living master had his report, sure to find the corpses of his friend and husband on the floor. He hadn’t expected to find anyone alive after he felt the location of Lyra’s home return to his mind and his mark faded in his arm. Interesting choice of words Potter had used, considering the Fidelius could only fall if the concealed party broke the covenant and recused the protection or if they died. Lyra was lying dead on the floor while Potter performed his ritual, so him being reborn as a different man certainly fit. He couldn’t imagine the light bigot he knew trying to raise the dead with the blackest of arts. 

He took Harry up carefully in his arms. He’d sworn to Lyra that he’d be there for her future children that day she came to his cottage after visiting her parents, and now, it was time to keep that oath.

“Hello Harry, I’m Severus.” He said quietly as Harry nuzzled into his chest. Fuck, he was done for. With each soft rise and fall of the little chest against his, the boy took a little more room in Severus’ cold heart.

“Sevus, ouch, help ouch.” Harry mumbled sleepily, pointing to the jagged cut on his forehead.

“Ok, let’s see what we can do with that ouch.” He said softly, examining the cut. It was tempting to try a simple episkey but there was magic emanating from the cut, so he cast a few diagnostics to confirm and realized it would need to be cleansed ritually before it could be healed by magic or simply be allowed to be healed naturally. 

“You’re going to have to be a big boy and endure the ouch a little longer Harry, a healer needs to check it.” Severus said, and then a warm wind filled the room for a second, before settling it.

“Lyra, Lyra love, wake up, please.” James said hoarsely.

“You called me Lyra.” She whispered, eyes still closed. She opened them and James had never been more happy to be met with the vibrant green he’d never take for granted again. She looked as if nothing had happened, other than her bleeding head, at which she winced when she tried to sit.

“Careful love, just sit against the chair for now, everything’s fine.” He said, guiding her gently as she scooted back against the armchair where she used to nurse Harry.

“What happened? I remember the green light, and then it’s all foggy.” Lyra said softly.

“It’s a long story. We can go into more detail later. Short version? We both died. Voldemort killed me and I met with Death and many more of our departed loved ones. I’m a necromancer, dying is part of how we come into our inheritance. Voldemort killed you too but I brought you back.” James said as he fiddled with her hair to try and get a look at her wound. Luckily it was just a little cut from her fall, it would need checking to see if it caused a concussion but other than that she seemed fine.

“How? Why?” She said in a confused haze.

“Dying is easy love. It was the easy choice, dying for our son. I’m sorry I made it for you, but I had to make the hard one for the both of us. We will live for him.” James said with conviction.

“Harry?” She said, wincing as she twisted her head frantically, slowing the motion and looking to see him sleeping on Severus’ arms.

“Sevy? What are you doing here?” Lyra asked perplexed.

“I’d like to know too.” They heard the door, where Sirius was standing with his wand pointed at Severus. “And we can add why he’s holding my son too.” He seethed.

“Paddy, it’s fine. Calm down. He’s a friend,” James said, shocking everyone in the room. “I can take Harry from you, Severus, could you please check Lyra’s head? Just check though, we need evidence of a fight once this place is crawling with law enforcement.” James said, walking towards him to take the baby.

Severus nodded and handed his son to him carefully, though Harry was out cold and didn’t even stir.

“To answer everyone’s question, I came because I felt the location of the cottage return to me and I feared the worst. Add to that the fact that my dark mark faded significantly and it was an easy guess. I expected to find everyone dead.” Severus answered.

“Ditto, minus the tattoo,” Sirius said. “Care to tell me what that ritual was Prongsy? We need to cleanse the room, it reeks of black magic.” He said accusingly.

“Padfoot, I can explain.” James said slowly, as if soothing a frightened beast.

“Hey, I didn’t mean it like that! You know I’m one patronus away from covering up your murders, I keep a shovel in my bike just in case, it just sounded cool.” He shrugged.

“Gryffindors” Severus muttered under his breath. “It’s not concussed, just a little cut and bump from the fall, you hit your head on the leg of the crib Ly.” Severus said to Lyra then.

“Brill, Severus you need to go now, if Sirius is here then not long from now everyone else will too and it’s best if they don’t find you here.” James said. “Before you go though, I need a favor.” 

“A favor?” Severus sneered. Like he’d be one to do James fucking Potter any favors.

“Don’t be like that, I think you’ll enjoy it.” James smirked. “I need you to roughen me up a little. Make it look like I dueled the Dark Lord a little before he stunned me. I’ll give you that and the added pleasure of knowing I didn’t even get a jellylegs in before he AK’d me.” 

“Well, when you put it like that…” Severus smirked, drawing his wand.

James handed Harry to Sirius and stood serenely in front of Severus. “I know you’d like to do worse, and one day I’ll let you. I owe you much more than a lame apology Severus, but for now please go easy on me, a few cuts and scrapes, bruise me up some. I still need to function, there is much to be done.” James said, and Severus couldn’t see anything suspicious in his eyes, only honesty. It made him uneasy.

He quickly cast a few underpowered cutting curses and blasting curses all over the man until he looked beaten up enough. It wasn’t far from the truth that he wished he could have fucked him up for real, but he had a nagging sense that he was telling the truth when he said he wasn’t the man he was. He hadn’t called him Snivellus once.

“One last thing Severus, lay low for a while, they’ll be hunting death eaters in the wake of their lord’s fall. We will vouch for you, so don’t worry. And whatever you do, avoid Dumbledore. Don’t let him trap you into anything, we will keep you out of Azkaban.” James said earnestly.

“Considering we are in the middle of term and I have classes in the morning, that will be a tall order. And I’ve already had to report my mark fading out. We will speak later,” was all Severus said before apparating away. 

“Ok, it’s not that I’m not pissing my pants in elation at finding all of you alive, but I need some answers,” Sirius said while holding Harry.

“We should really talk at length tomorrow, but for now I can tell you that Voldemort killed us both. I died and went to the crossroads, the place between life and death where your loved ones come to greet you and take you on. I spoke to Abba and Mother, and also Marlene and Dorcas. Benji and Edgar were there as well.” James said, a few tears escaping. “They explained everything, told me the truth. Dumbledore had us all under compulsions. Groomed us since we were eleven to use us as his army.” 

“Jimmy mate, that’s impossible, our rings protect us against that!” Sirius said incredulously. 

“Dark is evil, light is good, I am a light wizard.” Was all James said, and Sirius’ eyes widened like saucers in recognition, the same word that played in his head since infancy.

“It’s all he needed to plant. It came with our Hogwarts letters, such a simple little thing that took root deep within us and shaped our character from then on. And you returned your heirship ring at 16 when Walrus kicked you out, remember?”

James would have carried on but they heard the stairs creak under the weight of someone, a large someone by the cracks and moans of the poor house having to support itself after everything and then suffer under whatever was climbing the stairs.

“Yer alive! Praise be our Blessed Mother. I thought I’d find ye lot dead!” Hagrid said as he squeezed himself into the room.

“Hagrid? What are you doing here?” Sirius asked, confused. Of all the cavalry Dumbledore could have chosen to send he chose a wandless ogre? Weird.

“I could ask the same of you Sirius Black, how dare you hold young Harry like that after betraying your friends!” The oaf said stupidly, as if the three of them hadn’t been pleasantly around each other moments before.

“Hagrid calm down! Sirius wasn’t our secret keeper. We switched to Peter about a week ago, Dumbledore knows. He’s the one that made the switch. Peter’s the one who betrayed us.” James said with more venom in his voice than anyone had heard from him before.

“Oh, sorry lad, my mistake then.” Hagrid said awkwardly. “Well, I’m here to take Harry to safety of course. Dumbledore’s orders.” He said, holding his arms out to receive the child.

“That won’t be necessary Hagrid, thank you.” Lyra said, putting a protective hand over her baby.

“You know I have no choice Lily, the Headmaster commanded me to take Harry to your sister’s house, he said he’d need to be with blood relatives and I have to take him there. He’s waiting.” Was all the oaf said.

“And what are we? Chopped liver? Don’t worry about it Hagrid, he is with blood relatives right now, we’re his parents after all. I’m sure your orders were perfectly ok and given under the assumption that my wife and I wouldn’t have survived against Voldemort. But since we managed to make it through, they seem to be quite unnecessary.” James explained calmly. He was beginning to see why the bastard liked to have Hagrid do his bidding, since he seemed to take after his mother in more than just sheer size. Dumb as rocks, the poor thing.

Lyra and Sirius shared a look, a silent conversation between them while James tried to reason with the man. Hagrid thought Sirius was the traitor, and Dumbledore had been ready to ship Harry off to Petunia without even a visit to the scene? That sounded terribly like he was willing to throw him under the knight bus and let him take the fall for Peter.

“Peter! I have to find him before we weasels away. I’ll kill the bastard!” Sirius said suddenly.

“Sirius no! The aurors will handle that, we need you here with us.” James said forcefully, holding his arm tightly to keep him there.

“Hagrid, you should go back to Dumbledore. Tell him what happened.” James said then to the oaf.

“Alright then, yer right, he’ll want to know! I’ll call the knight bus right now.” He said, walloping away.

“Hagrid, wait! Take my motorbike,” Sirius said, throwing him the keys. “You probably saw it parked outside, it’ll be more discreet. I assume you took the knight bus here and people probably saw, we don’t need any more of that.” Sirius said.

“Thank lad, I’ll return it later don’t ye worry.” Hagrid said, walking out.

“It’ll take him longer to fly to wherever Petunia lives than if he takes the bus. We need time.” Sirius whispered once he was sure they were out of the oaf’s earshot.

“He’s not very bright, is he? Perfect henchman.” James said wryly.

“Did you catch that though? That bastard was ready to make me take the fall for Peter! He’s clearly not dissuading anyone from believing I’m the secret keeper and he had Petunia on standby from the beginning!” Sirius said.

“I know. I guess it’s redundant to say that we are done with him then?” James said, “Now, let’s make the most of the time you gave us.”

“Conjure me parchment and a quill love.” Lyra said suddenly.

James obediently conjured her a sheet of parchment and a quill and inkwell. She took it and wrote a quick note in her perfect penmanship. She dabbed the quill in the blood still pooling on the floor and signed her name.

“Take this Paddy. It’s a note for the Goblin King. I have requested a bath in our blessed mother’s healing waters for you. You need to be cleansed of undue influence before we continue. Even after all that’s happened, you still feel his pull don’t you? The disbelief is making you turn to him.” Lyra said knowingly.

Sirius could only squirm in shame at being caught doubting them. 

“Relax Paddy, it’s not your fault, it’s him.” He seethed. “Marauders honor, you’ll feel loads better afterwards. We’ll meet you there after we deal with the ministry. Our deaths kickstarted the line of succession again and we can’t meet the coot without our rings, otherwise we died for nothing if he ever placed us under thrall again.” James said.

Sirius took the note and handed the sleeping toddler back to Lyra before apparating away. 

“I need to send Amy Bones a patronus, she’ll know who to send. I’m afraid even Bagnold herself will be making an appearance.” James said. “First, let’s get our story straight.”

“We need as many people as possible to know Peter is the traitor. As far as our story goes, I say you dueled him bravely until he managed to stun you. Then he came up the stairs and dueled me,” she said, reaching out to catch her flying wand in her hand. “He started talking about how you were lying downstairs stunned and when he was done killing Harry he’d obliviate us and turn us to his side, make us forget we had a child or sided with the light. He managed to stun me and that’s how I hit my head, and you sneaked up behind him and ak’d him before he did anything to Harry. He shot a spell at you and they collided, causing his body to be obliterated by the blast of the rebounding curses. Our duels and that will account for the mess and all the dark magic residue, and that way we don’t need to explain away anything else.” Lyra said after weaving her plan on the fly,

“I agree, besides, we can’t let people think Harry had anything to do with it, they’ll never leave him alone! I’ll take the honor of being branded Voldemort’s vanquisher. Then we can use that fame and power to keep Dumbles in check, if not take him down.” James smirked. “You need to glamor Harry’s cut before the aurors arrive, Severus said it’s a curse wound and he couldn’t just episkey it shut.” 

“It’s not. It’s a ritual carving, that’s why he survived. I performed a life for life ritual, anchored blood wards to him with that rune on his forehead.” Lyra said as she waved her wand over it in elegant swishes, masking it artfully.

“That’s a rune? Not your best work Lilyflower.” James smirked playfully, then winced, “sorry, force of habit. We’ll have to find some pet names that go with Lyra now.” 

Lyra just melted a little at that. Whoever this was? This was the man she wished she married in the first place. “I was in a bit of a hurry if you must know, and besides, it’s not fun or easy to carve a rune with a kitchen knife on your squirming baby while a murderer is coming up the stairs.” She huffed indignantly.

“Right, good to know,” he said, analyzing the room and transfiguring the crib to hide the rune carvings.

“No one died, no way to explain away a ritual.” He said by way of explanation. Lucky for them, the blood runes on Lyra’s skin absorbed into her as the resurrection ritual took hold. She looked beaten up but otherwise good.

“Are we ready?” James said, wand at the ready to cast the patronus. 

“Ready,” Lyra said, determination burning in her green eyes.

Chapter Text

James and Lyra were waiting patiently for the aurors to arrive, Harry sleeping in a little bassinet James conjured and Lyra guiding him through the memories he’d need to fabricate if they asked him to provide some so their stories matched. Necromancers had more than decent mind shields, impenetrable in fact, but their natural occlumency stretched only that far, the protection of their secrets by Death’s wish and gift, and the rest of the mind arts were up to them. Lucky James decided to make the most of his time away from time and learn the rest.

They sent patroni to both Remus and Mary, to let them know they were alright and to meet them at Gringotts later. 

Soon enough, cracks of apparition started sounding around the cottage, and they both prepared themselves to give their performances.

They sat waiting for the aurors to find them, since they didn’t know how curse-happy they’d be going into such a crime scene. Lyra suddenly vanished the bassinet and took Harry in her arms to sleep, and he fussed a little at the hassle. James looked at her with a puzzled look and she just whispered, “it might be useful if he gets a little fussy, to speed things along.”

James nodded approvingly before reschooling his features into the tired expression he’d adopted before.

“Lord and Lady Potter? This is Lady Amelia Bones! Senior Auror, I am making my way up the stairs.” A voice called from the first floor.

“Amy! We’re in the nursery at the end of the hall, the house is clear! Subject eliminated and no accomplices on sight, we sustained minor trauma but nothing invalidating.” James called out, his auror training kicking in.

Amelia Bones was a sturdy woman. Not in a physical or manly way, but she had a solid quality to her, a steadfastness that reassured those in her presence. Like most of them she had been hardened by the losses of war, and was currently the guardian for Edgar and Rosie’s child Susan. Much like James and Harry, Amy and Susan were the last of the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Bones. James and her had known each other all their lives, he’d been friends with Eddie since they were toddlers practically, and Amy was just two years older. As they grew, the age gap became meaningless and their friendship strengthened.

They noticed the footsteps quickening at their response, and soon she came into the room followed by two non descript junior aurors. She surveyed the room with her wand held high before advancing on them.

“Jim, for fuck’s sake! I can’t take another one. Not after Eddie, Rosie, Mother and Father, the children... You cannot die on me, do you hear me!” She whispered harshly into the hug she gave him, before regaining her composure.

“Folsom, Travis, you saw nothing.” She said gruffly.

“See what Madam Bones?” They both responded curtly, averting their eyes.

“Exactly.” She nodded. “Lily, I’m glad you and Harry are ok. Do you need anything?” She asked, turning to Lyra.

“Just to get through formalities quickly enough, I’d like to get him checked by our healers and get ourselves patched up as well, he’ll get fussy soon. I managed to put him to sleep a little while ago.” She said, and Merlin bless their baby because he decided to squirm just then, as if on queue.

“Then let's get your statements done with, so we can release you to get medical care.” She said kindly, as Lyra rocked Harry a little to settle him. “Is it true Jamie? Is he really gone?” She said quietly, as if she didn’t want to let herself believe that it was truly over.

“It is, I killed him myself. But first and foremost, you need to put out a warrant for Peter’s immediate arrest. He was our secret keeper and he betrayed us to You Know Who.” James said forcefully, letting his anger show through.

“Are you sure James? He might have been…” Amelia said diplomatically.

“The secret cannot be coerced out of someone Amy, even if he was compelled or tortured into giving it away, it must be willingly given. They can’t force it out. He deserves to stand trial at least.” James said vehemently.

“Ok, Folsom, return to HQ and issue a warrant for the arrest of Peter Andrew Pettigrew, immediately. Get a team together and begin the search.” Amelia instructed the stocky boy behind her. “Send Mitchum up on your way down. We need two witnesses for the testimony.”

“I have a small confession to make beforehand. Pete is an illegal animagus. We meant to register after the war, I swear. It just seemed like a good card up the sleeve in a tight spot. Peter can turn into a rat. They should account for that when looking for him or when they restrain him. I promise I will register at the earliest convenience.” James said sheepishly.

“That’s a five year offense James Fleamont Potter, but I’m afraid you’ll get out of it just fine later on, as the vanquisher of the Dark Lord and all. Now, let’s get you both settled and get your testimony.”

She pulled out what looked like a glass marble and a metal stick from her pocket and enlarged them into a roughly billiard-sized crystal ball and what seemed like a metal piece of pipe etched with runes. She set the tube on the floor and rested the ball on top, touching a rune on the tube with her wand.

“Initiating recording for the testimony of James Fleamont Potter, Lord Potter, and Lily Potter, Lady Potter, in regards to the events of October 31st 1981. Lady Amelia Susan Bones conducting interrogation, junior aurors Percival Travis and Robert Mitchum witnessing.” She stated for the record, the glass orb pulsing red light. “Whenever you’re ready Lord Potter.”

“Ok, around 9 pm last night on October 31st, we were getting ready to get Hadrian to bed when we felt the door shake with a blasting curse. The warding on it held for a few more hits before it collapsed. My wife ran upstairs with Hadrian and I grabbed my wand. You Know Who came through the door and we dueled for a short while. I won’t embellish my performance in any way. I only tried to hold on as much as possible to give my wife time to get away.” He said, displaying emotions as he saw fit. “He was manic, speaking about killing the child prophesied to end him and then he would obliviate us and turn us to his side. He had tried to recruit the both of us on three occasions and we refused him every time, the last time barely making it out alive since he hand delivered his blasted black envelope.” He sneered.

“I was surprised but hopeful that he wouldn’t kill us, so I took a calculated risk. He sent a stunner and I played it as if I was hit, letting it smash my shield. I collapsed and laid still praying to our blessed mother that he was intent on following that plan. He laughed and started to make it up the stairs, leaving me lying in the sitting room. I quickly silenced my feet and followed him up. By the time I reached the nursery, my wife was fighting him, trying to keep Hadrian from getting hit by any wayward curse. He managed to stun her for real, and I cast a stunner at him from behind. He shielded it wandlessly and turned around in a rage, and we dueled some more. I admit I drew from a darker repertoire than normal to make my stand, he was growing angrier and I could see he would not let me live if he got the upper hand. The decisive moment came when two curses collided and caused an explosion. The majority of it obliterated his body and I was thrown back by the backlash. I had managed to cast myself between my wife and Hadrian while dueling and cast the strongest shield I could to contain the blast.” James said clinically, though showing some effort to contain his emotion.

“How did the Fidelius fall, Lord Potter? As I understand, it can only fail if the concealed parties renounce the protection or if they die.” Amy asked then.

“As soon as I realized Peter had betrayed us, I was so angry. I think that broken trust might have dissolved the protection. I remember regretting it. We should have stayed in Stinchcombe Abbey, but we decided to trust Albus Dumbledore’s plan and place this cottage under Fidelius. The charm hinges on trust between the involved parties, so I think as soon as we had tangible proof of that trust being broken, so too was the charm.” James summarized as they had practiced.

“I think that’s all we need as far as your statement goes, thank you Lord Potter.” Amy said, “Anything to add to that Lady Potter?”

“Not really. I was out cold for most of the big bits, but he spouted the same nonsense at me about killing our child and twisting our minds into following him. I held out as long as I could, deflecting his spell fire and trying to shield Hadrian as best I could. I saw James creep up behind him at one point and he managed to hit me while I was distracted. I woke up once James revived me.”

Harry decided to perk up groggily at that point, and squirmed a little when he noticed more people around them.

“Shh, it’s ok laadla, this is Amy Bones, Abba’s friend. She’s helping us.” James said soothingly with a hand on Harry’s back.

Harry turned around and looked at Amelia for a moment before saying. “Amy, I big boy. No ouch,”

“That’s very good Hadrian, you’ve been a very good boy tonight. I’m happy to hear you’re ok.” Amelia said with a fond smile.

“I big boy,” he nodded, “Abba boom! Mama night night. Abba Mama up. I Big boy.” He babbled on. Deciding to give his own testimony.

“Well, now we have all three of your testimonies, we can close the recording. A forensic healer will be by shortly to collect relevant memories.” Amelia said, touching a rune on the tube, the orb glowing red for a couple of seconds without pulsing before shutting off. She shrunk everything back and secured it in her robes.

An auror walked in along with the healer in question then and informed them that the Minister was here and wanted to speak with them.

They received Minister Bagnold and told an abridged version of the night.

“Excuse me Madam Minister, but we’ve already given a detailed account of events to Auror Bones. We would just like to go get patched up and have a healer check on Hadrian,” James said politely after they were done with the memory harvesting and the woman kept asking questions.

“Of course Lord Potter, I believe we have everything we need. I’ll notify St Mungo’s and have you escorted immediately.” She said executively.

“Thank you ma’am, but if it’s not too much trouble, we have private healers on call that we trust and we would prefer to remain safely at home for the time being. You Know Who may be gone but his followers are still out there, and we’d prefer to remain behind wards until things settle a little more.” James said.

“Of course, that’s sensible. Are you ok to apparate or would you like a portkey sorted?” She asked.

“We’re okay, just bumps and bruises. Thank you ma’am” James nodded at her.

“Then you’re free to go, and thank you for your service tonight Lord Potter. I believe staying behind wards for a while will be a wise choice. Come morning, your deeds tonight will be known far and wide. There will be a lot of attention placed on you.” She said knowingly.

~~~

Minerva McGonagall fancied herself a practical and pragmatic woman. She didn’t suffer fools and didn’t like to lose time with worthless worrying and emotional thinking. She was efficient and effective, qualities that were useful in her field, transfiguration, where focus, clarity and resolve resulted in success 9,9 times out of 10.

She may be loyal, and she may be righteous, but one thing Minerva McGonagall was not? It was naive or gullible.

She had lost her faith in who she had considered her friend a long time ago, but in the current conflict he was the lesser of two evils as far as she knew. She wasn’t dumb enough to voice it out loud. Of course not. She might be a Gryffindor at heart and worthy of being the head of said house, but people often tended to forget that lions were at their hearts just cats, and much like her animagus form, Minerva was a worthy lioness, cunning, strategic, and with a strong sense of pack. It was her natural instinct to protect her pack, her pride of lions, that drove her to weigh out the options and put her stock in with Albus. 

They had been friends once, in her youth, he was one of her mentors in her field, and he secured her the position she held to this day when he ascended to the headship. She wasn’t fooled by the offer, portrayed as a kindness and recognition of her prowess, something he knew she’d value. No, those notions were dispelled as soon as he said that the only hiccup would be that all titled staff was required to appoint a steward for their seats on the courts, so as to not be distracted from their duties. 

Oh, so you don’t want me, you want the Ross seat. She thought to herself then, disabused of the notion that she had been selected for anything other than her political value. He can be distracted just fine it seems.

She didn’t have any family left to take over, and as the last Lady Ross, she took her duty very seriously. 

The Ross line was old and distinguished, yet not at the cusp of the ranks since they were a few generations away and would have always been, since she was too old to bear an heir, from the rank of Most Ancient and Most Noble House, but as an Ancient and Most Noble House she held three votes. Nothing to scoff at. Luckily now the line was secure, but back then it wasn’t. Back then, her younger brother Malcolm was the heir, and her youngest brother Robert was the spare. The family charter favored boys over girls, with only a last of line contingency clause enabling a Lady Ross in her own right. Malcolm was being harassed and persecuted by Death Eaters to turn the Ross seat over to the traditionalist party, and he staunchly refused. Then You Know Who went and killed Robbie and his whole family. Minerva cried for weeks, Malcolm disowned himself and his children from the Ross line and kissed politics goodbye. It wasn’t worth it in his book, so childless Minerva was saddled with her mother’s family legacy. At least Malcolm and his children were still alive, even if they wouldn’t touch the heirship with a ten meter pole, not even with her begging.

As she considered her options, she realized that it made no difference who she assigned the rights of proxy to, since most of the progressive and liberal parties voted in line with Albus anyway, so why shouldn’t he have it for as long as she deemed it appropriate? He might have gotten a seat, but it cost him the loyalty of a former friend who would ever after be wary and vigilant of him.

She saw Albus for who he was, a machiavellian man with an end in sight, for which all means were justified. She wasn’t foolish enough to get in the way if the end was something she herself also strived towards, to an extent, and with Albus’ penchant for collateral damage? She stayed well away from the thick of things. 

So far, she could proudly say her hands were clean, she hadn’t compromised her values in service of her employer and former friend, though she had a feeling today would be the day her soul would be sold. Albus had tasked her to assess the suitability of young Lily Evans’ muggle sister as a possible placement possibility for young Hadrian in case the worst happened, and she didn’t have anything nice to say about the muggle family currently sleeping inside Number 4, Privet Drive.

They were the worst sort of muggle imaginable! Rude, unpleasant and petty. They had a child about the same age as the Potter heir, and she dared say he was spoilt even more rotten that young James ever was, nasty little critter of a child, kicking his mother while in his high chair while the poor woman complimented his future soccer skills as she winced at yet another kick to her already bruised shins.

She was about to retire for the evening after a day of surveillance when Albus’ phoenix patronus appeared before her. Apparently, the wards and the Fidelius around the Potter’s safehouse had fallen, which meant the worst had come to pass. He Who Must Not Be Named had fallen at the hands of a wee bearn, if Severus’ report of his mark fading was any indication. She was to stay put in Little Whinging.

It had only been a few hours since the incident, 2 hours at the most since she received the message, and she was dutifully waiting to give her report and try to convince the man that these people were utterly wrong to care for a magical child, even a muggle one if they asked her.

She patiently waited until she saw the telltale signs of Albus’ deluminator darkening the street, and once she saw his garish figure walk down the shadowed lane, she shifted back to human form, jumping from the fence she’d been sitting on.

“Minerva, thank you for waiting.” Albus greeted her in his usual genial tone.

“Is it true Albus? Poor Lily and James?” She asked sorrowfully. Teachers weren’t supposed to have favorites, but she had a special place in her heart for her little cubs of the graduating class of 78. One in particular, whom she hoped was safe.

“The Fidelius fell, which can only indicate the worst I’m afraid. I sent Hagrid to fetch little Harry as soon as I was alerted of the fact. He’ll bring him here shortly.” Albus said calmly.

“You cannot possibly think about leaving him here Albus! They are the worst kind of muggles imaginable! Completely unfit to care for a magical child, and you know there was no love lost between Lily and Petunia Evans. He will be miserable!” Minerva protested. Circe! She’d take the child herself if there was no one else. 

“That might be so, but they are his only family now, and it will be for the best if young Harry grows away from magic. Come morning, he will be famous, there won’t be a witch or wizard alive who won’t know his name. He must be protected from that just as much as from those who would still wish him harm. He is James’ son after all Minerva, you know as well as I do how he could be sometimes.” He said jovially, and Minerva did not take kindly to the man badmouthing the dead while the corpses were still warm. Utterly distasteful, much like his fashion sense.

“That may be so, but I can assure you there would be plenty of nice magical families with ties to the Potters that would be willing to give young Hadrian a loving stable home and keep his head from filling with hot air. You asked me to survey these people and I have. I am giving you my assessment. Why make me come and ask for my input if you were just going to wipe your nose with it later!” She said, her Scottish brogue thickening as she got overexcited.

“Yes, and while I appreciate your astute observations, it is still paramount that young Harry stay with blood relatives, and these are the only ones left. There aren’t many ways of surviving a killing curse, Minerva dear. If what I fear has indeed happened, then he will need to stay under the protection of blood relations.” He explained with an amused twinkle in his eyes.

“I cannot in good faith support such a decision based upon that level of conjecture. You sent Hagrid of all people! Everything is being decided upon hearsay and not a scrap of evidence. I know you will do what you wish to do in the end, but you won’t take my good conscience along with you.” She said with narrowed eyes.

“I’m not saying it’s an ideal scenario Minerva dear, but it’s the best compromise. It might not be perfect but it’ll be for the greater good in the end.” Albus said dismissively. What was taking that blasted oaf so long! Albus shivered in the cold, casting a wandless warming charm over himself and Minerva. 

They waited a few more moments in the freezing cold of that November night in tense silence, until they heard a rumble getting louder, to the point where they saw a large figure barely fitting on a flying motorcycle.

“Professor McGonagall, Professor Dumbledore sir.” Hagrid greeted them gruffly as he got out of the motorcycle with great effort. Albus was looking around for the baby, peeking over the ogre to see if he had placed him in the sidecar.

“Professor Dumbledore sir, I went to do as ye told me to, and ye won’t believe what I found when I got there! Ye know who is gone! It’s true! And most importantly, James and Lily survived! The three of them plus young Sirius Black were there. They looked a little worse for wear of course, which is understandable, but everyone was fine. Sirius lent me his motorbike to come tell yer the good news and that there will be no need to move the bearn.” Hagrid said in one rush, ending short for breath.

“Thank you Hagrid, that is indeed wonderful news, I must go there immediately.” Albus said, relieved. The flash of something akin to disappointment and annoyance flashed through his eyes for a millisecond, but it was enough that Minerva caught it and made a mental note to examine it later.

He left them with swift goodbyes and a still dark street, which Minerva thought would remain dark forever, or until Albus remembered he had its lights trapped in his little contraption and released them. Highly unlikely.

“You should go and return the motorbike before dawn, Hagrid. It’s too conspicuous to ride in the daylight.” She said to the half giant. “I will see you back at Hogwarts.”

~~~

Albus apparated straight to the Potter’s cottage. Blasted halfbreed! He should have sent Diggle or Jones to retrieve the child. It would have granted him precious time to do damage control and now the place was swarmed with law enforcement.

He should have come as soon as he felt his wards fall along with the Fidelius, but he trusted Tom to do what Tom did best! Kill. Worthless devil child, couldn’t even do that right. Now he would have to work around the parents if he still wanted to make his plans work. He knew Tom wasn’t truly gone, he would return one day and Harry would have to fulfill his manufactured destiny rather than his fated one. Not to mention the Potter’s deaths were instrumental in gaining control of the rest of the money, which bloody Fleamont tied up tightly, and also in cutting the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Black down for good, with the heir swiftly taken to Azkaban and the spare dead or missing somewhere. Crouch owed him enough to expedite things, but with them alive there would be no way! They probably already told most of the people here that Pettigrew was the traitor. 

He suddenly felt so tired. Was it worth it? Tom was temporarily gone, weakened enough for him to delve more deeply into his research on how to properly vanquish him before the opposite happened, but that still left the Potter boy open to come after him later on. He couldn’t kill them all now that the cat was out of the bag. Not openly anyway, lest all the power he’d amassed and his pristine reputation be soiled. 

He quickly shook his wayward thoughts away as he approached the rundown cottage. He’d have time to adjust course later, now he needed to do as much damage control as possible. He needed to talk to the Potters at once!

His spirits sank lower as he saw Millicent Bagnold come out of the house and regard him with a mixture of contempt and annoyance. He almost returned the look before he caught himself and schooled his features. The woman had never liked him, and the feeling was quite mutual. She had taken the ministerial post right from under Albus’ preferred choice. He had Crouch deep in his pocket with how much Albus had covered up for the sick bastard, but somehow Bagnold beat him in spite of how popular his harsh stance on the war was.

“Dumbledore, what might you be doing here? This is a closed crime scene.” The Minister for Magic said to Dumbledore.

“Much the same as you Madam Minister, as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and close friend to the Potters, I came as soon as I heard the news.” Albus replied calmly.

“Well, there’s not much left to be done here anyway. You Know Who has been defeated, and we have James Potter to thank for that. There’s an outstanding warrant for Peter Pettigrew’s arrest if you want to make yourself useful on that front. Other than that we are wrapping up with things here.” She said perfunctorily. “It will be a joyous day for most wizardkind come morning, and a mountain of work for us. Aurors have been deployed all across the country to contain any potential backlash from his followers. Instead of dawdling, it would be useful if you could petition for a squad of ICW hit wizards to lend support in the containment.” She said executively.

“Of course. May I speak with James and Lily?” Albus asked.

“You’ve missed them by now I’m afraid. They’ve already given their testimony and they’ve left to receive medical attention.” Bagnold stated curtly.

“I’ll head to St. Mungo’s then.” Albus said, turning to leave.

“They are not at St Mungo’s. They left for Stinchcombe Abbey to receive medical attention privately.” The minister informed him dismissively.

Bugger, they had truly given him the slip hadn’t they? He nodded curtly at the dry woman and apparated away.

A moment after that, an overexcited auror ran to the

Minister, stopping his run closely before colliding with her, breathing in bursts.

“Madam Minister. We have apprehended the Lestranges at Longbottom Manor.” He said hoarsely, still out of breath.

“So I won’t get any sleep tonight then.” Minister Bagnold sighed, shaking her head in resignation. “Get me a Pepper-up and a status report on Lord and Lady Longbottom. Quickly!”

Chapter Text

“What were you stupid arses thinking! Sending me a patronus seven hundred hours after I felt the Fidelius fall! If I wasn’t so fucking happy you survived I’d fucking kill you myself! Bloody arseholes.” Mary screeched as she punched James in the arm repeatedly.

“I’m sorry Mar, there was a lot going on, and funny enough we had a lot of visitors in the meantime. By the time we were alone and sent out notices it was quite a bit later, I know.” James apologized profusely, holding her close.

“I nearly obliviated myself, you know? I couldn’t… I just wouldn’t make it.” She cried into his arms.

“Mar, we’re really sorry, truly.” Lyra said, holding on to Harry, who had woken up fully after they finished giving their testimony.

“Shut up and give me my baby.” She mumbled, dislodging herself from James’ hold.

“Mar…” Lyra said.

“Give me my nephew right now!” Mary growled.

“Mawy! I big boy! No ouch. Up!” Harry said, throwing his arms at her.

“See? He knows he needs his aunty Mary. Come here love, let your aunty Mary check you over.” She said, taking the baby from Lyra. 

“He’s fine apart from the cut on his forehead, but it seems it doesn’t hurt anymore. Severus checked it over and said there’s too much magical residue to heal it magically without a cleansing.” James told her.

Mary sat Harry down in one of the plush armchairs in the Delhi parlor at the Abbey. They apparated there briefly before heading to Gringotts to intercept Mary, who had been instructed to excuse herself from her shift at St Mungo’s to answer a private call with the Potters. They would go to the bank from there once James raised the wards and blocked everyone but their closest out. It wouldn’t do for Albus to try and come and actually be able to floo in.

She crouched down in front of him and cast some iridescent bubbles to float around Harry to keep him entertained as she cast every diagnostic spell she knew.

“Ly what have you done to your son! This wound is positively putrid. It reeks not of dark magic, but black magic.” She said venomously.

“What! No! It was a life for life ritual, I bound him with my blood and love, it's blood magic yes, but nothing even remotely close to black magic!” Lyra said, alarmed at the discovery.

“Whatever this is, he needs Goblin healing, I can’t do anything with it, it might never even close fully.”

Mary said, keeping her tone even so as to not disturb Harry.

“Mawy no sad, I big boy,” Harry said softly, running his chubby hand over Mary’s bouncy curls. It was one of his favorite games, softly pressing her tightly coiled wild mess of hazel curls and making them bounce. 

“The best boy, my love, but abba, mama and aunty Mary are going with you to see the goblins! Isn’t that exciting! They’ll fix your ouch for you. You’ll see.” She said to Harry, who squealed in delight.

Mary watched Harry while James and Lyra quickly showered and changed into clean robes before they all flooed directly into the Goblin King’s office.

~~~

“Your graces, Heiress Ross. A belated blessed turn of the wheel to you all and congratulations on your defeat of the Dark Lord, Monsieur Le Duc, Madame La Duchesse.” The Goblin King greeted them upon arrival. 

“Your majesty, thank you for receiving us, we realize it’s quite late.” Lyra said.

“Nonsense, everyone is up tonight. Parties are popping up all over the country as the news of the Dark Lord’s defeat spreads. What can the Silver Halls help you with?” The king asked them.

“He have quite the list I’m afraid, your majesty. First and foremost, we need to reclaim our titles, we were… briefly departed from this plane tonight and I’m afraid it might have kickstarted the line of succession.” James said with a polite nod.

“That is quite unusual indeed, I’ll need you to perform the standard test to see if the family magics still deem you worthy of reclaiming them if that’s the case. If not, the titles will either sit vacant or claimed by you in regency until the petit Marquis is old enough to make his claim.” He said, looking at Harry.

“What?” James said quietly to Lyra.

“It’s his courtesy title, as the son of a duchess.” She said simply. 

They breathed a little easier once the tests revealed they had indeed only reverted to heirs to their titles once again.

“It appears your aunt Honoria Kothari, the Thakurani of Kherwara, has recently passed away leaving no issue so her fortune has reverted to you.” The king said, studying the parchment’s section of outstanding bequeaths. “The title however, requires residence in Udaipur for at least five years and confirmation by the current Maharaja, so you are not eligible for it. Her personal fortune and possessions are being held in trust for you and everything else that was entailed to the title, some money but mostly land and other property, will be granted to whoever is appointed Thakur after your late aunt. It will do wonders to replenish the Potter vaults after your eccentric management though, your grace. Perhaps even leave you better off than before.” The king said mischievously.

“Who?” Lyra asked with curiosity.

“Aunty Horror, my mother’s sister. I told you about her, remember? She’s the one that sent us that horrible Kali shaped vase cursed to kill any flowers you put in it as a wedding gift? Gastly woman, much like darling Tuney actually. I think hearing about you and your sister was one of the things that endeared you to Mother.” James said with a shudder. Good riddance if that nasty piece of work was now in their Lord Father’s unlucky hands.

“Thank you aunty Horror then,” Lyra whistled as she read the amount bequeathed. She had no doubt that if they had died, Dumbledore would have found a way to pocket that for himself as well. 

“Thank you, your majesty, and about my poor management of the estate... I know the money is lost, but tomorrow, at a reasonable hour, please recall all heirlooms and items taken out by or for Albus Dumbledore. He is not to be granted access to a single Knut anymore.” James said forcefully. “Also, I intend to claim the Peverell Lordship as well as the Potter one, so we can make use of the Peverell estate while the Potter coffers recover.” James said with a little smirk.

“Well, it will certainly be a boon to have the Peverell gold flowing properly once more, there are few standing investments still producing income after so much time.” The goblin king said hungrily.

“The bounty of the Ferryman will flow like the Styx once more then, and the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Peverell is as honored as ever to have the expert management and friendship of the Silver Halls.” James said, invoking the old vows of friendship.

“And the Silver Halls are honored in turn, may the bones of your enemies provide a sound foundation upon which the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Peverell can stand for eons more. Your recent defeat over another allied house has not affected your ties to the Nation.” The King said, confirming the alliance.

“I’m not sure I follow…” James said.

“All of the founder’s houses are friends to the Silver Halls. The Dark Lord was the head of House Slytherin. We honored his legacy but we weren’t on the best of terms in his later years, so we thank you for your service tonight, your grace.”

“Thank you, your majesty. I’m no one’s grace at the moment, not until we get our rings back at least.” James smiled sheepishly.

“On that note, your majesty, could you call for my houses’ consort rings as well as the lordship rings?” Lyra asked, squeezing James’ hand slightly with a sideways smile. “If you want to, that is.” She said, a little unsure. She’d gotten the Potter consort ring after Phee passed away.

“Of course I bloody damn want to! I’d proudly be your consort. I’m liking the title anyway. I’ve never been graceful a day in my life. Chuffed to bits to be called “your grace”, don’t you think?” James said with a cheeky smirk.

They then reclaimed their rings with little fanfare, James relishing in the feel of the Peverell magic accepting his claim. He put on the ducal and baronial consort rings on his other hand, happy they merged and disillusioned themselves much like his other rings did, safely hidden until his wife decided to come out with her heritage.

“With that done, should we assess the state of your estates, your grace?” The king asked James.

“I will return at a later date to discuss financials, but in the meantime please deposit the trust my aunt left me in the Potter Vaults. If you could please have a curse breaker check on any items she may have left we’d certainly appreciate it, especially any jewelry if there is any, though I wouldn’t put it past her to curse the money out of spite as well.” James said, barely containing a derisive snort. “We can discuss investments for the Peverell portfolio later. Is Heir Black done with his healing?” James said.

“It will be done, your grace, and to answer your question, he should be joining us after you are done with our healers, and I left word with the tellers that Mr Lupin should be brought in as soon as he arrives.” The king said. 

At that moment, the doors opened and a goblin teller announced Remus’ arrival before letting him in.

“Mooey!” Harry clapped excitedly once he saw him, reaching for him. “Up!” 

“Prongsy, Lils” was all Remus could say before he choked up. 

“We’re fine Moony. Just peachy. Sorry for the delayed notice though. We can talk more about it once Padfoot is done with the healers and you as well.” James said, handing him the squirming child.

“Hi cub, what happened to your forehead?” He said softly.

“No ouch, I big boy Mooey.” He said seriously, burrowing into his chest.

“Yes you are, such a good big boy.” He said, taking in the scent of his cub. 

“Something’s off, he smells different.” He said suddenly, eyes shooting up.

“What do you mean? Different how?” Lyra asked.

“It’s still his scent, but it’s mixed with someone else’s almost.” Remus said, taking another whiff.

“Give him to me Moons, I need to check something.” James said somberly, reaching for the child.

“James? What’s wrong?” Lyra asked, growing concerned.

“I think I know what’s wrong with his wound. Let me check.” He said, taking his wand and giving himself a little cut on his non-dominant index finger to draw a rune on his right palm. He hovered his hand over Harry’s forehead and started chanting in the tongue of the dead.

“James? What the fuck?” Remus said softly, disbelief evident on his face as he watched his most staunchly light bigot friend perform whatever this dark blood ritual was.

“Fuck,” James whispered hoarsely once he finished.

“Fuck!” Harry said then, clapping.

“No Harry, bad word, no more ok?” Lyra said, while the rest laughed.

“I’m glad for the levity, honestly. This is no laughing matter. That bastard put a horcrux in my baby.” James said, seething with anger.

“The tongue of the dead has not been uttered within the borders of the Goblin Nation in centuries. You honor these halls, young Evocator. Whatever you need, name it and it’s yours.” The King said with a neck bow.

“James, what is that?” Lyra asked, feeling like she swallowed a bucket of ice.

“It’s one of the blackest arts, by which a wix may split their soul in half and place the piece in an object. That way, their soul is tethered to the mortal plane and it cannot cross over until every piece is released from its bonds. It’s not supposed to be possible with living beings, only objects. In order to fracture one’s soul, an unspeakable evil is to be performed, like the murder of an innocent.” James said.

“Prongsy? How do you know this?” Remus asked softly, as if dreading the answer.

“Later Rem, sorry but this takes precedence.” James said. “I’m guessing the sick fuck had performed the preparatory rituals, intending to use Bambi’s murder as the catalyst to break off a piece, but this priming left his soul unstable and the piece latched itself onto Harry when he died and it splintered off. His ritual wound was the perfect entry point, almost like a beacon.” James said worriedly.

“What can we do? Is it fixable?” Lyra asked, the rest all staring in various states of fear and concern.

“Normally no, the only way to destroy a horcrux is to destroy its vessel beyond magical repair. Fiendfyre, the killing curse or basilisk venom work best. But lucky for us, this one hasn’t been anchored with the rituals meant to be performed after the murder needed to splinter the piece off. It’s loose in his wound, and it hasn’t melded with Bambi’s soul yet gratefully. There is a ritual of transference I can perform, but it has never been performed on a living subject. I’m counting on the fact that it’s incomplete that it will be only painful and not fatal. That way I can transfer the piece to another object we can destroy.” James explained.

James conjured parchment and quill and made a list of what he would need to perform it. “If you could facilitate a ritual room and these ingredients, I could do it today.” He said, handing the list over to the king.

“It’ll be ready in an hour. We should proceed with your own healing while we wait for that.” The king said.

“Thank you, your majesty. In addition to that, I’d like to request a full purge for Heiress Ross, just to be on the safe side, and as Lord Peverell and Duke Consort de Monténèbre, I formally request the gift of the healing waters for my friend and brother of heart, Remus John Lupin.” James said, placing a hand on Remus’ shoulder.

“The Silver Halls are glad to honor the bonds of friendship to your houses, your grace, and we happily grant him this boon. He will go down with you.” The King nodded solemnly.

Remus could only look between James and Lyra, gaping like a fish. Had she told him? He just declared himself her consort! Performed dark magic so dark it bordered on black. Had he been sucked into an alternate reality? Who was this person?

“Thank you.” James said gratefully. “Long story short Moony? We both died tonight, Lyra and me. I was the heir to the Peverell lordship, and came into my necromantic inheritance once I fulfilled the requirements necessary. Save a life, take a life, give your own life. We have the choice of dying when we want to die, so I came back and brought Lyra back before she crossed over. Found out Dumblefuck had us under heavy compulsions, that’s why I’m requesting a bath in our blessed mother’s healing ponds for you. You need to be cleansed, and well… you look like shit. Sorry.” James smiled sheepishly.

“Shit!” Harry said happily.

“Honestly James,” Lyra smirked, letting out an amused giggle. 

“Ok, I need the short story long later, but let’s not waste anymore time.” Remus said in a daze.

“Good, Sirius is down having a bath as well. I thought of just sending him for a purge, but then it occurred to me that it might do him good, you know… in the head. See if mother Magic takes pity on him and cures him of the Black Madness.” Lyra said from beside them. 

“What do you mean? He’s fine!” Remus said defensively, but after a minute of just pointed looks, he had to concede. “Fine, he might be devolving,” he muttered.

~~~

James was ready with preparing everything he’d need to remove the soul piece from his son’s forehead. The goblins worked wonders and had everything sorted at lightning speed, even the consecrated thestral bone. It was really something. He finished the paste on the mortar and pestle and lit the black candles. 

“Bambi, Abba is going to fix your ouch ok? But it’s going to hurt a little so it’s better if you go night night for it ok? Can you drink a little of this night night juice? It’s really yummy.” James said, giving him a little diluted dreamless sleep, not as strong as one for adults. Harry took the little vial eagerly and gulped the contents.

“Abba! Yuck!” Harry said, scrunching his face in disgust, feeling utterly betrayed as only babies could, but fell asleep right after.

James sent up a silent prayer for this to work, and placed the sleeping toddler at the center of the rune circle.

He had drawn two circles in death runes, one for Harry, and one for the new vessel. He placed the little silver cup inside the circle beside Harry, and traced both activating runes with the paste he prepared with his blood, powdered Cyprus ash, the crushed thestral bone and charged moonstone powder until it was thick like paint.

He drew the channeling runes on his palms with the paste, gathered up his strength and determination and began his chant. Harry immediately began squirming and whimpering in his sleep, and James had to keep himself from stopping. The wound was fresh and the soul piece was quite superficial, but it pained him to see his baby in pain.

Slowly but surely, the shard began to ooze out of the wound, tears streaming slowly from the corners of Harry’s scrunched up eyes as the splinter fought fiercely against its release. Sooner than he expected, the amorphous black blob floated over Harry, and James directed it to the side and melded it with the cup, binding it tight to avoid any unwanted sentience. It would be much like a regular cup.

Once done, he deactivated the array and took

Harry in his arms. He was breathing, thank every deity out there! His baby was breathing. It was very shallow, but he was breathing.

He pocketed the cup, and pressed the cleansing sigil on the wall by the side of the door on the way out.

“Well? Did it work?” Lyra and Mary asked as soon as they saw them come out, waiting just outside the ritual room.

“Mary! Check him over, he’s breathing but he’s very weak.” James said urgently, handing him the limp child.

Her eyes welled up when she took the pale lump, barely breathing, and quickly set him down on the floor and began casting every diagnostic and monitoring charm she knew.

“His core is in shambles, his body is shutting down. I can try and stabilize him as best I can, but it’s touch and go at the moment.” She said, tears falling freely.

She worked in tandem with a goblin healer, chanting, charming and spelling potions into his stomach, until the baby’s breathing evened out some and his color became less blueish. 

“Your graces, there is nothing more we can do at the moment. He needs the waters. It’s in our blessed mother’s hands now.” The goblin said solemnly, wiping the sweat off his brow. 

~~~

Sirius Black woke up in a hospital bed, feeling better than ever. Nothing hurt! And his mind felt clear as crystal. No fog, no erraticness, just calm blue waters. The feeling didn’t last long though, as a burning rage spread through him like wildfire.

That fucking cunt of a man! How dare he meddle with his mind! He thought of his poor mother with a pang of regret. True, she had been a vicious woman, but he could be cruel and vicious too, and he had brought it out of her with his behavior and he felt guilty now knowing he would have never acted in such a way had he not been manipulated, even if she should have been better about it as well.

He dressed leisurely, relishing in the freedom of motion he had now that old battle wounds and scars were gone. The goblin healer that came to discharge him told him he was to go up to the King’s study where their graces the Duke and Duchess would be waiting for him along with the Marquis and Heiress Ross. Mary was here? Lovely! 

He walked out of the screened box in the healing ward and was met with the frantic running of those supposed to be waiting for him.

“Prongsy? Ly? What’s wrong?” Sirius said as they whirled past him. He caught Mary’s eyes as they whooshed past him, and he feared the worst when he saw how dead they were, red and puffy.

“Mar-bear? What’s wrong?” He said, running behind them.

He caught up to them at the gates of the healing ponds, and that’s when he saw him. The limp form of his pup, his usually golden skin pale, green-tinged and blue-lipped.

“Mary what happened to my son?” He asked barely above a whisper, but nobody paid attention to him.

“SOMEBODY TELL ME WHAT’S WRONG WITH MY SON!” 

James and Lyra kissed the baby’s forehead quickly before the goblin took him in and shut the doors behind him.

“Pads, it’s… it’s not good.” Mary cried as she held onto his arm.

“But he was fine! I left him and he was fine! He had a little cut on his forehead. It didn’t even hurt! He was a big boy! He said so!” He said in denial.

James pulled him into a crushing hug, holding him tight. “That bastard put a horcrux inside my Bambi.” He said hoarsely against Sirius’ neck. 

Sirius was speechless. That shouldn’t be possible! Of course he knew what a horcrux was, he was a Black! But horcruxes were supposed to be objects. How on earth did that bastard manage to do that?

“No, Prongsy that’s not possible. He’s a living child, not a trinket!” Sirius said after a moment.

“I know. It was incomplete. I’m sure he intended to create one using Bambi’s death, but when he died the piece he had been preparing splintered off and stuck itself to Harry’s ritual wound. It was loose and not properly anchored, so I performed a transference ritual but it took a lot out of Harry. He’s shutting down.” James said before choking down a sob.

“He’ll be fine Prongs, he’s strong. You got him down here in time. Have faith.” He said, holding him just as tightly. 

“I hope so, I bloody well hope so,” he said against his friend, taking what comfort he could from him.

“You’ll see, she works wonders! I’m good as new! He’ll be fine.” Sirius said, as much for his sake as for James’.

They were moved to a waiting room where they were brought tea and biscuits to soothe the nerves, and just to have something else to do and focus on, James brought Sirius up to speed. 

“So, did you destroy the abomination?” Sirius asked finally.

“Not yet. I bloody well couldn’t cast some casual fiendfyre with my dying child right there could I? As soon as things with Harry are sorted I’ll destroy it.” James said.

“No,” Lyra said all of a sudden. “We shouldn't destroy it.”

“What do you mean? Of course we should! That way he’s gone for good!” Sirius said.

“Not exactly. When I extracted it, it took way less time and effort than it should have. On the one hand, it’s good, because Harry would have surely died if I’d had to extract a piece any bigger than I did, but on the other, it’s terribly bad, because it means it wasn’t half a full soul. He has more.” James said ominously. 

“So no matter what we do with it, he will never be gone until all of them are destroyed.” Sirius summarized. “Do we know how many?” 

“Not at the moment, but further study of the piece we have will easily tell us. It’s exponentially decaying, the breaking of the soul, each time in half. I’d guess you’d get a shard that small after five or six chops but I’d need to look further into it.” James said pensively.

“He’ll be back someday, and when that happens we’ll have a bargaining chip if we keep it hidden. We could look for others in the meantime.” Lyra mused offhandedly. 

That’s when they brought Remus in, he looked amazing, gone were his graying hair and sickly complexion, also most of his scarring. He looked healthy and muscular and vital, the gold in his eyes glowing and vivid.

Sirius hurried to greet his boyfriend, who was looking happy but confused at the sour mood in the room.

“Hi! What’s wrong? Why’s everyone so gloomy?” He said, taking a proper look at Sirius as he walked up to him. He looked amazing! Even if he had a somber looking expression and his eyes were red-rimmed. 

“Rem, it’s Bambi.” Was all Sirius could say.

“He didn’t take very well to the transference ritual Moony, he’s in the waters right now.” James said sadly.

“He’ll make it Jim, I know he will.” Remus said calmly. 

“Here’s hoping mate, we’ll know more once he’s out of the waters.” James said.

“No James, I’m not being comforting, I’m telling you. I know he’ll be ok.” Remus said slowly, “I saw her, when I took the waters. She told me, among other things, that Harry would be ok. I dismissed it at the time because as far as I knew he was fine, but now it makes sense. He’s special James, he’s been chosen.” He told them.

Which was met with a chorus of “what?” In disbelief.

“You know this Prongsy. You’ve communed with Death, and they’re as real as our Dark Mother. I’m one of her chosen ones as well, that’s why she told me. Harry will be fine and I will have to help him.” He said. 

“Help him how exactly?” Lyra asked reluctantly, and Remus was about to answer when an excited looking goblin healer came into the room.

“Your graces, he’s made it out fine. Better than fine I’d say. He’ll wake up momentarily if you’d like to come with me and see him.” The goblin said breathlessly.

Everyone jumped out of their seats and followed the goblin, who huffed and resigned himself to the large entourage even if he’d come just for the boy’s parents, and led them to a screened off box where Harry was lying peacefully in a child size hospital bed. There wasn’t much of a noticeable difference, except that the cut had healed without a mark, his forehead as clear as it had always been before the ritual.

“We ran the diagnostics again after he came out of his bath, and everything is in order. His core is replenished and stable, much more than that.” The goblin said ominously, “before he had a powerful yet standard core for a magical child of his age, but after checking… Well, it’s unprecedented. There has never been someone quite as young as him taking the waters, it couldn’t have been foreseen.”

Mary stepped up and chanted the complicated charm to evaluate Harry’s core.

“Oh shit,” she said, examining the graphics floating in front of her. “This is unprecedented indeed,” she said, turning to the group, who all had expectant expressions on their faces, “he has an aligned core. That shouldn’t be possible, the earliest we’ve seen a core manifest an alignment is seven,” she said.

The dumbfounded looks on their faces was priceless, an aligned core at one year old? The next question was on the tip of everyone’s tongue, but James beat them to it.

“What’s his affinity, Mar?” He said quietly.

“Dark, as dark as I’ve seen a wizard be. And it’s not your family magics feeding it that make it so, he’s too young to have any considerable influx of them yet. His own magic is dark. There hasn’t been an innate magical core like this… ever? I can’t think of any case,” Mary said.

“I don’t understand,” Remus said.

“Every witch and wizard is born with a magical core, we know this, and depending on whether they’re muggleborn or not, it may present affluents of family magic, but we’re all born with magic that’s innately our own, directly from Mother Magic. Usually it’s a pliable gray core that sways with casting and the surge in influx of family magics first at seven, then at eleven and seventeen. If a wix’s heritage is dark, then that influx is usually enough to color his innate core accordingly, same with light magical heritage. But to present an aligned magical core with no considerable influx of family magic yet? It’s unheard of.” She explained. 

Everyone looked to Remus for answers next, since he’d been at the source as it were. 

“What was wrong with him before he took the bath?” He asked, trying to piece the puzzle together. He’d been out of it for this whole thing, he needed more information if he was going to make an educated guess.

“The ritual destroyed his magical core, it was like chopped onions in there when I checked it over,” Mary said, “his body was shutting down quicker than we could patch things up.”

“Then, from what I was told and what I know now, I’d say our Dark Mother had to heal his core, and the magic she gifted him comes directly from her. I told you he was one of her chosen, but I didn’t manage to tell you for what before we were called down here. He will be one of two who will unite the dark and bring forth a golden age. He will have an equal, and many allies like myself.” Remus explained.

Before anyone could ask any further questions, Harry began to stir and they all focused on him.

James gasped as he saw his baby boy’s eyes, that had once been the beautiful and calming forest green of his mother’s. They were now a jewel-like green, almost glowing, and it reminded him of the killing curse, with a silver rim around the iris.

“Abba! No ouch! Mama help ouch.” 

Chapter Text

“Have you read the papers yet?” Sirius asked James as he took his seat in the family dining room for lunch the next day. They all opted to sleep in as late as anyone wanted after they returned to the Abbey and James had the elves prepare rooms for everyone to crash there for the night, or what little was left of it until sunrise. 

“It’s crazy, isn’t it? The Magical Gazette called me the next Albus Dumbledore,” James said laughing, “I hope he got that one delivered. I’m definitely planning on milking this as hard as he milked his defeat of Grindelwald. We’ll need power and general popularity if we’re going to protect Bambi effectively and take the old man down.” He said more seriously. 

“The Prophet has already dubbed you The Vanquisher. You should trademark that before some sleazeball profits from it at your expense, you know it’ll happen.” Sirius said laughing. “Wouldn’t put it past old Dumbles now that he’s lost all of his cash cows.” He added more sourly.

“I’ll owl the King about it later today. Merlin knows I have to make up for all the money I threw away on that cunt.” James said. If his Abba had taught him anything it was the value of a good deal and to never leave a galleon on the table. 

“Cun!” Harry said then, as Lyra walked in with him in her arms.

“Harry no! Bad word, we don’t say that. And James, that really is quite enough! He’s not even two years old!” Lyra said angrily.

“Abba! No cun!” He said seriously, his little frow burrowed. Sirius snorted in his drink, lemonade flying out of his nose, and James could see the corners of Lyra’s mouth twist involuntarily.

“I said a million words before that! He picks up on the worst ones, honestly.” James excused himself, shaking his head as he dipped his naan in his lamb vindaloo. 

Slowly but surely, the rest of their guests trickled in in various states of wakefulness. Remus looked refreshed, as did Sirius, and apparently Harry had been up for quite some time under Essie’s watchful eye. She’d been the Potter’s nanny elf for generations, in charge of manning the nursery since the time of his great grandfather.

Once everyone had their fill and they discussed the press, they sent Harry away with Essie to talk about the night before.

~~~

“So, now that we’ve caught you up with the full tale on our end, please, tell us. How did you fare on your end? Were you as heavily coerced as I was?” James asked after finishing his recollection of events.

“Yep,” Remus said, emphasizing the p sound.

“I had the same one as you did, with the added little bonus of rejecting my family. I have some serious amends to make, Wally especially. Don’t get me wrong, she was the worst, but I can’t help but feel I brought it out from her and it wasn’t even my fault!” Sirius said sadly. “I’m not looking forward to that, and even if we don’t patch things up I feel like I owe her an apology.”

“I was compelled to hate my wolf, reject the dark and be submissive.” Remus said, almost growling. “Moony’s an alpha, so it only fueled the disconnect between us. Luckily it’s been taken care of.” He added.

“I wasn’t expecting them to find anything, I was a muggleborn after all, but I had the same one James and Sirius had.” Mary said.

“Why wouldn’t you expect it? You weren’t a muggleborn like I was,” Lyra supplied. “I was the daughter of a homemaker and a low level administrator at a factory, collar as blue as they come. You were The Honorable Mary Elizabeth Jane Sarah MacDonald, youngest daughter of the seventh Baron MacDonald, High Chief of Clan Donald, Lord MacDonald of MacDonald of Sleat.” Lyra said in a pompous tone.

“Hey! Glass houses, your grace,” Mary said defensively. “But anyway, that doesn’t mean anything in our world, so why would he care?” 

“Because you got it Mar-bear.” Sirius said, “he likes it when muggleborns find our society antiquated and backwards. For someone who likes to be seen as the champion of muggleborns, he sure thrives on them being perceived as mudbloods. You came in and just got it. You came from a similar background as most of us titled purebloods. All your pedigree lacked was magic. You understand heritage, legacy and duty, of course he’d want you under his thumb. You would have been a dangerous symbol for the other side.” 

“He likes symbols, Dumbledore, he’s as much an image peddler as he is a war general. We all provided money, though I did little for him on that front but still. Also firepower and a brand for him to sell, an image of the world he wanted.” Remus explained to her, “we have the werewolf that isn’t so bad as long as he drinks a potion that slowly poisons him and his wolf until an untimely death by 40 at the latest, so let’s make sure he tries to convince as many other wolves to do the same,” he said, pointing to himself, “the reformed dark wizard heir who reneged on his nature, family and stuffy tradition,” he added, pointing at Sirius, “and the light prince of a respectable light leaning most ancient and most noble house, in love with a muggleborn.” He finished, nodding at James and Lyra. “A utopia of smoke and mirrors of his own creation.”

“And then I went and robbed him of his well adjusted muggleborn poster girl when I went and got myself blood adopted into the Ross line,” Mary smirked devilishly.

“Masterful move by the way Mar,” Sirius said, tipping his imaginary hat to her.

“Daddy was most proud I brought the Ross title back to the family,” Mary laughed.

“What?” Remus asked, not following.

“The MacDonald clan’s high chief held the title of Earl of Ross in the muggle world until the fifteenth century.” Mary explained.

“Yes, well, it’s safe to say we all backfired as far as his branding is concerned,” James laughed, “Moony, I’d like to go back to your story though, we only got bits and pieces at the bank.” He said then in a more serious tone.

“Well, as I said, I was chosen by her amongst others, to aid Harry and his equal when the time comes. I’m her chosen alpha. I will one day challenge Greyback for the rule of the British packs, and when the time comes, the Lycans will answer her call to arms.” He said.

“Remus, you’ve been very coy about this equal Harry has, and I have a hunch as to why that is. Care to share?” James said with a resigned tone.

Remus just sighed and said, “Tom Riddle.”

“What! You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. The bastard we just semi-killed?” Sirius said angrily.

“We? That’s a lot of people, one too many I'd say, Pads.” James teased.  

“Yes, him. I don’t like it any more than you do.” Remus said defeatedly.

“But he’s insane! He’s a monster!” Sirius said, refusing to accept it.

“He wasn’t always, you know? I’ve read some of his early manifestos. It’s nothing too scary. It’s quite sensible actually, I agreed with a lot of it.” Lyra said, blushing slightly.

“It’s only natural, the poor sod was running at about three percent of his soul. I’m not saying it’s not his fault, but I can differentiate between who he was before and after the whole horcrux induced devolvement. I can see why our Blessed Mother would have chosen him before he defiled himself.” James said, shocking most of them, who still expected him to be You Know Who’s most ardent detractor.

“I’ve read them too, his initial ideas were very pro creature.” Remus admitted. “It was only in the later years of the war he started to weaponize us when he jacked up Greyback full of rituals and had him take over the packs.” 

They all looked at Mary, who hadn’t said anything.

“Why are you all looking at me for? I can be pragmatic. I’m in this for you all and Harry. I don’t care about these silly little labels and stereotypes you people seem to get so caught up on. I may be a half blood on paper, but I’m  a muggleborn at heart, magic is magic, it all has its uses and limitations. Dark this, light that, whatever. If we’re changing sides then we’re changing sides, that’s it.” She shrugged nonchalantly. “Besides, from what Jamie told us, I don’t exactly feel like we’d be disrespecting the memory of our fallen. They weren’t exactly willing participants were they? We were all coerced into this mess. At least now it feels like our own choice, doesn’t it?”

“Well, in that case, we need to plan.” James said. “Even if the image Dumbledore wanted to portray isn’t true behind the scenes, it’s still how we are perceived publicly. If he came back tomorrow he’d be right back to hunting us down.” 

“We need alliances. People that can vouch for us when the time comes.” Lyra said after some thought.

“Any ideas?” James said, looking at the rest.

“I’ll go and speak with Grandfather, he was never a declared supporter but he was a sympathizer. It’s not common knowledge, but my father was in school with You Know Who, so he was invited home sometimes for holidays. Grandfather knew him before the whole chop chop mess.” Sirius said. In hindsight, it was lucky that the general public never believed the Order’s attempts to link Marvolo Gaunt and Lord Voldemort as the same person, but with clever use of polyjuice potion or whatever ruse that monster thought of, they’d been spotted at the same place together and quickly dispelled the rumors.

“In that case, I’m sure there are plenty of families that pledged their allegiance to that man rather than the monster you killed last night. If we need them to vouch for us later, perhaps we should vouch for them now. There will be carnage in the courts shortly, many people will be sent to Azkaban. From what we’ve experienced, the most violent and bloodthirsty were always the riff raff. The titled purebloods that lent him political support were never the ones to get their hands dirty like that. Well, notable exceptions made for the Lestranges of course.” Mary said, giving Sirius a sideways glance.

“Speaking of the Lestranges, any news on Frankie and Alice?” Sirius asked. It was in the morning papers that they had been attacked shortly after Prongs and Ly.

“Allie sent a patronus before we came down with Harry, they’re a little worse for wear but the aurors arrived before things turned really ugly. They should be discharged from St Mungo’s later today. I’ll make sure to get them to the goblins for a purge as soon as they’re in the clear.” Lyra said, clearly relieved. “The ministry has the Lestranges in custody. Bellatrix and Rodolphus. Rabastan was not on the scene, at least when the aurors got there.”

“I need to go,” Sirius said suddenly, “Grandfather is summoning us, I think it must be about Bella. I’ll speak to him about our case, and maybe Cissy too, I’m sure that ponce Malfoy is pissing his silk breeches right about now thinking of the trials. We’ll see how things go and how welcome or not I am.” He finished grimly. Thankfully he was in wizarding clothing, even if it was James’. Thank Merlin for resizing charms.

~~~

He stepped out of the floo into the foyer at Black Manor. Thankfully he didn’t run into anyone right by the fireplace so he followed the pull of the lordship ring to his grandfather’s study. It was one of the Black family secrets, how a smear of Black blood on the ring could summon any and all Blacks.

Once he walked into the study, he wasn’t as lucky as on arrival, considering his grandfather wasn’t alone.

Around the large round table in the center of the room, a most Arthurian touch worthy of Arcturus Black, sat his Uncle Cygnus, Cissa and Aunt Cassiopeia, all the way from Greece. And at the left hand of his grandfather, were his mother, his Aunt Lucretia, and his grandfather Pollux, Walburga’s father. Only Blacks of the blood were allowed to come to family meetings, no spouses.

Everyone regarded him with a look of contempt, veiled to various degrees. Only Arcturus remained impassive.

“Ah, etoile, come and sit by me.” Arcturus said simply, pointing to the chair on his right, the heir’s place.

He didn’t know why he expected more of a show, but they all just limited themselves to harsh looks of disapproval. Overt emotional displays were reserved for the privacy of one’s home, never in the presence of the Head of House. Thank Merlin for decorum and emotional stuntedness. 

“Now, we have gathered today to discuss the matter of dear Bella. As I’ve been made aware, after the demise of the Dark Lord she was found in a compromising position dueling Lord and Lady Longbottom.” Arcturus said, “but, as I’m sure none of us expected Sirius here to answer the summons, maybe we should start with that.” He said, intrigue clear in his tone.

Sirius cleared his throat and pulled out his wand. His uncle Cygnus and Grandpa Pollux twitched as if to pull out their own, but stopped themselves when Sirius pointed it to the ceiling.

“I, Sirius Orion Black, third of my name, Heir to the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Black, swear on my life and magic that what I will share with my family today is the truth, at least to my understanding of it. So I say, so mote it be.” Sirius said, and his wand glowed warm gold before fading.

“First of all, before I delve into the details, I owe all of you an apology.” Sirius said, and most bristled, but he kept going. “I have disregarded and rejected my heritage and my family, and for that I am sorry.” He said, and his mother snorted derisively.

He pulled out the parchment with the diagnostic the goblins performed before his ritual bath, and placed it on the table.

“I went to Gringotts for a purge last night, this is what they found.” Sirius said, waiting for them to read it.

His grandfather Arcturus grabbed the parchment and began reading, and when he reached the lines about the compulsions placed on him, he went still like a statue.

Everyone felt on edge as they felt his magic surge and lash out, an oppressive force on the room, vibrating with electric energy.

“I will kill him.” Arcturus said barely above a whisper, venom dripping with every syllable.

The parchment made the rounds and everyone looked outraged. Walburga looked especially livid, nostrils flared in a most undignified way.

“How did you find out you needed the purge, cousin?” Narcissa asked cleverly, aware there was missing information. 

“What I will tell you next cannot leave this room under any circumstance. On the honor of the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Black. Hadrian Potter-Black is my blood adopted son and heir presumptive to the Black Lordship, we owe him sanctuary for his life and secrets.” Sirius said ominously.

Everyone lifted their wand and swore a vow of secrecy, expectantly waiting for what Sirius would tell them.

“Last night, I went to the Potters after I felt the Fidelius fall.” He started, “I found James, Lily and Hadrian in the trashed nursery. Only James and Hadrian were alive the moment I got there.” 

The looks on their faces were priceless.

“James was performing some sort of ritual, chanting in a language I’d never heard before, runes drawn in blood on Lily’s body and his hands.” Sirius continued, inwardly enjoying the disbelieving looks he was getting.

“After a moment, she woke up.” He said, “I asked what was happening, and James explained. We all know the ancient lineages, we’ve all studied the family trees.” Sirius said, looking around the table, getting nods from his enraptured crowd. “The Potter line descends from the youngest brother of the House of Peverell. A daughter of the house married into the family, and they are currently the ones with the claim to the Peverell lordship. They’ve never taken it on, afraid of what people might say.” Sirius explained.

“Necromancers,” Walburga said reverently, barely above a whisper.

“That’s the rumor, yes. It’s also the truth. James told me that when the Dark Lord first arrived, he killed him. He woke up in a different plane, a crossroads between life and death. There, he was met by his parents and some of our dead friends. They told him about the old goat’s true colors, the compulsions and the manipulations. His death released him from their hold over him. He was then met by Lord Death, who gave him a choice. He could accept his heritage as a necromancer of the Peverell line, and return to save his family, or move on to the afterlife. He chose necromancy and spent time studying the arts under the guidance of various ancestors. He told me it was a plane outside time and space, so when he was finally ready, he woke up mere moments after the Dark Lord’s killing curse hit him.” Sirius continued, “He ran up the stairs to find Lily dead, the room trashed and Hadrian wailing in his crib.” 

“But didn’t he kill the Dark Lord? The papers said he dueled and defeated him!” Cygnus said.

“Yes, that is the public story. The truth is that Lily performed a sacrificial life for life ritual to protect Hadrian. She offered herself three times instead of Hadrian, and the Dark Lord refused her three times before he finally killed her, binding the ritual. The blood wards created by the sacrifice caused his killing curse to rebound once he tried to kill Hadrian.” He said, looking calmly around the room, studying everyone’s reaction.

“A mudblood? Versed in blood magic? Preposterous.” Pollux said.

“Lily is no mudblood. Not even a muggleborn. Her true name is Lyra Schwartzstein. She is the Duchess de Monténèbre and Baroness Schwartzstein.” Sirius delivered triumphantly.

“Lies, it’s not possible. I knew her mother in my youth, she was blonder than a Rosier and a Malfoy combined!” Cassiopeia spoke for the first time that night. 

“It’s true cousin, I saw the paperwork when I approved the child’s blood adoption. She is who Sirius says she is. Besides, Ernst had the same auburn hair and green eyes as Lady Potter.” Arcturus assured her.

“So you see the need for secrecy, and for unity. They are the defeaters of the Dark Lord, the heroes of the Light. Yet James is a necromancer and Lyra is the darkest witch in the country right now. And my son? My son will be the most powerful dark wizard in, possibly, the whole of Europe. Heir to the houses of Monténèbre, Schwartzstein, Peverell and Black. His only tie to the light is his Potter heritage, which has been tinted gray after James’ inheritance, so not even that.”

“So? They’re dark, big bloody deal. They still fought on the wrong side and won them the war. I’m not exactly jumping to congratulate them.” Cygnus said derisively.

“Yes, they’re dark, and that’s where they need our help. When the Dark Lord returns, they will need to have established themselves within the dark enough that he doesn’t immediately go after them again.” Sirius explained.

“Return? Sirius, he’s dead.” Cassiopeia said, confused.

“He is… disembodied. You see, once we got to the bank, we all got healed. They had trouble healing Hadrian’s ritual wound. The ritual was anchored by a sowilo rune carved on his forehead you see, and it was oozing curse residue which we thought was from the attempted killing. It wasn't.” Sirius explained, “James found a shard of the Dark Lord’s soul embedded in the wound.”

“Abomination!” Cassiopeia gasped.

“Yes, it seems the lunatic wished to create one using Hadrian’s murder, and the preliminary rituals made his soul unstable and a shard lodged itself in the open wound, the ritual magic almost like a beacon.” Sirius said.

“So, the boy is a horcrux?” Arcturus asked sadly.

“Not anymore, James managed to transfer it out of him. It almost killed Hadrian, but he was taken to the healing waters in the bosom of the Goblin Nation and made a full recovery in the hands of our Dark Mother.” He said, shuddering at the memory of almost losing his pup. “The thing is, James mentioned that the shard was way too small to be half of a complete soul, so the psycho had more. We know he is still earthbound and one day he’ll come back. And when he does, we want to help.” Sirius said.

“Why? I understand that the compulsion is gone, but how can we trust this sudden change of heart?” Narcissa asked.

“Because it’s where we belong, and it’s what was denied to us. We understand the reticence but it would be mutually beneficial.” He said.

“How, exactly?” Narcissa asked.

“Well, we all came here originally to discuss Bellybean’s capture didn’t we?” Sirius said, slipping back into old nicknames and dynamics like a favorite jumper. “There will be a lot of cases like hers, a lot of people vying to avoid Azkaban.” Sirius said with a smirk. “If you can vouch for us, we can vouch for you.” 

Narcissa looked hopeful at that. She knew Lucius would manage to avoid the worst of it, but it would take a considerable amount of time and money to regain their good name in society.

“Lucy will be able to pay everyone that needs paying off to successfully convince the world he was imperioused into joining the ranks. Of that I have no doubt, he’s always been silver tongued like that.” Sirius smirked. “The mercy and friendship of the vanquishers will do wonders to smooth out his reinsertion into society, wouldn’t you say? Besides, the children are only a little under two months apart in age, aren’t they? They can be friends.” Sirius said with a noncommittal shrug.

“What about Bellatrix? Can she be redeemed by the same arrangement?” Cygnus asked hopefully.

“I’m afraid Bellatrix is beyond our help, she will never deny her allegiance to the Dark Lord like Lucius would to save herself from prison. She is too far gone. Our curse has claimed her.” Arcturus said sadly.

“We can, however, make sure she receives a proper trial and an adequate sentence. We will do everything we can on our side to make sure everyone is tried and sentenced fairly. I’m sure Rodolphus is trying to knock as much sense into her as he can prior to their trial. Rabastan eluded capture, and even with as much as he loves his wife, he will cut her tongue out if it means risking Rab. Once they’ve done their time, we will petition the Silver Halls for the gift of the waters for them so they can be healed of the damage Azkaban will do, as well as our curse in Belly’s case,” Sirius promised.

“Then it is settled. The House of Black will stand behind its future lord and his parents. And we will help alleviate the blow to our Bellatrix as much as we can. Lucius will be supported as well Cissy darling, don’t worry. Be careful and be vigilant. We have lost a war today and the light will be out for blood.” Arcturus said, ending the meeting. “Lucretia, keep us posted on anything you might hear from your husband and his family. I know Muriel Prewett sends those Weasley blood traitors some money on occasion so if you happen to hear anything of use, let us know.” 

With formal business done, an elf popped in with refreshments and a tray of finger food. Sirius decided there was no time like the present, and mustered up all of his Gryffindor courage to turn around and speak to his mother.

He poured himself a cup of strong tea, and turned to face her.

“Mother,” he said, his voice smaller than he intended.

“Don’t, Sirius,” she said, back straight as a broomstick and face impassive.

“I’m sorry.” He said, barely above a whisper, “I’m not hiding behind the compulsion. I did do everything I did, even if not by my own volition entirely. I am sorry for my part in this, us.”

“Your part?” She bristled, there were no parts as far as she saw things, he held the entirety of the blame.

“Yes, I was a shit child to handle, I acknowledge that. I brought out the worst in you and we both suffered for it. That is my part in all this. I am sorry.” He said, holding her gaze as impassively as he could.

“Am I supposed to forgive and forget then? Open my arms and rejoice that my son and heir has seen the error of his ways finally? You can’t fix this with muttered apologies, Sirius Orion.” She said coldly.

“No, but we can start to. I can’t just forgive and forget either.” He said, causing her to scoff. “Yes, I brought out the worst in you, but you still unleashed it on me without remorse. I wasn’t the son you expected and you weren’t the mother I needed. We both made each other suffer, but we can’t go back and forth endlessly on who’s to blame for it. It will take time, but I am back, I am willing and I am sorry. That's all I can do for now. Time will hopefully help heal our rift, I’m not expecting us to hug it out right this second.” Sirius said, happy to have said his peace at least. When she didn’t respond, he just nodded and left her to her thoughts.

“Cousin,” Narcissa said in greeting, approaching Sirius. “You look well,” 

“Cissy,” Sirius nodded at her, “you as well, motherhood agrees with you. I was happy to hear of Draconis’ birth, even if we weren’t on the best of terms at the time. Good name, I like it.” He said with a little smirk at the end.

“Thank you, Lucius wanted to name him Janus, Roman names as is the Malfoy custom, but I could feel he was a Black. I consulted the stars.” She said wistfully.

“How is Lucius?” Sirius asked, no malice in his tone.

“Worried, understandably, and secretly happy he’s free. He was crazy towards the end Sirius, torturing left and right. I don’t think anyone but my sister would move a finger to bring back that monster. He’s planning to plead innocence, claiming he was under imperius. We were planning to spend a few years in France until things settled down enough to come back, let the coffers recover before buying our way back in, one charitable donation at a time,” she said with a smirk. “But if Lord and Lady Potter wish to help keep a spirit of justice and reconciliation instead of revenge, then we will have to reconsider.”

“They will, we all will. And I’m sure Lyra will appreciate your friendship. She’s knowledgeable enough in our ways by now that she doesn’t need someone to teach her how to hold her teacup and the proper greetings, but with the war she hasn’t had a chance to settle in her role and be a proper consort, and I’m sure she’d appreciate the help.” Sirius said, because it was true. After she accepted the truth about herself, Lyra had poured herself into learning everything she could. She could recite the driest etiquette manual front to back, and knew how to carry herself, but had never had to deal with the day to day of being a consort or even a lady in her own right if her own titles were taken into account.

“I’ll write to her then, after things settle.” Narcissa said, “Now, I must be off. The Malfoy nanny elf passed just a few weeks after Draco was born and the new one is the queerest little thing, still training. I’m afraid of what I might return to.” 

They were about to disperse when Arcturus stood and raised his hand, effectively stopping everyone in their tracks.

“It appears the meeting isn’t over, we have a late arrival.” He said cryptically, looking at the double doors of the study.

They all turned to face the door when they heard it creaking open, and to their surprise, in walked Andromeda with her daughter in hand.

Cygnus looked at her daughter with contempt. She had once been his pride and joy, the one most like him out of her three girls. The one that secretly made it ok he hadn’t had any boys. Who would want a boy when lady fate gave him his Meda? Only to have her spit everything back in their face and run away with a mudblood, leaving them with the shame of having to pay the Flints for the broken betrothal. 

His eyes went down to the little girl holding her mother‘s hand tightly, looking around the room with confidence. He’d expected a room full of imposing strangers would make the child cower, but she held her head high and met every eye that sought hers with dignity. He’d seen his grandchild from afar throughout the years, but up close, the resemblance was undeniable, she was all Black.

“My Lord Black, I’ve come seeking sanctuary.” Andromeda said, as dignified as the day she left.

Cygnus snorted in disbelief. Whatever could she want sanctuary for? 

“Aunt Lucretia, does the pond by the shrine to Astraeus still have swans?” Andromeda asked suddenly.

“Swans?” Dora asked excitedly.

“Of course, would you like to go feed them with me child? If you’re good, perhaps we might persuade an elf to bring you some ice cream afterwards.” Lucretia said, winking cheekily. Out of all of them in the room, she was the best with children. A skill developed while doting on everyone else’s since she had not been blessed with ones of her own.

Dora looked at her mother as if Yuletide had come early, pudding before supper? Swans? Her hair went through every color of the rainbow in her excitement, before settling back to its deep walnut shade, long and flowing like her mother’s. She didn’t notice the awed looks on everyone around the room when everyone realized the Black gift had returned to their family.

“You can have some ice cream if you promise it won’t spoil your supper. Ok?” She said.

Dora left the room nodding enthusiastically, following Lucretia out into the gardens.

“Why would you need sanctuary, child?” Arcturus asked now that the child was gone and they could speak freely.

“I’ve recently been widowed.” She said impassively.

“I’m sorry to hear that Meda dear.” Arcturus said softly.

“I’m not. Considering I killed him,” she replied, dropping her glamor to reveal a bruised eye. “He dozed me with amortentia right up until last night. I missed a dose yesterday. He switched various potions I take with it, among them the pain relievers I take for my time of the month with it and I was down to the last vial. Dora ran into me and I dropped it. I can only assume that with the war and the chaos, he got sloppy.” She said, rage barely contained. “I confronted him when he got home and I got this.” She added, pointing to her eye.

“Were you thorough?” Arcturus asked knowingly.

“I’m a Black.” Was all she said in response. “As far as Dora knows, he’s just taking a nap. She doesn’t know he won’t wake up. When that happens, I want my daughter to have a family, and I want my family back.” She said, only a few errant tears betraying her true feelings as she kept her voice even and dignified as ever. “I’m so sorry father, I’m so ashamed.” She said softly, looking at Cygnus. “Once his estate is settled, I’ll sell his shack and pay you back for whatever you had to settle with Marius’ family.”

“Keep it. It was paid out of your trust vaults and it’s already been earned back. I’ll go and speak with SilverBlade in the morning to have it turned back over to you, and I’ll open one for Nymphadora. Set his estate aside for her. I won’t let you want for anything.” He said just as perfunctorily, though the strain in his voice did betray his emotion more than hers.

“We’ll have a look at the property ledger for a suitable house for you both Meda dear, and Sirius too. You’ll both need to be properly established if you’re back for good.” Arcturus said, looking at Sirius and Andromeda. “In the meantime, you can stay here if you’d like. It’s been too long since there were children in this house. Mel would have loved it.” 

“I’m fine in my flat for now, don’t worry about me. Andi should get first pick, since I don’t have any children under my charge yet. We can discuss my move later, there’s no hurry.” Sirius said, not wanting to either impose or be forced to move back in with his mother. Since his father never got to claim the lordship, Grimmauld Place was still technically the heir’s house and not the dower house, even if his mother lived there as the unofficial dowager. 

“Then it’s settled. Even if we lost a war today, we got two of our own back. It’s a joyous day for the House of Black indeed.” Arcturus said merrily. “Do stay for dinner, everyone. Floo home and call for your families. Well, not you Meda dear, but I dare say your husband won’t mind your absence.” He smirked.

Chapter Text

December 1st, 1981

Rita Skeeter sits down with The Vanquisher and his family: Enough has been said, this is our truth.

By Rita Skeeter.

After almost a month to the day since the defeat of He Who Must Not Be Named, a lot has happened, dear readers. The elation that swept the nation, if I’m allowed a catchy turn of phrase, lasted little, especially after Minister Millicent Bagnold was called to answer in front of the International Confederation of Wizards for the country’s blatant indiscretion and disregard for the Statute of Secrecy when celebrating the demise of the darkest wizard since Gellert Grindelwald blazed through magical Europe, spreading chaos and despair. As you may recall, muggle media reported everything from bizarre lights in the sky, irregular behavior in the country's owl population, a spike in what muggle news outlets described as “medieval cosplaying”, whatever that means, and some isolated witnessing of magic. 

Our Minister held her own in front of both chambers of the International Confederation of Wizards, as both the elected Chief Warlocks of the Council of Warlocks along with the lords and ladies of the Council of the Elders, interrogated her for quite some time about measures being taken after such a generalized breach of protocol. In a statement that will forever live in the history books, our minister stood for us and our “right to celebrate the end of almost a decade of carnage” for a single day.

But it was not all merriment and partying, my dear readers. In the days following, we learnt of the heroism and debt we as a society owe to a family that sacrificed much and risked certain death so we could sleep safely once more. The ferocious and instinctual desire to protect their offspring against the madman that descended upon them with their child as the primary target. We’ve all heard second hand accounts of the events that transpired that evening, and today I will be sitting with Lord and Lady Potter to hear it right from the source, along with many other things they wish to address after a harrowing month.

We will touch on everything I am sure you are dying to know, dear readers. What happened that night? What was going through their minds as they faced certain death to protect little Heir Potter, a charming babe I must add, and most of all, their undying motivation for a new and peaceful Britain.

So sit tight, make yourselves a cuppa, and read on as I, Rita Skeeter, investigative journalist and author, am invited into the ancestral halls of Stinchcombe Abbey, the Potter family seat in Gloucestershire since the 1540’s, and we leave no topic on the table.

RS: Lord and Lady Potter, or should I say Lord and Lady Peverell? Thank you for inviting me into your home today. 

(And a lovely home it is dear readers, and I should tell you that to avoid any confusion as you read this interview, both Lord and Lady Potter will be indicated as LP and LdP respectively)

LP: Thank you for coming Miss Skeeter, we are happy to finally be able to sit down and calmly share our story after such a month. Either one is fine, we won’t hyphenate.

RS: I’m sure, it’s been a hectic thirty days since that fateful night. A lot has happened, and a lot has been said, by people one wouldn’t have expected to hear things like what they said. Let’s start at the beginning, shall we?

LP: Ask away, we’re an open book.

RS: We have all heard conflicting stories regarding the events of that night a month ago, ranging from outright conspiracy theories in media like the Quibbler, to not so thinly veiled accusations of fraud and that the Dark Lord isn’t truly gone from none other than Headmaster Dumbledore himself. I think we should start with the facts about that night, from the horse’s mouth as they say.

LdP: I think that would be the best, yes. But we would like to start a little further back than that, to give people a little context about how this war was fought on our side, especially if we are going to discuss the unfortunate comments by Mr Dumbledore. Enough has been said, this is our truth.

LP: Yes. You see, for us this war began in our graduating year at Hogwarts, when we were recruited into a special defense group run by Mr Dumbledore, in order to complement our regular education and better defend ourselves outside of school, as he said. 

LdP: We joined and learned eagerly along with many of our friends, most not with us today such as Marlene McKinnon, Dorcas Meadowes, Benjamin Fenwick, Edgar Bones and many others that luckily did survive. 

LP: It turned out to be a pipeline into his civilian paramilitary group known as the Order of the Phoenix. Which we joined after graduation. 

RS: Can I dig a little deeper into that before we continue to more recent events? Why did you feel the need to go outside the law in order to fight in this war? Especially since you had already gone into Auror training by that time Lord Potter?

LP: All I can say is that it didn’t feel like it at the time. Albus was a figure that felt extremely natural as a leader against You Know Who. It didn’t feel unlawful until much later.

LdP: Speaking as someone who was not involved in law enforcement but wanted to contribute actively, I can say that the opportunity to do so was very tempting. It wasn’t until closer to the end that it felt like stooping to the enemy’s level. I don’t know if I can fully blame us though, it was rather easy to be radicalized in the thick of things, just as easy as passing judgment is now that the waters are calmer. I’m sure many felt the same whether they acted upon those feelings or not.

RS: I have more follow up questions on that front, Lord and Lady Potter, but I’d prefer to not disrupt the chronological order of your tale and come back to it later. Can you tell us what happened next?

LP: Surely. As most of the public has been made aware by Mr Dumbledore, we were approached repeatedly in the following years with offers to join You Know Who’s ranks. Three to be exact, and three times we rejected him. 

LdP: The last time, we barely made it out alive. He decided to deliver his third black envelope personally. 

RS: Is that when you decided to go into hiding?

LP: No, that was a little later. My wife became pregnant not long after that, and we had moved here to care for my parents, who’s health had been declining due to complications from Dragon Pox. They were sadly amongst those taken far too early by that dreadful disease.

LdP: Close to my due date, Albus came to us to warn us that a prophecy had reached the ears of You Know Who, speaking of a child with the power to vanquish him, born at the end of July to those who had thrice defied him. We never got to hear the full prophecy. 

LP: Hadrian was due to be born the last week of July, along with his godbrother Neville, the child of Lord and Lady Longbottom, who had also thrice faced You Know Who and made it out unscathed. He urged us to go into hiding. We of course accepted, thinking it meant we would be staying put. The war wards had been raised here in the Abbey ever since the declaration, it was the safest place for us to stay, but Albus was adamant that we leave for a more inconspicuous location.

LdP: I didn’t feel comfortable with that, not until the baby was born at least, so we compromised and stayed off the field, which I was off ever since I found out I was expecting anyway. I didn’t want to deliver while in hiding, in case there were any complications. The elves of Stinchcombe have been delivering Potter babies for generations, so I felt comfortable staying here at least for that.

LP: Yes, Hadrian was born on the eve of Lughnasadh and by Yule that year Albus came back on the offensive about us moving locations. There had been no attempts to breach the wards so we didn’t see why we should, but he suggested some nefarious scenarios that I’d prefer not to repeat, lest some less savory characters get any ideas, that managed to convince us. We trusted him after all, we had no reason to think anything would go wrong.

LdP: We moved to Pottery Cottage, a minor property within the Potter estate, and had the fine goblins of Gringotts as well as Albus raise wards around it. Everything was fine until Mabon of this year when we had a close call and decided to place the cottage under the Fidelius Charm. Albus volunteered to be the binder and we initially chose Sirius Black as our secret keeper. It lasted only a few days until the need to switch became evident. He was a far too obvious choice. Peter Pettigrew took on the secret from Sirius and a couple of days later we were betrayed to You Know Who.

RS: What went through you mind the moment you realized your former friend had betrayed you? 

LP: It’s what made the Fidelius fall I’m afraid. That broken trust hurt deeply and I remember thinking how much I regretted the decision to leave the Abbey and use the Fidelius, that I should have listened to my instincts about this.

LdP: It hurt, deeply, and Peter and I weren’t as close as James and him were, so I can only imagine the pain it must have caused my husband. We trusted him with our lives, quite literally.

RS: Now that we’ve gotten to the point everyone has been waiting for, would you mind giving us the facts about what really happened that night?

LP: Of course. I can tell you most of what initially came out is the most factually correct of every version out there to date, since it was taken from our formal statement to the DMLE. 

LdP: It started much like any other day. Tending to Hadrian, cooking, tidying up. 

LP: Then at night, around 9PM I’d say, we were getting ready to get Hadrian to bed and we felt the door rattle furiously, far beyond what normal knocking, much less angry knocking would feel like.

I told my wife to take our son and go, I’d hold him off as best I could and buy them time. I knew full well in that moment that I wouldn’t be catching up to them, and so did she.

LdP: I took the baby and ran up to the nursery. I didn’t know if he came alone or not, I was afraid to leave through the back door in case anyone was waiting to ambush us, and I thought I could get the upper hand in an enclosed space, funnel them in if he indeed came accompanied. 

LP: We dueled for a moment, and he started saying that I should just surrender, that we would live and he would turn us to his side, obliviate Hadrian from our minds, that he would spare us and just get rid of the child prophesied to end him. I took a calculated risk that he would be true to his word and pretended to be stunned. He laughed and went upstairs. I immediately muffled my sounds and went up the stairs where I could hear him begin to duel my wife.

LdP: I fought him as best I could, trying to deflect most of the spellfire away from Hadrian. He spouted the same nonsense to me about making us forget our baby and joining his cause. I got distracted when I saw James come up from behind him and he managed to stun me. I don’t remember much else from that point on. Not until after James revived me.

LP: I snuck up from behind and we dueled some more. I realized he wouldn’t spare me a second time and I started to truly fight for my life, drawing from a darker repertoire than I am used to, which made me a little queasy but it felt necessary. At one point I managed to put myself between my family and him and our curses collided. The blast obliterated him, and most of the room to the side he was in. I managed to shield a good portion of the backlash and we came out of it with only cuts and scrapes, thank Hecate.

LdP: After he was gone, James revived me and we sent a Patronus to Lady Bones, the rest is public record.

RS: Thank you for setting the record straight. What would you say to those that cast doubt over the whole affair? 

LP: I understand to an extent. No body no crime, right? But we have provided extensive memories and submitted ourselves to repeated veritaserum interrogations on the matter just to appease the general public. I don’t know what else we can do to convince the populous. 

RS: Was it unexpected to find Headmaster Dumbledore among those that would question that night’s events?

LdP: Extremely. We were hurt by it, I’ll admit to that.

LP: We trusted the man implicitly, some could say to our own detriment. So to be put under scrutiny by those on our same side after succeeding on the quest that united us was a blow we did not see coming. 

RS: Why do you think he lent his voice to those who would doubt you?

They take a moment to think about their answer here, dear readers. They look visibly troubled, as if they wanted to say more than what would be advisable.

LP: As we said, we were extremely hurt. I understand Mr Dumbledore’s belief that because it wasn’t what the prophecy stated, then it can’t be what happened. But I can’t be the only one who finds it ludicrous that a one year old baby would have defeated the most dangerous wizard in our country’s recent history. Right? I believe prophecies hold power over us only to the extent to which they are believed in. They outline a path and those who believe in it clear away so the intended may follow and reach the predicted outcome. What comes first? The fated destination or everyone facilitating it along the way? We chose not to believe in it, logic demanded that a one year old baby couldn’t be the one to defeat a fully grown dark wizard.

LdP: I think there is more to it though.

Lord Potter gives his wife a warning look. So I prepare myself to take detailed notes of her answer, dear readers.

RS: Like what? Lady Potter.

LdP: I don’t want to stoke the embers and light another fire, but it all seems rather petty in hindsight. His plan failed, so in an effort to regain control of the narrative, he moved onto character assassination. It feels like a ploy to remain relevant. I don’t understand it. We never asked for this level of spotlight on us, but sharing the stage doesn’t seem to agree with the Headmaster. 

LP: Darling, please…

Lord Potter said then, trying to calm his wife down.

LdP: No! Really James, I can’t take it. I trusted my life to that man, and now that we succeeded where he failed and took the spotlight off of him, we’re suddenly expendable? I won’t have it. We are entering a period of peace finally, and by how desperately he seems to be holding on to keeping us in fighting mode, I’d say Albus Dumbledore doesn’t have much to offer us as a leader when he doesn’t have a common enemy to make us rally behind him. He rose to fame after defeating Grindelwald, and that faded away slowly until he got a second chance in You Know Who. He should have played a more active role if he wanted to relive his glory days, but I can’t condone him trying to take over now that those he sent out to do what he couldn’t or wouldn’t, succeeded. It feels like a betrayal. Not only did we risk our necks daily for him, think of the sheer amounts of money we gave him! No questions asked! And now we are tossed aside like yesterday's paper? I won’t have it.

RS: Money?

LdP: Most of his war effort was funded with Potter Coin, and McKinnon, Meadowes, Bones, and all of us who believed in him and the cause. There was no formality to his organization though, so that also means no accountability for how that money was spent.

LP: There is no way of knowing that dear. War is an expensive endeavor, I’m sure informants needed to be paid off, safe houses secured, etc. But considering we gave away basically a year’s worth of DMLE budget, and many did the same, one does wonder. It’s one of the regrets we have for going the unofficial route. No traceability, no accountability. And after all that? He goes out and slanders us? It’s treachery. 

RS: Some people might say he has a point. You’ve actively defended Death Eaters on the reparation trials. Wouldn’t you say that would raise suspicion considering the current climate?

LP: We haven’t defended or excused anyone. We simply want to see justice served. Not revenge. Justice. They deserve fair trials and punishment according to the real severity of their transgressions. Nothing more and nothing less. 

LdP: Those we have stood behind, like Severus Snape, played key roles for the resistance and I’m surprised Albus would willingly discard them now. Severus spied for us for years, delivering crucial intelligence that saved countless lives, at his own personal risk. He is a hero, and he deserved to be recognized as such instead of judged for a tattoo that was required of him to fulfill such duties. He knew he would be forever tainted by it, but did it anyway. I admire his courage and selflessness.

LP: I completely agree with my wife. As far as the others we’ve spoken in favor of, we believe in justice, not revenge. They don’t deserve to be sent for life to Azkaban for just supporting ideologically, even less so if they were under magical coercion.

RS: Why take that stance? Some say that if the roles were reversed we wouldn’t be having trials, we’d be having public executions. 

LP: That is exactly why. If we can’t be better than those we defeated, then how can we say we deserve to be the victors? We fought for peace, safety and justice. I refuse for us to fall down to their level of cruelty and bloodthirst. What we need now to effectively move forward is to have a hard look at ourselves as a society so this never happens again. Continuing the cycle of violence will only lead us down the same path in the future.

RS: That sounds awfully close to forgive and forget, Lord Potter.

LP: Not at all what I mean, Miss Skeeter. What we need moving forward now is to look back and understand what was it that drove us to that extent, and see if it can be approached peacefully and through the proper channels. War is usually a pulsing back and forth of oppressors and oppressed vying for dominance. One becomes the other and so on and so forth. We should strive for an acceptable middle ground where our society could thrive, keeping both sides happy enough so as to not resort to violence again. I would never suggest we forget, because memory is key in not having history repeat itself. But we must strive for a time in the future when we are able to coexist peacefully. 

RS: Ok, so no forgetting, but could you honestly say you could forgive? I don’t know if I’m that magnanimous, to be honest.

LP: I don’t know if I can either, at this very moment, but it’s something that we must strive for down the line. I won’t turn the other cheek today or tomorrow, but we have to learn to coexist with those we don’t see eye to eye with. It’s the cornerstone of society. Polite disagreement, the debate and compromise of opposing ideals, rules of civility. We can’t let the hate fester if we wish to remain a peaceful nation in the future. In my role as Lord Potter and Lord Peverell, I will always strive for the betterment of our society and the preservation of the peace. Times may come when doing so isn’t popular, especially when individuals like Lord Crouch would like to offer the public bread and circus like the romans instead of respecting the rule of law he swore to uphold, but it’s important that those of us who have been given the power to steer the lives of many, don’t do it for self-serving motives. We have a duty to those we serve.

LdP: We must not forget that on both sides, the number of people that took up arms was fairly small in comparison to those that merely supported an ideal. We cannot allow ourselves to fall victim to our desire for revenge and start political persecutions and condemn half our country for simply believing in something different than the other half. That sounds an awful lot like the totalitarian regime that we fought against. We are better than that.

RS: Was your support of Peter Pettigrew’s kiss sentence justice or revenge, Lord Potter?

LP: It’s still too close to analyze, I think. I don’t regret it now, but I can’t say that will remain so forever. Perhaps sometime in the future I’ll feel like I could have been more merciful. It’s not the case right now. At this moment I can say Peter deserved what he got. Time will tell if I feel any differently down the line. I just want to help us move forward the best I can.

RS: Is that why you decided to quit the DMLE along with Heir Black? It was a controversial decision.

LP: We both had enough fighting to last a lifetime and a bit of the next. It was always a temporary position as well, since we joined through the Aid the Nation expedited recruitment program. We are lucky to have a position in society that allows us to be of use for the people in a much more meaningful way than we could have been simply as law enforcement personnel. What our country needs right now is effective leadership and reconciliation, not more violence and persecution. Sirius and I fundamentally disagree with the way Lord Crouch decided to handle the aftermath of the war and could not in good conscience be a part of that. We are happy that others such as Minister Bagnold, and other sitting lords in the courts like Lord Longbottom, Lady Bones, Lady Abbott and Lord MacMillan, to name a few, feel the same way. We didn’t fight an autocrat just to place one of our own in such a position. The rule of law must be protected and enforced at all costs, and that includes sacrificing something so meaningless as our popularity. 

RS: Lady Potter, moving forward, what role will you be playing in this brave new world?

LdP: I, unlike my husband, don’t have the political platform to effect change as he does, but I am in a tremendously privileged position to be of help privately. I have lent my support to various charitable causes that aim to rebuild and reconcile us as a country. It’s rewarding work and necessary work at the moment, so my focus is there for now. Down the line I would like to resume the plans I had prior to the war. I was in line to secure a double mastery in potions and charms. My husband's family has a distinguished legacy in the field of potions, and we would hate to neglect it, so I plan to take over that mantle and keep my late father in law’s legacy alive and thriving. And even if I don’t have the platform my husband has, I do have his ear, so that is useful when a worthy cause presents itself. We work as a team.

At that point, dear readers, I was more than ready to end the interview. But an unexpected guest interrupted us. Little Hadrian Potter flew in, mounted on a toy broomstick, being chased by his nanny elf. It was a delightful surprise, dear readers. I worried what such traumatic events might have done to such a young child, but he seems happy and carefree. Once his mother managed to wrangle him to submission, he seemed fascinated with the feathers on my cuffs (I wore a magnificent creation by my dear friend Bernadette Malkin, dear readers, supple jade green satin with feather trim on the cuffs and collar.)

RS: Lady Potter, how has young Hadrian been after the whole debacle? 

LdP: He’s remarkably resilient, as most babies of his age usually are. He had some nightmares for some time after that night, but he pulled through marvelously. He’s always been a very happy child, and now he can see his little friends much more frequently. It’s a gift to be able to socialize him properly at last. 

LP: He has always been close with this godbrother, Lord and Lady Longbottom’s child Neville, and he gets along marvelously with many of our friends’ children. We regularly help with the care of Lady Bones’ niece Susan on account of her tireless work during the reparations. Amelia has been a dear friend of mine since infancy, as was Susan’s father Edgar, and I’m happy that such close ties between our houses can be continued by our children. The House of Potter has always had close ties with the House of Patil as well, both in Britain and India, and we’ve gotten him together with Lord Patil’s twin girls with great success. He’s a very kind and gentle child, he makes friends easily. 

RS: I’m sure he does. You’ve been spotted recently on a few public play dates with Lady Malfoy and the little Malfoy heir too, is that correct? Do the children get along?

LdP: Yes, marvelously so, practically attached at the hip!  Narcissa has been a godsend in helping us with charity work. She’s always been involved with many worthy causes so her expertise has been greatly appreciated and applied. As we said before, we cannot fault her husband for being under imperius, especially if it was only for his political value. We were actively on the battlefront and never crossed paths with him or many of the others wrongfully accused of such things. In the spirit of reconciliation, we extended our hand in friendship and haven’t regretted it for a moment. They’ve become great friends in the short time we’ve known them properly, and Lady Malfoy is Sirius’ cousin, and he is greatly involved with Hadrian as well, being his godfather so it all fits rather nicely.

After that, Lady Potter excused herself to tend to her son, and I was left with Lord Potter for his closing statements.

RS: Lord Potter, what would you like to leave the public with as we close this interview? Any message you would like to convey?

LP: I’d like the people to know that we will get through this trying time together. After such divisive times, we must seize the opportunity for unity. I urge the public to follow their hearts as we enter this period of healing and reconstruction. Don’t listen to those that would seek to divide us further. Justice will prevail and we will be a prosperous nation once more. I will devote my entire life, whether it be long or short, to ensure we find our way to such prosperity. We are better than what some would wish us to be, and we will prove it to them and to ourselves.

And there you have it, dear readers. What do you make of things? Was it what you expected? I certainly can’t wait to see what the coming years hold for us and even if my heart isn’t in the right place at the moment, I do commend Lord and Lady Potter for their views. I hope in time that I, and many others, can meet them there.

(And if you remain curious about the latest fashions I sported during this interview, turn to page 7 for photographs and don’t forget to mention my name for a 15% discount on your purchase if you visit Madam Malkin’s on your next trip to Diagon Alley.)

Chapter Text

Albus felt as if he were underwater, the noise around him in the Great Hall muffled and distant. Finally, after ten long years, his plans could be set in motion once again.

And what a tumultuous ten years it had been indeed. He didn’t know if he felt invigorated or tired at the prospect of finally being able to make a move after so many years of status quo.

He hadn’t been able to make a dent in the blessed Potter’s reputation. Not without sullying his own, which had taken a hit here and there back when he was overconfident and reckless. Then came the calculated hits, until those came at too great a cost, considering they always recovered later, and he did not, so they reached a watchful peace, each taking little nips at each other from time to time with varying degrees of success.

Right after the defeat of the devil child, he’d been too confident in his own influence and had tried to cast doubt about Tom’s death and the veracity of the Potters’ claims. He should have known better, in hindsight. James Potter was being lauded much like he himself had been back when he defeated Gellert. The country’s devotion carried him through much of what he tried to throw at him and his family. People laughed at him when he tried to shift the focus on the baby and the prophecy. No one believed a baby capable of defeating such a powerful wizard, in spite of him being prophesied to do so. It even carried them through the rumors he spread about the darkness of the Peverell line when James stood before the Wizengamot and claimed not one but his two lordships, Potter and Peverell. 10 votes swept right from under Albus’ feet, and much of his political weight, gone in a moment. 

Then, they stood behind several known Death Eaters. Every one of them that should have gone to Azkaban for life had gotten between five and eight year sentences, many not even that, just hefty fines. The ones that enraged him the most were the ones that got off without any consequences, claiming imperius or blackmail. At least he’d managed to get the Lestranges in for life. That deranged woman didn’t do herself any favors with her performance during her trial. 

Severus escaped prison as well. He’d wanted to get the man in his debt, but once again, James Potter got there first. He was shocked to see the man vouching for him, proclaiming him a hero even. Now they were even in business together! There was nowhere for him to sink his claws into now. The man was happy, bonded to the current Crouch lord and leading a fulfilling life, a far cry from the broken greasy boy who came groveling at his feet after he served his purpose and delivered Albus’ prophecy to Tom.

The loss of Barty Crouch Sr had been both a blessing and a curse. He’d been useful during the war, happy to overlook Albus’ more fringe activities with the Order as long as he kept his conviction rates high, so Albus was happy to supply him with as much of the riff raff they managed to capture on their missions, but he also charged a steep price for his complicity. By the time he allegedly took his own life in grief, after his wife was given but a year to live, he was getting far more troublesome than he was worth.

Lucius Malfoy got the same treatment as Severus and many others. He knew for a fact that Lucius was a member of Tom’s inner circle, as his father had been before him, and to see James back him in his claims that he’d been under imperius and only for his votes in the courts cemented the fact that he’d lost them to the dark. 

He tried to get the rumor mill going with that, but again, no one believed it. The saintly Potters preached left and right about reparations and reconciliation, and in the next few years managed to repeal much of Albus’ hard work, passing laws that decriminalized many practices and branches of magic that he’d successfully banned before, on the basis of compromising on “mostly harmless” concessions to the losing side so they wouldn’t feel the need to rise up in arms again. He’d been smart, he’d give him that, moving his seats to the liberal party, neither light nor dark. Impartial, conciliatory. James Potter held the swing vote in the chamber and Albus saw with thinly veiled contempt as people sought him out much like they used to seek him out. It didn’t matter that he was but a boy at 21 years old, the sway James had was reminiscent of his own back in the day.

He still had power and influence himself, undoubtedly, but it had been steadily diminishing in recent years. The harshest blow was when he lost the post of Chief Warlock to James. It had taken a lot of maneuvering to ensure he retained his position as Supreme Mugwump of the ICW after losing it to James though. Only Chief Warlocks or their equivalent position in any member nation could participate in the Council of Warlocks and have the chance to preside over both chambers of the ICW as Supreme Mugwump. James had been smart there too, advocating for him to be able to finish his term, ever the conciliatory figure, pious, forgiving. He knew that once his term finished, he’d never be eligible again, and he’d only spoken for it once he knew Albus had cashed in enough favors for it to have cost him dearly. After that, he vowed to never underestimate him again.

Albus had a momentary victory when the Potters took a dip in public opinion when Lily’s heritage became public and she took on her titles, and wasn’t that a surprise. He capitalized as much as he could on the public’s fear of dark witches and wizards, but he only got so far as to reaffirm his base supporters rather than sway anyone significant over to his side. For a while, people were wary of them, but Lily persevered with her work and charities, and when she took her family seats on the Council of Elders, her work there dispelled any lingering fears. He had two years left before the ICW held elections for a new Supreme Mugwump, and Lily Potter was unfortunately very well on her way to winning the position. After claiming the Monténèbre and Schwartzstein seats, she followed the same line as her husband but on an international level, and in the span of a few years, she’d amassed enough allies and connections to be not only considered for the position, but a favorite amongst the pool of tepid and boring choices. It would be the first time since before Grindelwald’s time that there was a real chance that the Supreme Mugwump could come out of the Council of Elders, the ICW’s hereditary and thus more conservative chamber, rather than the Council of Warlocks, which was composed of only elected officials, though many of them were still hereditary seat holders appointed as Chief Warlock, so elected was more of a euphemism. Her only true competition for the post was her own husband, but not really, because James refused to be considered for the position, claiming it was an unnecessary concentration of power, to be Supreme Mugwump while being a Chief Warlock seat holder as well as the consort of an Elder. A dig at Albus if there ever was any.

He was still surprised that someone like her had slipped his net, but when he took notice of her she was quite a bit older than he was used to dealing with and his compulsions never took. She had exceptional mind shields, even stronger than his own, and considering the fact that he had full mastery of the mind arts, it was certainly something. He had tried to read her once, when they ran into each other in Paris for a vote on trade regulations for rare creatures and ingredients between the Chrysanthemum Throne and the European Magical Union, only to be plunged into a void so disconcerting that he never tried again. He’d had nothing to guide him around or out, it was complete nothingness, with no sense of direction or any use of his senses. He shivered whenever he remembered the experience, and the chilling tone when she lightly told him afterwards that it wasn’t polite to go digging in people’s heads. 

His little victory didn’t last long though, since his actions that very summer lost him the Ross stewardship, and if weighed against the meager support slandering her dark heritage for him, he still came out in the red after losing three more votes because of it. Minerva wasn’t happy with how he treated James and Lily, even if he took care to be subtle about it, so she gave James the right of proxy to her seat. He was down to just the Weasley and Prewett seats keeping him a member of the courts, since the Prince seat was lost as soon as Severus got out from under his thumb and claimed the Prince name, title and estate. It tipped the balance in the chamber, when he gave stewardship of his seat to James after many lords and ladies followed him to the liberal party. For the first time in Merlin knew how long, the liberal party held the majority in the chamber, which got James the post of Chief Warlock.

He had tried to fire the potions master, of course. He had no use for him if he wasn’t going to be a spy whenever Tom returned, but the board of governors would not let him go. He was sure the man would have quit a few years ago, when it was announced that the Houses of Crouch and Prince had welcomed a healthy baby girl as their heiress, but the bastard had remained firm in his post, surely to keep an eye on his godchildren when it was their time to begin school.

That blasted board would be the end of him! Especially since James and Sirius took their seats on the board. Granted, it took a few years for James to realize he had them, because Fleamont had been happy to give him proxy long before James was even born, but once he realized he could take the Potter and Peverell seats, Arcturus had promptly left his seat in Sirius’ hands. 

He was in the minority now, with James, Sirius and Frank Longbottom holding their seats. Not to mention how chummy the first two were with Lucius Malfoy, who had allies of his own on the board. He still had some sway with the rest of the governors, but most sided with James, as they had once sided with him. It paid to be a vanquisher of Dark Lords, and Albus hated that it wasn’t him again. Within a year of sitting on the board, he was voted chairman.

Albus had been forced to make some changes, especially when the governors began to hint at looking more closely at the book-keeping. Binns was the first to go, lest they realize the ghost was still registered on the employee ledger and Albus had been pocketing his pay. He’d been happy to accept Remus Lupin as the new history professor at first. He thought he’d let them take the brunt of the parents’ rage when they found out they had a werewolf on staff, but the reaction had been far tamer than he anticipated. The fact that he commuted and wasn’t part of the live-in staff helped soften the blowback unfortunately. Albus had tried to argue against that benefit, but it was quickly pointed out to him that the previous history teacher did not contribute to the duties of the live-in staff such as patrols or chaperoning Hogsmeade visits, so it would be business as usual if he left after office hours and stayed for dinner only for the major feasts.

Creature rights were on the rise, and for lycans specifically ever since Fenrir Greyback was challenged and killed by Remus himself in 82. With him as the High Alpha of the British packs, werewolf attacks were at an all time low, sometimes even going a full year without one, and the lycan population only grew from natural births. With James’ support, and Lily’s involvement, Britain became a signer to many international treaties regarding creature rights, and laws were passed granting larger reserves and basic rights lycans had been denied before, like legitimate ownership of property and banking rights, as well as in-reservation magical tutoring for the children that showed signs of magic. The Goblin Nation had been key in granting the werewolves banking rights, greedily taking the chance for more gold to manage and more commissions to charge. As public perception of them shifted slowly, the population was still reticent to hiring lycans so economic incentives followed for them to form almost their own economy within their reservations, eliminating the need for close contact with society and helping the public acclimate at their own pace. By 1990, the main suppliers of potion ingredients to both Slug&Jigger’s and Potter&Prince, the largest potions manufactures in the country, were enterprises run out of lycan sanctuaries. He couldn’t push the subject further, since he’d always been publicly pro creature rights even if he talked the talk more than he walked the walk. He couldn’t afford to be branded a bigot if we wanted to count on their support should another war break out, so he’d reluctantly thrown his weight into passing those laws as well, hoping it would be remembered when it counted. He did try to make people see how corrupt the whole scheme was, insinuating that James only supported the whole endeavor because of the lucrative contracts it would provide Potter&Prince if more players entered to dominate the apothecary market. He’d been laughed at that day, when James took the floor to simply ask if perhaps they should start teaching economics at Hogwarts, because to allow more people to partake in a certain market was in fact the opposite of a monopoly. He should have known Fleamont’s boy would be a crook just like his father. They’d manipulated the situation from the start, James and Remus. No matter what they said, he was convinced the broad that had once held the Selwyn seat, Umbridge, was killed because of her anti-creature stances. No one believed him, of course, since no one could prove foul play, added to the fact that nobody had particularly liked her, so their laws passed like nothing with her gone. Now Remus was rich off the backroom deals he’d brokered with his influential friend, married to the next Lord Black and a father to twins. A far cry from the loyal lapdog he’d been for Albus in the past. 

He looked down the Head Table, trying to shake off his wandering thoughts, and could barely disguise his grimace when he saw Augusta Longbottom chatting with Filius and Pomona. It would be the third year she’d be teaching the Wizarding Culture and Etiquette class, which he had tried to fight as best he could, but once again, they twisted his arm on account of his reputation. The board argued that the class would benefit muggleborn students greatly, in order to better adapt to their new world, and wasn’t he the biggest champion for the muggleborn cause? Surely he couldn’t oppose a class meant to help those he defended so staunchly? So he had been forced to put on a fake smile and let it go. He’d been disappointed to find Augusta much more relaxed and open minded than he remembered her. She’d been his choice for the post because he remembered her to be quite the light supremacist, but it appeared that as the years went by her views mellowed. The course covered wizarding pagan traditions, lore, government structure and basic wizarding etiquette. It was mandatory for muggleborn and muggle-raised students and an elective for anyone else who wished to take it during their first year. During its first year on the curriculum, it was open to every muggleborn regardless of year, which meant the class had to be held in the Great Hall during that first year, on account of the sheer number of muggleborn and muggle-raised students mandated to take it. After the success of the course that first year, with interest high in the turning of the Wheel, the reinstatement of the sabbaths soon followed, Albus only managing to garner mediocre support from some of his most ardent followers in the progressive party, but once again, once the bill had the sponsorship of the Chief Warlock, it won by a landslide. Of course, this only meant that the general populace was allowed to partake in the rituals, since the old families never stopped observing the sabbaths behind the safety of their wards. How Albus hated the bunch of hypocrites, how they cried about their traditions like little girls while still continuing their devil worship anyway.

The whole thing put a serious dent in his pipeline, since he counted on the culture shock muggleborn students experienced upon entering their world, but he’d managed to secure some adequate candidates for when his second chance came. He’d had high hopes for the Tonks girl once she arrived, having heard she displayed the Black family gift, which could be useful later on, but had to let those hopes go once he lost yet another one of his token couples after Ted’s untimely passing in the chaos that was the end of 1981. 

Andromeda had been quickly welcomed back into the fold, and the child, 8 years going on 9 at the time, had been thoroughly indoctrinated into the family by the time she started her education, even if she did sort Hufflepuff. It only took a year for Andromeda to marry her previous betrothed, Marius Flint, who’d been conveniently widowed around that time as well, and had a son a few years younger than the girl from his first marriage. She’d been blood adopted by her stepfather by the end of their first year as a family, and any hope Albus had with her vanished. Badgers were loyal, and often overlooked and underestimated, so Albus obviously had a penchant for recruiting from that house almost as much as he treasured his lions, but the girl’s loyalties were already pledged to the thrice damned House of Black, and had been warned off him if the polite yet distant attitude she had towards the headmaster was anything to go by. She was even immune to his usual methods, gaining a claim to the Flint lordship after her blood adoption. Marius’ boy Marcus was happy to give up the heirship and be relegated to the carefree life of the spare, concentrating on Quidditch and his studies. He was by no means a star student, but excelled in the areas that truly interested him and was well in line to follow in his father’s footsteps in warding and curse breaking if a professional quidditch career didn’t pan out.

In the following years leading up to the present, he managed to assemble an acceptable base of students whose loyalty he was secure in, but none that interested or benefited him greatly. The old families tended to have their children close in age, so they may attend school at the same time and foster good relationships and alliances for their houses. 

The war left quite a gap until anyone of note would be coming through the hall’s doors, so that’s how he’d ended up where he was now, ten years later, diminished yet by no means defeated, waiting for Minerva to bring in this year’s crop of first years. The most awaited crop of first years yet. A do over if there ever was one. So many heirs he sent special letters to would be stepping through the castle gates tonight. Abbott, Bones, MacMillan, Longbottom, Smith…

Potter.

They’d kept the brat firmly out of his grasp for ten years, and at one point Albus seriously thought they’d send him to another school and started planning for the possibility that the boy would go to Beauxbatons, but he allowed himself a little celebratory finger of Ogden’s vintage when the confirmation letter arrived, accepting his place at the school. He was curious to see who the boy was, considering the press wasn’t allowed to publish pictures of children under the age of eleven without parental consent and the Potters kept the boy out of the press his entire childhood until a little while ago, when a blurry picture of him shopping for supplies with James came out, hooded cloak firmly on, obscuring him from view. He’d caught glimpses and heard rumors from people carefully placed in the periphery, reporting anything and everything they could on his fated foe. 

He wasn’t happy with what he learnt, of course. He’d had plans for the child, and the boy that would be sorted tonight would be a far cry from the one Albus had intended to meet.

From what his sources told him, he was a happy, carefree and kind child, the picture of the pureblood heir, accomplished and knowledgeable at his tender eleven years of age. He was fluent in French and German besides his native English and from what Harold Brown told him, who’s daughter Lavender shared a piano tutor with the boy, who liked to gossip for the right amount, he was quite proficient in magic already. He thought of using that information against them but there was no way to prove anything illegal. Most wizarding families, either pureblood or halfblood, raised their children in the wizarding world with more than a slight edge on those introduced to it with their acceptance letters. Training wands weren’t banned but frowned upon, and nothing stopped those children from practicing behind wards, even if the trace activated only once they bought their first official wand at eleven.

He was a natural on a broomstick, from what he’d heard Amos Diggory say, who’d bristled and whined about it after the boy joined a junior quidditch league and beat his own boy Cedric, three years his senior. Like father, like son as they say. Albus hoped some of his father’s mischief and recklessness was indeed passed down to the boy. It would make his plans for the year far easier. 

The Board had initially rejected keeping the philosopher’s stone safe at Hogwarts, as he expected they would. But after the attempted robbery at the goblin bank, he managed to scrounge up enough votes for it to pass. Finally, Tom played into his hand and delivered as expected.

The fight did not end there, since the security measures he’d planned were rejected and improved upon by the board members, one even calling them so ridiculous a first year could bypass them. 

Albus had to sulk inwardly at that, because that was exactly the point of them! How on earth would the boy get past meticulously placed wards instead of his preferred obstacle course? He needed the rascal to get to the stone, ideally at the same time as Tom.

He looked down the table at the unassuming profile of Quirinus Quirrel. Tom must really be a shadow of his former self if he thought he wouldn’t feel him the moment he stepped one foot inside the wards, not even taking the aura he exuded into account. It did give him a warm jittery feeling in his stomach that he was probably thinking he’d pulled it off, secretly gloating that he was the greatest wizard and of course he’d fool him. Poor devil child.

Almost all the pieces were set on the board, all that was missing was the boy.

Not a moment after that thought passed through his mind, the doors of the hall opened and Minerva walked in with the herd of children following dutifully behind her.

Even after all these years and all his machinations, the group of children marveling at the enchanted ceiling still warmed some corner of his heart, and his put on smile turned genuine at the sight.

He studied the group discreetly, looking for a signature messy patch of black hair or eyes green like the forest among the children yapping merrily before him.

As the children began their sorting and the group thinned out, he finally spotted him, and a sinking feeling gripped his gut when he realized why it had taken him so long to recognize the child.

He’d expected an average boy, a miniature James with Lily’s eyes sparkling with mischief. Instead, the boy in front of him, while undeniably a Potter and James’ heir, was growing into someone quite uniquely himself.

He had James’ golden complexion and general features, but the hair was long, tame and glossy, pulled back with a velvet ribbon in a low ponytail. While the softness of infancy still clung to his features, they reminded him more of a young Sirius than James, with the high cheekbones and the hint of a soon to be strong jawline. He would have resembled him more if he wore glasses like his father did when he was young, but it looked like the little Potter had been part of those who took advantage of the eye correcting potion craze of 86, along with his father. He also took note of the glittering shimmer of his heir ring on his finger as the boy gesticulated widely. Not at all like the Potter ring James used to wear, so it must be a composite of all the heirship rings he must have claimed. That would be a nuisance, too many rings meant extra protections, and who knew what the other rings protected him against. No ring was ever the same as the other, as each family wove different protections into them apart from the standard ones. 

He was two or maybe three inches taller than most boys around him, but his appearance wasn’t what worried him the most. It was his current company.

Even if he had found his way to the muggleborn girl he’d selected for him to befriend, he was surrounded by snakes and happily so! He was having an animated conversation with the Malfoy heir, the Nott boy, the Parkinson girl and an exotic looking boy he did not recognize, but had the poise and demeanor of a future snake. Where on Merlin’s good and gracious earth was the Weasley boy! He had primed him to befriend the Potter heir on the train, but apparently he hadn’t succeeded, given that when he spotted him, he was sulking at the back. He’d have to have a word with Molly about it later, this just wouldn’t do.

Just as a small boy named Finnegan was sorted into Gryffindor, their eyes met, green eyes so unlike Lily’s, bright and jewel-like with a rim of silver. Albus ventured a surface gleam into his thoughts, and was met with nothing. Absolute nothingness, a void so deep and unfathomable that he feared he’d be trapped in there forever, just like Lily’s. It sent a chill down his spine.

Once was released, because he had no doubt that he had been released from it rather than having pulled out of it himself, he was only met with a polite nod and a hint of a smirk.

No, not what he expected at all.

Chapter Text

“Master Hadrian must be waking up now, he is going to HoggyWarts today.” Essie said, snapping her fingers to open Harry’s curtains, letting the sun in violently.

Harry groaned in his bed, rolling over and rubbing his eyes to get rid of the sandy feeling in them. He was usually such an early bird, but he’d slept awfully the night before just from the nerves, he must have slept in.

“You’ve literally changed my nappies Essie, can you please just call me Harry?” Harry said, his voice still gravelly.

“Essie cannot be doing that Master Hadrian sir, Essie cannot disrespect the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter! Hai Ram!” She said with her little hand on her chest in outrage.

“Fine, have it your way then, I still love you.” He teased the little elf, who blushed as profusely as ever.

“Master Hadrian is too kind to poor old Essie, but master Hadrian is needing to hurry, he is expected at breakfast. Tippy made all of Master’s favorites for his farewell breakfast.” She said, pulling the covers back with a snap of her bony fingers.

The thought of chilled mango lassi and yogurt rice smothered in hot spicy tadka got Harry right out of bed and into the shower. After business was taken care of, freshly showered and in his fluffy robe, he pulled his hair back into a ponytail, tying it neatly with the black ribbon Essie left on the vanity. That meant he was wearing black then.  

Just as he thought, Essie had left one of his black kurta and bundi sets with his long black boots by his dressing room mirror, so he dressed quickly, put his wand in its holster and headed down the stairs, ignoring his reflection’s compliments. Thank Merlin that Hogwarts had a uniform, because he was still hopeless at picking out his clothing without Essie or his mother helping.

He was just as excited to be going to Hogwarts as he was nervous about it. 

He had spent most of childhood blissfully oblivious to everything going on around him. He knew his Abba and Mutti were important people, and he’d been educated since he was little about his duties and everything that came with being the heir to so many prominent houses, but even then it felt very far off in the future, so he just accepted it as a part of life and did his studies along with everything else. Sometimes he wished his parents had had more children to share the load, but Mutti always said she couldn’t think of having another one just yet, but maybe someday.

When he turned 10, things changed. His parents sat him down and told him all about what would be coming when he went to Hogwarts after he turned eleven. He’d been nervous at first, but Abba and Mutti assured him that he would be ready. They’d been preparing him for that moment his whole life, and he would be safe in the castle where they had many friends.

In that moment, a lot of things that he’d just accepted as normal before made more sense in hindsight. By ten years old, he had mind shields almost as good as his mother’s, thanks to her teachings and tapping into their Monténèbre family magics. He’d been raised a polyglot, speaking French and German with his mother and father and English with his abba. Naturally that led to Harry thinking in a mixture of the three languages most of the time and also to having a slightly off accent. It made him a little self conscious but his abba assured him it was ok because it was only the result of him being able to speak two more languages than whoever would dare to mock him about it. 

The tutors and activities he’d had as a child also made sense. He’d of course been encouraged to play and be social and active like any child, there wasn’t a tree on the estate that he hadn’t climbed after all, but he’d also been expected to attend his lessons. He’d had writing, history, genealogy, etiquette, dance lessons, which he hated but eventually mastered, magical theory, charms, transfigurations, potions, astronomy and both offensive and defensive magic lessons since he was seven, along with piano and muggle arts and sciences. In hindsight, he didn’t know if most of his friends had such comprehensive curriculums while still so young, but he still had plenty of time to play, meet friends and even join a junior quidditch league with Draco and a reluctant Theo. 

His parents explained what happened with the Dark Lord’s defeat in more detail than they ever had before, so he would understand what was at stake. They assured him that everything would be ok, he just had to be mindful to stay away from the headmaster and just enjoy school like any other kid. 

Harry knew from eavesdropping on his parents, because he was familiar with every nook and cranny in the manor, that they did not like Albus Dumbledore, so naturally he didn’t either. They explained how he would most likely try to lure him into his schemes, so Harry knew better. It didn’t mean it made him any less nervous though.

When he turned eleven, just a few months ago, more was revealed to him.

His Abba sat him down in his study, and locked the door with privacy charms. Harry was nervous, he hadn’t done anything to make his abba mad right? He couldn’t think of anything.

James took pity on his boy, who looked much as he did when he was eleven and his father had called him into the very room they were in.

“Relax laadla, you’re not in trouble.” He said with a fond smile. “You’re eleven today, that’s an important age for a wizard. After we’re done with our talk, we’ll go to Gringotts and you will take the heirship rings you’re entitled to.” He said with an uncharacteristically solemn voice. “You’ve been taught much like I was about our family history, perhaps even more in depth than I ever was.” 

“Yes Abba,” Harry said quietly. Even if he knew he wasn’t in trouble, this felt like a decisive moment, like there would be a before and after this conversation.

“You know I am Lord Potter and Lord Peverell, right laadla?” James asked softly.

“Yes Abba,” Harry said, a little more confidently.

“Well, I’m the first Potter in a long time to claim the Peverell lordship publicly. You see, the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Peverell is, like its name suggests, a very old and powerful house that is now extinct in the main line. There were once three brothers, Antioch, Cadmus and Ignotus Peverell. You may know about them if not by name, because they were the real life three brothers from the tale by Beedle the Bard.” James said, enjoying the look of wonder on his child’s face. So different from the dread he remembered feeling when his father had this very chat with him.

“We descend from the third brother, Ignotus. A daughter from his line married into the Potter family, and after both other lines went extinct or were rejected by the family magics, we have the claim to the lordship and estate. The thing is, as you can imagine, the peculiarity with our heritage is that the house of Peverell is a house touched by death.” His father said, producing his invisibility cloak. “That’s how our most precious heirloom came into the family. This is a piece from our Lord Father’s own shroud.” He said, handing the cloak to Harry, who touched it reverently. 

“We are children of death laadla. Once we go to the bank, you will take an inheritance test and if you are eligible for the heirship, that means you carry the family gift, necromancy.” James explained calmly.

“Really? We’re necromancers?” Harry asked gleefully, and James could have cried in relief. His baby would be fine, he would grow without his inner turmoil.

“Not exactly. I am one, but only because I met our Lord Father’s requirements. To become a fully fledged necromancer, one must fulfill three requirements. One must have saved a life, taken a life, and surrendered one’s own life. It’s not something an eleven year old should have to trouble themselves with, so that conversation will come when you reach your majority hopefully.” James said sternly.

“Yes abba,” Harry said, feeling a little nauseous. He didn’t know if he’d ever be able to kill someone! Would he never become a necromancer like his abba?

“Well, I’m only telling you this because it’s important to know one’s heritage, because our family magics make up much of our magical cores and define our affinity.” James said.

“Yes Abba, I know we are dark wix. Professor Longlear explained it to me during my magical theory lessons.” Harry said. He knew he was a dark wizard, of course. His mother had always told him openly about his heritage from her side, taught him the family magics and gifts and shared the stories. He knew he could communicate with snakes because it was a gift from his Opa’s line, and his exceptional mind magic came from his mémé’s line. He was the heir to four dark lineages, and the Potter line had been tinted gray when his father took his birthright as a necromancer. He could feel them in his core, the different strands of magic feeding the lake he had in his center.

“I’m glad you’re taking this so well chhote, certainly better than I did!” His father said with a little laugh.

“Now, get your cloak and we’ll go to the bank.”

Harry remembered that day fondly. He took the test in the Goblin King’s office and claimed the heirship rings to all but the Black line, because his father was still the heir to Grandfather Arcturus. He also received his money pouch and was instructed on how to manage his money. He got a reasonable monthly allowance so he could owl-order school supplies when he needed to or buy sweets for himself and Yule presents for his friends, and if he was careful and frugal, he could carry over any savings into the next month, but he had to run any larger purchase by his abba and if he proved to be responsible with it, he would get progressively larger spending limits until he took full control of his trust vaults when he turned seventeen. They were supposed to at least last him until he inherited the family vaults, but ideally it would be the seedling to make his own fortune to leave his children and keep the Potter coffers full for generations, and if he blew through it before that he would have to work to earn his money. Harry didn’t see how he could ever manage to blow through that much money, but he took it seriously all the same. 

Then, his father had sneakily told him during his birthday dinner that he had instructed the Black account manager to raise the spending cap on his Black vault, so if he had to sneak anything more expensive he should use that one. Harry just laughed at his father’s antics, knowing how nobody and nothing could stand between Sirius Black and a good shopping spree. The Black Vault would soon become his book shopping vault, much to Sirius’ dismay. Tellement ennuyeux, mon fils. he’d say.

He was pulled back to the present by the sounds coming from the breakfast room. 

“Hawy! Hawy!” Screamed Rowan and Larissa from their high chairs, where they had been happily munching on grapes until he entered the room. Little Fiona was as placid as ever, just observing quietly and munching on her cantaloupe.

“Morning everyone! I didn’t know you’d come!” Harry said happily. 

“Like I’d miss my eldest’s first ride on the Express! Of course we’d come and see you off pup!” Sirius said, coming round the table to give him a bear hug.

“Morning Uncle Moony, Aunty Mary,” Harry said, giving them both a hug before going to greet Fiona and his little twin siblings, who’s hair was shifting through all the colors of the rainbow as they threw their arms at him.

Rowan Sirius and Larissa Hope Black were born on August 20th 1988, two years after Sirius agreed to father Aunty Mary’s daughter Fiona via ritual. It hadn’t taken much groveling and convincing from uncle Moony after that, it was in fact his father who asked for his Aunty Mary to carry for them as payback, as he put it. She surprised everyone when she announced she was expecting twins, his father famously fainting after saying “that’s very nice of you Mar-bear but I only ordered one”. They were even more surprised when, at about a month old, their hair started changing colors along with their mood. It certainly helped the parenting, once they color coded the emotions and attended to them accordingly, red meaning hungry and blue meaning dirty nappy and the like. So far, only cousin Dora had presented with the Black family gift, so naturally everyone in the family had been elated to know the gift was still prevalent in the main line, Granny Walburga especially so.

“Morning Fi! How's my little sister today? How was the zoo yesterday?” He said, snatching a piece of cantaloupe from her bowl to tease her a little as he planted a slurpy kiss on the top of her head, though she never took the bait, always calm as a lake. She was a beautiful girl, completely oblivious to it though. She had Aunty Mary’s wild curls in her father’s jet black shade, and where Aunty Mary’s skin was warm and peachy, she had the alabaster complexion of a Black. Her eyes were her most striking feature, one silver and one burnished bronze, as each of her parents, which wasn’t uncommon for ritual babies but striking nonetheless. 

“Good! I can’t say though, Rowy made a fuss about him telling you.” Fiona said, smiling as pleasantly as ever. Harry sometimes worried she was a bit of a pushover, but she was always genuinely happy to accommodate others, and she rejoiced in being the big sister to the twins, since Harry didn’t live with them in their little tribal family.

Harry went and picked up Rowan from his chair, who squealed in delight while Larissa fussed at being left out. Out of the two, he looked the most like a miniature Sirius, as if cloned almost.

“You’re getting too big for me to pick you both up at the same time! I’ll be right there Lissie, don’t worry.” Harry said as he bounced Rowan on his hip as he babbled about his recent trip to the zoo.

“Hawy I saw an ewephant and it was sooo big! And I saw a gwizzly beaw, and a lion and a tigew and a giwaffe and penguings!”

“That sounds so fun Rowy! Did you see… a rhino?” Harry asked his brother, after he saw Remus mouthing it to him.

“I saw a whino too! But the muggle no like it when I say it look like a fat ugly unicown.”

“Daddy can I has unicown fow my biwthday?” Lissie asked Sirius with her signature puppy dog eyes.

“You just had your birthday a few days ago moonlight, maybe next year ok?” He said.

“Wowy I is getting unicown next yeaw!” She said to her brother, bouncing on her chair, grapes rolling everywhere.

Harry sat Rowan back in his chair and conjured some shiny bubbles for him to pop before going to pick Lissie up.

“Morning Lissie-bear, how’s my baby sis today?” He said as she nuzzled his neck the way she liked.

“I is vewy pwetty today, thank you. How is you Hawy?” She said, very demure. Unlike her big sister, Lissie was very much aware of how pretty she was. She was the most Lupin-esque out of the two fraternal twins, with ashy blond hair and golden eyes like Uncle Moony’s, and the chiseled features of a Black. 

“Yes you are! Very pretty indeed. I’m very pretty too, thank you for asking.” He laughed along with everyone else.

“That’s all Mother, I swear to Circe, I don’t know what happens to women when they become grandmothers, it’s like a complete 180°!” Sirius said, shaking his head with a mixture of fondness and resentment that only the adults caught, if only Walburga Black could have been half the mother she was now as Harry, Fiona, Rowan and Lissie’s grandmother.

He had been nervous to introduce her to Harry at first, but she had taken to him much like everyone else did, and soon she was the doting grandmother. He’d asked her once, why she was so much better now as a grandmother. She’d simply said that it was her second chance, and she would make sure she was a damn good grandmother to Euphemia’s grandson, since it was the least she could do. She owed it to her because, unlike herself, she had been a good mother to Sirius when he needed one. He didn’t argue after that. 

It took longer for her to warm up to Remus, but once he became high alpha and things got better for lycans, she slowly came around and now they even had tea weekly when he brought the kids round. She had to make sure he was prepared to be a worthy consort, she’d said. Again, Sirius knew better than to argue with her.

“So, are you nervous, pup?” He asked as he reached for another samosa, shaking off the maudlin mood that took over him briefly.

“Excited mostly, Dray wrote last night that Aunt Cissy found the broom he had stashed in his trunk. He’s convinced Uncle Sev is going to let us on the house team for some reason. We haven’t even been sorted yet!” Harry laughed, shaking his head. Draco had gotten it into his head that they’d both be sorted into Slytherin and make the quidditch team after everyone saw how good they were on their flying lessons. Harry didn’t mind. It would be nice to be with his best friend, and it would be a hoot and a half to see the headmaster’s face. He knew he was expecting a miniature James from what he’d heard his abba say to his mother. 

He took a long drink of his lassi, looking at the glass with a fleeting sad look before setting it down. Would the firangi food at Hogwarts be as good as Tippy’s cooking? 

“Wait a week or two and go down to the kitchens. It’s behind a fruit painting in the dungeons, tickle the pear and ask for Nippy. Tell her you’re my son and if she could please make some Indian things for your meals at whatever table you end up in. It won’t be as good as Tippy’s but it’ll scratch the itch between hols. Go with Padma and Parvati if you can, I know they’d appreciate it.” His father whispered knowingly to him, having caught the look.

That brightened his spirits considerably and soon breakfast was over and he went up to his room with his mother to triple check he had everything in his trunk.

Lyra ran through their list as Harry confirmed it was packed, but she added extra wads of underwear and socks for good measure and checked that his dark arts books were properly stored in the warded box of his library compartment. She had given him his first copy of Thy Path into Arts Dark for his birthday and had started teaching him, but he was instructed to only practice under Severus’ supervision.

“Be careful with your things liebling. If I have to send parcels with more clothes or anything because you keep losing them one might come with a howler attached, am I understood?”

“Ganz verstanden Mutti," Harry said automatically. 

“Now, in your satchel.” She said, continuing down her list. “Do you have some books for the train? Snacks? A set of robes and loafers to change into? Good, it looks like we have everything,” she said, biting the tip of her quill as she read and ticked things off.

“Tippy?” She said, and the elf popped in immediately.

“Yes mistress?” 

“Could you get me some more chocolate frogs and some sugar quills please?” She said, the elf popping out to get them.

“It’s always nice to have a little extra to share with new friends,” she said, smiling. “You never know where you will end up on the train and by the time the trolley lady reaches you she might have been cleaned out already.” She said with a nostalgic smile.

After storing the extra candy in his satchel, he clipped on his travel cloak, shrunk his trunk and put it safely in his satchel as well.

They went down to the main hall where everyone was waiting ready to go, along with all the elves.

“Bye everyone! I’m going to miss you! I’ll see you for Mabon in a few weeks ok?” Harry said, crouching down to give Essie a hug. She was his favorite and he didn’t care if the others knew. She’d been his nanny since before he could remember, and he loved her.

“Master Hadrian is being careful in school, studying hard and behaving himself.” The elf said sternly. 

“I promise, see you in a few weeks Es! Love you!”

“Essie loves her master Hadrian too.” She said quietly, only for him to hear. And for once, it was Harry’s turn to get flustered.

They all flooed to the platform, arriving early to beat the crowds so Harry could get a good cabin and spare him the usual ogling. 

It was indeed fairly sparse still, and they spotted the Malfoys straight away among the few people standing outside the train.

“Harry!” Draco yelled with a wave, settling quickly once Lucius hastily put a hand on his shoulder.

Harry smiled widely and ran ahead of the group to meet Draco and his family.

He slowed down a little before reaching and calmly greeted Draco’s parents.

“Uncle Lucius, Aunt Cissy,” he nodded politely at them with a smile.

“Hello Hadrian darling, it’s good to see you,” Cissy smiled fondly.

“Good morning Hadrian, as excited as my dragon, I expect?” Lucius smirked at him.

“Very!” He said giddily.

“Of course he is! We’ll be in the Slytherin team in a few weeks time, mark my words Father.” Draco preened and gave Harry a hug.

“We don’t have brooms, Dray, behave or I’ll convince the hat to put me in Hufflepuff,” Harry teased.

“You’d never. You look dreadful in yellow.” Draco scoffed with an annoyed eye roll, “besides, once they realize how good we are they will simply have to allow us to have our brooms sent so we can join the team!” 

“Fine, have it your way then.” Harry rolled his eyes fondly.

“We should say our goodbyes now, Theo, Blaise and Pansy already saved us a place up front, but we should go sit before Vince and Greg arrive and hog the window seats.” Draco said, just before Neville and his parents caught up to the group.

“Nev! Are you excited! You must sit with us! We already have a cabin up front.” Harry said, hugging his godbrother. 

“Sure! Let me just say hi and bye to everyone first, hi Dray.” Neville said easily.

If Draco was his best friend, Neville was more like his brother, a cool brother his own age rather than a little brother like Rowan. They’d grown up together, spending as much time in each other’s houses as in their own, and sharing a birthday party for as long as he could remember celebrating his birthday. Harry had always been a jittery, active child, and Neville was more tame and pensive, but they complemented each other well. They shared a love for Herbology and Potions, though Neville was the one who excelled in Herbology while Harry enjoyed the subject well enough, but not with the same burning passion. It was the reverse for Potions, Harry having learnt most of what he knew at the foot of his mother and godfather’s cauldrons, with the portrait of his Dadaji Monty in the potions lab teaching him theory and all sorts of tips and tricks. Neville frequently joined his potions lessons with uncle Sev and Harry’s mother, and even if Uncle Sev wasn’t the most patient teacher out there, between him and Harry’s mother, who was also Neville’s godmother, and his grandfather’s portrait as well, they managed to get him to apply his herbology knowledge to the craft and by now he had a fair leg up on the rest of their year along with Harry and Draco.

“Hi Aunt Alice!” Harry said, giving his godmother a hug. 

“Hello Harry dear, I see you’re as anxious to get to school as Neville! Do you know what house you’ll get into?” She asked with a little knowing smirk. She knew he’d been in a tug of war between his best friend and his godbrother, both of them wanting Harry to go with them wherever they sorted. Of course Neville would be sorted into Gryffindor. Even if he was more even-tempered and rational than most lions, he was as brave as any of them.

“I think it’s the snake pit for me, don’t tell Nev yet though.” He whispered quickly, leaning in close.

“My lips are sealed dear.” She smiled at him.

“Hi Uncle Frank!” Harry said, turning to hug Neville’s father. They saw a lot of each other even outside Nev’s house. Frank used to be a beater for the Gryffindor house team back in his school days when Harry’s abba was a chaser also, and his abba and him along with other ex players from and around their school year volunteered to coach their junior quidditch league.

“Hello son, how’s the shoulder doing?” Frank asked fondly. Harry had taken a dive in his last match to catch the snitch, and even if he did catch it in the end, he sprained his shoulder as he barreled into the pitch. 

“Good as new, Aunty Mary patched me up right away.” Harry smiled cheekily.

“Good, that’s good, now you will have a good year ok punk? Look out for my Nev, you know he’s too good for his own good,” he said with a knowing look, “and study hard. I want all O’s come June next year or you’ll be grounded off of our Litha Ball.” He said in mock sternness. 

“Will do, promise!” Harry said just as solemnly, but with a cheeky glint in his eye still which made Frank’s lips quirk slightly.

The children quickly said their goodbyes to everyone, Harry having to get the twins pried off his legs in inconsolable weeping, him promising them he’d write letters every week so Papa or Daddy could read them to them, and he’d see them for Mabon soon. Fiona just sniffled a little but smiled and said she’d see him whenever she visited Grandma Minnie. 

He gave Sirius a tight hug and Remus as well for good measure, even if he’d be seeing him later that night at the feast and in class. He gave Mary a hug as well and moved on to his parents.

“Take care of yourself laadla, don’t worry too much about Albus, just avoid him and always trust your rings, if you feel anything has been tampered with just take a sample and send Krishna with it as soon as you can. Enjoy yourself and study hard! I know your mother is hoping you take more after her than me, and so far I have to give it to her, you’re far more studious than I ever was. And write as soon as you get to your dorm to confirm where you sorted into ok?” His father said, giving him a hug.

“Yes abba, I promise.” He said, hugging him a little tighter before letting go.

“I promise Paddy and I will look in on you whenever we have a board meeting, ok? And remember my tip, wait a little before going to Nippy, it pays to wait a while or she’ll never take you seriously if you say you’re homesick.” He said with a wink.

“Take care of yourself, liebling. Be good and study hard. Keep your notes tidy in your notebooks and always do a draft essay in the one we set aside for that before starting the final one on parchment. Listen to your professors and take good care of your things. I don’t want to hear anything about lost items needing replacement. I love you liebling, always. Wir sehen uns bald zum Mabon-Wochenende, okay?” His mother said in her usual mix of German and English.

“Ok mutti, ich verspreche.” Harry answered simply, I promise.

“Pratique ton français avec Draco pendant que tu es loin, et nous écrirons en allemand, d'accord?” She added later, urging him to keep practicing his French with Draco while away, and that they’d be writing to each other in German.

“Oui maman, je le ferai” Harry promised, and then he jumped on the train with Draco and Neville before things dragged any longer, since the platform was beginning to get crowded, people around them noticing him and his parents.

They found the cabin their friends were in easily enough at the front of the train, and sat by the windows after greeting everyone.

“So, have you resigned yourself to losing Harry to the pit, Neville?” Pansy asked him after the train departed.

“We’ll see about that,” he smirked at her, “If he does go to Slytherin though, we’ll still have loads of classes together. Father told me that Headmaster Bumblebee likes to pair Gryffindor and Slytherin a lot.” He said with a shrug.

A while later, Susan Bones came by to say hello, along with a new friend she made on the way.

“Hi Harry, Nev, Draco! Hello everyone,” she said warmly to the three boys, and a little more coldly to the rest. She wasn’t as close to the rest as she was to the other three, having grown up together in their little village of friends that threw their children together in a playpen ever since they were toddlers, but she was on good terms with everyone in the cabin.

“Hey Sus! How’s Aunt Amy?” Harry said, standing to give her a hug. Much like with Neville, he’d grown up playing with Susan and later sharing tutors in their little makeshift primary school.

“Good! Busy with work, she couldn’t stay long and we got to the platform quite late. She sends her best to you three and to remember to write to her occasionally.” She said with a smile. “This is my new friend Hermione Granger, we met a little while ago trying to track down the trolly lady. It seems this year she started from the back so it’ll be a while before we get anything that’s left.” 

“Hello everyone, I’m Hermione Granger,” the girl said with her head held high. She had cool dark skin a few shades darker than Harry’s, and a wild head of shiny dark chocolate colored curls that reminded him of Aunty Mary’s, if a little denser. She had a nice smile even if her front teeth were on the larger side, it was somewhat endearing.

“Granger? I don’t recognize the name.” Draco said coldly, and Harry just sent him a look. He always got defensive when meeting new people, especially muggleborns. 

“Oh, I’m a muggleborn. That’s probably why.” She said, raising her chin a little more, as if daring them to say anything else.

Harry just sent a warning look around the cabin before anyone put their foot in it prematurely. They were his friends, and they loved him, but they knew not to piss him off and set off his temper.

“It’s nice to meet you Hermione, I’m Hadrian Potter-Black.” He said with a welcoming smile. “I like your name. Shakespeare right? A Winter’s Tale?” 

“Yes, how do you know that? I’ve read about your family, aren’t you a pureblood?” She asked incredulously, clearly still put off by Draco’s stunt.

“Yes, but then you must have read that my mother was adopted by muggles and grew up as a muggleborn,” he teased lightly, “and my Aunt Mary, one of my parents best friends is also a muggleborn, so I grew up with a foot in both worlds. Do you want to join us? I brought some candy in case we missed the trolley, enough to share anyway, you’re welcome to some chocolate frogs.” Harry said, smiling at her and motioning for her to sit next to him.

She smiled back tentatively and sat next to Harry after Susan sat next to Neville, and conversation soon resumed its normal flow.

“Careful, they usually have one good jump in them before you bite them.” Harry said as she tried to open the intricate looking box.

She caught it right before it leaped and bit off the head quickly, breaking the enchantment.

“That’s really good actually!” She said, surprised. “Susan was telling me most people get them for the cards, but the frog itself isn’t half bad.”

“Yeah, I like the frogs too, I already have every card they’ve come out with. Who did you get?” Harry asked.

“Your father.” She said, blushing a little.

“Oh! I have like 20 of him. Tease him to bits whenever I get a new one,” Harry told her with a little smirk.

“Why do you have an accent? I can’t place it.” She asked out of the blue, blushing when she caught herself. “Sorry, mum always says my mouth’s quicker than my brain sometimes.”

“It’s fine,” Harry said, blushing a little himself. “I grew up speaking French and German with my mother, and English with my abba, so it’s quite the word salad in here,” he said, pointing to his head.

“I get what you mean. I grew up speaking French with my dad as well, his great grandfather was French or half French or something, so his  grandfather and his mother spoke French with him growing up and he kept the tradition with me. I get words mixed up too sometimes.” She said with a sheepish smile.

“Do you know which house you might end up sorting into?” Harry asked her to change the subject. She’d been fine with it but still, he’d been insecure about it just this morning and the first new person he met pointed it out right away.

“I don’t know, from what I’ve read about the sorting system, it’s quite reductionist isn’t it? I think I might have qualities that fit in all houses. If I had to rank my choices? I’d say Ravenclaw or Slytherin first, then Gryffindor and last Hufflepuff. What about you?” She said.

“I think I’m leaning towards Slytherin.” Harry confessed, making Draco smile smugly, giving Neville a teasing look that just made the boy roll his eyes fondly.

“Really? Weren’t your parents in Gryffindor? Your family name was listed in Hogwarts: A history as a traditionally Gryffindor family.” She asked curiously.

“Yes, but just like you, I think the sorting is a little too overly simplifying. And legacy sortings are just conditioning. Abba and Mutti just want me to be happy and I’m my own person. They don’t care where I sort into as long as I’m happy.” He said with a dismissive shrug.

“That’s nice. I read it’s sort of a thing with families that tend to sort one way or another.” She told him.

“Yeah, it’s a rarity and much appreciated,” Harry said with a smile, “so, which one are you leaning more towards? Claw or Snake?” Harry asked curiously.

“It’s a coin toss really. I love learning, but I’m not sure I love learning for learning’s sake? I like to know things, but I also prefer if they’re useful things to know. I don’t feel like a perfect fit in either one to be honest. From what I’ve read, my kind isn’t too welcome in Slytherin.” She said.

“Nonsense! It might have been like that at the time your copy of Hogwarts: A history was published, but things have come a long way since then. Yes, some people can be arses about it, but most are very welcoming when muggleborns show appreciation for our culture.” Harry told her reassuringly. “I’m sure you read about it on the leaflets Professor McGonagall gave you along with your letter, right?”

“No, Professor Dumbledore was the one that came to my house, and he didn’t give me any reading material!” She said indignantly.

“Classic goat,” snorted Theo from her other side.

“Well, it’s true. You should ask your future head of house for your introductory package tomorrow. Just tell them Professor Dumbledore must have forgotten it.” Harry said calmly, though he was seething inwardly. His abba would totally hear about this!

“As I was saying, most muggleborn students get ostracized if and when they disregard our ways. You’re entering what’s essentially a different country and culture within your own, so we appreciate the same respect one would show when traveling abroad. It’s also your culture, your birthright as a witch, so even if we expect respect at a minimum we hope for it to be embraced. There’s a mandatory wizarding culture and etiquette class for all muggleborn first years as well, you’ll like it. It’s basically what the rest of us are brought up learning, so you’ll be caught up in no time. Most purebloods and half bloods aren’t mandated to take it, but some do.” Harry told her.

“I’m taking it for an easy O and because my Gran’s the Professor, you’ll like her, she’s very… you’ll like her.” Neville told her, unable to tell her his Gran could be just as forceful and forward as what he got from her attitude.

“I personally hope you end up with us in the pit. I like you, and it’ll be easier if you already have friends before being sorted there.” Harry said with a reassuring smile. He wanted her out of that old man’s claws, and he would enjoy taking her away from him.

“We’ll see what the hat has to say about it then,” she shrugged, even though she did look somewhat more at ease.

“My Mother told me that if it’s a toss up, the hat takes your choice into account. She had the same issue, the hat wanted her in Slytherin but she argued that she didn’t want to be discriminated against, so she asked for Gryffindor, where most muggleborns go. It was a different time then and it would have been difficult indeed if she had just let the hat sort her, but times are different now, and we’re the right crowd to make it easy for you. I’d be happy to be your friend if you’d have me.” He told her quietly.

Harry then had a quiet conversation with Draco, with only looks, but they were so close they practically shared the same brain, so there was no need for talking. Draco understood that Harry wanted the girl in the pit, and he himself saw she had potential, so he put on a smile he normally reserved for Harry and said to her.

“I’d be happy to be your friend as well Granger. It’ll be inevitable if you get close to Harry. We’re a package deal.” 

“Please do, the girl ratio is looking dangerously low for our crop of potential Slytherin firsties. I’d be happy to have another girl in the group.” Pansy smiled kindly, picking up on the boy’s plans easily.

“So, Granger, I’ve always wanted to ask, but Harry just teases me and I can never trust his answers aren’t just a prank to make me believe outrageous things.” Theo said, joining the conversation, “is it true that muggles mutilate each other to get better when they’re ill?”

Harry just sat there looking around the cabin, satisfied with his work as Hermione and Theo started an animated discussion about muggle medicine and wizarding healing and the concept of surgery, while the others talked amongst themselves. Draco just smirked looking at him. How Neville ever thought Harry could be a Gryffindor was beyond him.

~~~

Once they were approaching Hogsmeade Station, a bell chimed and a disembodied voice announced their imminent arrival.

Susan had left for her cabin some time before and Hermione had her trunk shrunken with her in her pocket. That was another sign that she would fit in well in his group. Shrinkable trunks weren’t cheap, which meant her parents were well off enough to afford it. Not like it mattered much to Harry anyway, but it would be better to be on more even ground on that front for sure, so she didn’t feel bad or insecure around them. She’d said her parents were dentists, specialized healers from what he’d understood from her explanation and what he knew from his mother and aunty Mary, so it made sense. She was well spoken and polite, if perhaps a little unfiltered, and had apologized in advance for any blunder she might make before she was well versed enough on wizarding etiquette when she learnt she was missing information. 

A prefect had walked by earlier and quickly explained to them how the cabin worked for them to change, so they all stood in front of where they were sitting, and Pansy pressed a sigil by the door of the cabin, which vanished the seats and created partitions for privacy, like a clothing store changing room around them. 

Harry got his uniform out of his satchel and changed quickly, putting his travel clothes into the bag. He looked at himself in the mirror the cabin provided and grinned at the sight. It was neutral black, but soon it would change into his sorted house colors.

He put the satchel in his trunk to put in his pocket before he stepped out of his cubicle into the little hallway space left in the middle, waiting for the rest to be done before they deactivated the sigil and their seats returned. Not ten minutes later, they arrived at the station.

They waited patiently by the front of the station while the groundskeeper, Hagrid, rounded up the rest of the first years that had ridden further back and were making their way forward. 

Hermione discreetly looked at Harry with wide eyes, not needing to ask, so he just leaned in and whispered that he was a half giant. She just widened her eyes even more comically and said quietly, “please tell me his mother was the giant,” which made everyone around them who had some grasp on human anatomy and how babies were made, Harry and his friends included, snort involuntarily.

Once every first year was accounted for, Hagrid led them to the edge of the lake and they all boarded boats in groups of four. Harry rode with Draco, Theo and Hermione, and they all reacted with various levels of awe when they rounded a corner and the castle came into full view, all lit up against the light of the waxing moon. They’d been all taught to keep their cards close to the chest when in public, so Harry and his friends were mostly inexpressive around others.

They entered a cave and disembarked onto a grand stone staircase, which they climbed up in merry companionship until they reached the entrance hall.

The group was boisterous and loud, but over the general noise, Harry and his friends could hear what sounded like the beginnings of a fight further ahead. Curiosity got the better of them and they made their way to the front, where a red headed boy was pushing and goading a brown haired boy and his friends.

“You’ll see! Once my best mate Harry Potter gets here we’ll show you!” He said to the confused looking kid.

Harry cleared his throat from behind him and the boy turned around, nostrils flared and red in the face. 

“Hello there, Hadrian Potter-Black, have we met? I’d certainly remember you if we were best mates as you put it.” He said coldly.

“Harry, he was saying you were friends and I said I knew you and I’d never seen him with you.” The boy the redhead had been bothering said a little shakily.

“It’s fine Ernie, good to see you by the way.” Harry said, smiling as he spoke over the redhead who was making excuses.

“Harry mate, I didn’t say we were friends, I said we would be! I’m Ronald Weasley, great to meet you mate!” The boy said, changing his demeanor drastically and extending his hand.

“Well, you have the most peculiar ways of endearing yourself to people, Roland Weasley. I certainly don’t appreciate my name being dropped by people I’ve never met before, nor do I take kindly to people harassing my actual friends about it, so excuse me if I’m a little reluctant to take you up on the offer.” Harry said dismissively, ignoring the extended hand. He knew who the boy was, of course. He’d heard about his family, blood traitors firmly in the Headmaster’s grasp, and someone he’d most likely want him to befriend, he thought, even if the execution was sloppy at best. This was the man’s first move? Trying to get this rude boy to be his friend? Pathetic.

Before the boy could say anything further, Aunt  Minnie… no, Professor McGonagall, he reminded himself, stepped in and stood imposingly before them, quickly silencing the room with her presence.

Harry caught the slight upturn her mouth did when she spotted him smiling at her, but she was firmly in scary professor mode. He just kept smiling though. It had been one of his favorite things when he was little, watching her shift at a moment’s notice from his warm aunt Minnie into the fearsome Professor when he asked her to. 

Minerva did indeed have a hard time suppressing a fond smile when she spotted Harry. She’d heard the entire exchange while hidden in cat form, and this had Albus written all over it, but Hadrian held his own impeccably and politely, never raising his voice nor insulting the Weasley boy besides the obvious misnaming. She smirked inwardly at the thought of what was brewing hundreds of miles away, unbeknownst to Albus.

If the knowing smile on James’ boy’s face was anything to go by, Minerva was in for a long seven years. She still couldn’t believe that this pocket-sized James/Sirius/Lyra mix used to be the toddler that bounced on her knee, happily asking her to do “Scawy Minnie” and squealing in delight when she’d give him one of her best stern looks dedicated to naughty students. It made the prospect of disciplining him rather daunting. She had taken a grandmotherly role of sorts with him, since he was siblings with Mary’s baby through Sirius, and she did consider Fiona her granddaughter, even if Mary had been blood adopted quite late in life for her to have had any true motherly role with her besides being a favorite teacher. To think Mary had apologized when she found out she was having a girl instead of a boy, but Minerva had been happy to know a boy wouldn’t bump her out of the line of succession, so she wouldn’t feel like she’d used her as an incubator just to produce an heir. She petitioned the family magic to change the Salian clause in the charter, preventing girls from inheriting in their own right, so now the House of Ross would have three consecutive ladies. 

She let go of her wandering thoughts and gave her usual introductory speech, telling the children to freshen up and moving to lead them in.

Harry took out his wand and cast a few freshening charms and tidied himself up with a few flicks of his wand. Most of his friends were doing the same, since domestic and self grooming charm work was some of the first and easiest they got to practice with their training wands. Harry offered to do the same for Hermione and after he did, she asked him to teach her the charms.

“The book we all used must be in the library, but I’ll ask my mother to owl me my copy for you when I write home tonight” He promised with a smile.

Theo, Pansy and Blaise soon joined them and they followed McGonagall into the Great Hall. Harry smiled in awe as he watched the enchanted ceiling reflect the night sky.

They moved up the tables until they reached the foot of the dais where the Head Table was located. Harry had stayed somewhere in the middle of the group with his friends, after he caught a glimpse of the old headmaster subtly scanning the children, almost certainly looking for him.

He sent a discreet smile to his godfather along with Draco once they spotted him at the table and it involuntarily grew a little wider as they saw his face soften slightly. He still wore his usual neutral bored expression, but they knew it was just the mask he presented to the world, much like their own.

The sorting started when McGonagall called for Hannah Abbott, after the hat sang a terrible song Harry tuned out for the most part.

Hannah and then Susan both went to Hufflepuff, and Harry clapped for his friends and sent them encouraging smiles as they joined their table. He kept an ear out for the kids he knew but otherwise still chatted quietly with his group as the kids were getting sorted.

He felt it as soon as the headmaster found him, but he didn’t let it show, talking with Draco and Hermione, but after McGonagall called for a boy named Finnegan, their eyes met and he felt the signs of an intrusion.

His mind locked down automatically at the subtle nudge, and Harry trapped the invading presence in the void. He studied him for a while, watching him flail aimlessly with no sense of direction or any other sense for that matter. He held him there for longer than he ever had anyone, just enough for people around him to notice him go slack-jawed and unfocused. As soon as the person next to the old man made a move to see if he was ok, shaking his arm slightly in concern, he released him and nodded politely as if nothing had happened, but a hint of a smirk still played on his lips.

After Finnegan went to Gryffindor, Minnie called for Hermione. Harry and his group gave her encouraging smiles and little nudges as she slowly stepped up to have the hat placed on her, muttering a little pep talk to herself. After a minute of deliberation, the hat called for Slytherin, and Harry and his friends clapped excitedly for her. She sat waiting next to Vince and Greg and right after her, Daphne joined her and introduced herself.

When it was Neville’s turn, the hat barely grazed him before sending him to Gryffindor, and Harry cheered loudly enough to have some looks directed his way, though he didn’t care.

Draco of course had the same thing happen to him only to be sent to Slytherin, and he sent Harry a knowing smirk as he walked and joined the rest of the first years. 

The list dragged on for a while until it was time for Harry to go up, after Pansy went to Slytherin, Padma went to Ravenclaw,  and Vati and a girl named Sally-Anne Perks went to the lions. 

“Potter-Black, Hadrian!” Minnie called, and Harry saw Dumbledore sit a little straighter on his gaudy chair. 

Harry walked up confidently to have the hat placed upon his head, smiling a little cheekily at Minerva as he sat on the footstool.

Granted, it wasn’t as fast as Draco, but he also didn’t get the chance to even greet the hat before it called: Slytherin!

The Hall was quiet for a moment before the Slytherin table erupted in cheers, which prompted the rest of the tables to clap politely in defeat. They had all wanted a piece of the Potter pie. 

He smiled apologetically as he stood and whispered, “sorry aunt Professor McGonagall,” making her almost smile fully, but she rolled her eyes a little and motioned for him to join his table. As much as she would have liked a full set of Potter alumni, she was mourning the loss of his quidditch skills the most.

Harry smiled brightly at his godfather and for the first time in the night, his mask cracked enough for him to send him a pleased smile back before reschooling his features.

He took his seat next to Draco, and looked at the head table again. His Uncle Remus was smirking at him, shaking his head, and he sent a pleasant smile to Gran.

Albus looked like he was having a stroke.

Chapter Text

“Welcome to Stinchcombe Abbey, Masters be waiting in the Chinese Parlor, if yous be following Tipper,” the elf said to Amelia, who’d flooed in as soon as she could get off work.

She followed the elf into the Chinese Parlor, where she remembered the many times she had tea with her mother and Aunt Phee as a little girl, while Eddie played with James in the gardens. She remembered being stuck there in her frilly dress, admiring the painted murals depicting rolling hills and pagodas, wishing she could go climb the trees with the boys. The room was as filled with palms and other plants potted in blue-painted ceramic planters, chinoiserie furniture and gilded mirrors as she remembered from her youth. 

“Amy, thank you for coming,” James said by way of greeting, handing her a cup of tea and showing her to her seat.

Amelia was the last to arrive at the gathering, and it was quite an eclectic mix of company. She was not surprised to see Frank and Alice there, or Sirius for that matter, but some of the faces were a surprise indeed.

“James? This does not look like the casual get-together you implied when you asked me to come round for tea after work this morning.” Amelia said, looking around the room to see every head of the active Most Ancient and Most Noble Houses in attendance, and a few lower ranking ones as well.

“No, and I’m sorry for the subterfuge, but this is too important for it to have leaked.” James said before addressing everyone.

“Welcome to Stinchcombe Abbey, everyone. I’m sorry for luring you all here under false pretenses, but as I said, secrecy was imperative.” He said to the expectant crowd.

“What’s going on James?” Lianna Abbott asked curiously. She too had been asked for tea with no further information. 

“I won’t beat around the bush as they say, since we’ve had talks, all of us, at different times, and are all more or less on the same page. You’ve all now seen that our warnings were true. It seems we have a common enemy, so I, as Lord of the Most Ancient and Most Noble Houses of Peverell and Potter, have called you here today, under our Blessed Mother’s eye, to honor the olde ways,” he said ominously. “Albus Dumbledore has moved against us. I’m invoking Conventus Maleficarum.” James said, to the shock of everyone.

“James! The houses haven’t formed a coven since before the Wizengamot was assembled!” Amelia said in shock. 

“Yes, and I wonder why? Our current system is all well and good, but perhaps if we had resorted to the olde ways, so much could have been avoided. This man has cost us greatly. Many houses have gone into stewardship, if not outright extinct, and now, a generation later, he moves on our heirs again. This goes beyond party lines or the rule of law.” James said resolutely. 

“The Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Abbott will honor the call. Under her eye and in her name,” Lianna said. 

“Linny!” Amelia exclaimed in outrage. It felt like a blow to the stomach. Her best friend since they were both babbling babies would do such a thing? This went against everything she held most dear. They had proper channels, courts and procedures. 

“Amy. If not for this man and his machinations, Eddie would most likely be here, merrily discussing Susie’s possible sorting with us, and my late husband as well. I too thought James’ warning was too unbelievable to consider, until I scanned my daughter’s letter only to find myself proven wrong. Now he has come for my Hannah, and I won’t stand by and trust that we can take him before the courts for his trespasses. I won’t bring dishonor upon my house by refusing the call,” she said.

“As Helga once stood by Godric, so too will her heirs stand with his. The Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Smith will honor the call. Under her eye and in her name,” Herbert Smith said after that. “I refused to believe it as well, Amelia, but Zach’s letter was riddled with compulsions. He must pay.” 

“Under her eye and in her name, no explanation needed,” Arcturus said with a smirk. “The House of Black protects its own,” He added with a hand on Sirius’ shoulder. 

“Ever since Davendra Patil traveled to these lands with Litesh Poddar, our houses have been linked in friendship. The Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Patil is proud to answer the call. Under her eye and in her name,” Lord Rajendra Patil said with his chest puffed.

“For my Ernie,” Arnold MacMillan said, “and for Aunt Beatrice and Aunt Melania,” he added looking at James and Sirius, citing both their grandmothers. “The Most Ancient and Most Noble House of MacMillan will honor the alliance. Under her eye and in her name.”

“The Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Longbottom will always stand with you Jamie, no questions asked. Under her eye and in her name” Frank said, determination bright in his blue eyes.

“The bond between our houses may be more recent, but not less deep. He knew better than to come after our Draco, but Hadrian is just as dear to us. The Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Malfoy will honor the call. Under her eye and in her name,” Lucius said, surprising no one that he’d take a stance against Dumbledore.

“I, Rabastan Corvinus Lestrange, fourth of my name, regent of the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Lestrange, gladly answer the call. Under her eye and in her name,” Rabastan answered. Out of all the dark or dark leaning houses present, he was the most out of place. He’d escaped conviction with James’ help, along with Frank and Alice’s honest testimony that they hadn’t seen him when his brother and sister in law descended upon them. He’d refused to take the lordship away from his brother, and would only take it on as regent with the hope that one day he’d come back. Even with how fond he was of his sister in law, he still resented the fact that it was her horrid performance during their trial that got them convicted for life. Rodolphus would never go against her and leave her there, so every time Rabastan tried to get him retried separately, he refused. As time went on, he was surprised about how well he got on with James and Sirius, finding common ground in their love of pranking, though his idea of a good prank was a tad nastier than their worst work.

Everyone looked to Amelia then. Protocol demanded that her, as the last of the highest ranking houses present, should pledge before any of the other lower ranking ones proceeded.

“For Eddie and Susan then.” She said, resigned. “And for dear Harry, and our friendship, James. The Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Bones honors the call. Under her eye and in her name,” She said, feeling the bond take.

“The Duchy of Monténèbre and the Schwartzstein Barony are not part of the British Wizarding peerage, but when their heir is threatened, they will answer the call as well. Under her eye and in her name,” Lyra said, surprising everyone since, as she said, foreign titles weren’t honor-bound to answer the call, but as Harry’s mother, no one would question it.

“He came for my Neville, and my Hadrian. You are my sister Ly, in every way but blood. The Ancient and Most Noble Houses of Yaxley and Rowle will answer the call. Under her eye and in her name,” Alice said then, eyes moist.

“With the leave of my lady, I, Mary Elizabeth Jane Sarah MacDonald, Heiress to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Ross, honor the call. Under her eye and in her name,” Mary said, and hundreds of miles away, Minerva felt the bond snap closed in her core as Albus finished with his  after dinner announcements and smirked openly.

“As Lord of The Ancient and Most Noble House of Crouch, and Consort of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Prince, gladly answer the call for both. Under her eye and in her name,” Barty said with a smirk. “For family,” he added, looking at Lyra and Sirius. Barty and Severus had named Lyra as godmother to their daughter Elladora when she was born, and Regulus, even if they didn’t know where he was or how he was, was named godfather in absentia. They had tried to make Barty see reason, a godfather was someone who’d care for the child alongside you or instead of you, but no one made him budge, his best friend was out there somewhere, hopefully happy, and he would be his only choice as godfather for his daughter. In the meantime, with both his and Severus’ permission, Sirius had volunteered to fill in until Regulus returned. Sirius and his husband had just had their twins a couple of weeks earlier when their daughter was born, and they were already coparenting Mary’s daughter Fiona with her, so Ella happily joined their little tribal family, since what was another baby thrown in the playpen with the rest anyway. The more, the merrier, as Sirius put it. 

Every once in a while, they looked for him, but so far all that they knew was that he wasn’t dead, because James had tried summoning his soul and it had never worked. He was alive somewhere and all they could hope for was that he was happy wherever he was. It had done wonders to appease the family, especially Walburga. She had still taken a plunge in the goblin waters at Sirius’ insistence once she began to deteriorate mentally and the family curse claimed her mind, which was never the most stable. It was fortunate that it also corrected a bloodline curse that would have taken her far too soon had she not accepted. That and her grandchildren gave her a new lease on life the last few years, doting on Hadrian and then Sirius’ children.

Severus felt the bond of the conventus snap into place and just as Minerva, he was unable to contain his smirk as he glanced at her sideways.

“The Ancient and Most Noble House of Flint answers the call, under her eye and in her name,” Marius Flint said, holding Andromeda’s hand and looking as determined as her. He had no doubt that the old fool had encouraged the Tonks mudblood in some way or another to steal away his Meda, and he would make him pay. If only to stick it to the light.

“As regent of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Avery, and Lord of the Most Noble House of Nott, I’m honored to be considered for this conventus, and Hadrian is a dear friend of my Theodore. We will gladly answer the call. Under her eye and in her name,” Thaddeus Nott said evenly. The Nott family was a special case within their social circles. They were an old Norse family of master runic warders and curse breakers, as old as any of them, a distinguished line of Viking warriors back in their native Norway, but only recently ennobled in the British Wizarding peerage, not long before the Wizengamot was instituted along with the Statute of Secrecy, in contrast to the higher ranking houses which were ennobled centuries earlier, upon the creation of the Council of Mages or soon after it. On account of their legacy and history, they mingled with the upper echelons of society, even if it wasn’t officially recognized in their rank. They were certainly rich like a Most Ancient and Most Noble House though, quite the shrewd businessmen, the Notts. Being new money rich with old money heritage certainly helped their case. Now it was just a game of waiting. They’d secured their Most Noble status through services to the country, but the Ancient and Most Ancient statuses could only be gained through keeping their line secure and going forward with proper matches and healthy, powerful heirs. Thaddeus had breathed peacefully once he held his Theodore in his arms. He’d done his duty, first by marrying up when he wed the heiress to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Avery, and then when they had Theodore. Now, one day, Theodore’s child would be the first member of the now Ancient and Most Noble House of Nott.

“Sub oculo magnae matris magicae, benedictus hic conventus maleficarum.” James said solemnly.

“What happens now?” Thaddeus asked.

“Now our Houses are united against a common enemy, and our actions are blessed and protected by the mother. We cannot be tried for them as she had accepted our conventus. It also means we work as one. To go rogue is to break the covenant. Justice will be served in her name, not the law of the land,” James explained, “we could walk up to him in the middle of the Great Hall and take turns crucioing him and no one would be able to lift a finger to imprison us. But that would be so boring, don’t you think? We have our mouse in its box, let’s play a little.”

“So what are you planning James?” Herbert asked with a cruel grin. The House of Smith was a proud house, too proud, depending on who one asked. But nevertheless, Albus Dumbledore would find out what happens when you stick your hand in the badger’s den.

“Death by a thousand cuts.” James smirked devilishly. “It’ll be a slow process, since we can’t just make a move on him swiftly without risking another civil war. He still holds much power and influence to do anything rash, we don’t want to create a martyr out of him.” James said. “We first ensure our children are protected. We have instructed Hadrian to always trust his rings, check his food and drink and collect samples of anything that might be tampered with for evidence. Also, never to accept anything to eat or drink from the headmaster and to never meet with him alone. We don’t want to scare our children, but if you could subtly imply it through your letters, that would be for the best.”

Everyone nodded worriedly, as if itching to write to their children that very moment.

“Raj, I’m sorry if this is too private to discuss openly, but which one of your girls is your heir? Because whichever one is left is vulnerable to coercion.” James asked tactfully. It was something the Patils had kept secret after all.

“I don’t mind answering if this stays within the coven, though now that they will start attending the balls, it’s not much use keeping it secret anyways,” Rajendra said after some thought. “They are both heiresses. When we went to test them, they both showed as heiresses, and the ring divided itself in two. They’ll both be Lady Patil in their own right and whoever produces an heir first will secure the line.”

The peculiarity of it raised some eyebrows, but in the end James was glad both Padma and Parvati were protected.

“Now, as far as how we will handle the old man,” James said, turning to Amelia. “I think we should start building a case against him, so we can strike when he’s at his weakest.”

“May I ask then, why on earth you felt the need for a coven if you were planning to build a case against him?” Amelia asked, still miffed about the whole thing,

“Because there may come a time, if things get ugly, that we may need to act outside the law and I want us protected if it comes to that,” James said placatingly. “I’m not saying we completely disregard bringing him up on charges, but when he plays dirty, we need to be able to match him. And I do say when, not if,” he added.

“In that case, I’m already one step ahead of you on that.” Amelia said with a pleased smirk. “I have everyone’s letters on file as evidence, and I am working with the Goblin Nation on preparing a case for line theft.” She said, which made everyone gasp.

“I have diagnostic reports from everyone who has been cleansed of his compulsions, as well as financial records from most of the heirs he had in the Order. It’s lucky Father listened to Uncle Monty and tied up the main Bones Vaults in trust with me as the trustee, because Eddie burned through his trust vault like a dry cornfield.” She said with a nasty sneer. “I have records from Marlene, Dorcas and Benji as well. If you consent, I’ll petition for yours James, and yours too Sirius.” 

“I was cut off before I could do any real damage to my trust, and whatever uncle Alphard left me went to purchasing my flat and my livelihood so I didn’t give him much, if any money. But James wiped his trust vault clean so have at it,” Sirius said, smirking playfully at James, secretly grateful to his mother for cutting him off.

“I’ll ask the King to share our records from 79 through 81 with you. I didn’t just burn through my trust. I gave him most of the cash in the main vaults as well,” he said, blushing shamefully. “Luckily, Abba tied the properties and any money already invested in trust so I could only work with the income. Then, after I was purged, I received an inheritance from my mother’s sister in India and took on the Peverell estate so the Potter coffers have had time to recuperate,” he added, unable to not excuse himself. It was his greatest shame, wasting his family’s legacy on that man, but the Potter vaults had indeed recuperated and then some. Abba would be proud of his management after he was freed of compulsions. Between Aunty Horror’s money, his deals with Remus and the success of Potter&Prince with both his wife and Severus at the helm? He had made his money back several times over. His line would be secure for generations to come.

“The King?” Amelia asked, shocked.

“Yes, the Houses of Peverell and Monténèbre are friends of the Silver Halls. Our affairs are handled by King Ragnok. I ask that this too remains bound to coven secrecy. But we will have the Nation’s cooperation for whatever we need,” Lyra said to the room.

“Well, you don’t suppose the Nation would be amenable to sharing Albus’ records, do you?” Amelia smirked. “It would do wonders to have backups of everything because whenever I do petition the Nation to officially subpoena his financial records for the courts he’ll move things around and hide assets, I’m sure.” 

“I’ll ask, I don’t see why they’d refuse,”  Lyra said with an equally pleased smirk.

“Those of us on the Board of Governors will keep a close eye on Albus. That school has been his unsupervised playground for far too long. So far, he’s done nothing to merit his removal but now that he has a new crop of heirs I think we’ll have to tighten his noose. If he acts up, his position as Headmaster will be next to go,” James said.

“Do you really think we’ll be able to? For a lion, he’s quite the slippery snake, no offense to the Slytherins present.” Frank said incredulously.

“Well, between those of us present, we have six out of the twelve votes on the board. Lucius is close with Fudge so we usually have the Minister’s vote and Lady Marchbanks can be swayed our way on most topics, so we can count on the Department of Education’s vote as well most times. Dumbledore has the Prewett vote and Slytherin vote in proxy, and the Gamp seat he sold to Harold Brown after old Lady Gamp died and the one he secured for his buddy Lord Doge during the war after the McKinnon line went extinct. Fudge usually gives us the tie breaker and for issues that require larger margins we can usually sway Marchbanks to win 8-4. I’ve already taken his position as Chief Warlock, and Lyra is poised to take his position as Supreme Mugwump in a couple of years, so I don’t see why we wouldn’t be able to get him sacked eventually, especially if he slips. Especially when we’ve left the book-keeping alone so we can use it against him at the proper moment,” James said, his smirk turning to a malicious grin.

“My my, let it be known that Britain’s second wizarding war will not be fought over light or dark magic, but over Hadrian Potter’s betrothal contract.” Lianna teased. Everyone laughed, but James and Lyra could see the hunger in some eyes around the room. They knew it would come to that at some point. They’d already had offers, but they refused politely every time. Who wouldn’t want to see their child married to the heir of five estates, son of such prominent people?

“I know it was said in jest Linny, but as some of you who have already graciously presented offers know, we won’t be negotiating betrothals for Hadrian until his 16th birthday, and his input on the matter will be the deciding factor. The House of Potter has rarely entered the marriage market and we won’t break tradition, considering how well it has worked for many generations of us.” He said, looking lovingly at his wife. 

“I think that concludes our business for our first conventus meeting. If you’d like to stay a little while longer, Harry should be sending us an update on the day shortly. I’m sure he’ll include some of your children’s sortings in it, if you’re curious.” He said as the food and tea on the table refreshed and refilled themselves.

“Jim, they should be barely done with the feast by now, even if he already sent the letter, his owl should take at least till morning to reach you.” Amelia said in disbelief.

“Krishna is very fast.” He smirked, and as if on cue, the bird tapped on the window.

“See?” James said, pleased with the timing as he went to let the bird in.

“You bought the boy a shadow owl?” Thaddeus asked, perplexed. They were terribly expensive even to them, rich as they were, and extremely rare.

“No… but the need for a speedy means of communication was necessary. In fact. In the spirit of unity of the coven, and the usefulness it will have for reaching each other… The Most Ancient and Most Noble Baronial House Von Schwartzstein would like to offer each of you a gift.” Lyra said with a mischievous grin.

“Now, this too falls within the coven’s secrecy laws, and I hope you don’t freak out because it’s not something my house ever made public,” she said as she turned around, raised her hand and pulled up a shadow from the corner of the room.

“We are shadow mages,” she said over her shoulder. “So if each of you could come and hold my arm, I’ll summon an owl familiar for you if you feed some of your magic into my arm.”

Once they got over the shock, one by one they stepped forward and gripped Lyra’s arm, and out of the shadow portal flew their owl familiar. They were all different sizes and breeds, with the common trait being that they were all pitch black. A bunch of eagle, tawny, barn and even snowy owls, ironically, perched themselves upon the shoulders of each Lord and Lady. Each one of them dark as night.

“You are bonded to them and will be able to call them anytime, anywhere and they will come to you. There’s no need to have a mastery of the shadows. The trade of such courier birds has long been a source of income for the Haus Von Schwartzstein,” Lyra explained. “They travel through the shadows, as some of you know, so mail carried by them is infinitely faster than regular owls. They know to be discreet as well, so don’t worry about anyone finding out.”

“Ha! I knew it,” James said, and they all turned to him reading Harry’s letter.

“What? Where did he sort into?” Lyra asked, trying to read over his shoulder.

“Well, Slytherin, of course, we know our boy don’t we? Along with Draco and Theodore,” James said, looking at Lucius and Thaddeus, who smiled proudly.

“Pay up étoile,” Arcturus said to his grandson. “I told you it would be Slytherin.” 

“I know, he's so much like Regulus sometimes,” he said a little forlornly, taking ten galleons out of his money pouch. He was hoping for Gryffindor, but he knew deep down his pup was all snake, and he did remind him eerily of his brother, even if he was not as circumspect as little Reggie.

“Neville went to Gryffindor, no surprises there, Susie and Hannah both went to Hufflepuff, as did Zach and Ernie,” James said to each of their parents.

“Padma went to Ravenclaw and Vati to Gryffindor, Raj,” James said with a smile to his friend, who smiled smugly as well. “I knew it, Jai Shri ram!”

“Anything else of interest?” Sirius asked.

“Yes,” James said with a frown. “The children made a muggleborn friend on the train, a Miss Hermione Granger. Apparently, Albus handled her visit and didn’t give her her introductory package. She sorted Slytherin with them,” he said. “And also, a Weasley boy got into a fight with Ernie before the sorting. He was saying he was ‘best mates’ with Harry Potter it seems and Ernie said he’d never seen him and he was actually friends with Harry. This stinks of Albus’ meddling, he’s been pushing the Weasleys on us for ages,” he said.

“That worries me,” Lucius said with an equally concerned frown. “The Weasley boy is obvious, too obvious maybe, but a muggleborn sorting Slytherin?” He said incredulously. “What? It’s a brave new world and I’m all for it,” he said placatingly at the harsh looks he was getting, “but it does seem odd that she was visited by Dumbledore and then befriended our children. Makes me think she’s the real mole and the Weasel child is a red herring.”

“If she’s in the pit, then Sevy’s her head of house, we can have him discreetly check her over for compulsions and purge her if necessary. I’ll suggest to Harry that he should invite her over for Mabon and we’ll get her vetted,” Lyra offered.

“We’ll monitor the situation. As of now, Harry is happy he got her out of his grasp, but I too worry he might have taken the bait unintentionally. Harry said she was torn between Ravenclaw and Slytherin on account of what she read about blood prejudice, but once he explained the current state of affairs and they all offered her their friendship, she went to the pit. At least her sorting doesn’t seem manipulated, not by the old man at least,” James snorted, “ from what Harry says in his letter about her, she doesn’t seem to be quite Gryffindor material and we know he likes his lions as henchmen. And from what he says further on the subject, she was properly outraged at being manipulated when he told her she should have gotten supplementary reading material and is not too partial to the headmaster after that,” James said thoughtfully. “It’s only a couple of weeks until Mabon Break, she won’t get anything too sensitive out of them during their first weeks of friendship and we can see if it needs to be terminated once we meet her.”

Chapter Text

The old man was always watching him during meals, it was unnerving! But Harry tried to block it out as best he could. Ever since his unremarkable first breakfast, because firangi food was so insipid in comparison to the rich and spiced foods he’d grown up with, every meal was spent under the intense gaze of the headmaster. He pushed through his scones with jam and milk tea that day, deciding that he’d need to go down and search for this Nippy elf his father recommended sooner rather than later. He could go without his lassi or yogurt rice or even parathas, but he missed chai so much already. White people blends were so bland.

Uncle Sev came by, levitating their schedules for the year as they were finishing, and Harry saw they indeed had many classes with Gryffindor, as Neville said on the train, so that was a nice surprise. He knew from eavesdropping on his parents and what his father had told him on occasion, when he reminisced on what it was like for him being in Gryffindor and uncle Regulus in Slytherin, that the headmaster liked to pair the houses together for the rivalry. 

He definitely had no desire to see Roland again, but he was happy to be sharing most of his schedule with Nev and Vati. He should speak to Padma and Vati soon about the food situation, perhaps they’d brought some chai with them.

The classes were ok, if a little dull during the first week, but Harry got through it fine and made the most of the refresher. He’d studied most of the theory since he was seven, and practiced what he could with his training wand, since some of the practical work had been deemed too advanced for his core before eleven. It was common for children raised within Wizarding Britain to find the first few weeks of school a bit boring, since it was a bridging period when muggleborn and muggle-raised students got caught up to the rest of them. 

It was a lot easier to cast with his new wand though. His training wand had been fine, but they were never as good as one’s official wand because they weren’t matched like a proper wand. 

Most of the children bound for Hogwarts bought their wands from Ollivander’s, but his abba had taken him to Artemisia Aldstone’s Custom Wands for his. When he asked him why, he said that Ollivander’s worked with a limited selection of woods and cores, and only sold pre-made wands. After his core darkened following his inheritance, James was forced to replace his wand, which no longer suited him, and Arcturus had directed him to her. Artemisia’s work was bespoke, and she worked with each witch and wizard to select the best woods, core and characteristics for the wand to be a perfect fit. Harry spent some time running his hand over the wood selection, testing dummies for length, girth and pliability, and matching with cores. He ended up with a beautiful blend of Cypress and Elder wood wand, 14 inches long, smooth and unyielding with a runespoor heartstring core. He got to talking with the old woman as he worked on selecting every facet of his new wand, and she happily ranted about her competition.

“That man is a sellout. His ancestors must be rolling in their graves, seeing what that man has done to their legacy. Makes cookie cutter wands and sells them for a pittance because the ministry subsidizes a portion of the cost in exchange for him allowing them to be fitted with the trace, so he trimmed down his range of woods and cores to try and produce wands as cheaply as possible so he doesn’t exceed the amount the ministry subsidizes so they basically cover his costs. Add to that the preferential contracts with the auror department he gets too. Those monkeys with razor blades go through wands like underwear! It’s what keeps him in business,” she said with disdain. “The wand chooses the wizard,” she added in what Harry assumed was a mocking impression of Mr Ollivander, “of course his would, he makes wands en masse and has to spend Merlin knows how long matching them to his customers as close as he can get it, but never as close as a bespoke wand. A true wandmaster’s work is bespoke, and it’s much quicker this way. Isn’t that so, young man? We have been at it for under twenty minutes and I have everything I need to craft your new wand.” She said proudly.

Harry didn’t know if speed was as much of a selling point as Artemisia thought, considering that yes, designing the wand took less than matching with a pre-made wand at Ollivander’s, but waiting for it to be made was certainly longer, but the end result was vastly different.

His wand felt like a sixth finger, a third hand or arm. It was as much a part of him as any other, a perfect conduit for his magic. An Aldstone wand wasn’t cheap, but it was traceless and perfectly tailored to the wizard. Draco had been so jealous when he told him, since he’d gone to Ollivander’s for his hawthorn wand. 

Mrs Aldstone had been happy to cater to them, since their patronage usually brought in business to all establishments they favored. His abba had faced some criticism when a picture of them leaving the shop was published in the gossip rags, once the moratorium on the publication of pictures of Harry expired on his eleventh birthday, but people could feel about it whichever way they wanted too. The trace was only mandatory for underage wix who lived in close proximity or in contact with the muggle world. Magical children who lived in magical communities or with wix parents or guardians weren’t mandated to buy traceable wands, though it was encouraged. He had no doubt business would be good for her in the following months.

He was glad when his first potions class arrived at the end of the week. It was the only class that included practical work for the first few weeks of term. 

That morning, he’d received a note from the groundskeeper inviting him to tea, but he politely declined on account of his busy schedule. Draco had scoffed at it when he read it, thinking it most odd. Sure, they were on familiar terms with much of the staff, quite literally, but why should the groundskeeper be having tea parties with students? It was simply not proper, he’d said, but Harry knew from what he’d heard around his house that the ogre was firmly in the headmaster’s pocket, and he’d been warned off their tricks. 

Uncle Sev was in fine form during his class. Harry relented to pairing up with Draco, in spite of him wanting to work with Hermione, but Theo had volunteered himself rather forcefully to pair up with her. Harry just smirked at the lack of subtlety and went to sit with Draco at their station.

They had the class with the Gryffindors, and Harry took great pleasure in watching his godfather put the Weasley boy to shame when he caught him trying to chat with his partner.

“Mr Weasley, what would you get if you added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?” He said curtly when he caught him distracted.

“I don’t know sir,” the ginger responded, turning quite monochromatic.

“And if I asked you for a bezoar, where would you find me one?” He followed up.

“In your store cupboard?” The boy tried, after a moment’s thought.

“Cheek will not get you anywhere in this class. 5 points from Gryffindor.” Severus said, cutting the redhead off. “Now, for an easy one. What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?”

“I don’t know sir.” He said, blushing even redder.

“Well, then I suggest opening a book more often than your mouth, at least that way you’ll learn something.” He said with a faint sneer. “Can anyone answer any of my questions?” He said, looking around the room.

“Mr Potter-Black?” He said with the faintest smirk.

“Yes sir, powdered root of asphodel in an infusion of wormwood would give you a powerful sleeping potion known as the Draught of Living Death. It puts the drinker in a death-like sleep, indefinitely, until an equivalent dose of Wiggenweld potion is administered.” Harry said politely.

“Quite right, 5 points for Slytherin, for showing up properly prepared.” He said, his smirk a little more evident.

“Miss Granger? Where, other than my store cupboard, would you be able to find a bezoar?” Severus said with an annoyed eye roll.

“In the stomach of a goat, Professor Prince. It’s a calcified stone which serves as a wide range antidote to most known poisons if administered quickly enough.” She said in what Harry had come to learn was her usual academic tone, almost robotic.

“Perfect, even Miss Granger is better prepared, just a few months into knowing about magic at all, much less about just potions.” He said to Roland. “10 points for Slytherin, for being a credit to your fellow muggleborn Miss Granger.” He said with a nod.

“Now, let’s see, perhaps another Gryffindor… Mr Longbottom, the last question if you please?”

“Yes sir, monkshood and wolfsbane are different names for the same plant, also known as aconite. It’s one of the main ingredients in the Wolfsbane potion, a potion that was once used for subduing lycans during their transformation, before it was found to be extremely poisonous to them.” Neville said evenly.

“There is hope for you lions yet. You have saved your house’s score for this class Mr Longbottom. Five points for Gryffindor for an excellent and well rounded answer. Try not to lose them again Mr Weasley.” He said, turning to the redhead once more.

“We will be brewing a simple boil cure today. Instructions are on the board. You have the rest of the class to finish. Once you are done, leave a vial on my desk and you are free to go.” He said, flicking his wand at the blackboard, shifting its sheets to show the method.

Harry and Draco got to work like the well oiled machine they were, dicing and slicing away, disregarding the method on the blackboard in favor of how uncle Sev had taught them at home, which was much better, until they had a perfect looking potion with half a period to spare. They filled their flasks and labeled them with their names. Harry spelled their station clean while Draco took their vials up to Severus’ desk and then they got up to leave. 

Hermione and Theo were just about done as well, and Neville was having some trouble with his partner, a tall dark-skinned boy called Thomas, but their potion was nearly finished too and it looked passable at least, so he wouldn’t fail the class even if he would not get top marks on the day’s work. 

Weasley and the little Irish kid Finnegan had some sort of greenish goo casting some questionable fumes, and throughout the class had managed to lose a further 15 points.

Harry and Draco decided to wait a little outside the classroom for Theo and Hermione to catch up to them, and five minutes later they did, along with Neville and his partner, who introduced himself as Dean.

“Uncle Sev wasn’t pleased with my potion.” Neville said once Dean excused himself to go to the library.

“I noticed you were having trouble with Thomas.” Harry commiserated.

“Yeah, he’s not quite there yet, light years away from you considering he’s a muggleborn too Hermione,” he said to the infinite pleasure of the girl, “though much better than Weasley and Finnegan,” he said with a snort. “I told Uncle Sev that I’d rather he learn than me just taking over, so things will improve once he does, I’ll make sure of it.” He added resolutely.

“Such a noble lion, you bleeding heart you,” Harry teased cheekily. “That’s very nice of you Neville. I’ll see you later, ok? I think we’ll go to the common room to finish our transfiguration essay. Closer than the library from here.” 

As the group of Slytherins walked the short distance to their common room, Hermione asked what she’d been holding out on asking for quite a while now.

“Why do you all call Professor Prince ‘Uncle Sev?”

“Oh, he’s our godfather.” Draco said merrily. “And Neville is Harry’s godbrother. He’s not Neville’s godfather though, but he is best friends with Neville’s and Harry’s mothers, and Aunt Lyra is in fact Neville’s godmother.” He said, making her eyes cross over.

“And the three of us have been having potions tutoring with him and Mutti since we were seven.” Harry said with a little smirk. “That was high praise indeed you got today, Hermione. He isn’t one to dish out undeserved compliments.” 

“Isn’t that unfair? It seems biased.” She said, even if she did preen a little when Harry pointed out the praise she got.

“Maybe, but why does it matter if you’re benefiting too? He knows we’re close and he sees you have potential. It’s not a small thing, to be on our level without our years of knowledge under your belt. You're right to be proud.” Draco said encouragingly. 

“And if you find that’s the case, you should know Professor Lupin is technically my stepfather, and Professor McGonagall is sort of a surrogate granny to me. So the bias won’t end in potions class.” Harry said with a smirk.

“Wait, stepfather? I don’t remember reading anywhere about your parents divorcing.” She blurted out in confusion.

“Not like that. It’s not something muggles do so it’s fine if you don’t know. My father, Sirius Black, blood adopted me after I was born. A blood adoption is a ritual that makes one as much of a true relation to one’s adoptive relative as if they were actually related to you. People can blood adopt someone as their children, grandchildren, siblings or any relation as long as it’s not above them. You can’t blood adopt someone as your father, but he can blood adopt you as his child, get it? It was common during the war, to ensure children would have someone left to raise them if anything happened or to make sure a peer had his line secured. Uncle Remus is married to Father and Abba and Mutti are my biological parents, I think you’d call it in muggle terms,” Harry explained calmly. “So if you’re ever confused in the future, whenever I say Father, I mean Sirius, and when I say Abba, I mean James.”

“Oh, I’ve read that’s common amongst magical folk. Same sex marriage, that is,” she said, a little more subdued.

“It is. Most wix like both genders. It’s rarer to like just one in our case. Magic doesn’t care who you love. It wants to spread, and with the full menu at one’s disposal then it’s ensured to do so. There are rituals and potions available for same sex couples to have children, while some witches and wizards can be powerful enough to have natural magical pregnancies sired by their same sex partner,” Harry said with a smile and a shrug, though he secretly had been dreading to find out if she had the typical muggle prejudices about that sort of thing. “At least that’s how my abba explained it to me.”

“That’s nice, I’ve never understood why muggles have a problem with that,” she said. 

~~~

Their first DADA class had been… disappointing. Professor Quirrel had a terrible stammer that ate into the allotted time quite a bit and Harry had already studied most of it before. He was up to second or maybe third year as far as defensive and offensive magic went. His abba had made sure he could shield, disarm and stun like a pro by the time he was set to go away to school, and once he got a proper wand? He had the basics more than covered in case of an emergency. It was a strain on his core for sure, and he didn’t have the stamina to endure a full on duel with a grownup, but they were prominent people with valid security concerns. It had to be done. 

The pungent smell of garlic permeating the classroom did not help matters either. Nevertheless, Harry was as polite as ever when called to answer questions and took detailed notes. He’d noticed the man watching him when he thought no one else would notice, but one just didn’t grow up as the son of the Vanquisher without getting used to people staring, so he noticed right away just as he noticed the headmaster’s gaze on him at mealtimes.

History was entertaining as ever, because Uncle Remus had always been the best storyteller. He didn’t know the difference, of course, but cousin Dora had managed to have both the old Professor Binns and Uncle Remus and she’d said it was night and day. Harry still thought it was ludicrous that the school had gotten away with having a ghost teaching for Merlin knows how long. The job suited Remus perfectly, given his double mastery in History and DADA. He’d been on the fence about which vacancy to fill, but with his absences around the full moon, it was easier to assign a self study assignment or essay for that month’s missed session than look for a substitute to fill the lesson in a more practical subject like DADA.

Transfiguration was a breeze simply because they were still just covering theory, and wouldn’t move on to any practical lessons until they returned from Mabon Break to give the muggleborns time to catch up.

The day before their flying lesson, Hermione was yapping their ears off quietly in the library after having had a few classes in Gran’s course.

“Why did you never tell me! You’re like royalty!” Hermione admonished them.

“We don’t have royalty in Wizarding Britain Hermione, though there is magical royalty in other countries, like China, Japan and some Maharajas in India. It’s more like the muggle peerage, and the Wizengamot works much like the muggle House of Lords in parliament, while the Lesser Courts work like the House of Commons, with elected officials and ministry heads of department who aren’t titled that mostly handle petty crimes and infractions as opposed to the high profile trials the Wizengamot oversees, and as far as their legislative work goes, their bills have to pass through the Wizengamot to be ratified and made into law, like any bicameral parliament,” Draco said with an amused smirk. “Most Ancient and Most Noble Houses are like muggle Dukes, Ancient and Most Noble Houses are like Marqueses, Most Noble Houses are like Earls and Noble Houses are like Barons. That is if you think about it in terms of muggle ranks. Harry’s mother is a German Baroness that would rank like a Duchess on account of how old her line is, as well as a French Duchess that would rank as such here, and that’s part of why we don’t use such titles in British Wizarding Peerage. It gets too complicated as the line moves up the ranks if they keep such titles so we just go by the house rank instead of personal title and everyone’s just Lord or Lady.”

“It’s simpler that way, for example, my mother is a duchess and because of that I have the courtesy title of marquess in the noblesse des sorcières de France. But to make it easier for everybody to remember, in Britain we’re all just Lord, Lady, and the heirs are styled Heir or Heiress This-or-That. Very British if you ask me, efficient and economical,” Harry quipped with a smirk.

“Well, according to professor Longbottom, you should have introduced yourself as such, with your full titles.” She said with her chin up.

“That’s because Gran is like… ancient.” Neville said with a shudder. “It’s still required in more formal settings, sure, but it would be rather pompous and off putting if I just introduced myself with, well met, I’m Neville Francis Longbottom, Heir to the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Longbottom and Heir to the Ancient and Most Noble Houses of Yaxley and Rowle.” He said in a high and mighty voice, “instead of just, hello, I’m Neville Longbottom, pleasure to meet you. Which one would you like to keep talking to?”

“I guess so, it was fascinating to learn though,” she said.

“You really don’t want Harry to introduce himself properly, you would have run out of the cabin if he had,” Draco teased.

“Dray, don’t,” Harry whined.

“Ooh come on Harry, it’s proper manners,” Hermione teased back, since they managed to make her curious.

“Fine, happy to make you laugh,” Harry said, resigned.

“Well met Miss Granger, I’m Hadrian James Regulus Potter-Black, Marquis de Monténèbre, Most Honorable Heir to the Most Ancient and Most Noble Baronial House Von Schwartzstein, Heir to the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Peverell and Heir to the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter.” Harry said with all the pomp and circumstance required.

“Wow, aren’t you posh.” Hermione teased. “But you shouldn’t feel self conscious about it. It’s a wonderful thing to have,” she said kindly, “you know what I mean, that heritage. It’s something to be proud of.”

“We know, and we are, it’s just drilled into us that we shouldn’t make others uncomfortable,” Neville said sullenly.

“You mean don’t make muggleborns uncomfortable. That’s just plain unfair! We learn a little about the muggle equivalent in primary school, but it’s different to learn about it here and actually knowing and being friends with the subjects of your classes.” She said with a little laugh, “I never expected to meet the Queen when I learned about her when I was little. You should all introduce yourselves properly, even if it takes forever in Harry’s case,” she added mischievously.

“Ha freaking ha,” Harry grumbled.

“Anyway, Harry, are you ready to wow everyone enough for us to get on the quidditch team tomorrow?” Draco said with a mischievous grin.

“Dray, we’ve been over this a thousand times. Who do you think we have to impress? Uncle Sev knows how good we are on a broom, and it’s his choice. Not even that much of his choice anyway, since he’d have to ask the headmaster and I’d like to involve myself as little as possible with him. If he smells blood in the water and thinks granting me permission will give him an in? Then I’d rather not. Besides, Madam Hooch has refereed matches for our league many times and knows too, and cousin Marcus is the captain of the team, and he is well aware as well. We have nothing to prove. Rules suck and that’s that.” Harry said, annoyed with the topic by now.

Draco just mumbled something unintelligible and went off to the common room or somewhere Harry didn’t quite catch. Hermione just looked around the room, looking worried, but everyone else looked quite unbothered by it. Harry just waved it off. “He’ll cool off in an hour, let him walk it off.” 

Harry just smirked at Hermione when Draco joined them for dinner as if nothing had happened, merrily chatting away like always. The headmaster’s eye was as glued to him as ever, and he was tempted to look but decided to keep ignoring it. At least the man knew better than to try and peek into his mind after the stunt he unsuccessfully tried to pull at the welcoming feast. 

“I’m sorry.” Draco whispered as they walked back to the common room after dinner. “I know you don’t want to be in the old coot’s debt in any way, and I know we have our spots secured for next year, I won’t bring it up again.”

“It’s fine Dray, it would have been nice to keep playing.” Harry said honestly. He’d miss playing regularly for the year after having played in their league, but they’d just have to keep up during hols so they don’t get rusty.

“At least we’re sure we’ll test out of any more classes, and I’m curious to see if the Weasel pulls anything tomorrow. Did you notice we have the lesson scheduled with every other house? That’s bound to be a disaster.” Draco said with a knowing smirk.

“I know, he’ll probably try to show off and fall flat on his arse,” Harry snorted. “I’m sure he at least knows the basics though. His twin brothers are beaters on the lion’s team. Not to mention that his older brother is quite close with cousin Dora, and he was the seeker last year before graduating, so at least he’s flown before.”

“You think? I wouldn’t be surprised if he just mounted a regular sweeping broom in his backyard while his mother cast a levitation charm on it. You know the twins play on school brooms.” Draco said maliciously.

“Don’t be unkind, Dray,” Harry tisked disapprovingly, rolling his eyes, “we don’t make fun of people because they’re poor. They’re children and have as much control over their financial situation as we do. We didn’t do anything to earn our station in life other than being born into it, just as they didn’t do anything to deserve theirs. Besides, it’s uncreative.”

“You’re right, with so much to choose from in his case, it is the lazier choice.” Draco said with an exaggerated eye roll.

“Good boy,” Harry said approvingly.

~~~

Harry was waiting dutifully, standing by his broomstick as Madame Hooch explained the day's proceedings to the multitude of overexcited children.

“These broomsticks are a health hazard,” Draco whispered next to him, grimacing at the dated broomstick laying on the ground next to him. “It’s a Cleansweep Five. It must have been purchased before my grandfather graduated.” 

“Are you surprised? Up until a few years ago they had a ghost on staff, which I can only assume they did to cut costs. Can’t imagine the school vaults are buoyant enough to replace a whole fleet of broomsticks.” Harry said with an eye roll 

“Now! As I have explained, we will start with basic mounting, hovering and dismounting. Then, we will move on to steering and finally we will do a lap around the pitch. There will be no funny business! There is a real chance of injury in this class so take it with the seriousness it deserves.” Madame Hooch said, her voice magnified magically.

He could hear Roland scoffing and telling Finnegan and Thomas how boring it was to go through the basics loudly enough for everyone in his vicinity to hear, so Harry just rolled his eyes and ignored the twat.

Harry, Draco, Theo and Neville went through the motions just fine. Neville was by no means an expert flier, but growing up with a star beater meant he at least could fly decently even if he had no interest in the sport. Theo was on the same boat. He’d never enjoyed the sport and only played in their league because Harry and Draco dragged him along to make up numbers, but he was quite the decent flier and player. He could have been as good as them, but he’d rather spend his time in his library than out flying with them.

Harry spent most of the class giving pointers to Hermione, who seemed quite frightened at the prospect of falling off, though the prospect of not excelling in a subject seemed to affect her more.

By the time they moved on to steering, she felt more secure on her broom, but she kept repeating she’d never get on one again if she could help it, and if the slightly greenish tinge on her face was anything to go by? Harry believed her.

At one point, a Hufflepuff’s broomstick bucked and she fell while trying to land, and everyone winced when they heard the nasty crack her hand made when she touched down, her wrist probably broken on impact.

“Listen here children! I’ll take Miss Richardson to the infirmary and be right back. If I see a single one of you off the ground when I return you’ll be looking at detention and a notice to your parents before you can dismount your broom, am I understood?” The teacher said forcefully.

“Yes Madam Hooch!” The whole class responded automatically. 

Naturally, as soon as the woman was out of sight and earshot, Roland decided to pull a practice snitch out of his pocket and approached Harry’s group.

“Hey Harry mate! Want to have a quick seeker’s match before Hooch returns?” He said to Harry.

“No thank you Weasley, I have no wish to serve detention barely two weeks into term.” He said dismissively. 

“Oh come on mate! Don’t be such a bore! Or are you scared I’ll beat you? Have you ever even played?” He taunted stupidly.

“My knees are barely holding me up. Please go so they stop shaking.” Harry said mockingly.

“Pff, If you don’t know how to play I could teach you some moves, I’ve played since I was little with my brothers. You don’t have to be scared.” He said, cooing mockingly.

“I’m surprised,” Harry said innocently. “You’re supposed to be my best mate right? Why don’t you know I’ve played in a junior league since I was seven? It’s something my best mate would know, right? Oh! That’s right, it’s because my actual best mate was there with me, and you were with your brothers, before we ever met in the entrance hall barely two weeks ago.” He cooed in the same tone. 

“We even had Gwengog Jones as a guest coach once, you know? Captain of the Hollyhead Harpies? We still write to each other on occasion, so no thank you Roland, I don’t need you to teach me some moves.” He said, looking sideways at Draco, who snorted loudly and burst out laughing.

“What are you laughing at, you slimy snake! I’m sure I could wipe the floors with your poncy arse.” Roland said to a still laughing Draco.

“And I’m sure you think that’s true.” Draco smiled condescendingly. 

“I know it’s true! I bet you’re not worth piss if you’re not on the latest broom, are you?” He said angrily.

“Classy, Roland. I thought I’d made it clear that insulting my friends was not the way to my heart. I’d ask if you’re quite right in the head, but I’ve shared classes with you for a week and some change and I’ve had my answer for some time now.” Harry said as if speaking to a small child.

“I’ll race you! One lap around the pitch, whoever does the best time wins.” Roland said angrily, ignoring Harry and concentrating his anger on Draco, pocketing the snitch. “Seamus can take the time.”

“Fine by me. You can go first.” Draco said graciously.

With a pleased smirk, Roland mounted his broom and waited for Finnegan to give him the signal before kicking off and darting off around the pitch.

“Why would you do that! Madam Hooch will be back any second!” Hermione whispered beside them.

Harry and Draco could barely contain their laughter when they heard the booming voice of Madam Hooch yell at him to return this instant and dismount his broom.

“Oh, we know. Why do you think he let him go first?” Harry said, and everyone around them burst out laughing, everyone but the Gryffindors, who were looking at Draco and Harry with murderous intent, all but Neville that is, who was stone faced except for his eyes, which betrayed his amusement.

“Detention! Mr Weasley, I will notify your Head of House so she can sort out the date and the nature of your detention, as well as contacting your parents about your grave misconduct! You have failed today's class and won’t be able to test out of lessons, so you can kiss this free period goodbye young man!” She said sternly. Everyone was aiming to test out of further lessons and enjoy the free period it would give them before lunch once a week.

The class continued with Roland sitting in the stands while the rest went on to do laps and simple maneuvers. By the end, Harry and all his friends, Hermione included, tested out of further lessons, though Hermione was of two minds about it, unhappy that she had made the cut just barely but also happy not to have to get on a broom again for the foreseeable future. 

As the group made it up to the castle, Roland caught up to them and shoved Draco away from the rest.

“You knew she was coming! You set me up! I challenge you to a wizard’s duel!” He said, red as his hair with rage.

“Fine, select your second and draw,” Draco said, flicking his wand from his holster easily and taking his stance.

“Not now! I’m not stupid enough to fall for your tricks twice! Midnight! In the trophy room. Bring your second.” He said before storming off with Finnegan at his tail.

When he was some ways away and out of earshot, Harry and Draco just burst out laughing along with everyone else. Hermione just looked perplexed.

“You’ve accepted! Professor Longbottom said an honorable wizard always fights a duel he’s accepted! You’ll get in so much trouble!” She said loudly.

“I accepted to duel him right now, and he rejected my acceptance. I never accepted his change of time and venue.” Draco smirked. “Honestly, he says he’s not stupid enough to fall for my tricks twice,” he scoffed with an eye roll. 

“So you won’t go?” She asked, a little more calmly now.

“Of course not! He’s the stupid one, not me. I might mention to Uncle Sev that Mr Filch should keep an eye on the trophy room around midnight,” he said with a mischievous smirk.

That just made Hermione laugh maliciously, something they hadn’t heard her do yet, and it pleased Harry that she could be pragmatic like that. It would have been so boring to have her be so morally strict all the time.

“We’re definitely going under your cloak right? I want to watch them get caught.” Draco whispered a little while later, closer to the common room.

“Of course we are,” Harry snorted. “Father taught me a spell to mask our scent, it’s how the cat gets you.” He added with a mischievous smirk on his lips.

~~~

With twenty minutes left till midnight, Harry got up and put on a warm dressing gown over his pajama set and went to fetch Draco, who was ready inside his bed with his curtains partially drawn.

“Do you have the cape? What’s that mangy old parchment for?” He asked as he tied up his own gown.

“This, Draco darling, is my abba and father’s masterpiece.” He said with a pleased smirk. “Abba, Father and Uncle Remus, along with the traitor, made it while they were in school, but the rat managed to lose it in their seventh year when Filch nicked it off him. As soon as Father and Abba got their seats on the Board of Governors, they nicked it back.”

“What is it?” Draco asked as he watched letters begin to appear on the parchment as soon as Harry touched it with his wand.

“You’ll see,” he said cheekily. 

“Messrs Moony, Padfoot and Prongs, excluding the treacherous rat formerly known as Wormtail, now known as a sack of soulless meat rotting in prison, are proud to present: The Marauders Map.” Draco read out loud in hushed tones. “It’s a map of the school?”

Indeed it is, Mr Padfoot would like to congratulate the young Mr Malfoy on his unparalleled deductive skills, Wizarding Britain’s future is secure in such perspicacious hands.

“A cheeky map it seems,” Draco said with an eye roll.

Mr Padfoot means no offense to the young Mr Malfoy. His exceptional observation skills surely must come from the fine Black blood he has courtesy of Mr Padfoot’s dear cousin Cissy.

“Of course it’s Uncle Sirius,” Draco snorted.

“A very good evening to you, Messrs Moony, Padfoot and Prongs. Mr Prongsfoot here, reporting for marauding duty. I solemnly swear I am up to no good.” Harry said with pomp, touching his wand to the map.

Messrs Moony, Padfoot and Prongs wish the best of luck to their Bambi on his marauding as they cry proud tears, and expect a detailed account later, happy marauding Mr Prongsfoot!

Draco watched in awe as the lines of ink formed a perfect blueprint of the castle, along with the names of everyone in it.

“That’s amazing! This is really complicated magic! Is it keyed to the wards? And they did it while they were students?” Draco said.

“Yes, in a few years they’ll teach me how to update it. Uncle Moony has already added some parts of the castle they hadn’t mapped properly, along with removing the rat from it. But as you can see, the dungeons and where we are is very sparse.” Harry said, showing Draco their names floating in a nondescript room. James had managed to map out some of the Slytherin quarters after Regulus and him started dating and sneaking around, but it was still fairly basic. Once he knew how, Harry would complete it.

Harry pulled the map open to show the Gryffindor Tower, and soon they saw Roland and Finnegan making their way down to the trophy room.

Harry quickly cast the inodorous charm on them both and silenced their boots before throwing the cloak over the both of them. They quickly went through the common room door and tracked Filch and any patrolling professors on the map on their way to meet the ginger and his friend.

They had to dodge Filch and his cat a couple of times, because he too was on his way there, surely having been tipped off by uncle Sev as intended, but soon enough Harry and Draco were hiding in a corner of the room watching the map, trying to hold back their giggles as they saw the tags marking both the Gryffindors and Filch’s names draw ever closer to each other and the room.

Finally, a scared looking Roland and an even more scared looking Finnegan entered, looking around frantically.

“I’m telling you Ron! We should go back! Malfoy won’t show up! He’s probably told on us mate! I think I heard Filch coming!” Finnegan said quietly.

“Shh! He’ll come! He accepted my duel, he has to come.” The ginger said stubbornly. “Shut up before that bloody cat hears you!”

“She doesn’t find you by sound as much as by smell,” the children heard from one of the doors, where they found a malevolently pleased looking Filch looking at them greedily. “Children out of bed so late in the evening, naughty, naughty. Come, there’s no point in running, I’ll take you to your head of house.” He said darkly.

Harry and Draco were doing their best not to laugh at Roland and Finnegan shivering, on the verge of tears as they followed the caretaker and his cat out of the room. They stayed put until they saw on the map that they were well away from them before going back to their dorm, only then allowing themselves to laugh properly, lest one of the ghosts or the portraits snitched on them. 

“Mischief managed.” Harry said with a mile-wide grin.

Chapter Text

“She’s clean,” Severus said, picking up a square of baklava from the tray. He had the weekends off to go see Ella and Barty, while Aurora Sinistra deputized as head of house, so currently Lyra and him were having tea under the ivy covered terrace at Princeton Court, discussing Miss Granger while Ella ran around the garden with an exhausted elf trailing behind her.

“I’d just make sure upon arrival though, I’ve had to break up the scan to keep things discreet so I can never be a hundred percent sure I’ve tested for something only for it to be applied after the fact.” He said cautiously.

“It’ll be awkward, sure, but I’m sure she’ll understand. We’re prominent people and there are security concerns to be had. We’ll give her a complete scan when they arrive. If she accepts, that is. Perhaps the child would like to see her parents for the weekend.” Lyra mused absentmindedly.

“I don’t think so. It’s such a hassle for muggleborn children to go home for the little breaks. Ostara and Yule? Sure, but all that trouble with getting to London first and then to wherever they live? Most don’t go through the whole ordeal just for four days away to spend two of those aboard the train to and fro when they don’t have a floo connection in their homes, and we can’t allow them to floo to the station or the Leaky unsupervised.” Severus answered.

“You’re probably right, the prospect of all that trouble just to bicker with Petunia for the weekend would have certainly kept me in school for the shorter ones. How is she settling?” Lyra asked. 

“She reminds me of you a lot actually. She's determined, studious, and hungry. You can see her eyes light up still, whenever class starts, like she wants it, the knowledge, the power. She’s definitely a Slytherin. She would have excelled in any house, I think, but the children have welcomed her and that’s allowed her to explore her Slytherin side further. She’s voracious with Augusta’s course, asking a thousand questions and getting a thousand answers back from both the children and Augusta herself, who’s taken quite a shine to the girl. It’s heartwarming to see. How different it could have been for us.” Severus said a little maudlin at the end.

“Yes, but we’re yesterday’s news. We work to make it better for them now. I already secured her an invitation to Cissy’s Ball and made an appointment with Mr Twilfitt for her robes.” Lyra said.

“Isn’t that cutting it a little close?” Severus asked, “it’s Harry’s first year walking the line with you, won’t it be too overwhelming?” 

“Perhaps, but you know how that old noodle bends over backwards for his VIP’s, he’ll rush the robes with no issue. Besides, they're just walking the line, they’ll go off with the other children after that, and I’ve never met a little girl that doesn’t enjoy a little princess moment.” Lyra smirked, “Harry will escort her down the line and then they’ll just be around their friends like always. It’ll be fine.” 

“Ella! Gentle! Gentle with baba’s roses!” Severus yelled suddenly, startling Lyra.

“I don’t see how Barty can think getting her a crup is a good idea if her concept of petting the flowers is pulling them out of the bud, for Circe’s sake,” Severus huffed, “if my grandmother were here to see how she treats her beloved rose garden I’d be disowned all over again.”

~~~

“Hey Hermione, can I talk to you?” Harry said as they finished up their work for the day in the common room after dinner.

“Sure! What’s up?” She asked.

“The Most Ancient and Most Noble Houses of Peverell and Potter would be delighted to host you for the upcoming turning of the wheel. Would you like to come home with me for Mabon Break? And I’d be honored to escort you to the Malfoy Mabon Ball as well.” Harry said with an innocent smile as he watched her get flustered. She’d become quite the stickler for propriety lately so instead of just friendly asking her to come with him for hols, he asked her the formal way.

“I…” she said, suddenly speechless.

“It’s completely fine if you can’t or don’t want to, don’t feel obligated to accept.” Harry said, “I know your birthday is coming up right before the break so vielleicht you wanted to go home and celebrate belatedly with ta famille” he added, in the usual language salad he unconsciously defaulted to when  a little flustered.

“Oh! It’s not that! I’d love to! Sorry, it’s just… it was so proper and I fumbled on the proper way to accept! We’ve been covering Mabon and the rituals this week on account of it drawing closer but I have to speak to Professor Longbottom at once! I have no idea what to wear or what to do at a Ball! I have to study!” She said frantically. “It’s so late now! Bugger… do you think Professor Prince will give me a sleeping draught if I ask nicely? The anticipation is killing me, I won’t sleep a wink!”

“Don’t worry about that! When my mother wrote about inviting you she said she’d already secured both an invitation with Aunt Cissy and an appointment at Twilfitt’s to get your dress robes. It’s our treat, consider it our birthday present.” Harry said with a warm smile, “I’m a bit nervous too, it’s my first year walking the receiving line as the heir with my parents and the first year I’ll have to be in full regalia. Before we start Hogwarts, children just stay at home with their nanny or if they go they don’t walk the receiving line because we only claim our heirships once we turn eleven, so we tend to go straight to the kids party if the hosts have children, in just dress robes. This year I’ll have to wear my crests on my sash and everything like my parents do.” He said a little nervously.

“You don’t have to worry much about etiquette though. Hosting is much more of a hassle than attending a Ball. We’ll just have to greet Lord and Lady Malfoy, and you know Draco, so it’s no big deal. When you host you need to pay attention to everyone’s name and recall the proper greeting and sometimes some tidbit of information about them to have something to quip or make small talk. After we walk the line we’ll just be escorted to a separate room with the rest of the young children. We don’t go to the actual ball until we’re 15 or 16 in some cases. We can go and ask Gran for pointers if you like but I’m sure my mother can fill you in just fine.” He said reassuringly.

“I’m sure, but I need books. Do you know how long it would take to owl order some? Would they arrive in time? You know, I’d heard only praise about the mythical Hogwarts library but it’s severely lacking and biased in several areas. There’s hardly any supplementary material for Professor Longbottom’s class! Do you have an F&B catalog I could borrow?” She said, not at all reassured, which made Harry chuckle fondly.

“I’m sure Gran will have some you can borrow, or I could owl Mutti for my etiquette manuals from when I was little. Krishna is very fast, you could have them by morning.” Harry said, trying his hardest for the girl to calm down.

“That would be ideal, thank you! Luckily we don’t have much work this week so I can devote myself to that. I won’t embarrass you, I promise.” She said resolutely, “thank you for the invitation.”

“I’m sure you won’t, that was never something that crossed my mind. And as I said, we’re happy to host you and show you a proper Mabon ritual. The ones in school suck balls from what cousin Dora told us last we saw her. Her words, not mine. The Headmaster doesn’t like the olde ways so he doesn’t put much effort in. Just the bare minimum to comply with current legislation on the matter. That’s why you won’t find more than what’s strictly necessary in the library as well.” Harry said.

“I think it’s wild that your religion is a matter of legislation. Not to be all mudbloody about it, but have wizards not heard of freedom of worship? I know it’s slightly different from muggle religion in the sense that there is not so much a question of faith involved, since magic is tangible, and we know rather than believe in it, unlike with God or Allah or any other muggle deity, but really, who cares? It’s crazy that it has to be subject to laws.” Hermione huffed indignantly.

“It’s an iffy subject. Really tied up with the whole muggleborn conundrum. Some rituals require animal sacrifices and blood, your own as well as that of the sacrifice, and it makes some muggleborns uncomfortable. I can understand how they would find it scary or against their own beliefs, especially with those that come from religious backgrounds,” Harry said, “some of us think it’s just a matter that of educating them and welcoming them, and that’s why there’s so much of that now with Gran’s class and the new introductory package for incoming muggleborns, but others feel it’s a security risk. Imagine they get spooked enough they refuse their magic, fleeing back to the muggle world crying werewolf and suddenly we have a second witch-hunt on our hands? That’s why there’s some very vocal advocates for catering to the whims of mudbloods to keep the peace and the secret.”

“I know, Professor Longbottom went on about it in depth once we started covering the Wheel. It seems so natural though, logical. To maintain the balance we worship light and dark equally, I don’t think the headmaster is very smart if he thinks Ostara or Litha should be banned because they’re quote unquote ‘dark rituals’, they’re literally the two major sabbaths of the light!” She ranted. 

“There’s something to be said there on the difference between skill and intelligence, I’ll give you that.” Harry laughed. “He’s definitely a powerful wizard, very skilled, but he’s very narrow minded and biased.” 

“You don’t seem to like him very much,” Hermione said cautiously.

“There’s a lot of history between him and my family. He didn’t take too kindly to my abba defeating He Who Must Not Be Named. There was a prophecy before I was born, speaking of a child born as the seventh month died, destined to vanquish the Dark Lord. According to him, it didn’t happen simply because it wasn’t me who did the vanquishing that night.” Harry said. “I think he’s just jealous, that it was Abba who defeated him and not himself, or me following his plan. He was the leader of the resistance and didn’t take too well to sharing the limelight. And he’s not above playing dirty, so I watch my back around him.”

“I can see that happening. When he knocked on my door to deliver my letter… I thought it was a prank! And I had some intense bouts of accidental magic and many not so accidental once I learnt to control it some, but I still thought he was having us on! I’m not sure how much muggle media you’ve consumed, but he looks like he’s in costume for a Disney movie.” She giggled mischievously. “It gave me the impression that it was all put on, because when we went to Diagon Alley with him to get my stuff, no one looked remotely like him. He pulls the act off well, but I can’t help but feel like there’s something off about him.” She confided.

“I know right? Like the wizard from Fantasia.” Harry snorted. “Mutti and Aunty Mary used to take me to the cinema and all sorts of muggle outings when I was little.” He said wistfully, “I enjoyed the carnivals and Christmas markets the most, and the trip to the chip shop afterwards, one of the few firangi foods I really like, fish and chips, though Aunty Mary says I douse mine in way too much vinegar. I grew up on Indian food, but we’ll have milder fare when you come to stay over, don’t worry,” he teased.

“I know what you mean,” she said knowingly, “my Ìyá Ìyá was Nigerian, my mum’s mum that is. I can handle my spice just fine, thank you. The nights my dad had to cook supper were the worst. English food tastes like nothing, at least in comparison to my mum’s jollof rice or anything cooked in her obe ata really.” She said, and at his puzzled look she added, “it’s this really spicy tomato chili sauce with scotch bonnet chilies that’s used as a base for many Nigerian dishes. So throw your worst at me, I’m sure I can handle it,”

“Good, I’ll write to my mother tonight and ask her for some books for you then and confirm you’re going? I’ll also inform her that there will be no need for special food for you.” Harry said with a cheeky smirk.

“I’d be happy to go, thank you for inviting me.” She said with a warm smile. “Not much use trying to go home for so little time anyway, Mum and Dad aren’t expecting me until the summer as it is, and they’re muggles so they don’t celebrate.” She said dismissively.

“Great! If you want to write to them and let them know that’s ok too. Perhaps they’d be more comfortable if they met my parents?” Harry suggested tentatively. He wasn’t allowed to just up and go to anyone’s house like that, so it struck him as odd how independent she seemed to be.

“I’ll let them know of course, but don’t worry about them meeting your parents, I’d rather they didn’t actually.” She said hesitantly, “they’re still coming to terms with me being a witch, so I’m giving them some space. I’m sure come summer they’ll be fine,” she said, smiling reassuringly, though Harry could see it was as much for her own benefit as for his.

“I’m sure they will,” Harry smiled just as brightly, hoping for the same.

~~~

A few days before the start of Mabon Break, Albus sat in his office, deep in thought as he analyzed the list of students staying in the castle for the Mabon festivities, nursing a half full tumbler of firewhiskey.

Three weeks into term, and none of his plans were yielding fruits. The Potter boy still ignored him completely, as he did the stone. He’d been counting on a little James Potter clone gallivanting through the castle after curfew, extremely curious about all its secrets, but instead what he got was a little Lily Evans, studious and strict. Apparently the forbidden held no appeal to young Mr Potter, so his curiosity would have to be piqued in other ways.

He was of two minds about how to proceed. He was glad he took the bait on the muggleborn girl he’d selected for him, but where he miscalculated was in expecting her to sway him to Gryffindor along with Mr Weasley. Instead, it appeared that the boy managed to sway the girl to the pit. Perhaps she wasn’t as good a choice as he thought, if she had it in her to begin with.

The Weasley boy was a lost cause. Not only was he not anywhere close to befriending the Potter brat, but he was almost facing suspension barely three weeks into the year. Losing points every class and already serving a month’s worth of detentions for misbehaving in class and being out after curfew. He had a feeling the howler Molly sent him the day after Minerva wrote to them wouldn’t be the last one he’d be receiving during his years at school. 

No, to keep pushing the Weasley boy onto Harry would be counterproductive in the end, but the girl was in position, and what pleased him most was that her name was not on the list of students staying, especially after hearing about the Potters hosting her for Mabon.

It would be slow going, trying to work around the brat’s parents, but eventually he would regain control of the situation. He still wanted for both of his fated enemies to take care of eachother for him, but if Tom ever managed to return and killed the boy, it wouldn’t be the end of the world. It would be preferable for the boy to finish Tom off since out of the two, Tom was the bigger threat, but he’d have to see how things ended up playing out.

In the meantime, he’d concentrate on building himself a new network of supporters and prepare for Tom’s return.

~~~

The 19th was a good day for the Slytherin firsties. It would be Hermione’s first birthday away from her family, so Harry and his friends wanted to make sure to make it a good one. She was by far the eldest of their bunch, having just missed the cut to be the youngest in the previous year’s crop had she been born in August.

Uncle Sev made sure to have a calendar posted on the bulletin board with the month’s birthdays highlighted, so they had time to arrange for a little cake for her during breakfast, and Harry got the chance to go see Nippy along with Padma and Vati, so he was elated to find a small selection of Indian dishes close to him during meals. It was nothing fancy, and still rather mild, but better than the vanilla selection he’d had to deal with previously. Yogurt rice with chutney and some of the bacon drippings from the tray of bacon strips everyone ate came quite close to the one he liked at home, even if he missed the spice of a good tadka dripped over it, and he had to admit the little elf made decent samosa, and her murga makkhan wasn’t half bad, just mild enough for any other kid in the vicinity in case they were tempted to try it. Best of all, he had chai, at last! Some good chai with cardamom and clove and cinnamon and every spice he liked. Best part? Everyone else turned their nose up at it so he had the whole teapot to himself every morning.

Hermione had fit right in with the rest of the girls in their year, since they all were as studious and mature as her, even if they indulged in girlier pursuits, and for that very reason she let herself go along with that, seeing that it was ok and possible to be both, and she got a varied selection of presents. Daph and Pansy got her a wide range of wizarding beauty products, a book on cosmetic charms and a promise to go shopping with her later, either on Yule Break or in the summer, and Milly got her a pretty set of day robes to start off that new wizarding wardrobe. Draco, Theo and the rest of the boys got her books on different subjects. Vince and Greg got her candy, both wizarding and muggle, from Honeyduke’s and the specialty grocer in Hogsmeade where muggleborns and half bloods could get some of their own products. 

Harry got her a book on the mind arts, since she’d enquired about any wizarding study aids and tricks. He’d teach her to organize her mindscape for easy access and recollection of data as well as to protect her mind against intrusions, which would pay off.

Draco got her a selection of titles that covered most of the spell work not covered on the school curriculum, things children learnt at home such as domestic charms, self grooming charms and the like.

Theo got her a book on runes, one on arithmancy and its applications in different branches of magic and a huge box of bonbons from Honeyduke’s, a bit excessive but no one said anything, since Hermione was still the only one clueless on the crush Theo had on her.

They all sang happy birthday to her at breakfast and enjoyed the cake, and later had a good laugh in class as she was dismayed when she realized it was considered a treat of all things to be left with no homework on one’s birthday.

~~~

A couple of days later, after breakfast, Harry and his roommates packed their trunks meticulously and shrunk them to put them in their pockets. There was no need to ferry his entire trunk around for holidays as short as these, but Harry wasn’t dumb enough to leave anything behind if Bumblebee decided to go snooping around his empty dorm room while he was away. 

Hermione was waiting for them in the common room, her leg bouncing up and down with nerves at the prospect of her first wizarding festivities and first visit to a wizarding home. She was well aware that it wasn’t just any wizarding home either, she’d read up on the Potters, and knew they lived in an ancient Manor House that had been theirs since the 16th century. It was like something out of Jane Austen! She certainly felt like Lizzy when visiting Rosings Park for the first time, even if she hoped she’d be better received than Lizzy was. She’d memorized the chapters on greetings, table manners and general etiquette for guests that Professor Longbottom recommended, as well as everything there was to know about Mabon and the rituals she was about to partake in. With her help, she’d owl ordered a bouquet of fresh flowers to be delivered to Lord And Lady Potter prior to their arrival, as she’d read that much like in the muggle world, a guest should never arrive empty handed. 

She’d initially thought of getting them a box of bonbons like the one Theo got her for her birthday, but Professor Longbottom advised against it. It wasn’t customary to gift food as a first present, since it was impolite to turn it down or check it over for potions in front of the guest, but the possibility of it being tampered with created an awkward situation so it required a level of trust, which warmed her heart as she thought of the sweets her friends got her for her birthday and how they’d all taken a piece without asking. She’d been happy to share, but now she understood, they were showing her it was safe to eat. She berated herself for her thoughtlessness and switched to the flowers, a much more acceptable gift according to Professor Longbottom. 

She would NOT make a fool of herself, and she would not embarrass her friends. She was a witch, and she would act like it. She was ready. She’d put on her new day robes Milly got her a few days ago and had tamed down her wild locks with a few glugs of the Sleekeazy Pansy and Daph had gotten her. She knew it was a Potter invention and it would give her something to talk about if things got awkward. 

She was surprised when, instead of going up and out to catch the train, they went to Professor Prince’s office.

“We’re going by floo network, it’s much faster that way and we’ll make the most of the short break instead of spending so much of it on the train.” Draco said offhandedly.

“Why do we take the train at all then? This seems much more efficient.” She asked, thinking of all the poor children that had to get to London from Scotland to take a train back to Scotland every year.

“Technically you could, if your home had a floo connection, but we take it mostly because it’s a rite of passage, just for the start and end of term though, for short breaks we travel by floo or sometimes our parents come and apparate us back home. Like I said, if your home is connected to the floo then you can request to use your Head of House’s floo to travel to and fro,” Harry explained. “Besides, the amount of floo connections it would take for every student to arrive at the same time would be too much, so it’s only for hols when not many students are traveling. It’s actually not that much of a hassle. Muggleborn and Muggle-raised students are directed to their nearest wizarding community or shopping district and they can floo into the platform if they don’t want to arrange for muggle transport to London and use the muggle entrance on the 1st.”

They arrived along with the other children leaving that way, which she wasn’t surprised to see was almost every Slytherin. 

It was a slow process as the line moved towards the teacher’s office, but eventually they got into the room and Hermione saw what the floo network actually looked like. They were walking into the fireplace! Why she didn’t think to ask before was beyond her, but she got nervous as her turn approached and it must have shown in her face, because Harry placed a soothing hand on her arm before calmly saying they’d be traveling together and he’d do all the work, so not to worry.

She watched as every student grabbed a pinch of powder from the urn on the mantle and threw it into the fire, which glowed green. Then they stepped in and all shouted their destination, and it churned her stomach yet again with nerves as the other students shouted names like Flintwood Hall or Rosebush Manor and the like. She grew up knowing her parents were better off than most of her classmates in primary, but this was a whole different ball game! Some just sounded like gibberish, as if the kids were the grownups in Charlie Brown speaking, which she thought must have been some sort of security measure.

“It’s almost our turn,” Harry said suddenly, pulling her back to the present, “just hold on to my arm tightly and when I tell you, step forward with your right foot ok? It’s very trippy the first time, you’ll feel like you're spinning, but it helps if you keep your eyes closed when traveling with someone else, just listen to my warning ok?” 

“Ok, eyes closed, right step forward when you say so, got it,” she said, almost to herself more than to Harry, taking a deep breath.

Harry took a pinch of powder and stepped into the fireplace with Hermione holding on for dear life.

“Stinchcombe Abbey, Main Hall,” Harry enunciated clearly, throwing the powder down, and Hermione felt the spinning Harry was talking about, but kept her eyes firmly shut. It felt more like traveling via a washing machine than a fireplace, but as soon as Harry said “now!” She stepped forward with her right foot.

All in all, she was rather proud of herself. She only wobbled a little bit and Harry was there to balance her, so when she opened her eyes she saw they were in the most beautiful room she’d ever seen! Something out of a history book or a BBC special.

The Main Hall at Stinchcombe Abbey was all warm yellow Bath stone, intricately carved and mixed with dark wood paneling, covered to the brim in paintings, mirrors and tapestries. The floor was a mix of warm travertine marble tiles and a deeper maroon one she couldn’t name for the life of her, full of overlapping antique rugs, but the overall feel was more collected than chaotic. 

“Welcome home Master Hadrian sir! Masters be waiting for you and Miss Granger in the east wing veranda for some tea,” the most bizarre looking creature Hermione had ever seen said. It looked like a toddler-sized mix between a meerkat and a chihuahua, with big beady eyes and droopy ears, dressed in a pretty pinafore dress with the Potter crest embroidered on the chest.

“Essie! I’ve missed you!” Harry said then, hugging the creature tight.

“Hermione, this is Essie, she’s been my nanny elf since I was born. Essie, this is my friend Hermione.” Harry said.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Essie.” Hermione said to the endearing creature, who flushed and smiled at her.

“Miss Granger is very kind, just like Master Hadrian.” She said before popping off, which startled Hermione.

“That was a house elf, they’re creatures that bind themselves to wizarding families in a symbiotic bond. Their magic is wild and unstable when free, because it used to be stabilized by the natural magic in forests and such, but with the muggles spreading, such magical forests have gone mostly extinct, so they bind themselves to us and the access to our family magic stabilizes their cores and allows them to live a really long time. In exchange, we get domestic help.” Harry explained when he saw how confused she looked. “Essie has been the Potter nanny elf since she first took care of my great great grandfather Hedwin.”

“Wow… I’m about to stick my foot in it again but you know I can’t help myself… wizards own slaves?” was all Hermione could say. 

“Of course not! They’re not our property! We are bonded, they’re part of the family!,” he said in shock, before taking a deep breath and remembering that she still had much to learn. “It’s much like muggle housekeeping. You hire a maid and pay them money right? We bond with elves and while it’s still transactional, it’s just not monetary.” 

“You can always speak freely around me and I’ll try and explain everything as best I can. But I have to admit that that stung. You have to understand, my parents are very present and involved with me, abnormally so in comparison to some of our friends’ parents. But they are also important and busy people, so Essie has been my constant. I love her just like I love Mutti. I could never think of her like that.” Harry said quietly.

“I know, I’m sorry but it’s a sore subject for me and at first glance it looked like that with all that master-calling. My however many times great grandfather, Tunde Adebayo, was sold as a slave and brought to England in 1829 when Nigeria wasn’t even called that yet. He was an adult by then and one of the last slaves traded before it was abolished in the next few years, so we’re lucky that our heritage wasn’t lost to us like so many others that don’t know where they came from. It was also very rare that he came to England. Most of the slaves were meant for the Caribbean or the American colonies back then. He decided to stay and learn a trade and became a free carpenter after the apprenticeship program was abolished and he was freed fully.”

Harry nodded, not sure about what to say to that, because what does a pampered eleven year old say to something as heavy as that? But he thanked her for sharing and assured her it was fine and forgotten already. He kept leading her through various hallways and rooms out onto the veranda where Harry’s parents were waiting for them.

“Laadla! Welcome home!” Was the first thing Hermione heard as a man who was the spitting image of Harry, apart from the warm brown eyes, came to hug her friend. As his parents greeted him, she studied them both.

James Potter was indeed remarkably similar to Harry at first glance, but there were differences if you looked closely, like the set of his jaw or the sharpness of Harry’s cheekbones in contrast to the more square face of his father. They both sported long hair tied up, a low ponytail in Harry’s case and a high bun in James’. 

Harry’s mum, on the other hand… she was beautiful! She was quite tall, even if she didn’t look like it standing next to her truly towering husband, long-limbed and poised. She looked like everything Hermione wanted to be when she grew up. She’d read all about Lady Potter and her work in the ICW, which she had equated to a sort of wizarding UN, and she had definitely earned a spot on her shrine of female idols along with Gloria Steinem, Maya Angelou, Ruth Bader Ginsburg and The Queen. She was dressed in what looked like vintage muggle clothing, a warm slim fitting oat colored turtleneck jumper that looked soft like cashmere and emphasized her long slender neck, tucked into high waisted pleated brown palazzo pants and low red patent leather pumps with a chunky heel. It complemented her fiery red hair perfectly, as well as her green eyes that looked much like Harry’s, but where Harry’s were bright and jewel-like, hers were deeper, like a forest green. 

“Abba, Mutti, this is my friend Hermione.” Harry said, pulling her out of her musings.

“Well met, Lord and Lady Potter, I’m Hermione Jean Granger, firstborn witch of the House of Granger. Thank you for welcoming me into your home.” She said with open palms, bowing from the waist like Professor Longbottom taught her.

“I see Augusta has been working her magic. Well met Miss Granger, we’ve been looking forward to meeting you. Please call me James,” James said warmly.

“Well met darling, please call me Lyra,” Harry’s mother said kindly. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

“I hope you’ll excuse us, but it’s necessary I’m afraid,” James said a little more seriously, “would you consent to a scan? Please don’t feel like we’re singling you out, it’s standard procedure for when we meet new people.”

“Of course! It’s no trouble, I understand.” She said quickly, she had no desire to be under anyone’s control, and she’d felt terrified at the possibility of being at the mercy of someone like that when she learnt it was possible. 

“Thank you dear, please stand still and I’ll be running my wand over you with some incantations, you won’t feel a thing, I promise.” Lyra said as she flicked her wand out of its holster.

Hermione stood very still as Lady Potter worked on her, faintly seeing in her peripheral vision as different colored lights shone around her.

“You’re clean. Thank our Mother.” Lyra said with clear relief, “with that awkward bit over and done with, please come join us for some tea and tell us all about school! I wish I had been able to sort Slytherin like the hat wanted to when I first went to school, but then again, things have a way of working out in the end,” she said with a loving look at Harry’s father. “And thank you for the lovely flowers by the way. I have them in my sitting room to look at every morning.”

After some tea and conversation, Essie came to take Hermione up to her room.

“Just rest for a while darling, and we’ll send Essie to bring you down for lunch when it’s time. There’s some interesting books in your suite if you want to peruse the shelves. Then we have a little trip planned to Diagon Alley for a fitting with Mr Twilfitt for your ball robes.” Lyra said with a warm smile.

“Was that really necessary?” Harry huffed once Hermione was out of earshot.

“Of course it was chhote, we were worried by your letter. The Weasley boy was too obvious a choice, and when you told us Albus handled her visit we had reason to suspect, but I’m glad we were able to discard it. Be careful though. She’s still vulnerable and this might have been a decoy. Now that we’ve vetted her, he might make a move on the girl. I’m not saying not to trust her, but be vigilant.” James warned him sternly.

“Isn’t there something we can do to protect her?” Harry asked sadly. He really liked Hermione, it was strange for him to connect with people this fast or this deeply, but she seemed to get him much like his closest friends did in the little time they knew each other.

“We’ll get her some protective jewelry later today, but there’s nothing quite like an heir ring to protect against tampering. Albus is a powerful wizard, and he’ll be able to work around such trinkets with relative ease given enough time or access,” James said. 

“So how’s school really, liebling? You’ve been quite coy so far.” Lyra said knowingly.

“It’s been good! Really, just an adjustment.” Harry said honestly. “The food thing’s been sorted, so no more firangi crap.” He said with a playful smirk as his mother tisked disapprovingly at his language and his father chuckled. “It’s been a little boring in class, other than potions with Uncle Sev, we’re still covering everything I already know and we still don’t use magic in class.” He added, “the hardest thing has been how sedentary everything is.”

“What do you mean?” James said.

“Kids don’t play anymore abba!” Harry whined, “or at least Slytherins don’t. Everyone’s got this sort of wannabe grownup mask on and no one plays anymore, and I have all this pent up energy I can’t seem to use up because everyone would look at me weird if I said I wanted to go out and play tag or something, even if they would have gladly accepted a month ago. And the forest is off limits so I can’t even climb the trees or go out and do whatever. I thought it would be so much fun to finally be with all my friends everyday, but apparently we’re all too big to play games now.” He said grumpily, “I’ve had some trouble getting to sleep since I’m never tired enough at the end of the day. And I can’t get on the quidditch team even if I know I’m more than good enough because it would mean being in debt to that man if he bent the rules for me and I refuse to give him an in, so I miss flying.”

“I know exactly what you mean, though the Gryffindors have always been a bit more rambunctious and less circumspect than Slytherins, so we played just fine in my first year and well into my second, but I think I have an idea of how to deal with it. Why don’t you go and fly around the pitch a little before lunch? Get your practice snitch out and get it out of your system right away,” James said encouragingly.

As Harry ran upstairs to change into quidditch gear, Lyra looked at her husband with trepidation.

“I’m afraid to ask…” she said hesitantly, thinking he’d try to force Albus hand on the quidditch issue or something drastic like that.

“Don’t be! I was thinking of stopping by Harriman’s today and getting him a running mat. He’s a little young for a Train-O-Ball or any sort of real exercise routine, but maybe a good run in the mornings or evenings will do him good to get that pent up energy off his system. It did wonders for me when we were cooped up in that dump hut,” James said, laughing at the thought of what she might have imagined he would do. It was a good habit to pick up young anyway, before he entered his teens in earnest and found new and exciting ways to tire himself out at night. The mere thought of “the talk” gave him shivers. They’d covered the basics, and he knew the mechanics, but he was young enough that the knowledge was just academic for him. Having the real talk once he started feeling urges? James quaked in fear, dreading the day his baby boy grew up and got up to even a quarter of what he used to get up to while in school.

“For the millionth time, it wasn’t a hut! It was a four bedroom, two and a half bath cottage with a bloody apple orchard, as well as a kitchen and picking garden! And it even had a swimming pool! You’re so lucky I love your poncy arse… Besides, it was cozy and I liked it, circumstances aside,” she huffed indignantly. Pretentious ponce of a husband she had to go and marry. “That’s actually a good idea. You could go with him while we’re at the tailor’s, I know you both abhor it and both your robes are ready anyway. Leave us girls to our fun,” she said after collecting herself.

~~~

“Now, James and Harry are going to run some errands of their own while us girls have our fun at the tailor’s, and afterwards we’ll all meet for some ice cream at Fostercue’s and the mandatory trip to F&B.” Lyra said to Hermione as she tapped the wall to open the entrance to the Alley.

“I can’t come to the Alley without getting a new book, it’s tradition,” Harry said with a pleased smirk, before they separated and he went with James further into the Alley after the girls stopped at Twilfitt&Tatting’s.

The shop looked terribly upscale, with just a small section of ready made clothing and accessories for all ages and genders and a far larger selection of fabrics by the bolt and a large dais with mirrors. Mr Twilfitt welcomed them profusely, simpering and showering Lyra with compliments which made Hermione almost roll her eyes.

“Mr Twilfitt, this is Miss Hermione Granger, a friend of my son’s whom he will be escorting to the Malfoy Ball the day after tomorrow, so we’re in need of a set of dress robes as we discussed over owl,” Lyra said pleasantly. 

“Of course, Lady Potter, if Miss Granger could step onto the dais I’ll quickly take her measurements and then we can discuss styles.” Mr Twilfitt said more seriously, getting down to business at last.

Hermione rather enjoyed the process, as the flailing tape measure that hung off the man’s neck flew off and measured her all over, a floating quill and parchment registering everything. It was over in a couple of minutes.

“Now, what do we have in mind, does the little miss have any preferences?” The man asked Hermione.

She just looked like a deer caught in headlights for a moment before looking to Lyra for help.

“Peverell House colors would suit her best, don’t you think, Mr Twilfitt? I think that the crush purple silk velvet we had previously considered for mine will look wonderful with her skin tone, don’t you agree? And it will match perfectly with Hadrian’s robes,” Lyra said, and Hermione released a breath she hadn’t noticed she was holding. “As far as style goes, something along the lines of what the other young girls are wearing these days would be nice. I know some of her friends like the Parkinson and Greengrass heiresses have come to you already for their frocks so perhaps some inspiration from whatever they’ve chosen? Nothing too similar of course, just a subtle resemblance, the silhouette, etc.” 

“Oh yes, she definitely suits cooler tones, this will look lovely… yes. Perhaps some taffeta for the dress itself…” the man started mumbling to himself about this and that as he sketched some ideas. After some back and forth, they settled on a silk taffeta narrow underdress with an empire waist, and a velvet pelisse with slightly puffed cap sleeves, buttoned at the bust and open from there down. Since Peverell colors were purple and silver, they settled on a design of embroidered silver thread asters, which Lyra said was the September birth flower, along with other wildflowers on the hem and collar of the pelisse and fading up till they reached the waist of the dress on the exposed front panel of the skirt. The man would also make elbow length gloves in the same color as the dress and a cloak embroidered in the same design as the pelisse which she would remove upon arrival. 

Once the design was finalized they were offered tea and biscuits while Mr Twilfitt directed his orchestra of scissors and floating needles and thread with his wand to make a muslin mock up for Hermione to try on and make adjustments.

“Thank you so much Lady Potter, it’ll really be the most beautiful thing I’ll own once the dress is ready, I’m almost sad to grow out of it,” Hermione said as she looked at the sketch move and twirl on the page, showing off every detail and angle, which the tailor had the kindness to gift to her once he saw how she marveled at it.

“It’s really nothing dear, and if you find calling me Lyra too casual, then I insist you call me Aunt Lyra. Harry’s such a boy’s boy that I’m severely lacking in girls to spoil like this. So thank you for letting me play dress up with you,” she said with a mischievous smirk.

“Why didn’t you try for a girl after Harry?” She asked before she could catch herself, and blushed terribly at her impertinence.

“I’m so sorry! I told Harry the day we met, my mum says my mouth is quicker than my brain. You don’t have to answer that. I’m terribly sorry,” she said.

“It’s fine dear, don’t worry. You’re not the first nor will you be the last to wonder why we stopped with Harry,” she said with a smile, though it was tinged with well disguised sadness. “The truth is… with everything that happened after I had Harry, I’m afraid to try again and have something similar happen. It’s completely irrational of course. Perhaps someday I’ll feel different, or perhaps I might miss a potion one day and get pregnant by accident, who knows? Luckily I had Harry quite young so there’s still time if I change my mind,” she smiled wistfully.

“I’m sorry, that was a mood killer if there ever was one. I hope I do better at the ball,” Hermione said, laughing self-deprecatingly.

“What do you say we peruse the racks for some daywear for you while we wait? That will surely get my spirits back up,” Lyra said, her cheeky smirk back in full force.

“I couldn’t possibly impose any further,” Hermione said, blushing profusely.

“Nonsense! It’s no imposition. Furthermore, let me teach you a Slytherin lesson I learnt from a Slytherin friend while dating Harry’s father. Take it as advice from an honorary Slytherin to a real one,” she said, leaning in conspiratorially. “When a rich person offers you something, it’s generally nothing they’d be hurting to lose. Be wary of gifts with strings attached, of course, but when something is offered freely, you’re good to accept it just as freely,” she said, whispering. “I wasn’t raised around this like James or Harry were, so I had to get used to it too, and I had moments much like this one sitting here with my mother in law, gawking at prices and gushing over fabrics and embellishments. Just enjoy it. My son is quite fond of you, so we’ll be seeing a lot of each other and I tend to mother hen his friends a lot,” she ended with a cheeky wink.

So Hermione just took a deep breath and let herself be pampered. Together they selected a few pieces with resizing charms that wouldn’t need tailoring. Apart from the robes, which apparently went over most things as daywear, wizarding fashion was quite similar to muggle fashion, only it seemed to be a few decades behind, in the sense that it hankered back to a time when there wasn’t much of an in between style between children’s and adults’ clothing, which suited her just fine, since she loved to look at old photo albums from her grandparents' time and at twelve she’d apparently outgrown the childish styles. 

An hour later, they left the store with the shrunken package full to the brim with clothing, including the robes for the ball. By the time the tailor finished them, he was sweating like a pig, casting cooling charms and cleansing charms on himself non stop, clearly having overdone it with how much magic he used to rush the process.

They met Harry and James at the ice cream parlor and Harry told her all about their outing over cherry fudge sundaes. When she asked him why he needed a running mat, after enquiring about how it worked of course, because she thought it was fascinating, like a magical treadmill, Harry told her the honest reason and blushed terribly when Hermione told him it was cute and he was like a wired puppy, which brought a chuckle out of both his parents as well.

“Father calls me pup, now I get it,” Harry grumbled goodnaturedly and handed her a small box.

“What’s this?” She asked, another gift? This was getting to be too much.

“It’s a charmed bracelet, for protection. It protects against potions and compulsions. Even if it’s not a complete guarantee, it’s still better than nothing. Keep it on always and you’ll have an extra layer of protection, but to be sure, never accept a summons to the headmaster’s office without Uncle Sev or Aunt Minnie present, and never, under any circumstances, accept anything to eat or drink from him,” Harry said. “It’ll heat up if your food has been tampered with, but it won’t protect you if you ingest it anyway, and it’ll shield you against most subtle compulsion charms, but it won’t do anything against more powerful spells but for those he’ll need to get you alone, so you should be good.”

“You’ll be just fine dear, don’t worry, we have many friends in the castle, just try and avoid the headmaster if possible and you’ll be ok,” Lyra said reassuringly. “And practice your occlumency. Strong shields are paramount to fight off undue influence. I’ll tell Sevy to teach you discreetly, and Harry will help as well. I’m sure he’s told you how useful it is for studying,” she added with a knowing smirk.

“I think it’s barmy that a man like that is allowed to work around children,” she huffed indignantly. 

“Yes it is, and under normal circumstances he wouldn’t be, but he is still an influential and powerful man, so any accusations one might throw at him won’t stick. Until he can be brought down a peg or seventy five, we just have to watch our backs around him,” Lyra commiserated. 

“Now I believe it’s time for our traditional F&B run before we head back home, wouldn’t you say laadla?” James said cheerfully, dispelling the tension.

“Yes! There’s this new book Theo was telling me about last week on warding that combines Nordic and Egyptian runes, it came out a few weeks ago and I need to see if they have it!” Harry said excitedly, so Hermione and him rushed to the bookstore in animated discussion, James and Lyra following closely behind.

~~~

It had definitely been the best holiday ever in Hermione’s humble opinion, even if it was weird seeing teachers outside their natural environment. Lyra explained they usually spent Mabon with the Malfoys, but because they were hosting her, they’d be having some friends and family over to celebrate the sabbath at home. 

After they returned from the Alley, Professor Prince and his family joined them for dinner along with Professor Lupin, his family and Miss MacDonald, who she was repeatedly asked to call just Mary, but it was hard for Hermione to shed her strict respect for her elders.

Dinner was a lot of fun, and Hermione met Harry’s little siblings, who took an instant liking to her, especially little Larissa who told her time and time again that she was very pretty just like her. Professor Prince wished her a blessed turn of the wheel before leaving to spend the sabbath with the Malfoys, and the Blacks stayed over to spend the sabbath with them.

The next morning, they all woke up early and followed James out to the apple orchard, where he recited the blessings and collected the morning dew off the apples with a flick of his wand, gathering it in a glass decanter. After that, as the chill of the morning slowly gave way to the warm rays of the morning sun, they started merrily picking the apples, filling baskets that were quickly whisked away by the elves. 

Magic was really something else, because once the last of the baskets was taken by a vanishing elf, they made their way back to the breakfast room where a sprawling display was already laid out full of delicious apple confections that would have taken the elves the whole day to get ready. 

Apple strudel, caramelized apple bread pudding, apple mille-feuille with chilled custard, cinnamon apple pancakes and cakes, muffins and turnovers and so much more that Hermione didn’t get to taste by the time she was bursting and about to pop the button on her trousers.

Later, for lunch, they had beer braised pork with apple sauce and spätzle, a Bavarian recipe from Lyra’s family that was one of Harry’s favorite firangi dishes along with greasy fish and chips from the shops, and a delicious vanilla kulfi with caramelized spiced apples for dessert. 

At sundown, they went back out to the gardens where a massive bonfire was prepared, and James sacrificed some chickens, collecting their blood in an alabaster bowl and throwing it to the flames. Instead of dousing them, the fire flared bright red and burned through the night as they all drank the wine previously consecrated and mixed with the morning dew. The children were allowed a sip, and it was enough to induce the euphoria everyone felt as they danced with abandon around the fire. Once exhausted, they returned inside to feast on the prepared chickens along with many of the leftover apple dishes left from the day.

She could tell throughout the day that the festivities were nothing fancy, and had most likely been improvised on the spot since they usually spent the day hosted by the Malfoys, but it was a warm and cozy family day celebrating magic and she could still feel the magic singing on her skin even the next day, and it carried her through it and into the afternoon, keeping the nerves at bay about the upcoming Ball.

Once Lyra called for her to get ready with her and Miss MacDonald, the nerves returned with full force.

She enjoyed the camaraderie eventually, much like in her dorm, of just girls being girls getting ready and gossiping, no matter the age gap. There was a universality to it, and soon she was giggling along with them.

“Why do you cover your mouth so much, dear? You have such a lovely smile,” Mary said to her after she reflexively covered her mouth again as she giggled at a comment Lyra made about someone they knew.

“I don’t like my chipmunk teeth,” she said quietly, blushing bright red.

“Oh sweetheart, they’re no such thing! You have a beautiful smile! But if they truly make you so insecure, why not ask your parents to fix them for you? They’re dentists aren’t they?” Lyra asked.

“I have, every birthday since I got my definitive incisors. At first they said they couldn’t until I got all my definitive pieces around them and they’d see if they were still disproportionately sized, and when I did and they still were, they said they would never compromise perfectly functional pieces for aesthetic purposes so I couldn’t get veneers,” she said, relieved they were familiar with muggle terminology.

“Would you like me to fix them for you? I’m a licensed healer and it’s a simple charm. You can explain to your parents later that I did nothing more than shrink them to a more harmonious size, no intervention needed other than that. You have beautiful teeth and a very well set bite, very straight. They’ve done a very good job educating you and taking care of your oral health. So it won’t be but a second’s work for me, no extra adjustments needed,” Mary said kindly.

Hermione could just nod as her eyes teared up, and blinked when she felt her tears vanish.

“You’ll ruin your makeup darling,” Lyra said with a wink, because even if it was all magical makeup and waterproof was really waterproof, it wasn’t smudge-proof, and she was a second away from wiping the tears away. Just a little liner and mascara, some blush and a pretty gloss, nothing too out there.

A moment later, she was admiring her new smile in the mirror, disbelief almost as patent as the happiness on her face.

“You look just as lovely as before darling, but now you feel it inside as well, don’t you? I’m glad,” Lyra winked, “now, come sit and we’ll do your hair.”

Between Mary and Lyra, and a few glugs of Sleekeazy, they put her hair in a pretty braided high bun, with a few loose curls framing her face.

“Now, Mary and I are going to step into my dressing room to dress while you change here ok? I have a surprise for you,” Lyra said with a cheeky smirk, and they left her to slip into her dress and pelisse.

She was putting on her gloves after spending however many minutes it took her to hook the many velvet covered buttons into their eyelets, when they both came out looking like something out of a period drama.

Lyra was wearing a 1930’s looking slim-fitting satin gown, with gathered short sleeves and a mandarin collar, buttoned all the way down the front to the floor. It was the same deep purple/black color as Hermione’s, but the silver thread embroidery along the hem and train was a pretty ears of wheat design, in keeping with the Peverell crest, as she later explained.

Mary wore a similar style, a little more structured and less slinky, without a train, in a deep burgundy on top and red tartan in the same burgundy shade on the skirt. She had her hair pulled back with a combed headband that got lost in her curls, creating a mesmerizing lion’s mane effect of defined hazel curls. 

“You look beautiful Hermione! I’m definitely asking for a similar style for my Yule robes,” Mary said with a wink while putting her gloves on. 

“And now, for the surprise!” Lyra said, pulling out a box from behind her that she enlarged with her wand until it was the size of a suitcase and placed it on the table next to her.

She opened it and pulled out a few jewelry boxes and called Hermione over.

“I’m going to lend you a few pieces from my own collection. These are Monténèbre pieces that have been in my family for generations. Don’t worry about losing them, they are charmed to stay firmly on unless the one who put them on removes them. It’s always safest to have someone else put them on you so you don’t brush them off by accident,” she said, opening the first box to reveal a beautiful long articulated floral spray brooch in diamonds and sapphires, which she pinned on Hermione’s updo like a little tiara right at the center. 

“These pearls were my mother’s when she was young. They were part of her everyday collection from what her portrait told me when we went through her jewelry, but we don’t want to overwhelm you in bling do we? They’ll look perfect on your neck,” she said, taking out what would be a pearl choker on an adult’s neck, each little pearl 4 or 5 mm in diameter. She clasped the little diamond cluster clasp shut and turned it to the center to rest loosely on the hollow of her throat.

“I noticed you have your ears pierced, so I pulled the matching earrings as well,” she said, showing her a pair of pearls studs with a little diamond set on top which she quickly put on her.

She looked in the mirror and felt much like Eliza Doolittle smiling goofily at her reflection, which complimented her thoroughly.

“We, on the other hand, are forced to look like chandeliers for the evening I’m afraid,” Mary said self-deprecatingly. “For Litha, Ostara, Mabon and Yule, peers and their heirs are required to wear full regalia to the official balls, which means a boat load of jewelry.” 

So Hermione watched in fascination as they helped each other pin their tiaras to their hair, and secured black satin sashes to their shoulders with long diamond barrettes and pinned crest brooches on the sash, taking care to catch their dresses underneath so they stayed put. They explained that the coronets and crest were the official jewelry, and the rest was just ornamental.

Lily put on a dazzling diamond rivière choker over the collar of her dress and stacked a few thick diamond bracelets over her opera gloves. A pair of dangling diamond ears of wheat earrings completed the look.

Mary’s tiara was simpler, a pretty floral design with Scottish thistles and other flowers, much like the brooch Hermione was wearing, because the heirs didn’t have an official headpiece, just the Lord or Lady and their consort did, but most wore something ornamental just for fun. She had just the one crest on her sash, and a few other ornamental brooches so it didn’t look so bare. “Some of the pieces are my mother’s,” she said cheekily, “might be a bit mudbloody of me but I always get a kick of sneaking something muggle into my looks for the balls. I love when snooty pureblood ladies compliment my muggle mother’s pieces,” she laughed.

“Well, we could keep fussing, but it’s not gonna get any better than this I’m afraid,” Lyra said with an amused eye roll, “we should go down, the men usually take a lot less than us to get ready so they’ll be waiting for us most likely,” she added with one last assessing look at the three of them in the mirror, so they each grabbed their cloaks and headed down.

Hermione didn’t know what to expect of the men, so she followed along curiously, waiting to see what they looked like.

She almost gasped when she saw Harry and his father, who reminded her of the pictures in her history books when they studied the Delhi Durbar in school,  with all the maharajas dripping in jewelry.

They were both in matching deep, almost black, purple slim fitting  knee length coats, which Harry later told her were called sherwanis. Harry wore a matching silk turban with some diamond ears of wheat pinned at the front, a sash much like his mother’s pinned with his many crests and a five row pearl collar across his chest, pinned to his shoulders with diamond and silver epaulets.

James was in much the same style, except for the circlet around his smaller turban, which matched his wife’s perfectly, though a tad larger, a wreath made of diamond ears of wheat, nine of them poking up around it. Add to all that his Order of Merlin medal and his Chief Warlock collar? He looked like a very tall, very handsome Christmas tree.

Professor Lupin and his husband, even though Harry had told her earlier that his father was still the heir, were no less bejeweled. They wore matching diamond starburst brooches in addition to their crests in their sashes, and very beautiful collars pinned with epaulets as well that looked like a flock of silver and diamond ravens flying across their chests. Their robes were more western in style, deep black iridescent velvet that shone silver as they moved with silver starbursts embroidered along the hems and fading up their backs. It looked a lot like the cassocks priests wore, only without the white little insert at the collar. 

“You look very pretty Mione, ready to go?” Harry said, dashingly offering her his arm.

“This is so surreal, I feel like Cinderella,” she giggled quietly.

“Ok lot! We should get going since we’re first in line,” James said, offering his arm to his wife and whispering something in her ear that made her blush.

“Houses enter the ball by rank, so we have to arrive early. Everyone arrives at the carriage house floo and we take carriages up to the manor to walk the receiving line. We only have to greet Uncle Lucius and Aunt Cissa, and this year they’ll have Draco with them receiving guests. You know the greeting by now so it will be a piece of cake. It’s Lord Malfoy, Lady Malfoy and Heir Malfoy, in that order, full bow from the waist with your palms open at the sides for the Lord and Lady and half for the heir. You only have to introduce yourself to Draco’s parents, since you’re already friends with Dray. You got this,” Harry explained encouragingly as they queued to take the floo.

Lucky for her, she managed to get the hang of floo travel quickly, at least traveling along with someone else, so she didn’t stumble when she and Harry stepped out at the other end. 

“You go ahead, I’ll wait for Minnie,” Mary said, so the rest of their group joined the others milling about the carriage house, which was impressive in and of itself. 

“You didn’t tell me I’d have to meet more people beforehand!” Hermione whispered when she saw they were approaching a group of very sparking people with their children.

“Don’t worry, we’ll introduce you to the group so you only have to do it once, and the greeting is the same for you when addressing any titled peer, it only differs between peers of different ranks,” Harry whispered, patting her arm reassuringly.

Watching from afar, it was easy to make out who was who, or who was with who, that is, given the matching symbols and house colors. There were a lot of people in black with raven and star inspired jewelry, so she assumed those were Blacks. She spotted Neville and his parents along with Professor Longbottom, all of them in deep shades of maroon, and gold and ruby jewels shaped like foliage. 

It surprised Hermione that Susan and her aunt weren’t bedecked in some sort of skeletal inspired pieces, but then again that would have been way too on the nose, and it seemed like their crest was a flower Hermione didn’t recognize, and it featured on most of their pieces.

She also saw Hannah and Ernie with whom she assumed were their parents, as well as the Patil twins with theirs. They looked very pretty in blood red saris and traditional gold jewelry.

Theo looked so dashing! Slate gray suited him very well, as well as his styled hair, which was normally a mess of curls since he ran his hands through it all day long while reading or writing. He was the first to spot her, and she couldn’t help but match the blinding smile he sent her.

After the grownups did their round of greetings, James introduced Hermione to the group.

“This is Hadrian’s friend, Miss Hermione Granger,” James said with a hand on her shoulder.

“Well met, Hermione Jean Granger, firstborn witch of the House of Granger. It’s a pleasure to meet you all,” Hermione said evenly as she bowed, which was met with a chorus of well mets and approving looks, so she let out the breath she’d been holding and was soon free to meet her friends while the rest of the adults chatted.

“Good evening Granny, you look very pretty,” Harry said as he dragged Hermione to meet his grandmother.

“Good evening starlight, you look just perfect,” Walburga said with a blinding smile for her grandson.

“Sirius, look at my grandson, tell him how perfect he looks,” she said with a discreet elbowing to her son’s side.

“I know Mother, I was there clipping his crests just minutes ago, but he really does, doesn’t he?” Sirius said offhandedly.

“Sass is the lowest form of wit, Sirius Orion,” Walburga said with a sideways glance, “it’s a pleasure to meet you, young girl, I am Walburga Black, Hadrian’s grandmother,” she said, eyes landing upon Hermione.

“Pleasure’s all mine, Madam Black,” Hermione said with a nod, hoping she nailed the etiquette. She’d introduced herself before and bowed, and according to Professor Longbottom, there was no need to keep bowing and scraping after the first exchange. 

“I am always happy to meet any friend of my starlight, and it’s always a delight to see our firstborn witches and wizards embracing our ways. You will write to me, should you need anything,” She said commandingly, leaving no room for doubt.

“I will, thank you,” Hermione said, sensing there was no way to refuse her order, because it did not feel like an offer.

“Granny was my etiquette tutor… if you think Gran is tough? She’s got nothing on my granny, never slouch in front of her, never. She won’t care whether she’s got any authority over you or not,” Harry said with a shudder, and Hermione got the feeling that she’d be on the receiving end of a stinging jinx whether she wanted to or not so she filed that tidbit of information away for later use.

Harry made the rounds and introduced her personally to the rest of his family. Lord Black was very intimidating, but there was warmth in his silver eyes in spite of his broad towering figure, and his daughter Lucretia was very nice to her. Harry explained that after his great grandmother passed, and then his grandfather passed after her, Walburga had deputized as the Lady Consort for a while but then after Aunt Lucretia’s husband died, she moved back in with Arcturus and took care of his household and the duties of Lady Black.

Draco’s grandparents were a little frostier but still polite, and when she remarked on it Harry explained that his great uncle Cygnus was a terrible snob, but very nice to those he deemed worthy of being nice to, which rang true if the difference between how he greeted Harry versus herself was any indication, and that his wife Druella was very nice and warm in private, but they didn’t get along very well so it was best to meet them separately rather than together if in public. 

By far the nicest of the new people she met that night were Harry’s Aunt Andromeda and her daughter. Lord Flint was very intimidating, and unlike Lord Black, he only softened when addressing his wife or daughter. Harry explained his cousin Dora had been blood adopted by him just like he had been by Sirius, and he’d made her his heiress. Hermione remembered Harry referring to Marcus Flint as cousin Marcus and asked if it was his son and he confirmed it.

“You’d think he would have been upset, but when Dora took that burden off his shoulders he was free to pursue quidditch and his passion for rune work freely, so luckily there’s no resentment there, not to mention he hates parties and cousin Dora thrives in a crowd,” Harry said.

Soon they began separating into groups and boarding the open carriages pulled by beautiful white horses to make room for the masses of arriving people that were filling up the carriage house rather quickly. After the Blacks boarded a couple of carriages, since they were a rather large group, it was their turn.

She watched the manor make little appearances through the trees as they trailed the meandering road up to it, catching glimpses of the imposing facade until it came in full view. It was a beautifully sprawling Palladian manor house, classical and symmetrical with manicured gardens and white peacocks milling about leisurely, little brass lanterns burning along the final stretch of gravel road leading up to the front doors.

“There’s a mezzanine that overlooks the entrance hall. After we greet the Malfoys, an elf will lead us up while Abba and Mutti go on to the ballroom. Usually Draco is there to meet the children in a mock receiving line but I think today we will have to wait for him, but it’s nice because we can look down and see everyone arriving,” Harry commented casually as they approached the house.

They got out of the carriage and a small elf dressed in a silver toga with the Malfoy crest embroidered across the chest received their cloaks and vanished them with a snap of their fingers to wherever they had the coats for the evening.

They walked up to the gigantic double doors and up the carpeted steps, and Hermione took one deep breath before a very well spoken elf announced their arrival.

“Lord Peverell, Lady Peverell, Heir Peverell and Miss Granger,” the elf said, beating his little staff on the floor.

Draco and his parents were standing a little ways inside on the side of the carpet, and Hermione understood what Miss MacDonald meant when she said they’d be forced to look like chandeliers.

She’d never seen Draco’s parents before, and studying them now with him beside them, he could see the resemblance was undeniable, though he was much more of an even mix than Harry, who was all Potter and Black and only got his mother’s general eye color.

Lord Malfoy was as tall as Harry’s dad, with long silky blond hair, almost white, which fell like a solid curtain down his back. The three of them were wearing house colors, which Hermione couldn’t tell if it was silver or dove gray, on account of the shimmering quality of the fabrics. All their jewelry featured peacock feather motifs, and both Lord and Lady Malfoy’s circlets consisted of nine interlocking diamond peacock feathers set over a band of diamond filigree work. They shimmered like a mirage when they turned to greet them.

“Well met, Lord Malfoy, Lady Malfoy. Hermione Jean Granger, firstborn witch of the House of Granger, it’s a pleasure to meet you both and thank you so much for having me tonight,” she greeted with a soft smile.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you too child, we’re happy to host any friend of Draco’s,” Lady Malfoy said politely.

“Indeed, I hope you enjoy your evening,” Lord Malfoy said in the same way. Harry had warned her Draco’s parents took a bit longer to warm up to strangers than his parents did, so she’d take politeness any day.

“Heir Malfoy,” she said next to Draco, a hint of a smirk peeking through.

“Miss Granger,” Draco said, a picture of politeness, mask firmly in place. “Please go through and follow Dippy, I’ll be with you shortly,” he said to both Harry and her.

All in all it was a fun night. They were the first of the children to be led up to the mezzanine where they settled with fizzy fruity drinks and finger food to watch the glittering lords and ladies arrive, Harry providing commentary on some of them from what he’d heard his parents say at one point or another and pointing out the differences in attire according to their rank. She watched as the peer arrived first followed by ministry officials, dignitaries and miscellaneous figures of society last as Harry told her who they were. The amount of information that he was expected to hold as far as the fabric of society went left her a little dizzy, and happy she didn’t have to be quite so in the know, it sounded exhausting.

Soon they were joined by the rest of their friends as they arrived. Everyone complimented her outfit, Pansy and Daphne raving about her hair and the pretty jewels Lady Potter lent her and how lucky she was. Apparently, Lady Potter and Lady Malfoy were the arbiters of taste amongst other ladies. She could see the inspiration Mr Twilfitt took from their outfits to make her own. They were both in regency style dresses with empire waists and puffed sleeves, though no pelisse. Pansy wore a diamond and pearl headband over her bob, while Daphne just had some simple diamond rose barrettes clipping her silky blond hair out of her face. They were in animated discussion on the merits of Pansy growing out her hair after she complimented Hermione’s updo so much it made her jealous.

Once the last of the guests arrived, Draco joined them and they had fun like any other day, enjoying cheeky trays of hors d’oeuvres smuggled in by complicit elves and playing card games. At one point, Draco snuck them up to the balcony where one of the elves was manning the enchanted orchestra, and they watched as Lord and Lady Malfoy gave the toast opening the dancing. Harry explained each dance as Hermione watched the glittering figures gliding across the dance floor beneath them. Wizarding waltzes, mazurkas, quadrilles and even some reeling at the end.

By the end, most of the younger children were asleep on couches and chairs while the elder ones tried to sneak some elven wine or giggle water. Hermione met a lot of the heirs a few years older than them, to varying degrees of success. Nobody was outright rude, but some were just dismissive, either because she was younger and therefore uninteresting or because she was a muggleborn. Whatever, she had her friends and that was more than enough.

The next morning, she barely recalled being woken up to go, only that she woke up in her bed late in the morning with a grumbling stomach and a mile wide smile as she remembered the night before.

Chapter Text

Things at school improved drastically for Harry once they returned from their break. He now had food he liked at every meal, courtesy of Nippy, and a way to spend some of his pent up energy at night. It had been the worst feeling really, to be mentally tired after class and homework but jittery with physical energy he just couldn’t spend throughout the day.

Hermione still teased him about being like a puppy with the zoomies, but every night when his dormmates and him retired for the evening, he’d quickly change into one of the sweatshirt and jogger sets his abba got him, lace up his running shoes and just go to town on his running mat. It lived perpetually beside his bed, like any other rug, but with just one touch of his wand on the sigil in the top right corner, it would match his speed so he could run or walk in place as fast as he wanted. He’d tested one in the store that included an illusion charm so it looked like you were running outside but it made him dizzy, so he got the regular one and it worked wonders. So for 20 to 30 minutes each night, he’d just run as fast as he could in bursts until he exhausted himself enough to go for a quick shower before bed and he’d been sleeping like a log ever since.

At first, Draco and the other boys looked at him funny, but it only took a week before they too had gotten their own mats mailed from home, surely having asked their parents for one. Stupid Slytherins, Harry thought, if only they’d gotten over themselves and just went out and played with him if they’d been feeling the same, but soon they were racing and trying to outrun and outlast each other, rolling with laughter until they felt pins on their sides.

Classes were night and day from what they were before break, finally using magic for one, and also going beyond what they’d studied with tutors at home. Potions was still his favorite subject by far, since the familiarity of brewing with his godfather, even if it was now in a room full of other children, made him feel less homesick. He was relieved to see that practical work came easily to him. He’d been worried that while he might excel in the theoretical aspect of school, the practical might be harder to grasp, but it turned out that a good handle on the theory really did make it easier once they moved onto the practical. Aunt Minnie looked proud when he was amongst the first to successfully transfigure his matchstick into a perfect needle, awarding him points and stating he had his abba’s knack for the subject. It irked him a bit, though not enough to fuss about it, but most teachers would inevitably compare him to his parents. Aunt Minnie would gush about how he was a natural just like his abba, or Professor Flitwick would say he had a gift for charm work much like his mother. Even Professor Sinistra said he had the Black gift for astronomy. Why wouldn’t he? He’d spent a good chunk of his summers stargazing with his father at Tŷ D’ur, the Black summer house, which stood by a lake in the middle of nowhere in Wales with basically zero light pollution, and he had been his astronomy tutor after all. He knew his constellations by heart by the time he was nine. His father had been top of the class in astronomy every year he spent at Hogwarts so he wouldn’t let him slack on the subject. 

Defense was the most boring subject by far, or it became such when Professor Quiquiquirrel, as most of the student body called him, made it clear that they’d be having very little practical work for the rest of the year. He felt sorry for his half-blood and muggleborn classmates, because while what that meant for him was that the class would be boring, for them it meant that they might not learn much at all. Most heirs were trained in basic combat before arriving at school. Not outright dueling, but they’d practice until they could cast a strong enough shield, stunner and body bind jinx and most were far ahead from their peers. Not to mention that those of dark affinity started their dark studies before arriving at school, so they understood the core of the subject they were studying to defend against better than most. They could also complement their schooling with private tutors or further instruction from their parents while at home for the summer, since most wizarding homes were exempt from the trace if they filed the correct paperwork for summer tutoring, had ancient wards blocking it or if they, like Harry, had untraceable wands.

Hermione’s occlumency lessons were going well, and as September turned golden amber with falling leaves and quickly fell into October, she had the beginnings of both a solid shield and a carefully organized mindscape on account of the hard work she’d put into the craft. She meditated twice daily. Once when she woke up, to clear her mind for the day and make sure her shields were up, and again at night or organize the day’s events in her library. It would take time, but the more she fed them with work and magic, the stronger they’d get. Professor Prince would test her on occasion, give her a subtle superficial reading to see if she was  able to detect it and shut down, and by mid October she could.

Another bonus was that Roland had finally backed off on trying to befriend him, choosing to silently scowl at Draco and him from afar, and occasionally trying to antagonize them, screeching that his name was RONALD! but they just laughed it off and left him to it. The boy was so ill mannered and badly behaved that they needn’t pull any tricks like the one they pulled during their flying lesson to get him in trouble. He did that just fine on his own so Draco and Harry just had to sit back and watch it unfold.

Even Finnegan, who’d been his loyal sidekick so far, started to distance himself from him, turning to Neville and Dean instead. Neville wasn’t too happy about that, because, as he told Harry, he was just as bad as Weasley, enough as to not need to be associated with him to get in trouble with the professors. He’d hit it off marvelously with Dean though, so Neville was slowly pulling away from their trio as their duo settled further. It had taken some serious dressing downs from Harry to knock some sense of self preservation into his softhearted godbrother. His grades were slipping as he tried to help both boys who were certainly not appreciative of his efforts, and soon he’d be in trouble at home if they didn’t pick back up and further work would be difficult if he didn’t get the base right. They were moving beyond what they learnt at home and he needed to apply himself and leave the other’s education to the professors. They were the ones paid to do it after all, not him. 

So he’d forcefully taken him into his study group. It was no hardship after all, it was basically a group of all their childhood friends, with the addition of some new friends. 

Padma was the first to bring her Ravenclaw friends and Harry quite liked them. Terry Boot was the son of a Welsh businessman he’d heard his abba mention in passing and Tony Goldstein was the heir to the Noble House of Goldstein, one of the newer members of the Wizengamot, with only its second Lord sitting parliament currently. 

Vati also brought her friend Lavender on occasion, so Nev didn’t feel so lonely without any other Gryffindors present. Pleasant girl, a bit nosey and from what Padma told him, a terrible gossip but not in a mean spirited way. Upon talking they discovered they had shared the same piano tutor without realizing it, and quickly bonded over stories about the hag and the fact that both their parents were on the Board of Governors, though Harry would be careful of what he let slip in her presence, both for what he didn’t want circulating and what he might want to make the rounds eventually.

The one he didn’t like at all and was never brought back after his introduction was a muggleborn Hufflepuff named Justin Finch-Fletchley. He was the son of a liberal MP in the House of Commons and a petrol heiress, crass and arrogant. He sung Dumbledore’s praises and spoke nastily of the wizarding culture classes, going on and on about how antiquated everything was. Susie and Hannah tried to brush it off with grimace-looking smiles while Zach and Ernie just rolled their eyes repeatedly and gave Harry looks that made it clear it was absolutely not their idea to have him join. It took one pointed look from Harry to both girls for them to get the message. He was not welcome anymore.

The Headmaster still watched him like a hawk, but by now Harry was more than used to tuning him out so it wasn’t much of a bother, and he hadn’t made any moves on Hermione either, but he was worried about leaving her behind for Samhain. 

The holiday wasn’t a social one like the others, since most families had their own rituals and it was a day of remembrance and contemplation to commune with one’s departed loved ones. The school celebrated the rituals, in spite of it being one of the more controversial holidays when it came down to their reinstatement. The headmaster fought and lost the battle to have the old ritual chambers in the dungeons refurbished after so long, and the use of blood magic for the ritual was a point of contention when discussing the return of the sabbaths. In the end though, Hogwarts offered its students wanting to celebrate the use of a ritual chamber in groups of five, a black bleeding candle and a ritual blade along with a chicken each to sacrifice. 

Each student, fourth year and up was expected to draw their own ritual rune circle, after they had a year of ancient runes under their belt and those that didn’t take the elective had to study the required array independently and have their work supervised by Professor Babbling, who was in charge of drawing them for the younger years. Harry told Hermione that the board was talking about making it a core subject soon instead of just an elective, so maybe they’d be able to take it a year early.

The week before Samhain break, James and Sirius looked in on the Slytherin table before dinner was done as promised, following their board meeting. James scowled inwardly when he noticed Albus’ gaze fixed on his boy, but gave no outward sign of noticing.

“He’s always watching me at meals, but I’ve tuned him out by now, don’t worry.” Harry said quietly to his abba without moving his lips much. “The food  has been safe to eat so far, so I don’t think it’s anything to do with surveying his handiwork.” 

“I’m sorry chhote,” James said sadly. How he wished his boy could have a normal school experience.

“It’s fine, he’ll have to do better than that if he thinks he can break me just by staring. I’ve been stared at like a zoo animal my whole life. It’s nothing new for me.” Harry said dismissively, and then proceeded to quickly catch his abba and father up on school so far.

“That’s good laadla, I’m happy things are going well. I’ll speak with Severus and have him give the Hufflepuff boy detention so he can be checked over and flushed if need be, though he might just be a prick on his own merit.” James said quietly.

“Whatever, I didn’t like him much on account of his personality rather than how pro bumblebee he was.” Harry said with a noncommittal shrug.

“I’ll be seeing you soon, ok?” James said to his son, before turning to Hermione, “and I’m sorry we won’t be able to have you this time Hermione, but as you must have learned by now, Samhain is a more intimate festivity.” 

“It’s fine sir, I understand. I’ve spoken to Professor Babbling and she agreed to supervise me draw my own rune circle, and I’m really looking forward to whoever decides to visit me during the ritual. I’m hoping for my Íya.” She smiled excitedly. 

“Well, I hope she does then! And you’re always welcome to visit for Yule. We’d love to meet your parents if they’re willing.” James said warmly. 

“I’ll ask them closer to it then, thank you sir.” She smiled, though it faltered a little and James filed it away for later inspection.

~~~

Even with everything she’d learnt so far, Hermione was excited for the Halloween feast on the 30th. Even if Halloween was more of a retail holiday than a spiritually significant one for muggles, it sure was fun! And it seemed a nice and proper gesture to still have it for the homesick students without it taking over the wizarding one the next day.

The castle was decorated in typical spooky Halloween fashion, with spider webs and enchanted bats and Jack-o’-lanterns. Hermione spent the day explaining some of the symbology and things to her friends who’d never experienced Halloween before  but had to eventually give up and just call it what it was, a day when the sweets and candy industry maximized sales. They still found it fun though, and the fact that some muggle candy staples such as Mars Bars, Bounty, Maltesers and Jelly Babies were on offer by the bucketful during the feast certainly got them going. 

“Barbaric isn’t it? I’m eating babies.” Theo said, munching on the sugar covered gummies.

“I don’t particularly care for coconut, but this Bounty stuff… not half bad,” Draco said as he gingerly ate a dark chocolate Bounty.

Harry didn’t do Halloween growing up, mostly because they always observed Samhain on the 31st at Ravenhill Hall, the Peverell estate, and the rest of the muggle world didn’t just move it a day so magical children could partake, but he definitely saw the appeal if this much candy was involved. He’d never had a huge sweet tooth growing up, always craving savory snacks and meals over desserts, but he certainly enjoyed the Sour Skittles that made his mouth pucker delightfully, much like Tippy’s pani puri or any other tamarind filled concoction she prepared at home.

They were in the middle of discussing and comparing muggle treats to their wizarding counterparts, when Theo’s argument that Bertie Bott’s Beans should be considered more of a prank item than a candy was loudly interrupted by the doors of the hall opening.

“Troll! There’s a troll in the dungeons! Troll in the dungeons! I thought you might like to know…” Professor Quiquiquirrel said before fainting like a sack of quaffles to the floor.

It didn’t take more than a second for panic to set in and every child present was screaming at the top of their lungs, until the headmaster’s amplified voice rose above the noise.

“Silence!” He shouted, “now, professors, with me. Prefects, lead your houses back to their common rooms in an orderly fashion and remain there until further notice. Dinner will be sent to your common rooms so you can finish eating there.” He said executively, and the prefects stood to start forming lines and guide their classmates back to their common room.

“Prefect Farley!” Harry said, running to the girl. 

“In line with the first years, Potter-Black, you heard the old man.” She said dismissively.

“Yes I did, but I heard Quiquiquirrel first! Care to tell me how going to our common room in the dungeons to avoid the troll in the dungeons is a good idea?” He said, nodding to  the collapsed body of the professor a few feet away from them.

“Shit,” she said under her breath. “Pucey! Go get Professor Prince and Professor Sprout now! Before they leave.” She said to her male counterpart, “good catch Potter-Black, if I could award you points I would, but Professor Prince will hear of this, don’t worry.”

“What is it Miss Farley!” Professor Sprout said impatiently, catching up to them moments before Severus did as well.

“Professors, Mr Potter-Black here just caught on to the fact that both our common rooms are directly in the path of the troll, what should we do? Do we follow the Headmaster’s command?” She asked urgently.

“30 points to Slytherin Mr Potter-Black, your quick thinking might have saved a life tonight.” Professor Sprout said, looking around and thinking how to proceed.

“Indeed, I second that.” Severus said with an unashamed proud look on his face, mask be damned. “Slytherin and Hufflepuff will stay in the Hall, the doors will be sealed and Pomona and I will stand guard outside while the rest of the faculty handle the troll. Tell everyone to remain seated.” Severus said to the Slytherin and Hufflepuff prefects that gathered around them, awaiting instructions.

“Yes sir, what about Professor Quirrel?” Pucey said, pointing at the fainted teacher.

“Leave him for now. If he wakes, tend to him but it’s not a priority at the moment,” Severus said dismissively, and went along with Sprout to wait for the rest of Ravenclaw and Gryffindor houses to exit the hall.

Everyone sat back and waited for the signal that everything was ok, chatting worriedly and munching on sweets anxiously to pass the time.

“Wait till my abba hears about this.” Harry said to Draco. “There are supposed to be wards against creatures like a troll ever setting foot on the grounds of the school, much less the castle itself!” 

“You should tell him about how Bumblebee handled the whole thing as well, he sent half the school right to where the troll was supposed to be! If you ask me, no one should have been moving in the first place and they should have locked us all here while the faculty handled the troll.” Draco answered.

“I’m sure almost every parent will know what happened come tomorrow. We leave for Samhain in the morning, remember? It’ll save Krishna the trip if I tell Abba and Mutti when I get home.” Harry smirked.

“Poor Professor Quirrel though, he’s still out cold,” Hermione said, looking at the teacher still laying on the floor.

“It’s disgraceful, no wonder he only teaches theory. To be the Defense professor and run from a troll like that and faint? Shame. At least from what the older kids say, no DADA teacher here has lasted more than a year, so here’s hoping our next one is better equipped.” Pansy said haughtily. 

“You know? My cousin told me there’s a curse on the post, and that’s why no teacher lasts longer than a year. They say the Dark Lord cursed the post himself.” A third year chimed in with a smug look.

“And no one has done anything in all this time? I don’t know, seems bogus to me. If I were headmaster I’d have brought a curse breaker to look into it as soon as the rumors started, or perhaps it would be as simple as changing the name and classroom. If Defense Against the Dark Arts is cursed, then… I don’t know, Defensive and Offensive Studies a few doors down might not be.” Harry said after some thought.

“Why change classrooms?” Blaise asked curiously.

“I’m just a first year, so take this with a few grains of salt, but a curse on something immaterial as a position sounds tricky to me, you need something to bind it, at least according to what Professor Longlear taught us when we were little, and a repelling ward hidden in the classroom sounds far easier to pull off.” Harry said nonchalantly. “Perhaps it was never cursed and now people are just scared to take on the post and those that do just end up quitting by the end of the year before something bad happens to them, on the off chance it might be true.”

“Who’s Professor Longlear?” Hermione asked.

“He was our Magical Theory tutor when we were little.” Draco told her, “a bunch of us used to have lessons together growing up.”

“Whatever, I wonder what’s going on with the troll.” Greg said as he shoved candy in his pockets for later.

“Even if it is weird that a troll would get past the wards and into the castle, I wonder how one might have even gotten here in the first place. There was no mention of trolls in Hogwarts: A history in the section on the forbidden forest. It’s not like it took a wrong turn on the way to its cave and found itself in a castle.” Hermione snorted incredulously.

“You think someone let it in intentionally? I know those Weasley twins like to pull some pranks and all, but this is a little beyond their skill set.” Theo said.

“I’m sure the board will have plenty to say on the matter. We’ll see what Abba and Father think when I tell them tomorrow.” Harry said with a shrug.

~~~

It was remarkably easy, if a little draining, to shut off the vermin’s body for a while so he didn’t twitch or give them away while fainted.

If he could, he would have laughed at the irony of having his plans foiled yet again by the Potter brat. Almost ten years to the day as a wraith and when he was finally ready to make a move at regaining his body and power, here he was again, the bloody Potter boy.

They were rare, these pockets of lucidity. Only for a few days after Quirinus drank his fill of unicorn blood did he feel strong enough and clear enough to properly think for a change.

The Potter boy was an intriguing puzzle he would have once enjoyed deciphering, but it would take too much energy and he had to preserve it for the moments they planned to go after the stone.

He had been shocked to find his fated vanquisher a fellow Slytherin, and quite deserving at that. He’d observed him in class, and the boy reminded him a lot of himself when he was a student, and wasn’t that a hard thing to admit to himself, even if it was only logical that his fated foe, the one with the power to vanquish him, would resemble him in skill and power. He had it much easier than him after all, which took away some merit in his eyes. So what if he was accomplishing the same if he had the advantage of a title from the start? 

The boy was a mere firstie, but he could feel the power emanating off of him like the billowing smoke wafting off the thurible the priests used to swing around to scatter the incense fumes during mass when he was little in the orphanage. He was skilled, knowledgeable and studious from what he’d seen, and going by the fairly rational conclusions he’d reached regarding his curse, he’d regrettably be a worthy adversary one day unless he managed to nip the problem in the bud as he intended to do ten years ago. He was also popular and on friendly terms with many, regardless of house, and held court daily in the library, albeit unknowingly in the form of his little study group, amassing a herd of followers just like he had. The fact that he seemed to not be too fond of the old coot intrigued him as well.

It was indeed a curse on the classroom, as easy as that, a runic array hidden beneath one of the floor stones of the adjoining office. He had been forced to be quick about it after Dumbledore rejected his application to the position, since he’d have no further access to the school after that and the top priority was to get to the seventh floor to hide his horcrux. Hide the diadem, curse the classroom, be out, that’s it. He was sure the old coot had figured it out after the second or third teacher bailed on him, but he was even more sure about the fact that he did nothing about it because untrained masses were as much of a boon to him as they were for the dark. It was never his intention to dumb down the population, quite to the contrary, but he had to admit that even if he had cursed the post out of spite, he had benefited from the inability the public had to protect themselves against his assaults. Just as much as Albus benefited from it by casting his nets wide and gathering every scared little duckling around him as their protector, only for them to find out later that they were not protected at all, every life expendable in the pursuit of his utopia. The fact that he hired useless dimwits like Quirrel repeatedly only cemented his opinion on the matter. Galatea Merrythought was the last proper DADA teacher this school ever had in his not so humble opinion.

It pained him, his fall from grace. But on the upside these moments lasted little before the fog of insanity claimed him once again, and he was lost to himself and free from pain and regret until the next window of clarity. 

The most curious thing though, and something he hoped he could remember after he descended into madness once again as he listened to the boy brag about telling on Albus to his father, was that even with everything that happened and all the craziness and fog that clouded his mind, he distinctly remembered killing James and Lily Potter.

Chapter Text

In quite a stark contrast to the previous day’s merriment, the castle was eerily quiet on the 31st. Sure, some children started out loud and boisterous like any other day, but soon would come to the realization that their loudness was sticking out like blood in the snow.

Samhain was a day of remembrance, of quiet contemplation. Most of the students observing the sabbath at school would go to the great hall to have a simple breakfast of dry toast and hot water with lemon, while the ones leaving to partake in their family rituals walked calmly and sedately towards their Head of House’s offices to floo home.

“Blessed Samhain, ‘Mione. I’ll see you in a few days ok? Hope you have a good sabbath.” Harry said quietly, before heading out, head down and quiet with the rest of the traveling Slytherins.

She tried her hardest to be calm and subdued like the rest of her schoolmates, but inside she felt giddy with anticipation. She could tell most of the muggleborn staying and observing the sabbath felt the same. The chance to see your departed loved ones again after however much time had passed was just too grand a treat for them to be anything but excited, though they tried their best out of respect.

Some were just treating it like a normal day, running and jumping and playing exploding snap with a disdainful look at the quiet students around them. She saw and heard some of the students not observing the day would taunt those in quiet meditation, or gloat about the regular delicious food they ate during lunch while the rest just had broth with some shredded chicken and water for drinks. 

It was a shock to see, and it lit something inside her, to witness those acting like what she’d been explained was actually considered a mudblood. She was in the minority, since few muggleborn chose to perform the ritual, but at least some had the decency to show respect, even if not partaking. She couldn’t think of wizards going into a church and waving their wands while a muggleborn student would be in mass praying, so why did they feel justified in doing the same to their counterparts? She spent the day gladly snitching on unsuspecting offenders, basking in the pleasure seeing them get points taken or detentions gave her.

“Why on earth do you care, Granger? You’re just as much a mudblood as any of us. You think those friends of yours really care about you? Please! You’re like a pet to them! A novelty! I’m sure they take great pleasure in talking about you behind your back, or excusing their prejudice because they have a token mudblood friend.” Finch-Fletchley said with a nasty sneer when she confronted him about how loud they were being around the rest of the Hufflepuff first years that were trying to stay quiet.

“I am no such thing! I may not be a peer, or come from an ancient bloodline, but I am Hermione Jean Granger! Firstborn witch of the House of Granger and I am a proud witch! You should wash your mouth with soap Fonch-Farding! Scourgify!” She said, pointing her wand at the rude boy’s mouth, which started foaming immediately.

“What in our Blessed Mother’s name is going on here?” Hermione heard Professor Prince say from behind her, so she ended the spell immediately.

“She attacked me sir!” Justin said, still spitting foam.

“That was actually a chance for you to come clean and apologize, Mr Finch-Fletchley. I heard your entire exchange.” Severus said disdainfully. “Detention, with me, be at my office after dinner. We don't tolerate harassment at this school, nor bigotry. You are given every chance to embrace your birthright upon coming here, and if you choose not to, then at least give those that do the respect they deserve. Now run along and don’t let me hear you say such foul things again.” 

As the boy ran away, Hermione turned to meet Severus’ gaze.

“I’m sorry sir,” she said bashfully.

“Five points from Slytherin, Miss Granger.” Severus said impassively. “What was the first rule I mentioned on your first night here?”

“You may settle scores, but don’t get caught.” She recited from memory.

“Quite right. So next time, a little more discretion,” he smirked openly. 

“Won’t you be performing rituals tonight sir? I’m sorry if having him serve detention is an inconvenience,” Hermione said bashfully.

“I don’t observe this particular holiday beyond a few offerings of remembrance. The House of Prince prefers to let its ancestors rest unencumbered,” Severus said softly, “and if you can excuse my candor, you’re right to be proud, Hermione. I expect great things to come from the House of Granger. You will make a fine matriarch of your line,” Severus said, uncharacteristically kindly. “You remind me a lot of a friend I’ve had since childhood, so I know you will do great things. You perhaps know her, her son escorted you to a ball not long ago,” he added with a knowing smirk. 

“Now, run along to the common room. I’ve asked for some tea to be served along with some light snacks, just fruit and crackers. Observing the fast is good practice, but I don’t want any of my snakelets passing out tonight,” he said. “And 10 points for Slytherin are in order, I think, for exemplary performance of charms not covered on the curriculum,” he added with a discreet wink, before taking his leave and leaving Hermione speechless and rooted on the spot in turn.

~~~

Professor Babbling had been happy with her work, only correcting four out of the thirty runes in the array, and said she was looking forward to having her in her class when she reached third year, if not sooner, she’d said with a wink, so it was getting harder for her to maintain her cool with that added to the giddiness she felt at the chance of seeing her Íya hopefully.

With the runes done, she got everything ready to start the ritual, placing a large black pillar candle in front of her next to the alabaster bowl that would collect the blood of the petrified chicken she was holding between her legs as she sat cross-legged inside the circle.

She took one last steadying breath before deciding to start the ritual. She winced a little as she held the chicken over the bowl, took the ritual blade and slashed its neck before she could, ironically, chicken out. She could do this, she wasn’t a vegetarian, and this was just a chicken, right? She’d literally had chicken soup for lunch, and the chicken in her soup hadn’t grown on trees, it had died just like this one would, and they’d been assured that once they were bled out the kitchens would not let them go to waste.

Once the blood stopped flowing and it was all collected in the bowl, she took it and poured it around the circle over the runes, chanting in practiced Latin. It was hard to keep it up when she noticed in awe as the runes soaked it up and glowed bright red, but she managed to finish and then prick her finger to let one drop of her own blood fall over the wick of the candle, lighting it. 

The room went pitch black, and she could no longer see the other children doing the same thing around her. She watched as the candle slowly started turning red, spreading from the pool of melting wax near the wick at a turtle pace. She would have until the candle turned fully red to talk to whoever decided to visit.

“With an open heart I call forth my kin and those who would like to manifest with good intent on this blessed Samhain, and give thanks to Lord Death for the thinning of the veil and the chance to commune with those gone before me.” She said evenly, breathing steadily and clearing her mind.

“Omo mi” She heard the unmistakable rumbling voice of her Ìya Ìya, before her head materialized in a hazy plume of smoke over the candle, her warm smile there as it ever was.

“Ìya Ìya mi! I don’t know how long we have! But I love you and I miss you so much!” Hermione said with teary eyes.

“I love you too Omo mi, and I’m always with you. I am so proud of you darling. Never forget that. We don’t have long, you have important visitors after me. Tell Evie I love her and that her ata still needs an extra chili, husband be damned.” She smirked, just like she remembered.

“I will, I promise. Though…” she started, only to be interrupted.

“I know Omo, but don’t worry, that wretched old oyinbo did something to them. Your next guests can explain further. I love you! I’ll see you next year for a little longer hopefully. Be safe.” She said, before dissolving in the smoke.

Before she could make sense of what her Ìya said, a new visitor manifested in the smoke. An old man she did not recognize.

“Hello darling, we don’t have much time, since you have one last visitor after me and it is of the utmost importance that I tell you some things. I am your great great great grandfather on your mother’s side, Octavius Burke.” The man said quickly.

“Hello, it’s nice to meet you sir.” Hermione said tentatively.

“It’s nice to meet you too, dear. Listen carefully and commit this to memory. I was a squib, cast out of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Burke in shame because my magic was weak and wouldn’t warrant me a place at Hogwarts. Currently our House sits dormant with Lord Malfoy as its steward. There is a new policy in effect since last year called resurgence legitimization. You can be legitimized into the family tree by the current Head of House, and take up the heirship. The heir ring will protect you against that old man. Speak to your head of house and your friends. Do you understand me child?” The man said quickly. 

“Yes, legitimization, speak with Professor Prince and Draco to let Lord Malfoy know.” She said quickly, committing everything to memory even if she would have to process it later.

“Good, we don’t have much time now. Take care and be safe. I have every reason to believe you will be a great witch and an exemplary Lady Burke when your time comes.” He said before vanishing much like her Ìya.

Before she could gather herself after such news, another smoky head appeared. A man she had seen pictures of before.

“Grandfather Martin!” She smiled, “I recognize you from Dad’s pictures!”

“Hello, darling girl. It’s nice to meet you. I’m sorry to rush this, but your candle is almost out.” He said, and Hermione noticed she had little less than a quarter of the way before her candle turned completely red.

“Octavius gave you the important information. It falls to me to tell you that I was also a squib. Before I was left in the care of the French nuns that raised me, under the name Martin Blackwood, my name was Marius Black. As you see, you descend from the Ancient and Most Noble House of Burke as well as the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Black. My cousin Arcturus can legitimize you into the family as well, he is the current Lord Black. You will be a legitimized pureblood as opposed to a halfblood. It will further your standing in wizarding society and improve your prospects of marriage when you are old enough.” He said, which made Hermione blush. “You are too young to be thinking of such things, don’t worry, but I would like to ask a favor of you.” He said.

“Of course! Anything.” She nodded eagerly.

“I want you to tell my cousin Arcturus and my sister, Cassiopeia, that I love them and I forgive our family. I was obliviated so I did not suffer or miss them, and I was happy. I had a happy life, with children, grandchildren and great grandchildren. Your father was my first and only and your grandmother named him after me. I only knew him for a few years before I died, so he doesn’t remember much of me. They don’t observe this particular holiday, my sister and cousin. They’re old and have lost too many to count and they don’t make candles big enough to see everyone you’d like once you reach a certain age. Also, the urge to join us gets louder when one messes with the veil in old age.” He said sadly. “Our time is almost up. Remember everything you learnt tonight. Speak with your head of house, claim the heirship so you can be protected from that bastard and be safe. Your parents were bewitched by him, tell Professor Prince they need a purge. Tell Arcturus and Cassie to smile more, they’ll understand,” Marius said, before vanishing suddenly.

She sat there for a moment, trying to process everything that happened. It was a hell of a lot more than she bargained for, finding out that she, like her friends, had illustrious ancestry. She was of two minds about it though. 

On the one hand, yes, it was exciting and she was glad she would be protected when she claimed the heir ring to her line, but on the other… She quite liked being a muggleborn. She wasn’t lying when she confronted Fink-Fruitfly, because she was actually really proud to be the firstborn witch of her line, the one to start a Grimoire, to nurture and discover the family magics her descendants would inherit. Now? Now she had to go and learn all about this new family that she didn’t even know was connected to her not even an hour ago, so yes, it was safe to say she was mid identity crisis.

She really lost track of time as she pondered everything, because when she pulled herself out of her rambling thoughts, the chamber was deserted, and a quick tempus charm showed it was close to midnight. Thankfully, curfew was lax tonight on account of the rituals, but she had a foreboding feeling in the pit of her stomach, and the thought of walking the short, yet dark and lonely stretch of dungeon back to the common room alone wasn’t helping.

She got up and on her way out, she pressed the cleansing sigil by the door, as the last one to leave was meant to. 

The first few minutes were fine. The dungeons were quiet, aside from the usual noise she’d come to get used to, like the rumbling of the lake outside or the whooshing and groaning of pipes that would be barely noticeable during the day, when children and other general noise drowned it out. It lulled her into a false sense of security as she climbed the last flight of stairs up to the first level dungeon where the Slytherin quarters were.

“It’s a bit late to be out and about isn’t it Miss Granger?” She heard from the top of the stairs, causing her blood to run cold.

“Yes sir, sorry, I just got done with my ritual for the evening and was just heading back to the common room now.” She said to the headmaster, who loomed over her. She quickly pulled up her shields as firmly and tightly as she could, comforted by the cold feel of her bracelet under her sleeve. She still had to get past him though. She hurried up the stairs , hoping he wouldn’t engage her further. Harry had warned her not to let herself be caught on her own with him! 

She pulled all her fear behind her novice shields, calmly assessing the situation in a flash. She was probably about to be compelled, there was no doubt about that, and she hoped that he tried something mild first, something that wouldn’t take and she could get away before he tried anything stronger. If he did, her bracelet wouldn’t work, but hopefully she could resist long enough to get to Professor Prince’s office and he could help. She poured all the will and magic she could muster to strengthen her shields, and forged onwards.

“That’s quite alright, tonight is a special case anyway. Perhaps we can continue this tomorrow then? My office?” He said, and then she felt it, the heat on her wrist, uncomfortable at first and then outright painful, though she did her best not to show it.

“Of course sir, sorry again, I’ll be up after breakfast if that’s ok?” She said meekly, trying to sound subservient so he’d think it took.

“Lovely, I do enjoy lemon sherbets.” He said with a nod, and Hermione quickly ran off, but before she turned the corner, she felt something slimy like tar wrap itself around her core, cloying and suffocating. It must have overpowered her bracelet then. She took a deep breath and fought with everything she had, running to the common room so she could go to Professor Prince's quarters from within, since he wouldn’t be at his office this late.

The urge to give in was so powerful, she could feel herself doubt why she was even running to her Head of House’s office, but she powered through and soon enough she was banging on the door before she gave up. He'd been nice after all… not as bad as Harry painted him to be. Perhaps he was wrong about the Headmaster.

“Miss Granger? What is the matter?” Severus said, opening the door in his dressing gown and slippers, a slightly annoyed look on his face.

“Sir, he… help,” she managed to get out in a grunt. “Headmaster.”

“Come in, quick.” Severus said, pulling her in and closing the door. By now she was sweating profusely, trying to resist the compulsion. Severus pulled out his wand and proceeded to scan her, seething when he found a number of ill placed mild compulsion charms that hadn’t taken and a very strong compulsion fighting its way into her core.

“I’m going to purge you Hermione, it’ll be unpleasant but short, don’t worry.” He said, and started chanting as he waved his wand in fluid motions, up and down her body. He could feel the tendrils of the curse fighting against him, but eventually it lifted. He held it suspended over her, before redirecting it to a crystal on his desk.

Hermione slumped down to the floor, exhausted after the whole ordeal. She woke after what could have been ages or a mere moment when Professor Prince pressed a vial into her hand.

“Drink this, it’s a mild pepper-up potion. Enough to perk you up a little so we can talk but not strong enough to prevent you from sleeping later.” He said calmly.

She drank the potion with his help, her arm barely able to lift the flask to her lips, and instantly felt the warmth and energy travel through her. “Thank you sir! I’m sorry, I should have been more careful, but I lost track of time and he cornered me on the stairs at the last moment.” She said, realizing she had started to cry at some point.

“It’s not your fault child, don’t apologize, it’s ok. You’re ok now.” He said, pulling her into a  soothing hug. “This is entirely his fault. You didn’t do anything wrong or anything to deserve this. This is not your fault.” He said forcefully, though Hermione understood the anger was not directed at her.

“Why? Why would he do this to children? Why is he allowed to remain around children if so many people know about him? He called me to his office tomorrow after breakfast!” She cried into the hug. “I’m scared sir, I don’t want this! I just wanted to be a witch, to be among children like me finally. Why is everything so… I don’t want this.”

“Shh, don’t worry, I’ll go with you. He won’t be able to do anything if I’m there and it’s against the rules of the charter for him to meet students without a guardian or the Head of the student’s house present. And we take that rule seriously with him.” Severus said reassuringly.

“Thank you sir, I’m sorry to disturb you so late, but since I’m here already, I need to talk to you about something that happened during my ritual.” She said after she regained her bearings.

“Of course, would you like some tea?” 

~~~

“So, after my Ìya Ìya came through, she said I’d have some more visitors and she needed to cut her visit short.” Hermione said once she was sitting with her cup of tea, sweeter than she normally took it but she figured she could use the boost after a day of light eating and her earlier experience. “After her, a man I didn’t know came through and he introduced himself as my great great great grandfather. His name was Octavius Burke, a squib that was cast out by his family. He told me to speak to you and Lord Malfoy regarding something called Resurgence Legitimization. I don’t know what that is though.” She smiled sheepishly. “He said our House has been in stewardship for some time now and that I needed to claim the heirship to be protected from the headmaster.” 

Severus listened intently, not letting his surprise show on his face. It fit though, that the girl would be a resurgent, and from a dormant line at that. 

“The Resurgence Legitimization program is a joint venture between the Ministry for Magic and the Sovereign Goblin Nation, who handle most of our contracts, money and most importantly, peerage succession. Many lines are currently under stewardship waiting for an heir, and two years ago, a study was conducted to find the origins of muggleborns. The power levels amongst them vary greatly, which posed a conundrum that defied the prevalent theory that muggleborns receive their magic directly from our blessed mother. After testing the cores of a large sample of muggleborns of varying degrees of power, they found many of the powerful ones had afluents of family magic, which would only be possible if they had magical ancestry, so further testing was done and they were found to be squib descendants or in some cases, bastards and products of affairs by one or more pureblood or halfblood parents. The weaker ones fit into the idea of first generation magic though, true muggleborns if you like.” Severus explained, intentionally leaving some of the less than savory possibilities out, such as those resulting from non consensual relations.

“Why isn’t it more widely known? Why aren’t all children tested when they are told about magic?” Hermione asked then.

“It's still a controversial policy. Many prominent families feared that muggleborn children would come and try to lay claim to either money or titles if they proved relation via squib ancestry, so our motion to make testing mandatory was rejected.” Severus said with a faint sneer. “Squibs used to be disowned and cast out into the muggle world, as close as fifteen years ago, but that practice has since been abandoned, when it was discovered that squibs can still perform a number of functions within our society, such as brewing or office work, as well as academic work in several fields such as runes or arithmancy. We employ many squib brewers at Potter&Prince, it’s a source of pride for us. It’s now penalized to cast them out.”

“Well, that’s not all. According to Mr Burke, I am the Heiress to his line, but after him, my great great grandfather came through. He told me he was a squib too.” She said, and that got a subtle widening of Severus’ eyes in response.

“His name, his muggle name that is, was Martin Blackwood.” Hermione said, “but he told me that once he died, he remembered his life before he was obliviated as a child. His name used to be Marius Black.”

“Well, that changes some things,” Severus said, “to your benefit, I might add.”

“Yes, he mentioned I should contact his cousin Arcturus about the legitimization business, but he asked me to deliver some messages to him and his sister Cassiopeia as well. He mentioned it would be beneficial to be legitimized by two lines as far as societal standing and marital prospects.” She said with a faint blush.

“Indeed. According to the protocol, if you claim one line, regardless of the place in the line of succession if the line is a noble one, you’d be legitimized as a half-blood. If you had squib ancestry from both paternal and maternal side, you’d be legitimized as a pureblood.” Severus said. “How do you feel about it? I’m sure it’ll take some time to sink in.”

“I'm on the fence,” she said honestly. “I’m glad I’ll be protected, but on the other hand, I was so proud and happy to be my own person. I was really proud to be a muggleborn.” She said, starting to cry again. “This has been very overwhelming. I was so happy to learn I was a witch after the childhood I had. Let’s just say I wasn’t a popular child.”

“I understand, and I’d offer some advice, but I don’t think I am the person you should talk to about this. You should talk to Lyra, she went through the same thing to an extent,” Severus said, “I’ll write to her, about this and about the compulsion. We’ll set up something soon so you can go to Gringotts and claim the heirship, don’t worry.”

“Easier said than done I’m afraid, but before I forget, Grandfather Martin said the headmaster did something to my parents too, he said they’d need a purge. Could Lady Potter help them please? They haven’t been very nice about me being a witch. I guess I should have known. It all started after he came to give me my letter.” She said, remembering the bit about her parents.

“Of course. I’ll let her know. Could you give me your address so she can pay them a visit and purge them?” He asked, and after he jotted it down on a piece of parchment, he vanished the tea set back to the kitchenette.

“Now, you should go to sleep. This is a mild sleeping draught, in case you’re still too wired to fall asleep after everything. Keep it for some other time if it’s not the case. I have some letters to write now. I’ll see you after breakfast and we’ll walk up to the old man’s office together, ok?”  He said, handing her another flask of purple potion.

“Thank you sir, good night.” She said, stepping out of the room quickly.

Severus groaned and stretched after she left. Nasty cunt of a man, but he’d get it tomorrow.

“Akkaya,” Severus called, and from the shadowed corner of the room, a black barn owl flew to the perch by his desk. “I need you to deliver some urgent letters tonight. I don’t care if they’re sleeping, I don’t care if they’re fucking, get them the letters and wait for a response. Ok? Leave those on my bedside table for me to read in the morning. I’ll write them now and have them for you in a bit.” He said, petting the bird on the head.

He penned letters to Lucius and Lyra, sealing it with his ring and tying them to Akkaya’s talon.

After a few more things that needed to be done got done, he went back to bed, dreading the early wake up call he’d set up with his elf earlier that night, when he’d naively thought it would be a regular evening.

~~~

“Ah, Severus, thank you for accompanying Miss Granger up, you can go now, we won’t be long.” Albus had the audacity to say.

“You know as well as I do that every student requires a guardian or their Head of House present in meetings with you, Albus.” Severus said with his usual bored expression, “a rule the Board of Governors takes most seriously.”

Hermione just remained quiet in her seat as the headmaster scrambled to come up with something to say that would justify the meeting now that he couldn’t get rid of the unwanted witness. She took care to look bashful and resigned to Professor Prince’s presence, as if she too wanted him gone, and in a moment, she made a split second decision.

“I’m fine Professor, you can go.” She said as nonchalantly as she could, bolting her shields tightly shut. She’d need to remain impassive from now on.

“That is most irregular Miss Granger.” Severus said.

“Yet the rules also state that the student in question may decline the company of their chaperone as well, Severus.” Albus said with thinly veiled triumph in his voice. “You can see to any duty you might have now, Miss Granger will be down shortly.”

“If you’re sure…” he said, looking at Hermione one last time, but she just nodded and smiled as if nothing was amiss.

“You wanted to see me sir? I’m sorry about Professor Prince. He insisted on accompanying me to see you.” Hermione said as evenly as she could.

“That is quite alright Miss Granger. I wanted to talk to you about your friend, Mr Potter…” Albus said with a renewed twinkle in his eye.

Chapter Text

“What on earth were you thinking!” Severus said as soon as got a hold of the silly girl back in the common room and took her straight to his office.

“I’m sorry sir, it was a split second choice, but not entirely thoughtless on my part.” Hermione said. “As far as I know, I won’t be able to claim my heirship until Yule Break at the earliest. Not with the Headmaster’s eyes on me. Then again, he doesn’t know I’m not under his compulsion anymore, so I’ll be safest right under his nose, if he thinks I’m doing his bidding when in reality I’m telling you everything he tells me.” She explained, not managing to keep her smirk under control.

“Foolish girl. You’re an eleven year old child! Why would you want to be a spy under a man as dangerous as him! It’s not your place! There are adults handling him.” Severus huffed in annoyance. “Positively Gryffindor…” he mumbled.

“I resent that! And I’m twelve by the way, not that it makes much difference, I know, but even if the choice was made in the moment, the pros outweigh the cons, since until Yule I’d have been at his mercy if he knew his compulsion hadn’t taken. He’d have tried something more underhanded and nefarious that I surely wouldn’t have been able to fend off like I did last night and you’d have had a mole on your hands.” She said, taking offense to being called a Gryffindor of all things. “I know what I’m doing, and I know why I’m doing it. Harry is my friend. My first real friend. I wasn’t all that popular in primary school, as you can imagine. A know-it-all freak that would make everyone’s lunch rot in their lunchboxes after being teased about the Nigerian food Mum would send me, or make their hair fall off overnight when they teased me about my lion’s mane. Herliony Granger, they’d call me.” She confessed agitatedly. “It’s just until Yule, and after I have my ring I’ll be safe and in the meantime we can get some intel on his plans so we can better protect Harry the rest of the year. I promise I’ll come find you after every meeting, and you have my consent to scan me whenever you see fit to do so and if I seem odd you’ll know something’s wrong,” she promised.

That put Severus somewhat more at ease, so he took a deep breath and let it out in a deep sigh.

“Ok, what did he want to see you about today?” He asked matter-of-factly.

“Harry, of course,” she smirked. “He wants him to look into the forbidden hallway on the third floor, and it seems his efforts to get him interested have been in vain. Apparently, academic curiosity is what he wants to pursue next. I was instructed to get him to come and look at the warding with me, after I mentioned we had gotten a book on it when I stayed with him for Mabon. He was also very interested in me finding a way to connect it to the robbery that happened at Gringotts before school started for some reason,” she said.

“I’ve written to both Harry’s parents and Lucius Malfoy. They are aware of what happened yesterday and Harry and Draco have been instructed to come to my office as soon as everyone is back and I get my office back.” He said disdainfully. He hated being a floo station every break. “They are the only ones allowed to know about you for the time being. They're the only ones whose occlumency proficiency I trust enough for them to be protected from Dumbledore’s intrusions and keep your secret until Yule. The rest of your friends will have to be told along with the rest of society once you make your claim.”

“Ok, that seems reasonable. I still need to process it so I don’t mind not telling people just yet.” She said with a nod.

“As far as what the headmaster wants you to do, we’ll tell Harry and we will see how far we indulge him until Yule so he leaves you alone. I’ll send for you when they get here.” Severus said by way of dismissal.

~~~

“Hello Uncle Sev, Mutti said to find you as soon as we could be alone,” Harry said, walking into the office with Draco and Hermione in tow.

“Yes, events unfolded on Samhain that both of you need to be made aware of,” Severus said, offering them a seat. “Nippy!” He called, and the elf apparated into the office.

“What can Nippy be doing for Master Prince sir?” The elf said with a bow.

“Tea service for four please, thank you Nippy,” Severus said, “it’s good you found Miss Granger on your way, saves me a summons anyway. Please take a seat.” 

“What’s wrong Uncle Sev? Father wouldn’t say,” Draco asked worriedly.

“It’s about me,” Hermione said, taking a deep breath, “I should go in order of events I guess.” She said with a sheepish smile. “I was visited by some ancestors last night during my ritual. My great great great grandfather on my mother’s side and my great great grandfather on my father’s side. They were both squibs.”

“You’re a resurgent! That’s amazing! We have to put you in contact with your families then!” Harry said excitedly.

“I’m glad I don’t have to explain,” she sighed in relief.

“Of course you don’t! Father and Aunt Lyra bankrolled the whole initiative!” Draco said just as excited, “do you know which lines they came from?”

“Yes, according to my maternal ancestor, I’m the heiress to the Burke line. His name was Octavius Burke.” She said.

“That’s amazing! Uncle Lucius is the acting head of the Burke family since Caractacus Burke died in the blood war. He can legitimize you!” Harry said giddily.

“I wrote to Lucius and he’s been made aware of the situation. Arrangements are being made to take Miss Granger to Gringotts during the Yule Break.” Severus informed them.

“I was also visited by my paternal great great grandfather, Martin Blackwood. I told you about him, on the train, remember? He’s the reason I can speak French. He was a squib too, he was obliviated and lived under a changed name. His name used to be Marius Black.” Hermione said.

“We’re cousins!” Harry and Draco said at the same time, a huge grin on both their faces. 

“Uncle Sev, does Father know he has to coordinate with Lord Black? I could write to him if you want.” Draco asked eagerly.

“Yes, he knows, don’t worry.” Severus said with an eye roll.

“The next bit of news is not good though,” Hermione said somberly, “as I was returning to the common room, Dumbledore cornered me and tried to put a compulsion on me. It didn’t take, I fought it as hard as I could until I reached Professor Prince’s office and he purged me.” 

She was further saddened by how small Harry looked at that moment. Sad just didn’t seem to do it justice. Her friend, who usually had a larger than life personality, seemed every bit the eleven year old child he was.

“I’m so sorry Hermione, I never meant to put you in danger like that.” He said, a little tremor in his voice. “If you want to stop being friends… I understand. If it keeps you safe maybe it would be for the best.”

“Don’t be daft! You’re stuck with me.” Hermione huffed indignantly. “Besides, he doesn’t know I shook the compulsion, so now you have a spy working for you,” she smirked devilishly.

“Why would you do that! Hermione! We're children!” Harry said in shock.

“Because if I hadn’t, I’d have been a sitting duck until Yule. My parents are muggles and Grandfather Martin said he’d bewitched them too, so I couldn’t rely on them pulling me out of school to go to the bank!” Hermione explained, “the safest place for me right now is under his nose, until I can claim my ring.”

“Hermione, you understand Uncle James is the chairman of the board of governors, right? And my father is the acting head of the Burke family and on the board as well. Besides, as the Head of Slytherin House, Uncle Sev is your magical guardian while you’re in school and he could have discreetly given you permission to go to the bank any day! He could have even escorted you! This is too dangerous for us!” Draco said in disbelief.

“Well, when you put it like that… but I had to act with the information available to me at the moment! And it’s not so bad, he thinks I’m in his pocket and Professor Prince is aware and will meet with me after every summons from the headmaster to check me over and so I can tell him everything. It’s just until Yule. Let’s just see how much of his plan we can get out of the old man before my cover is blown.” She conceded bashfully.

“Ok, what’s done is done then.” Harry said, resigned. “Now, let’s focus on the happy news! I’m so happy you found out about your heritage! If there’s anything we can do to help, don’t hesitate to ask. We’ll have to start heir lessons! And you should probably speak with my mother. Your situation is rather similar after all, and it’s why she was so intent on pushing the Resurgent Legitimization Act through Abba and Uncle Lucius in the Wizengamot. There are plenty dormant houses sitting in proxy that probably have resurgent or illegitimate heirs out there.” 

“I intend to, during Yule though, I don’t trust the school owls with something so sensitive,” she said.

“Nonsense! You can borrow Krishna, she’s very discreet and fast.” Harry said, waving her off.

“I’ll write to Father to see if he can pull some books from the Burke Vaults for you to start studying in the meantime. As steward, he oversees the Burke Trust until an heir can claim it. And as Harry said, anything you need, just ask. We were friends before, but now we’re family. Family is very important to a Black.” Draco said with an uncharacteristically kind smile.

“It’s a nice sentiment, but if it were actually true, I wouldn’t be here would I?” Hermione snorted, “but I guess I can let it slide. Who am I to hold a grudge if Grandfather Martin forgave them?” Because how important can family be if members that don’t meet a certain standard can just be cast out from the family?

“Yes, it’s an old and despicable practice that is actually illegal now, and a shameful smear on many family trees.” Draco said, unusually subdued.

“Yes, and while I’d love nothing more than to keep on discussing the moral failings of wizarding upper classes, there are more pressing matters at hand,” Severus said, exasperated. “Miss Granger has been instructed to get you interested in the third floor hallway.” 

“Why? I have no interest in the Philosopher’s Stone, I have enough gold, and wizards live long enough,” Harry said nonchalantly. 

“I’m not even going to ask how you know about that,” Severus said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This must not leave this room, but Albus pushed to have it stored here…”

“After the attempted robbery at Gringotts, I know,” Harry said.

“It seems I must speak to James about the importance of privacy wards,” Severus muttered. “Yes, we believe it’s a ploy to flush out the Dark Lord. If he’s interested in getting you involved, we then should think that his intention is for you to face him eventually. The protections he initially proposed were laughable at best, almost as if designed for children to solve.”

“Well, I won’t play into his hand, but I see that some degree of cooperation will be needed to keep Hermione’s cover.” Harry said after some thought.

“Indeed, the first layer of protection is a simple intruder ward that would let the Headmaster know someone has crossed the threshold leading into the hallway. He’s instructed Hermione to take you there to study the warding. After that, there’s a Cerberus guarding a trap door, provided by the groundskeeper. Under the trap door, you fall to the second floor to a bed of Devil’s Snare, provided by Pomona. When you manage to pass through it, you go into a room with flying keys and a broomstick charmed by Filius. That one alone should have been a tell that these tests were designed not just with a first year in mind, but for you specifically. Anyone else could use a simple summoning charm. After one gets the key, the course leads you to a room with a mountain troll provided by Professor Quirrel, and after that to an enchanted life-size chess board provided by Minerva. If you beat the troll and win the chess game, you enter my trial. As soon as you enter, enchanted flames light up blocking the path ahead and back. A potion riddle hides the potions that both allow one to continue or turn back. After that, the stone lies in a room warded by Albus himself,” Severus told them.

“That both explains a lot and makes no sense at the same time,” Harry said. “The fact that there’s a Cerberus and a Troll already inside the castle explains why the creature wards are down, but why would Professor Quirrel be so scared of a troll as to faint in the great hall if he procured the one for his obstacle?”

“That is strange indeed, I thought so too and I’m glad you caught on to that. I want you to be vigilant around Quirinus, he may be the Dark Lord’s agent in this whole mess,” Severus said to Harry.

“He watches me much like the headmaster does when he thinks I’m not aware, but I’ve been on display long enough to know when I’m being watched. He’s shown no preference for me in class though, I get called to answer as much as anyone else and he has never asked to speak to me alone,” Harry said evenly.

“Keep it that way, and be on your toes around him. It’s early in the year still and he may just be sizing you up and evaluating the situation to see what would be best to deal with you, as well as get the stone. There’s no telling whether things will change moving forward. Perhaps just staying out of his way will be enough but we cannot know,” Severus said.

“Now, as far as how much we are willing to play into the old man’s hand to accommodate Miss Granger’s heroics,” Severus teased with no weight behind the taunt, “I say you wait a few weeks before relenting to examine the wards and perhaps venture as deep so as to glimpse the Cerberus. Give him like two weeks before Yule so he can’t push his plans too hard. He wants you to connect the dots about the stone, so he’ll start feeding Hermione information about it, perhaps directing chatter towards Nicolas Flamel or the stone itself. The idea is to minimize the amount of contact he has with Miss Granger as well as not letting his games advance much further.” 

“Ok, I will relent to go see the wards sometime at the end of November, and we’ll see where he wants to take things after that for the remainder of December and we cease cooperation after Yule. I like it, seems harmless enough,” Harry said approvingly.

“Now, Miss Granger, about your parents,” Severus said, “they will be purged before Yule. It would have been done sooner but now that you have a cover to maintain it’ll have to wait. They’ve been fine so far so a little while longer will surely do no harm.”

“I know. I’m sorry, in hindsight it seems like I just over complicated the whole thing,” Hermione said.

“You did, but there is no reason why we can’t turn it around in our favor. Though I do want a promise that this will be the last time you take things into your own hands. There are adults you can rely on, both in the castle and out. You can always come to me, Professor McGonagall or Professor Lupin with any problem regarding the headmaster, and you can contact Harry’s parents or Draco’s by owl anytime. Use Krishna, she’s the most discreet.” Severus said with a knowing look towards Harry.

~~~

“Hey Mi! I just got this from my mother, so I guess you won’t have to write to her after all” Harry said later that day. “Some of it might be obsolete now that you decided to play spy and the timelines changed, I guess. I don’t know if she’s aware of the stunt you pulled or not.”

Hermione opened the envelope, breaking the wax M seal carefully.

Dearest Hermione:

I can imagine what must be going through your head right now after receiving such news the other night, only because I went through something similar when I was seventeen. I say similar because the differences between our experiences will only show you how much better this will be for you.

As you’ve probably read, I was born to the late Baron Schwartzstein and Duchess de Monténèbre, but after a terrorist attack that claimed the life of my father, I was brought to England and put up for adoption by my dying mother, to hide me from the threat that the Knights of the Blinding Light posed, as the terrorist called themselves. I grew up in a much harsher time than you, and you could say I was what you would call a mudblood. Yes, blood prejudice was much more prevalent, as well as the current understanding of the epithet, but I used to think wizarding society was stale, backwards and in desperate need of refreshment. I thought all purebloods were privileged arses that had everything handed to them in silver trays and had no right to keep everyone else under their feet.

When I turned seventeen, I got a letter that explained everything in detail, left to me by my mother for when I reached my majority. It rocked my world and triggered an identity crisis much like what must be happening to you, I imagine. It took a few good dressing downs from my best friend, Neville’s mother Alice, to get me to see the error of my ways and embrace my identity.

I was so proud of being a muggleborn, a skilled and powerful muggleborn that would revolutionize the wizarding word and prove everyone wrong, only to find out that I was only powerful because I was one of them. I was rich, titled and strong on account of my ancient family magics, instead of the self made woman I thought myself to be. Is it ringing any bells so far?

Here’s where the differences between our experiences start, because from what I’ve come to know of you, you aren’t and never will be a mudblood. We share our pride in our then believed origins, but where I was motivated by spite, you’ve thrived on that pride, and showed genuine appreciation for wizarding ways, embracing them as your own, as I should have done in my youth.

Now, I imagine we both felt the same upon discovering our true origins. But you my dear, are so much more prepared to face the challenges ahead. Yes, you would have been the proud firstborn head of your house, the matriarch of the House Of Granger, and you would have planted the seeds that your descendants would have reaped later on, work you would have never seen the fruits of. And this is where we truly diverge darling, because I had to come to terms with how my origins conflicted with my sense of self and my purpose, whereas you have been given the chance to thrive from a higher platform, since this is in perfect alignment with who you are and what you wanted to achieve. You can do exactly as you wished to do before you knew where you came from. You have a legacy that, if not of your own making, is still yours to nurture and grow. Take that drive and determination you had to do all the amazing things you would have done as a firstborn witch and multiply them exponentially now that you are the future head of an Ancient and Most Noble House, with the power and agency to effect real change in the world. I have every faith that you will succeed and do great things darling, and I will be there for you along the way for whatever you might need. You were always one of us, a proud British witch and friend, but now you are truly one of us, a peer, and we will always help you. 

Now, this is the second letter I had to write to you, because of course Sevy sent word of your antics yesterday as soon as you left him. I understand the drive to do it, but in the future, I want you to promise that you won’t put yourself in such dangerous positions again. If you had let things run their course, you’d have had your ring by the weekend and your parents would have been safely purged and hidden from the Headmaster, but now we will have to wait till Yule. I appreciate the sentiment of course, I will never be ungrateful to those that would want to protect my son, but in future, leave that role to those of us who are meant to do so, and we will protect you as well.

My most sincere congratulations to you, Heiress Burke. I look forward to seeing you come Yuletide.

Lyra Seraphine Potter, Madame La Duchesse de Monténèbre.

“Well? What did Mutti say?” Harry asked impatiently as he watched her fold the letter carefully and put it back in the envelope as if it were a prized possession.

“I love your mother,” she just said with a dreamy grin.

~~~

“Are we ready?” Harry asked Draco and Hermione late at night in the common room. They’d waited until the first week of December to finally go and set off the wards on the third floor corridor. They would have stalled further, but the headmaster was getting impatient and they didn’t want him to doubt his compulsion and have him cast anything stronger on Hermione. Severus had to purge her for a second time just the other day, after Albus decided to reinforce his hold on the girl and she missed their meeting after the last summons from the headmaster. 

She’d managed to appease him so far, but had gotten no further intel on his plans, just that it was indeed the stone hidden behind many protections and that Harry would need to reach it at one point. Nothing they didn’t know prior to Hermione being compelled.

“Ready, though why I need to go is still beyond me,” Draco huffed in annoyance.

“Because you’re my best friend you twat, now get under the cloak, unless you’d prefer to stay behind?” Harry teased.

“Shut up, of course I’m coming,” Draco said, slapping his arm and getting under the cloak.

“I mean, really, if you want to stay behind it’s fine,” Harry continued teasingly.

“Sod off, of course I have to come, I don’t have to like it though, so just cast that spells to avoid the cat and let’s get going,” Draco said, turning his nose up haughtily.

Checking the map, they made their way slowly to the third floor, avoiding the patrolling prefects while Filch and his cat were high up on the seventh floor. 

Draco cast a privacy charm around them so any prefect wouldn’t notice them, while Harry and Hermione approached the door.

“Where did you learn to do that!” Hermione whispered harshly.

“Standard heir training. We’re taught to protect our family’s secrets early on. It’s nothing fancy and very basic, we’ll learn better wards as we grow up.” Draco whispered back, and promised to teach her soon.

“Shh! Quiet! It’s a privacy ward not a silencing spell. Let’s just trigger his stupid warning ward and get back down to the dungeons!” Harry whispered, casting the diagnostic spells he’d read in his warding book to reveal the nature of the warding and the runic array. Draco and Hermione moved behind him and almost pushed him past the wards when he stopped brusquely.

“Wait! Change of plans, we’re leaving, now!” Harry said, turning around.

“Why? What happened?” Hermione asked.

“Filch is coming, and Quirrel as well, a floor below us.” Draco said, as he was tasked with monitoring the map.

“Bhenchod,” Harry huffed angrily, “Dray, drop your ward, we’re hiding in that corner until the coast is clear and then we’re going down. I’ll explain later, be ninja quiet.” He said.

“What’s ninja?” Draco whispered back.

“Just shut it!” Harry said, moving to hide on the other side of the hallway, behind a suit of armor by the stairs. With a little luck, Quirrel would pass right by them and they could slip past him back down. 

A moment later, they saw as in the map, the little tag that read Quirrel walked past them towards the door, and when they looked up they only saw a glimmer, like the rippling hot air rising from the pavement made on a hot day. They didn’t stick around to find out what brought the DADA teacher there, and quickly made their way back down to their common room.

“Now can you tell us what happened?” Hermione said at a normal volume finally.

“There was a tracking spell woven into the ward, and I wasn’t going to take the chance that it was long lasting, so that’s as far as I’m playing his game. Sorry ‘Mione.” Harry said. “He’ll just have to believe you that we went, found the ward interesting, discovered the tracking spell and aborted the mission.”

“Good catch Haz,” Draco said, “what do you think Quirrel was up to?” 

“Probably after the stone. You head Uncle Sev, he’s probably the Dark Lord’s agent in the castle,” Harry said as if it was obvious.

“Should we go tell Professor Prince? What if he gets to the stone?” Hermione asked worriedly.

“We’ll tell him tomorrow. I don’t think he’ll go for it in one go, so he was most likely doing the same thing we were, studying the warding or any of the further protections. If I were him I’d either wait until Dumbledore had to go out for a Wizengamot session or I’d create a diversion that would get him out of the castle. Besides, there’s no way that the real stone is down there. It’s most likely a ploy to flush the Dark Lord out as Uncle Sev said and there’s no need to risk the real stone for it. Furthermore, I highly doubt Flamel would volunteer the real stone for such a scheme. So no harm no foul if we just go get some sleep.” Harry said with a shrug.

“You’re a really odd eleven year old, has anyone told you that?” Hermione said incredulously.

“I’m sure there aren’t many others whose parents sat them down at ten and told them they’ve been preparing them for their entire life to face not one but two megalomaniacs so that checks out,” Harry shrugged. “Now, I really am quite sleepy, let’s go to bed.”

Chapter Text

In hindsight, Albus should have known better, and he allowed himself a self indulgent drink to berate himself for his stupidity in underestimating the whelp yet again. 

The girl had told him the boy was interested in warding and runes and read voraciously about the subject as a hobby, so in hindsight, he should have woven the tracking charm on the next door leading to the Cerberus! Stupid.

It would have been perfect to know where the boy was around the castle, but now, even if by some miracle he got him to venture into the hallway again, he’d know to look for it or at least have it purged afterwards. He’d never noticed before he tried tracking him through the wards, but once again, James bested him without him even realizing by keying him out of the tracking ward when he took them on upon his accession to the chairmanship of the Board. He couldn’t actively track any student, just be alerted to any danger. It irked him to no end, the fact that the castle’s magic seemed to want to cooperate with James instead of him, the headmaster!

The little Granger chit was a good enough minion, he supposed, not like the Weasley boy, who was so eager to please he’d bungled the whole thing up just by forcing his hand. Molly had talked him up to Albus as a chess prodigy with a good head on his shoulders, clever and resourceful. After some examination, Albus found him quite lacking, though perhaps some nurturing would do him good. He saw the same chip on the boy’s shoulder as he once had and he knew best out of anyone how to harness it. 

The girl was just what he needed though, since unfortunately only the cunning of a fellow Slytherin would deliver results in the long term. It would be a slow process, she’d said, to get him interested again, but she’d begun hinting at what was hidden there and she’d fed him the books on alchemy and Nicholas Flamel as he’d told her. 

He’d resigned himself to wait until after Yule Break was over, let him get lulled into a false sense of security if he made no further moves, and when he got back he would work on introducing him to the mirror.

The castle was full of old relics, if one knew where to look. And if one knew where to look, one needed only to ask.

He’d wandered the messy piles of discarded junk and things in the Come and Go room countless times ever since he was a student, sorting the trash from the treasures and selling what looked like it had some value for some extra pocket change when he was young, and once he was older and more knowledgeable about the items he dealt in, quite a bit more money.

It’s how he’d found the Mirror of Erised recently. At first, he’d been startled to see Gellert in the reflection, and spent countless hours analyzing the object once he deciphered the inscription written backwards on top.

He could not deny that the sight of himself alongside Gellert, standing over the magical world as mighty kings was his deepest most secret yearning, but those first few hours trying to elucidate whether there was some sort of hidden meaning or magic that would somehow make the reflection a reality had consumed him.

It’s how he found he could insert objects into the mirror, a sort of magical safety deposit box as it were. It would be the perfect place to hide the stone from Tom, as it would at least stall him and he’d need the boy to get the stone out of it. He’d charmed it and tested it so only one who had no interest in profiting from what was hidden in the mirror could retrieve it. It was an ingenious piece of magic, and he’d spent countless hours studying the arithmancy and runework embedded in its frame.

It would have been ideal if the boy were to remain in the castle for the break, but he could think of no plausible reason why he would not go home to his family, so the next best thing was sending his mole along and waiting for a report upon her return. He couldn’t afford to lose patience now. He’d played the long game this far and could continue to do so for as long as it was necessary, even if the urge to just poison the Potters and potion up the whelp was so tempting.

Shaking away his murderous thoughts, he vanished the remaining fire whiskey and prepared himself for the upcoming board meeting in the morning.

~~~

“Aren’t we going by floo this time? Why are we going up?” Hermione asked as she followed her friends up the stairs to the entrance hall instead of towards Professor Prince’s office.

“There was a board meeting this morning, so we’re going home with our parents by apparition instead. Sorry in advance though, it’s not that pleasant the first time, but it gets better afterwards,” Harry said, commiserating.

They came to the top of the stairs to see Lady Potter and Lady Malfoy chatting with Professor Lupin in front of the doors of the Great Hall while the students going in and out of it stared at them with various levels of discretion.

The girls around them just stole glances and chatted in hushed tones about their outfits and the boys were certainly glancing appreciatively.

Lady Malfoy was in a casual ensemble of gray tweed skirt and silver silk blouse with a matching tweed short cape over it, and Lady Potter was in a warm hazel green tweed midi pencil skirt and a thin hazel cashmere figure hugging round neck jumper. Hermione noticed she was wearing the pearls she’d lent her for the ball which on her did look like a choker, and she let her mind wander to whether she’d have pieces of her own to wear now she was inheriting an estate of her own, which led her to think of her parents. 

“Mutti!” Harry said loudly, hurrying up to his mother and pulling Hermione back to the present.

“Hallo mein liebling!” She said brightly, bending down slightly to hug him back, as far as the slit on her skirt allowed her to, Hermione noticed.

Lyra noticed her knowing smirk and just whispered, “il faut souffrir pour être belle,” with a cheeky wink.

“Lady Potter, Lady Malfoy, it’s good to see you,” she said with a smile and the customary bow.

“There’s no need to stand on ceremonies darling, I’ve told you to call me Aunt Lyra,” she chided her lightly.

“It’s good to see you too child,” Narcissa said with a warm smile and bent down to whisper closer to Hermione. “Once it’s official, you may call me Aunt Cissa as well, I hear we are family after all,” 

“We’re just waiting for your fathers to come down from the meeting. It should be done by now.” Professor Lupin said to the children.

“I do hope they hurry things along, we have a busy day today.” Lyra said absentmindedly. “The Malfoys are joining us for lunch along with Sirius and Lord Black, and after lunch we have an appointment for your robes for the Black Ball. Though we might have to stop by the bank first for some errands.” She told Hermione with a knowing smile.

As if summoned, they heard James’ booming voice greet Harry before they turned to see the group of governors come down the stairs with the headmaster.

“Abba!” Harry said, jumping into his arms, James wishing him a merry Yuletide and passing him over to Sirius as if he were a light parcel.

“Merry Yuletide pup! Ready for tomorrow?” Sirius said cheekily, and Harry just groaned.

“Lily, how lovely to see you.” The headmaster said neutrally.

“Albert, still standing I see.” Lyra said coldly.

“Pyari…” James said with thinly veiled amusement.

“I’m sorry, that was petty, and I guess I don’t have old age to excuse my slip. You could always go with Lady Potter, that hasn’t changed. I hope you are as well as you deserve Albus?” She said with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Delightfully so, yes,” Albus answered grudgingly.

“Lovely,” Lyra said dismissively, “we should be on our way though, busy day ahead.”

“What’s tomorrow?” Hermione asked Harry as they walked out of the castle towards the gates.

“I have to go to Paris for my ball robes. I’m standing with Father this year for the Black Yule Ball.” Harry groaned. “I hate the tailor’s, but there’s always pastries afterwards and father lets me sneak in some cafe au lait,” he whispered quietly. 

“But this year there won't be any sneaking of any coffee, isn’t that so Sirius?” Lyra said with a sickly sweet smile that betrayed her firmness, and Harry once again cursed his mother’s enhanced senses, while at the same time wishing to be old enough to perform his first blood ritual.

“Of course not! I remember our talk from last year. Just tea this time pup.” Sirius said, winking discreetly.

“Father, can Hermione come with? Please?” Harry said all of a sudden.

“We can ask her parents later if they don’t mind, if you’d like to join us, Hermione?” Sirius asked her.

“Am I not enough?” Draco teased lightly.

“You enjoy it too much, you’re no company…” Harry grumbled.

“Well, I am in need of a wizarding wardrobe in line with my new station, so I’m afraid I’d team up with Draco if I joined,” Hermione smirked.

“Mother, are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Draco smirked up to his mother.

“Ly?” Narcissa smirked sideways.

“Why don’t we all go? I’m sure Mr and Mrs Granger would like to see wizarding Paris with us. We’ll make a day out of it.” Lyra said with a smirk of her own. 

“But my coffee…” Harry whined quietly.

~~~ 

“Mum? Dad?” Hermione said as they stepped into the main hall at the Potter’s, still slightly queasy from apparating. She’d rather be spun by the fireplace a hundred times than be pulled through a straw ever again, even if Harry said it got better.

“Surprise!” Martin and Evelyn Granger said in unison.

“We’re so sorry omo, we never meant to hurt your feelings. We're so proud of you darling, ever so proud.” Evelyn said as Hermione hugged them both.

“So proud ma douce, ma petite sorcière.” Martin said affectionately. 

“Martin, Evelyn, I’d like you to meet our son Hadrian. Hadrian, these are Martin and Evelyn Granger, they’ve been our guests for some time now.” Lyra said cheekily.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you Mr and Mrs Granger. I’m Hadrian Potter-Black. Hermione is one of my dearest friends,” Harry said with a polite nod and a smile. “I’m ever so sorry it got you all mixed up with so much intrigue though,” he added bashfully.

“It’s very nice to meet you too young man, and don’t worry about it, the worst of it happened before she even met you, so you’re in no way at fault here. We were concerned at first, of course, but your parents have been very kind in helping us navigate everything and we have every confidence in our daughter’s safety with them on watch,” Martin said.

“Why don’t we go through to the winter garden for some tea and we can keep chatting. Everyone else won’t be by for lunch for some time still,” Lyra said, guiding them through the house to the glass conservatory filled with plants and wicker furniture.

“Now, let’s catch you up shall we poupée?” Martin said once he had his cup of tea.

“Please!” Hermione said pleadingly. She had so many questions she was burning to ask. 

“Well, we met James and Lyra about two or three weeks ago. They came by the house and we had some tea, which we now know they laced with a… purging potion? Is that correct?” Martin said to Lyra, and when she nodded, he continued.

“After they purged us of everything that man that came by with your letter did to us, they explained everything. It was quite the pill to swallow, but looking back, it made sense to us.” Martin explained.

“The Burke men have always been odd, all the way back to my great great grandfather. None of them displayed magic, not to a degree that would have gotten them a Hogwarts letter, but from what James and Lyra have told us, to be a squib is sort of a spectrum. It’s been fascinating to study really…” Evelyn said, and Harry could see where Hermione got her academic leanings.

“It was the same in my family. Nothing like what you displayed as a baby chérie. But since Grandpapa Martin, we all have had some quirk to us that made us special. Grandpapa was a superb physician, almost as if he had a healing touch, and my grandfather could make a pencil sprout with how good he was at gardening, and the roses at Blackwood House always bloomed out of season, as if he willed it so. My mother had the most amazing luck, almost as if she had some degree of prescience. And everyone has always commented on my memory, but I’ve never counted eidetic memory as something magical.” Martin said.

“It must have been the mix of two dormant magical bloodlines that finally gave us the boost our lines needed and produced a witch of enough power to manifest as it did with you, omo.” Evelyn said. “We’ll accompany you to the bank today for your legitimization. We’ll be legitimized as well, as squibs. So we can join you in the wizarding world.”

“Really? Are you sure though?” Hermione asked worriedly. Even with all that they’d advanced as a society, squibs were still bottom of the barrel.

“Of course! Why wouldn’t we want to be with you? And there’s so much for us to do as well! It’s been fascinating to study so far,” Evelyn said again.

“We’re confident that the legitimization ritual will boost whatever power your parents may have once they are recognized as part of the family tree. You might even feel a boost in power as well from what we’ve recorded in our studies, Hermione. Squibs used to be disowned and cut off from the family magics, so it’s just their innate magics that have merged and blossomed in you,” Lyra said. 

“How can that be? I thought squibs were children born without magic,” Hermione said in confusion.

“Squib is an umbrella term. It refers to many conditions,” Lyra explained in an academic tone. “A child may be born with varying levels of magical power that range from inexpressive to expressive, or with impaired access to that power regardless of level. You could classify the latter as a magical disease or malformation if you will, for which we are researching a cure.”

“Squibs used to be disowned and cast out to the muggle world, and the disownment was paramount. It’s a larger topic, but to summarize, our magical cores are made up of our innate magic, directly gifted to us by our Blessed Mother, and our family magics, which we inherit from our bloodlines to varying degrees. Squibs have very weak innate magic, in some cases almost imperceptible, but their expressiveness varies depending on how much family magic is feeding it. In most cases, a child may show signs of magic but not strongly enough to qualify for a place at Hogwarts. As a security measure, disowning them and cutting them off from the family magics ensured they’d be rendered inexpressive and thus pose no risk to the secret,” Lyra explained.

“We get our first influx of family magics at seven, so most parents expect accidental magic before that because it’s a sign our innate magic is strong enough, without the aid of our bloodlines,” Harry contributed.

“Yes, thank you darling, but let’s not get derailed and lose focus on the topic at hand,” Lyra said, taking command of the conversation again. “The working theory so far is that an inexpressive magical person will have a 50/50 chance of either producing an expressive magical child or an inexpressive one with a muggle partner, meaning they either pass on their condition to their children or have a baby we until recently would have lumped up with true muggleborns. When two inexpressive magical people conceive though, the chances of an expressive magical child increase exponentially. It’s the rarest of all possibilities though. Given the disproportionate size difference between muggle and wix population, the chances of two squib bloodlines meeting is very small and I could count with one hand the number of resurgents that have been legitimized on both sides. That being said, now that squibs aren’t being cast out, we’ve seen a significant uptick in expressive babies among squib couples that have remained in our world.”

“Is there a way to know? Which one my ancestors were? Or my parents now for that matter?” Hermione asked with so much hope that it broke Lyra’s heart a little to crush it.

“Yes, it can be tested, but from our studies so far we’ve come to the conclusion that most squibs that make it to adulthood and old age are either inexpressive or very slightly expressive due to low levels of power. Magical blockages on the other hand, often produce obscurials, a parasitic entity made up of pent up magic, very destructive and uncontrollable, and they very rarely make it to adulthood,” Lyra explained kindly, there would be no cure for her parents. 

“Now, as to why you’re the first witch in your family? It’s just how the game of probability works, that it took this long to get to a resurgent witch. Each one of your ancestors had about a 50% chance of having been magical and they all missed it,” Lyra said with a shrug. “It is a good sign that the magical blood in both your families had subtle ways of expressing itself however, from what your parents have told us so far, so we can hope with a good degree of certainty that by legitimizing your parents into the family and giving them free access to partake in the family magics will let their magic express to a greater degree. They will never be fully functioning wix, with the power levels that would allow them to receive a full magical education, but they might be powerful enough to wield a wand and cast low level spells that would let them brew or work in runes. If not, their magical levels and credited ancestry will still be enough to be around magic safely and work in academia or magical theory and arithmancy. They’ll have a place in our world no matter the outcome.” She assured her.

“Is magic dangerous to muggles? I mean for the true muggleborn children who have muggle parents.” Hermione asked worriedly.

“Oh no! I don’t mean it in terms of physical safety, they can be around magic just fine without any risk. I meant it in the legal sense. As per the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy of 1689, and its amendments of 1876 and 1912 specifically, the parents of muggleborn witches and wizards enjoy limited access to the wizarding world, such as permission to accompany them shopping once a year in their designated wizarding commercial district, handling of wizarding currency or access to Wizarding transportation at select times during the school year for pickup and drop off. As recognized squibs, they’d be granted full access under the law.” Lyra said.

“Oh good, for a second there it sounded like magic was something akin to radiation for muggles,” Hermione said, releasing a breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding.

“Ah, that would be our guests, let’s go through to the dining room for some lunch and then we can head out to the bank and get everything sorted, shall we?” James said as the wards chimed melodically.

~~~

“It’s undeniable. I’ve never forgotten my cousin’s face, and I can see how he would have grown into someone quite similar to you, young man. I am very happy to meet you, and glad to be welcoming you back into the family. It’s a shameful stain in our family history that I am proud to remedy,” Arcturus said, voice heavy with emotion.

“Yes, you look just like my brother at this age,” Cassiopeia said, just as emotionally. “I looked for him when I came of age, you know? Found a large file about him in Father’s study after he passed. He always looked out for him, provided for him from the shadows. He was never the same after Marius left, neither was my mother. It was their greatest pain, but alas, it was what was done back then. Shameful, there aren’t any other words for it. I met him once and he had no idea who I was. I thought of breaking the memory charms, but he was happy, and I couldn’t bring myself to cause him that pain.” 

“Thank you,” Martin said honestly. “I was very little when he passed, but I have many pictures of him left to me by my mother. If you want any copies, I’ll be happy to share them with you. I’m sure there’s a quick and easy magical way to sort it out.” He added with a little laugh.

“Lord Black, Madam Black, could I have a quick word with you before we go through?” Hermione asked quietly.

“Of course, child, anything.” They both said and stepped a little ways away from the group with Hermione.

“When grandfather Martin visited me, or Marius I should say I guess, he wanted me to give you a message. He said you don’t observe the holiday so he hasn’t had the chance to tell you himself. He said to tell you that he loves you both and that he forgives the family. He was obliviated so he didn’t suffer or miss you. He had a happy life, so he wanted for you not to feel guilty. He also said to tell you that you should smile more, he said you’d know what he meant.” Hermione said quietly.

“Oh cousin!” Cassiopeia sobbed and hugged her cousin suddenly.

“I know Cass, he’s right you know? We really should,” he said as he patted her back.

“When we were little, both our parents used to put great amounts of pressure on us. Arcturus was the heir and thus had to live up to the name of Black, and my aunt and uncle never let him forget it, while I was supposed to make a good match with some heir to another family, but later I was found to be infertile and that took me off the marriage market in one fell swoop. I was also the one that expressed her magic out of the two of us. Marius was my fraternal twin, and my mother had a very difficult pregnancy with us. I always felt like I took Marius’ magic in some way, and my guilt only increased whenever I had a bout of accidental magic and my parents celebrated it only to cast increasingly worried and later disappointed looks at poor Marius. He always said we should be happier, that we should smile more, that we were the lucky ones,” she explained once she calmed down a bit. “I've never cried as much as when his letters stopped coming soon after I started my first year at Hogwarts, I still have the last letter he ever sent me. It’s my most prized possession.”

~~~

“So, Martin, Evelyn, have you made any plans for leaving the muggle world?” Remus asked during lunch. Being in the castle during the day meant he was the last to meet the Grangers.

“Things are underway, yes, even if it’s a tedious process. Lucius and James have been a great help though,” Martin said. “We’ve closed down our private practice and put a few properties up for sale. Thankfully, my great grandfather’s house in the country is suitable to be refurbished as a magical residence, so we will be moving to Dorset once that’s taken care of.”

“Oh, that’s nice, have you given any thought as to what might interest you in terms of work?” He asked tactfully.

“Not yet, no. We are waiting to see what possibilities will be available for us after we are legitimized, and even if it’s terribly vulgar to discuss at the table, we aren’t hurting for money, so we aren’t worried. Our work was mainly academic in nature, working on some clinical trials and studies and a few patients in the mornings, all mainly for the love of it. Our ancestors did well for themselves and we lived well within our means off of that plus what we earned working. I’m sure it’s nothing compared to magical fortunes amassed through centuries, but we’re comfortable,” Martin said.

“It was common practice back then to make sure the children still received the contents of their trust vaults by surreptitious means. At least from what I’ve been able to gather from the Burke financial records, Octavius Burke received his trust as an inheritance from a distant relative once he turned eighteen.” Lucius told Remus.

“From what I know of my family, Octavius became a respected barrister and my great great grandmother was a coal heiress, and Martin’s great grandmother was the granddaughter of a successful banker, so they both married well in addition to whatever their families managed to provide from behind the curtain.” Evelyn said. “I come from a long line of only children on both sides, and Martin had more family but is the only one left. It’s been lucky in terms of the amount of connections we will be having to sever, as well as for having the estates passed down in full, though inheritance taxes hit us hard every time there’s a changing of the guard ever since they shot through the roof after the war.”

“We almost lost Blackwood House when Grandpapa Martin died so suddenly, without having made any preparations to hand over his estate more seamlessly, and the death duties due were massive, but my mother’s luck saved it from having to sell it or open it to the public after some investments she’d made years before paid out just in time. We managed to save it by parceling off the estate and keeping the house. It’s a grade II listed building after all,” Martin supplied.

“That’s one thing you’ll be glad to kiss goodbye then,” Lucius said with a laugh. “Wizarding taxes are fairly simple and not the core of what keeps our public sector running. Back when the Ministry was first established, the Council of Mages endowed it generously and it now runs off a mixture between that endowment’s income and a simple tax structure of sales taxes, commercial licenses and other permit fees and trade tariffs for imports and exports. We don’t have inheritance or income taxes. The Wizarding population is small enough that there’s no need for a complicated tax structure or a massive budget to fund things like healthcare or security, and philanthropy takes care of whatever is left uncovered as is our duty as peers. Our latest census puts us at about 20 thousand wix living in the British isles, so we function at the scale of a small muggle city rather than a country in terms of public budget, with centuries of accumulated wealth endowed to provide for its citizens more than comfortably in times of peace.” 

“Well, that’s something to look forward to then,” Martin said happily. “We’d love to host you once we’re settled. From what I’ve seen so far, if Stinchcombe is anything to go by, you’d think it rather quaint,” he said with a self-deprecating laugh, “but we’re very happy that we won’t be losing it. It was his house, and in my great grandmother’s family before that for a few generations. It’s very dear to my heart.”

“I, on the other hand, couldn’t be happier to be rid of my grandfather’s house. Nasty man, never liked my mother because she was Nigerian and descended from slaves. We're more than happy to be leaving the worst of the muggle world behind. From what we’ve learnt so far, the wizarding world is quite accepting isn’t it? Even if it probably has its own prejudices, it seems to be so, at least by muggle standards.” Evelyn said.

“Oh yes, you’d be hard pressed to find anyone being discriminated against for their race or sexual orientation here, unless it comes from muggleborns that carry it over and it’s shot down 99% of the time in those cases. Prejudice here, though less and less, thank our blessed mother, comes in the form of blood prejudice, dark prejudice against dark leaning wix and finally, good old fashioned class prejudice. Not unlike in the muggle world.” Lyra said.

“We understand we won’t be the belles of any ball in the near future, being squibs,” Martin laughed lightly, “but we’re not the most extroverted either, so it suits us just fine. We just want to be part of our daughter’s life fully and explore the opportunities this new world has for us academically. We’re both scholars at heart. It’ll be like the early retirement we had planned already.”

“Well, you’ll certainly be most welcome to attend any ball we may throw in the future,” Lucius said kindly. He was ashamed to admit how surprised he’d been at how well he’d gotten on with the couple in the past week, in spite of them being muggles, or squibs now for that matter, which is why he never would. It was a constant deconstruction and reconstruction of his values and beliefs, being friends with the Potters.

“Stole the words right out of my mouth Lucius. We’d be delighted if you attended our ball next week.” Arcturus said.

“Thank you Lord Black, but we’d prefer to sit this one out until we’re properly settled and had a chance to immerse ourselves further in the culture. We wouldn’t want to jump in the deep end right away and hinder whatever chance of a welcome we might have,” Martin said diplomatically.

“Not to worry, after we settle affairs at the bank, we’ll set you up with tutors and you can count on us for anything you might need. We owe dear Marius as much. And it’s Uncle Arcturus to you lad,” Arcturus said.

“On that note, we should get going, the bank will take up a good chunk of time and Hermione has an appointment at the tailor to keep.” James said, snapping his fingers for the elves to come through and clear the table.

~~~

Even if they slimmed down the group for the bank visit, they were still a rather large party, so they sat around the fire in the meeting room the goblins provided.

James and Lyra joined them along with Harry, who refused to be left behind, just in case they needed to pull any strings with the Nation, as well as Lucius and Arcturus and the three Grangers, whose presence was mandatory so a small office wouldn’t do.

“Greetings wizards, I am Master Sharpfang, the Burke account manager, and to my right is Master SilverBlade, the Black account manager. As I understand it, we are here for a legitimization protocol as well as an heirship claim?” The goblin to the left said.

“Greetings Master Sharpfang, may your gold ever flow. You are indeed correct. In addition to that, we require core testing for both Mr and Mrs Granger.” Lucius said.

“Very well, we will proceed with the inheritance testing for those being legitimized today,” the goblin said, producing three sheets of parchment and a ritual blade, “please place seven drops of blood on the parchment.”

Hermione went first, pricking her finger on the tip of the blade and squeezing seven drops of her blood onto the parchment. After some time, the letters finished weaving themselves out of the bloody red ink and it confirmed what they knew. She was the heiress to the Burke line by right of blood, right of magic pending legitimization, and a pureblood upon legitimization, being the descendant of two lines instead of one. It also listed the vaults she was entitled to and the ancestors that gave her the claim.

Her parents' tests confirmed their squib status and showed Marius and Octavius as their confirmed ancestors, though they had no claim over any title or vaults since their share of the pot was already handed over to their ancestors while living.

“Let’s proceed with the legitimization before we move on to the claiming of the heirship ring, then we can have Mr and Mrs Granger’s cores tested once they gain access to their family magics,” the goblin said executively.

“Lord Black, Lord Malfoy, we will start with Heiress Burke’s ritual. Here is the template vow, please replace any relevant information in the dotted lines,” the goblin said, passing identical pieces of parchment to both Arcturus and Lucius. “Keep them, you will be repeating the same vows for the next ones.”

“I, Arcturus Sirius Black, third of my name, Lord of the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Black, welcome you, Hermione Jean Granger, great great granddaughter of Marius Black, to take your rightful place in the family tree and to partake freely and fully in the Black family magics. By the Grace of our Blessed Mother, so mote it be.” Arcturus said in a firm tone.

“I, Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, Lord of the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Malfoy, as steward and acting Head of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Burke, welcome you, Hermione Jean Granger, great great great granddaughter of Octavius Burke, to take your rightful place in the family tree and to partake freely and fully in the Burke family magics. By the Grace of our Blessed Mother, so mote it be.” Lucius said after him.

“Wow…” was all Hermione could say as she felt the rush of the family magics flooding her core. It felt good, like coming up to the surface right as air was most needed, but she also felt so incredibly full, like she’d just had a feast and a half, bursting at the seams.

She instinctively pulled out her wand, the need to cast something, anything was too big to put into words, but her wand now felt somehow off in her hand.

“How do you feel Mi?” Harry asked her excitedly.

“Stuffed…” she said with a groan, “amazing though, but I feel like I need to blow up a mountain with how full my core feels,” she added with a light laugh, “though my wand feels off, I don’t know why.” 

“That’s completely normal, you’ll feel like that for some time as your core adjusts to the influx of family magics. My advice would be to cast judiciously until the discomfort is manageable, but let it work itself out for the most part, or you’ll never get the proper stretch and the problem will persist,” the goblin said. “Now, this is the Burke heirship ring. It will resize itself to fit you once the claim is accepted.”

Hermione put on the pretty silver signet ring on her right hand ring finger as the goblin instructed, admiring the heraldic B encrusted with sapphires and felt the same pleasing chill she felt as Lord Malfoy performed his rite. Like a crisp breeze on a summer night, refreshing and invigorating. It resized to fit perfectly as soon as the chill passed.

“Congratulations, Heiress Burke, I’ll leave you to sign some paperwork while we continue with your parents’ rites of legitimization. A drop of blood on each will ensure they do not need updating later.” The goblin said.

“Welcome to the family, child, it’s a happy day for the House of Black,” Arcturus said with a soft smile.

“Indeed, there are no living Burke’s to welcome you, but as steward of your house it falls to me to give you a most warm welcome into the family. I have no doubt you will be an exceptional Lady Burke when your time comes,” Lucius said to Hermione.

“Thank you Lord Malfoy, and as Heiress Burke, you have my thanks and my consent for you to keep my seat in stewardship until the time comes that I may claim it for myself,” Hermione said.

Lyra volunteered to help her with the papers and Arcturus and Lucius proceeded to repeat their vow for each of their charges.

“Oh dear, this is what weak feels like?” Evelyn said as she felt the chilly magic cooling her at her core. The fact that she could feel it at all must surely be a good sign, right? That’s what she thought at least.

“I second that,” Martin said with wide eyes as he felt the electric buzzing of the Black family magic faintly sizzling beneath his skin. 

“Congratulations, Mr and Mrs Granger, and welcome to our world. Lord Malfoy has been keeping us updated on your progress. Here are some forms for opening vaults with us. For a fee, we can handle your financial move to wizarding banking. Settlement of retirement funds, investment portfolios, insurance policies and the like. We can also fake your deaths with the muggle authorities and erase records of your existence for an additional fee, and I highly recommend it. It will allow you to cash in on any life insurance as well.” The goblin said.

“Please give them the whole package, we will cover the fees, consider it a welcoming present,” James said with a wink.

“In that case, I’ll leave these forms with you to fill at your earliest convenience. We’ll need detailed information of every account and policy you have in your name. We will also handle the sale of any property in your name. Everything will be consolidated either under a joint vault or if you’d prefer to keep your finances separate, into personal vaults.” The goblin explained.

“Additionally, please assemble a team to refurbish this property,” Lucius said, handing the goblin a piece of parchment with the address to Blackwood House, “the whole package please, magical power and plumbing, floo connections in every fireplace and advanced warding. And please post an advert in Enchanting Housekeeping for three house elves in House Burke’s name. Charge everything to the Burke Vaults.” 

“The refurbishment will be covered with Black coin, Lucius, it was my late cousin’s house after all, we will see it done, don’t worry,” Arcturus said, waving it off. “We can spare three elves from Black Manor as well, we have enough who are in the family way that we won’t feel it too much or for too long anyway.”

The goblin handed the paper to SilverBlade after Lucius nodded, and the goblin confirmed they’d see it carried through.

“Cassiopeia will handle the warding SilverBlade, so please consider a task force large enough to have the refurbishment done within two weeks at the latest so it can fit into her schedule,” Arcturus said.

“I will put our best right on it then Lord Black,” SilverBlade said with a nod.

“Mr and Mrs Granger, my name is Healer SilverHook, I will be conducting your core testing today,” a third goblin said as he entered the room, “please lie down and I will start the examination,” he said, conjuring two cots for them to lie down.

They both lied down, and let the goblin chant over them and couldn’t contain themselves from asking questions as they saw the schematics float over them.

“Congratulations, you’ll be classed as class 3 dark expressive squibs. You’ll be able to legally wield wands under the Wand Wielding Act Amendment of 1990.” The goblin said once he finished with both tests, explaining orbs floating over them. “A true muggleborn core is usually around 500 to 600 magical units, or the size of a large orange or grapefruit, which is the established minimum accepted to attend wizarding schools, and from there upwards wizards can have varying core sizes depending on their power level, the average being 1000 magical units or the size of a muggle football, or a quaffle in wizarding terms. Your cores following the influx of family magics are expressive at 380 for Mrs Granger and 398 magical units for Mr Granger, close to a lime in size and could technically class you as witch and wizard, class 3 being the most expressive squib classification, but given that it’s below the power level required to sit Ordinary Wizarding Level examinations, and therefore not qualified for a place at Hogwarts School, the classification is still that of a squib, but you’ll manage to perform basic household charmwork and spells up to first or maybe second year curriculum easily enough, as well as brew and work with runes. Anything third year and up will be a struggle or downright impossible the closer it gets to OWL level spellwork.”

“We tried to get the classes updated with the voting of the Wand Wielding Act amendment, since up until then only those with OWL level certifications were issued a wand permit, but we were unsuccessful. Just know that whatever that piece of paper says, you are a witch and a wizard to us,” James said, seconded by emfatic nodding from those around them.

“Healer SilverHook, could I perhaps get my core tested as well? My wand feels off after taking my heirship,” Hermione said, worried something might be wrong.

“Of course, please lie down, it won’t take but a moment,” the healer said after Lyra mouthed from behind Hermione that she would cover the cost.

Hermione watched as the goblin chanted and the schematics for her core appeared over her, suddenly shy at the size difference from her parents’ cores. Where they were close to limes, Hermione’s was closer to a watermelon.

“You have an exceptionally healthy and powerful core for your age, sitting at a respectable 2258 magical units of power, Heiress Burke,  and everything seems to be in order. You may be feeling the urge to cast after the influx of family magics, but only do so as much as it takes to make the discomfort bearable, you will need to let the stretch settle naturally or the problem will persist,” the healer said, repeating the previous advice she’d been given, “as far as your wand issue, I suspect its allegiance may be shifting due to the influx of family magic coloring your core. Your previous affinity was most likely gray, as is every core with no influx of family magics along with how neutral the Hogwarts curriculum is in terms of the casting having an impact on your affinity, but now that you’ve received the Black and Burke family magics it’s been colored dark and you’ve experienced a change in affinity. You may win its allegiance back but the quickest fix would be to replace it.” 

“I was going to take your parents to Artemisia’s while you were at the tailor’s to get their wands, but perhaps you should come with,” James said on hearing that.

“Will we make it in time to keep our appointment?” Hermione asked Lyra.

“A working wand takes precedence over pretty dresses dear,” Lyra said, “you go with the others to get a new wand, and I’ll go and see if Mr Twilfitt can squeeze us in a bit later, and worse comes to worst, we can take care of it tomorrow,” Lyra said, wagging her eyebrows. It was clear she wouldn’t try too hard to convince the tailor.

As they wrapped things up, Hermione was given her money pouch, after she handed back the paperwork to fuse her personal vault and the trust vault set up for when a potential heir came to claim the estate. The goblin explained how it worked and how to key it to her by dropping a drop of blood on the clasp, and how the different pockets worked to exchange currencies and muggle money. He also explained she could pay large amounts by either a bank note from the checkbook in the outermost pocket or with her ring. And yes, it would work in France, after she asked when she realized she’d probably be spending a nice chunk of change the next day in Paris and she’d be there all day if she had to count coins at the counter.

She took the Burke financial statements with her as well to study. Lucius would continue to manage the estate until she came of age, but until then it was her duty to familiarize herself with the running of it so she could take over at seventeen. It was an absolutely exorbitant amount of money, once she made the conversion in her head from five pounds for every galleon, and she had to occlude like never before so she wouldn’t faint or gawk at the statement.

~~~

It took quite a while to get their wands after they left the bank and separated from Lucius and Arcturus, who returned home after the long stint at the bank.

Hermione walked out of the store with a much different wand that what she’d gotten a few months prior at Ollivander’s, and she got an earful about it from the old wandmistress. Where her old wand was a pretty vinewood wand, 10 and 3/4 inches long with a “dragon heartstring” core, her new wand was a striking walnut beauty, with pretty carvings along the handle for improved grip, twelve inches long and with a Peruvian Vipertooth heartstring core. The fact that Miss Aldstone could tell her the breed and provenance of the dragon heartstring in her wand felt much more professional than the vague description her competitor had given her in August. 

Her parents were in awe of their wands, still high on the feeling of magic coursing through them, as faint as it might be compared to Hermione’s after seeing what a true magical core looked like, but to them it felt like they were on top of the world all of a sudden. Miss Aldstone was more than happy to cater to them, telling them how she’d gotten into wand making because of having a squib sister, with enough power to wield a wand but not enough to go to Hogwarts, just like them. Back then it was illegal for her to have her own wand and she was saved from disownment just because the Aldstone family was not a distinguished one and thus cared little for such practices, so, being her big sister, she learnt how to make them for her.

Evelyn walked out of the store with an eleven inch willow wand with a unicorn hair core, still reeling about the fact that unicorns were real and she had one’s hair inside the stick in her hand that was supposed to conduct her magic. And to think a week ago she’d been bored watching Come Dancing on the telly when the doorbell rang and changed her life, and now she was buying wands and planning never to own a telly again. Life was weird like that, she guessed.

Martin got a smart looking birch wand, thirteen inches with a Swedish Short-Snout heartstring core in his new dragonhide holster. Somewhere deep down he knew that he was at the bottom of the pile, but he felt like walking on air even if the goblin said they’d struggle with the basics. So what? He’d had thirty five years of being a muggle, what little power he had now gained was still an incredible boon.

~~~

In the end, they decided to stay back and let Hermione go to Paris by herself, since there was still a lot to do. The help of the goblins sped things up considerably, taking into account the amount of confundus charms and memory alterations required to erase three lives from the muggle world and cash in on every bit of money they had, including life, car and every other insurance policy they’d ever taken. Their house must have burned down several times over by now with how many fire and flood policies they’d cashed in. 

It also helped their properties to sell remarkably fast, and in just a week they had signed off on the sale of both their London home, Evelyn’s family’s country house, their cars, and the flat in Chelsea from where they ran their practice. Martin suspected some sort of magical meddling with the buyers, or  he preferred to think that rather than consider that perhaps he’d priced them too low. They could have kept some, but with how uncertain their future had seemed in terms of work and thus income, they decided to consolidate their estates to increase their livelihoods as much as possible.

Blackwood House would be ready by the first week in January, and now that they had crossed all the t’s and dotted all the I’s as far as their retreat from muggle life was concerned, they’d be going to the Ministry to register as magical citizens and claim magical guardianship over Hermione.

James guided through and past several checkpoints until they reached the Department of Magical Registration.

“Morning Julia, we have an appointment with Lord Shafiq,” James said with his usual charming smile.

“Of course Lord Potter, he’s expecting you, you can go through,” the woman said, a little flustered.

“Armin, good to see you,” James said to the thin olive-skinned man in his office, “these are Martin and Evelyn Granger, and their daughter Hermione, they’ve been recently legitimized into the Burke and Black lines and would like to register as magical citizens.”

“A pleasure to meet you all,” the man, Armin, said affably. “Did you bring the paperwork?”

“Yes, all sorted by the goblins, there’s no trace of them in the muggle world,” James says, handing him the stack of forms they’d filled out previously.

“Everything seems to be in order, I’ll file these right away and get you the rest of the forms you need to fill. Just a few more though, don’t worry,” Armin said with an apologetic smile. “Have you given any thought to whether you’d like to keep your names?”

“Yes, I’ll be taking the name Marius Granger-Black, and my wife and daughter will hyphenate to Granger-Burke,” Martin said. They’d discussed it previously, and Hermione was adamant about keeping her name and just adding the Burke instead of simply being Hermione Burke, though she did change her middle name from Jean to Octavia as a tribute to her ancestor, and Evelyn, even though there was no love lost between her and her paternal family, decided that at least one of them should have the same family name as their daughter so she would hyphenate as well instead of reverting to her maiden name, and Martin had no claim to the Burke name. After some thought, he also decided to go from Martin to Marius, reclaiming his great grandfather’s name in the magical world in his honor. He was named after him after all, and he wanted to remain so.

“Perfect, just fill out the forms with your magical name and address and it’ll be done,” Armin said, “as her parents, magical guardianship over your daughter is a given, so there’s no need to petition for it once you’re recognized as magical,” he added, stamping the forms as he received them from them.

“All done! Welcome to Wizarding Britain, in these packages you’ll find your personal documentation, introductory material and a list of recommended reading. I have Lord Black and Lord Malfoy down as your sponsors, is that correct?” Armin asked as he gave them two manila envelopes.

“Yes that’s correct,” Marius said.

“They’ll be a sort of magical guardians to you during your first year among us, so don’t be shy about asking questions, it’s their duty to educate you on our ways. I don’t know if you have previous religious affiliations, but you are free to practice your faith as long as respect for ours is shown. There’s a list of muggle churches and other places of worship that are frequented by muggleborn and muggle raised wix in the package as well, and the ministry has taken precautions with them, extra surveillance in case of accidental exposure and the like, but you can also register if you belong to a different congregation. Now that you’ve severed ties to it, contact with the muggle world is to remain at a minimum and most of it needs to be recorded and authorized, in accordance with the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy of 1689,” Armin explained.

“Not a problem, thank you,” Marius said with a nod before they left.

~~~

“Light and dark wix celebrate certain sabbaths differently from each other,” Harry explained to Hermione and her parents as they prepared for the evening rituals on Yule day.

“You know Samhain is an intimate one, and some families have different ways of observing it. It’s the same for Yule. Light wix light a Yule log in their hearths to ward what they deem evil away in waiting for the return of the light. For us dark wix, Yule is our most important holiday and it marks a full turning of the wheel for us. It’s the longest night of the year and the night when dark magic is at its most potent, so it’s the most auspicious night for dark rituals. We don’t light a log, but we do leave offerings and candles around the hearth and we feast to celebrate our Dark Mother on her strongest night. Light wix fast, like we do for Litha, when it’s their turn to feast for the longest day of the year, the day when light magic is at its strongest and the day they consider to mark a full turn of the wheel.” He said as Hermione and him prepared their little packets to leave by the fireplace.

Harry put together a bundle meant for good fortune and protection, full of crystals and herbs with different meanings that in sum signified luck, protection and good health. He also slipped a galleon in the pouch as per Peverell tradition, a bribe to keep the ferryman away for another year. 

They’d had a wonderful time in Paris earlier that week, in spite of Harry not being able to enjoy a sneaky cup of coffee with his father as per their tradition while being under the watchful eye of his mother. He only managed to sneak a sip from his father’s cup once when his mother excused herself to go to the loo and it put him off the brew quite a bit, since Sirius took his coffee black.

Luckily, the trip to Madame Molyneux went by quickly for him. His father had already selected a design matching his and uncle Remus’ robes and she just needed to do minor alterations due to the out of date measurements she had on record. He was left to sit idly with a book while the rest of their party proceeded to fleece the poor modiste. 

Draco and his mother were a fearsome duo when out shopping, but add to that Sirius and his Mutti? They were there for most of the day, Hermione being no help, having dumped him for the others, purchasing a whole wardrobe of fashionable French fashions on top of her ball frock. 

A question from Hermione drew him back to the present and out of his reminiscence, though he had to ask her to repeat it.

“I asked whether you were nervous about the Ball tomorrow,” she said with an amused eye roll.

“Only a little, I guess. It’s my first time, but it’s something I’ve been prepared for my whole life so I’m not afraid of messing up. I’m dreading the achy feet afterwards though with all that standing around, but Father said he’d teach me a numbing charm for it,” Harry said with a shrug.

That got Hermione going about the Ball, and she chatted his ear off about her frock and general outfit for the hundredth time but Harry just indulged her. It was still new and exciting to her, as opposed to a chore in his case. And girls liked to fuss about with frocks and jewels and things like that, he supposed.

~~~

The next day, Harry left early to spend the day with his father. Hermione found it funny, how they split his time like a child of divorce almost, but he’d told her that he always spent Yule proper with his parents, and the next day he spent with his father as all Blacks gathered at Black Manor for a Yule luncheon and then stayed for the ball in the evening. Arcturus had invited the Grangers to join the luncheon, but they declined politely, wishing to meet the extended family in less culturally charged circumstances. 

She would be getting ready and attending with the Potters even if she should be going with the Malfoys, given that Lord Malfoy was the steward of her house, but Lord Black liked every Black and their families to stand with him, so the Malfoys, along with the Flints and the rest of the remaining Blacks wouldn’t be arriving as guests. Once her parents started attending, the three of them would be standing with them as well, she supposed.

For a second time, she enjoyed the ritual of getting ready with Lady Potter and Miss MacDonald, and the addition of her mother to the mix this time around made it all the merrier.

This time around, she’d gone for a slightly more modern frock, a la française, as Madame Molyneux said. A deep, almost black, navy silk taffeta strapless column dress with a navy tulle modesty piece with a round neckline sewn into the cleavage to cover her chest, and a silver velvet cape embroidered with moons and stars. She’d been happy to realize that the Burke colors were navy and silver, and the crest and all of their official jewels featured crescent moons and stars heavily. 

She was more than happy to wear her own pieces and make her debut tonight. She was still conscious that she was just a young girl and she should be modest, but Harry had looked like a Christmas tree for the previous ball without a word about it from anyone, and she was an heiress now after all, which meant she got to wear a sash like the rest of them. Her mother helped her pin her cape to the ribbon band on the shoulder seams of her coverup with a pair of barrette brooches, so it wouldn’t snag the tulle, catching the sash so it stayed in place and she pinned the Burke crest and the small Black crest brooch she received from Lord Black as his Yule present for her. She opted out of a necklace this year, opting instead for a pair of clip-on diamond starburst earrings that would have been too much had she worn something round her neck, and they complimented the starburst bracelet she had pinned around her sleek updo in lieu of a tiara. Aunt Lyra said her dress looked very 60’s inspired, so her hair was straightened to a silky dark curtain before it was done up in a tight sleek round bun on her crown. She still found it funny how Madame Molyneux referred to French fashion as more modern than its British counterpart, considering that what French wizards considered modern attire, muggles used to wear thirty years ago, while it was more like fifty in the case of Britain. She was technically right, but still, muggles won that one.

“You look so beautiful omo,” her mother said with tears in her eyes, “wait until your father sees you.”

“You’re so lucky your house colors suit you so well darling, purple washes me out so bad,” Lyra whined as she fussed over her own outfit in the mirror, “I wish James would relent to wearing Potter colors more often, but I can only get away with it for the little balls and parties throughout the year, the big ones demand the highest ranking title be respected. I look so much better in red and gold.” 

“You look beautiful all the same L… Aunt Lyra,” Hermione said, catching herself, and she really did. She went for an iridescent silver crush silk that had a slightly golden hue to it when she moved, like champagne, in more or less the same silhouette as her last dress, with a purple velvet cape pinned to her shoulders like Hermione’s, embroidered with the same ears of wheat motif as before.

“She was always the fashion queen of Gryffindor Tower, even before she came into her heritage,” Mary quipped teasingly from behind them. She’d made good on her comment and wore a similar style to what Hermione had worn for Mabon, in red Ross tartan.

“My mum was a gifted seamstress when I was growing up. We might not have had much but we never felt like it. My… her other daughter and I were always dressed to the nines, and I used to spend hours in her sewing room playing with scraps of fabric and flipping through her stacks of old Vogue and Harper’s Bazaar issues. She could copy anything you showed her,” Lyra reminisced with a sad smile, “I remember every year we went down to London at the end of August to drop me off at the station. We’d make a trip out of it and Mum, Petunia and I would dress in our best frocks and we’d go to Bond Street to peruse all the fancy shops with her as if we belonged. She could memorize a design just by looking at it and I took advantage of it many times. I remember her face so well, nose scrunched in concentration while touching a dress and memorizing all the seams and darts, drafting the pattern in her head. It's a passion I’m glad to indulge in now that I have the means.” 

“Anyway! Gloves on and chins up girls! We should get going. With the Blacks hosting, we’ll be first in line and we don’t want to hold the rest up.” She said, dabbing her eyes and shaking off her nostalgic mood.

~~~

She had to admit she was nervous, even if she didn’t let herself show it, pulling everything behind her shields to keep her composure. Even if she wasn’t attending the actual ball, she would still be making her debut in society as Heiress Burke, and there was so much more to remember now. Before, she just had to bow to everyone, since she wasn’t a peer so everyone got a full bow, and the heirs got half… easy enough to remember. Now she ran through the proper greetings again and again in her head as she went down the stairs to the floo. Quarter bow to lords and ladies of higher ranking houses, neck bow to higher ranking heirs, polite nod to everyone at and below her rank. Aunt Lyra told her to check the circlets for rank. Anyone with a tiara with more than six spiking ornaments was above her, six were on par and less than six was below, signaling to the nine ears of wheat protruding up on hers. She could do this, she would be fine, she said to herself over and over in her head.

“Ma petite sorcière! Tu as l’air d’une princesse!” She heard her father say from below, making her blush.

“Thank you,” she said self-consciously.

“None of that ma poupée, you look beautiful. I’ll have to get myself whatever the magical equivalent is to the stick us muggles would use to beat suitors away!” He joked, making her blush even more.

“I’ll teach you the stinging jinx later then,” James said from beside him, “you look very pretty, Heiress Burke, ready to make your debut?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Hermione said with a shrug, “could I floo in with someone please? I’ve never traveled alone and it’s neither the night nor the outfit to learn.” 

“I’ll take you, don’t worry,” Mary winked.

“Alright you lot, let’s get moving!” James said, rubbing his hands together.

~~~

What a night! Even well into the next day, Hermione just couldn’t wipe the goofy grin off her face.

Everything had gone perfectly, and if she’d felt welcomed before, last night had been something else! 

When James reintroduced her to the mingling group of Lords and Ladies gathered in the impressive carriage house of Black Manor, waiting to go up to the house, everyone had been so warm and welcoming! Congratulating her and wishing her well in the future and offering help with anything she needed, especially the houses that had bonds of friendship with hers. Professor Longbottom even offered to tutor her privately during the summer with a proud smile on her face, though Hermione had already received a letter from Harry’s grandmother letting her know in no uncertain terms that she’d be taking over her heir training. The slightly commiserating look on Augusta’s face when told so certainly made Hermione nervous about it.

The highlight of the evening however was Theo. 

All her friends thought she was clueless when it came to the crush the boy had on her, but she of course knew. She just hadn’t wanted to encourage it before. 

Before knowing she was an heiress, she’d been proud to be a firstborn witch, that being the reason she had wanted to keep her name, but from what her friends explained to her and what she learnt in her WCE class, she knew that Theo had duties to his houses and a lowly muggleborn would never cut it as a spouse, whatever the sugary romance novels her friends smuggled in their trunks said about dashing lords or daring ladies living happily ever after with their forbidden loves. What good could come out of leading him on only to have both their hearts broken later on when the time came for him to marry? Because he would inevitably have to marry, and before Samhain? She wasn’t making the cut. But now? Now things were different. She was on par with his rank as Heir Avery and above him as Heir Nott. Now she could let things run their course. 

They were still children after all, but she couldn’t deny that she had a crush on him too. He was so dreamy, tall and handsome with seafoam eyes and wavy brown hair. He was the closest in age to her in their year, just shy of a month younger than her, and even if boys mature later than girls, he wasn’t like the rest of the boys in their year. 

The blinding smile he gave her when she was introduced as Heiress Burke still made her grin like a fool, and they’d spent the whole evening chatting, ignoring the rest of their friends. That was the thing with Theo, they could talk for hours, about anything and everything and still time flew by them.

She couldn’t help but smirk at the thought that the headmaster would hear the news before her return, and she wished she could see his face. She’d spoken briefly with both Professor Prince and Professor McGonagall before they went up to the house, and Professor McGonagall assured her she’d mention it with a mischievous smirk. She’d still have the pleasure of telling the man to his face that she would no longer be aiding him in his schemes though, even if she wouldn’t get to see his reaction to the news of a new heiress making her debut at the Black Yule Ball.

What she had planned with Professor Prince would be far better.

Chapter Text

Albus was positively giddy with the news that his latest catch happened to be an heiress! He had to school his features like never before once Minerva let slip the delicious morsel of gossip that the Granger chit claimed the Burke heirship.

It had been so long since he last had an heir in his grasp, and he’d be more than happy to put her votes and money to good use now that he had her under his thrall.

Three more votes under his control and the pleasure of taking the stewardship out of Lucius sodding Malfoy’s greedy claws? Sublime. And the money, he’d need it come the time Tom decided to make his return. The girl must have some property to her name after all, houses she had no emotional attachment to that could be put to good use as safe houses and headquarters for the order now that it would be severely lacking in members with any sort of purchasing power. He still held the Weasley and Prewett seats in proxy, but that’s all dear Molly and Arthur could provide him, since between the two they would struggle to produce two galleons to rub together, disowned as they were, with only a partial claim to the seats as the last of their lines and no access to any money. 

Now, they still had 8 years worth of Hogwarts tuition to pay. It would be a harsh couple of years with five of their seven children attending school at the same time until they started to graduate, even with how discounted the tuition each consecutive child paid was. Little Ginevra would practically attend for free next year and it would still be a strain. 

He was down to the cannon fodder as far as the rest of the members of his former order were concerned, with the wealthy heirs either dead or lost to him like the Potters and the Longbottoms, so the influx of funds would be most welcome for the coming war. He just couldn’t wait until the break was over.

~~~

The rest of the break following the ball was just bliss for Harry and Hermione, lounging by the fire reading and enjoying her parents’ company for her and flying around in the pitch with Draco for Harry. She had made good use of the Potter’s dueling room and by now her core felt mostly normal again, thank Merlin.

On January first, two days before they were set to return, they made the trip to Dorset to watch Aunt Cassiopeia work on the finishing touches on the warding for Blackwood House. 

If Harry were to do anything after graduating, if only for the love of it? It would be warding and curse breaking. He absolutely loved the subject and read voraciously about it, and would talk Aunt Cass’ ear off whenever he caught her with her guard down, but she usually indulged him with varying degrees of enthusiasm. It would have to remain a hobby though, because any time left free after managing his estates and his political duties once he took over his parents’ seats would be devoted to running P&P with Ella, and until she showed enough interest in the subject, the burden rested mostly on Harry.

Harry just rolled his eyes at how much the Granger’s had downplayed the house. It was by no means a “quaint little farm” as they’d put it, and it had an air that reminded Harry of Stinchcombe House, his family’s original Manor House before they purchased the Abbey after the Dissolution of the Monasteries. 

It was a very dignified looking Elizabethan Manor House, not quite fit for the Lord but it looked like it would have certainly been either the heir’s house or the dower house of a larger estate. The gardens were certainly pretty and well kept, wild and blooming at first sight but quite thought out upon closer inspection, an ode to naturalistic and romantic landscaping. The refurbishment had gone swimmingly and it was done ahead of schedule, and all that was missing now was the last of the warding. The first wards to go up were of course the muggle repelling wards so the crew of builders could work unencumbered, as well as the connection to the Floo Network so they could move to and fro discreetly, while the protective warding and privacy wards came later.  

They arrived early in the morning, only to find that Aunt Cassiopeia and Arcturus were already there. Marius gave them a tour of the house and they sat for a while looking at picture albums from Marius’ youth, the original one, that is.

The house now had magical power and plumbing, the kitchens were adapted for the elves, with an added sigil to turn everything back to normal size if Evelyn ever wanted to cook. They also added a potions lab, dueling room and a brand new consecrated ritual chamber in the basement level where an old wine cellar used to be, right next to the wardstone room, where Aunt Cass brought Hermione and her parents.

“The wards we will be setting up today are not exactly legal,” she said with a faint smirk, “but the ancient families have found some workarounds for that. Most of our ancient homes carry bloodwards over from centuries, when the houses were first built and blood warding was legal, so addendums and exceptions have been passed to allow us to maintain them and replenish them, even if erecting new ones is illegal.”

“If I were to erect blood wards keyed to you directly, as Martin Granger and Hermione Granger, that would award us a one way ticket to Azkaban for a nice cold vacation, but since I will be erecting secondary bloodwards keyed to you as Marius Granger-Black, and Hermione as a Black by blood if not name, it’s perfectly fine,” she said with a full on smirk now.

“Your wardstone is a chip of the Black ward block currently serving as the wardstone at Black Manor. Most ancient homes switched to large blocks to act as their wardstone for this very purpose once talk that blood magic would be banned spread among them, and it has worked wonders for us. Every secondary Black Home gets a chip off the old block, most fitting, as the idiom goes,” she said, pleased with her turn of phrase, “That way, instead of erecting brand new wards, we are simply extending the coverage of the original Black blood wards, and adding your blood as an anchor and amplifier, so we don’t dilute their potency by stretching them too thin,” she explained. “They will be keyed to Hermione and she will have to act as master of the household, since you’re not powerful enough to carry wards with your magic, so as an additional safety feature, every Black home is keyed to the head of the family as well through the blood warding. This is standard for us but important in your case, since the master of the wards will be a minor and won’t be home most of the year.”

“I have a rather silly question,” Hermione said self-consciously. “If I’m away and carrying the wards, will I be interrupted every time there’s a visitor or issue hundreds of miles away while I’m sitting an exam or working on a sensitive potion? I’m not well versed enough in warding to know, sorry if the answer is obvious.”

“Not at all, it’s a perfectly valid question,” Cassiopeia said evenly. “Normally, a ping in the wards being felt is desirable, no matter the distance. We’d want to know if there was something wrong at home, wouldn’t we? The awareness of an issue differs depending on the layer of warding triggered and it conveys a distinct sense of urgency depending on the issue at hand. A friendly visitor flooing in for tea won’t even register while that far away, but a violent intrusion, someone not welcome requesting access or an attempt at bringing the wards down will certainly be at the forefront of your mind. There are physical signs built in so anyone at home can deal with them even if the master of the house is away, like the chiming bells you’ve probably heard while at the Potters when they have guests coming.”

“So it’s basically like a magical doorbell and alarm system rolled up into one,” Hermione translated for her parents’ benefit. “Thank you Madam Black,” she said.

They proceeded to follow her instructions, chanting the chants and cutting their palms to let the wardstone imbue itself with their blood and magic, and after a few moments, Hermione felt it, the presence of the house and everyone in it in the back of her mind. It was quite overwhelming at first, and she had to take a moment to delve into her mindscape and make room and organize everything so it didn’t feel quite so schizophrenic, but eventually it settled in the background unobtrusively.

“Now all that’s left for me to do is carve the unplottable array and bury the stones along the property line and it will be done. The muggle repelling wards are working fine and any muggle that comes close to them will feel an urge to leave as well as only see a derelict ruin if they push through enough to come within sight of the house. The few locals around the area as well as officials in the historic home registry have had their memories modified to remember a devastating fire a few weeks ago, for the benefit of those persistent enough to ask around mostly. I’m told it’s been used as your cause of death as well.”

~~~

Albus had to school his features to control his giddiness as he felt his office wards ping with Miss Granger’s arrival. The fact that Severus was escorting her didn’t dampen his spirits one bit. He would enjoy him witnessing what was about to happen. He didn’t get many chances to gloat so he would make good use of the one presented to him at the moment. Let him watch as he took three votes away from them.

“Come in,” he said evenly, smoothing out a nonexistent wrinkle on his robes and sitting up straighter in his chair.

“Good morning sir, you wanted to see me?” Hermione said pleasantly, taking a seat in front of the headmaster while Severus stood behind her.

“Yes, I wanted to congratulate you on the happy news of your claim to the Burke line,” Albus said with put-on kindness.

“Thank you sir, it was rather unexpected, but not unwelcome. I hope I’ll live up to my late family’s legacy once I take up my seat in the courts,” Hermione said with a smile.

“I have no doubt that you will, and I wanted to discuss what will be happening in the meantime with that seat. I understand it is currently under the stewardship of Lord Malfoy, is that correct?” Albus asked, trying to mask his impatience.

“Yes sir, he was there for my legitimization and I renewed his right of proxy after the rites,” Hermione said.

“Well, don’t you think it would be best to reconsider? It is certainly… convenient to have him carry on as he has, but now that it is your choice, I hope you’ll consider a move away from the traditionalist party. As a muggleborn at heart, wouldn’t you say your place is with the progressives? I think it would be in everyone’s best interest if you made the move and I would certainly be happy to steward your seat until we felt it’s the proper time for you to claim it, when you’re best prepared for the task, wouldn’t you say? And as steward, I’d be honored if you’d consider naming me your magical guardian. It’s of the utmost importance that everything is being handled in your best interest and I have reason to fear for the integrity of your estate if left in the hands of Lord Malfoy much longer,” Albus said evenly, as if it were only logical.

“Thank you,” Hermione said after a minute.

“I’m afraid I’ll need your consent to be a little more explicit than that for the magic to take Miss Granger,” Albus said kindly, yet his impatience was showing through his facade.

“Oh, you misunderstand. I’m not giving you my consent. I was just thanking you for making this so easy and quick for us,” she said with a smile, though it had an edge to it that made Albus uneasy all of a sudden.

“Whatever do you mean?” Albus said, feigning ignorance.

“For making a move on my line so quickly and without prompt, of course! How would I ever be able to accuse you of line theft if I had to pry the offer out of you,” Hermione said as if it were obvious, as Severus put three little crystals, each with black smoke swirling in them on top of Albus’ desk.

“A little gift for you, headmaster, as a thank you for a delightful month of pleasant meetings,” Hermione said smiling sweetly, “and also a warning, as by now I think you know what those are.”

As Albus just stared at her impassively, she continued, “you don’t? Well, I’ll explain then. Those are three little duplicates of the samples containing your compulsions, along with your magical signature of course. The ones you put on me and my parents. Those are for you to keep as mementos, duplicates of the ones that will certainly find their way to the desk of Lady Bones if you ever, and I mean ever, try to make a move on me and mine again,” she said with a cold smile. “Along with my memory of your heart wrenching plea to take over my seats and finances, of course. Look at me funny again and the next visitors through those doors will make the room quite chilly, I’m told line thieves get the kiss, don’t they, Professor Prince?”

“I could have you expelled for this,” Albus said finally, “you dare accuse me of such things? With clearly fabricated evidence? You’ve just signed your own expulsion.”

“Oh but you wouldn’t risk it would you? Though please, call my bluff, I dare you,” Hermione smiled unbothered. “I’m a model student, top grades, respectful and polite to every member of staff, the poster girl for a well adjusted muggleborn so far and just as Aunt Lyra, a beacon of hope for muggleborn rights in politics now I have a platform from which to advocate for them... It would be so out of character for me to pull such a stunt would it not? The worst that will happen is the board of governors and of course it’s chairman, my dear friend Harry’s father, along with his blood adopted father and Lord Malfoy as the steward of my house will advocate for me to stay and if not successful in that, at least for me to have the chance to withdraw instead of being expelled, and I would just transfer to Beauxbatons next term. My French is quite good, it wouldn’t be a bother really. But that would mean letting the cat out of the bag, and I’m sure you could weasel your way out of it, but how much will it cost you? Is it worth it? You’d end up in the red, owing more favors than those owed to you after cashing in to save your hide. I’d just take the warning and stick to my terms. Don’t ever speak to me again if it’s not through my head of house and strictly about my academics, that’s the only thing you should be discussing about any student here really.”

“No one would believe it, dirty work of dark wizards and the memories of a child, it’s inadmissible evidence,” Albus said, trying to seem just as unbothered.

“As admissible as the memories of a master mind-mage are,” Hermione said, knowing full well that with his known ability to manipulate memories, his recollection of any event wasn’t admissible in court.

“We both know the outcome of any trial you might face or not is not what I’m really after. People will talk after this, favors will need to be cashed in, reputations will be shattered, and even if you avoid the kiss you will never recover. The shadow of doubt cast over you will have hordes of concerned parents asking for the alleged predator’s removal from office. No one would want you near their children again, so you’d have to kiss this post goodbye,” Hermione said innocently, “and I’m sure just the mere accusation of line theft would ensure an inquiry into the validity of the claim you have on your current stewardships, and I’m sure you wouldn’t want that.  So what do you say to just letting sleeping dragons sleep without tickling them?”

“Leave, now!” Albus roared suddenly.

“A pleasure, as always. Don’t ever talk to me again, or I swear on our blessed mother that I will disregard those keeping me from just taking you down right now and just send every shred of evidence to the DMLE, and every little bit of doubt and every rumor about you to the press. This is the last time I will be speaking to you, have the life you deserve, sir,” she said, imbuing the last word with as much venom and disgust as she felt for the ratchet man, leaving the room without looking back.

“I’m sure you’re enjoying this immensely, aren’t you? Filthy dark scum, you’re fired! Get out!” Albus barked at Severus, who just stood there smirking the whole time Hermione ripped a new one into him.

“Oh yes, you were a bit late with your yearly attempt to fire me,” Severus said with an amused eye roll, “bark away Albus, a firstie just made you her bitch after all, it suits you,” he added with a carefree laugh as he turned to leave.

“Woof woof Albus! Good day,” he laughed, walking down the stairs, hearing the subsequent destruction as Albus trashed his office.

He was met with a hyperventilating child at the foot of the stairs.

“He’s going to kill me,” Hermione said with unshed tears about to fall, “what have I done?” She said, trembling with the controlled urge to shake and sob.

“Hey! Hey, it’s ok, you’re ok,” Severus said, bending down and hugging her close, “nothing will happen to you, I promise.”

“Maybe I should just take my own advice and transfer to Beauxbatons. What was I thinking? I can’t take him on. He’ll poison me by morning!” She cried against her teacher’s chest, completely aware that on top of everything going on, it was extremely inappropriate, but she needed the comfort.

“If you wanted to, you could, but you’re strong, and brave, and I think you’ll come out of this even stronger,” Severus said, “and I don’t mean Gryffindor brave, I mean Slytherin brave. Self preservation and ambition don’t mean cowardice and greed. The courage to stand your ground and protect yourself and what’s yours instead of bowing down in the face of danger is just as Slytherin, if not more than those who’d run for the hills and surrender what’s theirs at the sight of danger just so they live to fight another day. I’d give you the spiel about being a British peer, with a legacy on these lands, but most of all, you are Hermione Granger, an English witch with every right to attend this school and not be bullied out of it by the staff no less. So chin up! You have the best of the best in your corner and we will protect you tirelessly, ok?” 

“Ok…” Hermione said in a hiccupy voice, still trying to collect herself.

“Good. Now, what do you say we go to my office, and I call for some tea and biscuits? A good cup of tea will sort you right out, and besides, James and Lyra made me swear I’d provide them with a memory of the meeting, and they’ll be expecting it soon.”

~~~

“This is very, very stupid Harry,” Draco said as Harry fastened his dressing gown tight.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?” Harry asked as he watched Draco pull out a robe of his own out of his wardrobe and move to put on his boots.

“Coming with you, obviously,” he said as he pulled on the last boot.

“No, you’re not. I have to do this alone! He won’t talk if I’m not alone,” Harry said.

“You shouldn’t be going at all! We agreed! You’d let sleeping dogs lie and be done with his crap after Hermione put him in his place! You’ll get in so much trouble if Uncle Sev finds out!” Draco protested.

“So you want to be in trouble along with me? There’s no need for you to be dragged down with me. Just stay here and I’ll be back in just a moment, he just needs another dressing down, and even if Hermione managed to get him to back off on her, he still pesters me and it has to stop. I won’t be but a moment,” Harry said placatingly.

“But…” Draco started to reply, only to be cut off.

“No buts, I promise I’ll be safe. I have my rings so he can’t do anything and even if he tried to imperio me we know it doesn’t work on me with how strong my shields are. I’ll be fine,” he said reassuringly. “If anything happens I’ll go straight to Uncle Sev, and if I’m not back within the hour you’re more than welcome to tell him I’m off to the fourth floor, third door down on the eastern corridor.” 

“Fine, but I’m setting a timer and if you’re not back in one hour to the second Hadrian Potter-Black, I’m sending uncle Sev up there along with Filch and they can deal with your rebel arse,” Draco huffed angrily.

“Fine, set the timer then, I’m off,” Harry said, pulling his cloak over himself and leaving.

Ever since they returned from their Yule Break, the headmaster had been on his best behavior following his little meeting with Hermione, but as January and then February passed in blissful peace for Harry and his friends, the start of march and the approaching Ostara holiday seemed to have spurred him on into action finally and he’d been a pest for the past week, turning up around the corner multiple times as Harry and his group moved around and about between classes or on the weekends. He’d had both Uncle Sev and Uncle Remus check him for tracking charms with how easily the headmaster was finding him around the castle, but he was clean so far and he was getting fed up with the whole thing. 

He’d seen the old goat on the map most nights for weeks now, staying for a few hours in an abandoned classroom on the fourth floor, and he had to admit that curiosity got the best of him when it came to what on Merlin’s beard he could be doing there. 

Now, he imagined the Gryffindor the headmaster hoped he would be would just up and go there rushing into danger without a care in the world, but Harry was no lion in spite of his heritage. The hallway wasn’t a crowded one, so he had discreetly inspected the room before making the choice to go, finding the same warding as in the door leading to the stone, tracking charm and all.

Even if Draco called him out on his plan, it was a plan and not an impulse that drove him to be wandering the castle under his cloak at night. Once he found the charm, the following days were spent arduously studying the charm and its countercharm so he could dismantle it before crossing the threshold, and he only felt secure in going once he could cast it and unravel it easily. 

It wasn’t too complicated, at least not for him, but in the morning he would confess his actions to Uncle Sev and ask for an in-depth scan to see if the coot managed to sneak anything past his level of expertise.

Lucky for him, Filch and the cat were up on the seventh floor near Ravenclaw Tower, far on the other side of the castle and away from him as he made his way up with silenced feet and masked scent under the cover of the cloak.

As he neared his destination, he checked the map again and saw the headmaster was inside by the windows on the far right corner of the room, most likely disillusioned, so he put it away once he was sure the coast was clear.

He took his head out of the cloak and with a small pulse of magic, willed it to conceal itself, and he felt it turn into the warm wool winter cloak he envisioned in his mind. It was a nifty little trick his abba taught him, who’s abba had taught him and so on, back to its original owner passing it down, and got to work dismantling the warning ward and tracking charm.

It took a few minutes, but once a diagnostic revealed the threshold was clear, as well as the few stones inside it once he opened the door, just to be sure, he entered the room.

Inside, the room sat abandoned, broken desks and chairs piled up against the far wall with only an ornate gilded freestanding mirror at the center. The coot’s plans were starting to make sense to Harry when he made himself known.

“Mr Potter, at last we meet,” he said affably. He wanted to play nice first? Fine by Harry.

“Headmaster,” Harry nodded politely.

“It’s quite late to be gallivanting around the castle wouldn’t you say?” Albus said after a moment of studying the child. He’d been gazing out the window when the boy came in, distractedly looking at the moon, and just now realized that his entrance didn’t trigger his wards.

“I would have been here earlier, but unraveling the warding on the door took a few minutes. Thank you for that by the way sir, I rarely get enough practice here as I do at home,” he said with a polite smile.

“You dismantled my wards?” Albus said, unintentionally letting his disbelief show.

“I’m a Black,” was all Harry said with a careless shrug. Blacks were known for their superb warding, and Cassiopeia was the authority on the subject both in the isles as in the continent. “I enjoy the subject and it amuses Aunt Cassie to indulge my curiosity when she’s in the mood,”

“I see you’re admiring the Mirror of Erised, any idea what it’s for? What it does?” Albus said mysteriously, disregarding the boy’s statement and keeping his trepidation inside. He would approach this from the academic side, appealing to his curiosity.

“It’s an Arca mirror sir, why do you call it that?” Harry said in confusion, “I mean, if you want to refer to them as that, you should probably call it a mirror of erised. It’s hardly the only one. They’ve fallen out of favor but most peers have or had one at some point. This one looks like it belonged to the Travers’ at some point if the filigree design on the decorations is what I think it is… quite similar to the Travers crest. Probably not very old given its engraved as per regulation with a warning inscription even if the style is misleadingly old fashioned. Ours is quite a bit older and it doesn’t have an inscription,” he explained nonchalantly, “I think it was my great great great… great great grandfather Hartford Potter that acquired it, it used to be in my grandfather’s study but Abba removed it when I was little.”

Albus was left speechless, a sensation he thought forgotten bubbling unpleasantly in his stomach, as well as something he hadn’t felt in a long time creeping up his neck, a blush. He hadn’t felt like this since he was a child, back in his first year when all the children knew everything and he felt like he knew nothing. 

He was ashamed, put to shame more like it, by a first year… again, said a nasty voice in the back of his head.

He noticed the boy was studying him worriedly, so he stopped mouthing and collected himself.

“Well, yes, of course it is, but you shouldn’t spend too much time looking at it, many have gone crazy gazing into it, driven mad by what they see in it,” Albus said cryptically.

“Why would they sir? The inscription is rather telling, so no one would even try and look into it after reading it,” Harry said, confused yet again. “Why would I want someone to know my deepest desires? That’s why I said it must be a new one… earlier ones are more discreet,” he said. This was very odd. Did he really not know what the mirror was? Why was he trying to sell it as some sort of mythical heirloom of great nefarious power? It was just a box mirror with a desiderium charm carved in the back of the looking glass.

“Well, it shows us what our hearts desire most, and many would obsess about it,” Albus said as evenly as he could, trying to make it sound obvious.

“Sir, I’m sorry to say but I don’t think you know what you have here. This is an Arca mirror. It was used as a safe for documents and other valuables as well as for information gathering. It doesn’t just show you your innermost wants, it records them. That’s why they fell out of favor. If the mirror is keyed to you, you can replay and see what someone wants most, and use that information against them. Once they were regulated, they lost the element of surprise and thus fell out of favor,” Harry said hesitantly… Surely he knew? It was so obvious!

That seemed to jostle the headmaster awake somehow, as if he were a child caught looking at dirty pictures. Someone could come and see what he saw? Clearly he was ignorant about the dangers of the mirror. Would Tom know if faced with it? Probably not, given his upbringing, but would Quirinus?

“Well, it’s no matter anyway, it will be moved to another location soon, to add to some safety measures so I wouldn’t go around looking for it,” he said leadingly.

“Oh madarchod!” Harry said, exhausted with the pretenses, “I won’t, and I mean it. That’s what I came to tell you. I have no interest in your plotting, and this is the last time I’ll indulge you. You can take it down and put your little stone copy in it, I don’t care. Let Quirrel fall for your tricks because I certainly won’t. So please, I beg you, stop harassing me before I lodge a formal complaint with the board.”

“Now listen here you insolent whelp!” Albus said, towering over him all of a sudden, but Harry interrupted.

“Insolent my arse! You pathetic, ignorant mudblood child predator! One more move and I let Hermione send her evidence to Aunt Amy! Enough is enough! It’s because of me that you’re not on the front page of every paper on your way to Azkaban now, so leave me the fuck alone once and for all and be thankful you still have a reputation and a soul! The prophecy is null and void! I didn’t defeat him, he didn’t mark me, and he is dead! It’s not anyone’s fault but your own that you’re not worth the weight of that cheap sequined robe as a leader when there isn’t a war going on, so quit it for the love of Hekat!” Harry yelled back, letting every bit of his anger towards the man hell bent on ruining his school experience out. “And if you take but one point away from Slytherin or do anything against me for this very well deserved outburst, my fathers will hear about this! And you know they’ve been waiting for you to slip, so fall in line once and for all. And if you think you can do anything to me right now? Uncle Severus should be up here soon if I don’t make it back safely within a few minutes, not enough for you to clean up your handiwork anyway. So good night,” Harry said, ending his rant as he backed slowly towards the door, his wand firmly pointed towards the headmaster.

Luckily for him, the old man was too gobsmacked to react after such an outburst, so he quickly turned the corner and willed the cloak to cover him, and applied his usual charms on the fly as he hurried back down to the common room. 

If he chased him down, Harry never knew, but he certainly ran like it. He still had a good 25 minutes to spare before Draco alerted Uncle Sev, but the headmaster didn’t need to know that.

He finally reached the common room and didn’t bother with the password, simply hissing at the wall to open as he usually did when he was alone.

“What is the meaning of this?” Uncle Sev said in outrage, standing just inside the common room with Draco.

Harry just looked up at him and broke down crying.

~~~

The insistent pecking and scratching finally woke James up to find Akkaya frantically batting her wings on top of him. The realization woke him up fully, since Severus wouldn’t send such an urgent message with orders to wake him up if it wasn’t important.

Taking the note off her leg and reading it, he quickly woke Lyra up.

“Pyari, wake up!” He said, shaking her shoulder.

“What? What’s happening?” Lyra said groggily.

“You need to shadow us to Severus’ quarters, now,” James said, getting up and running to his dressing room to dress quickly.

When he returned, he found Lyra already dressed and a portal ready and waiting.

He grabbed her hand and felt the unsettling chill as she led him through into Severus’ private quarters, where they saw him cradling a catatonic Harry in his arms.

“Severus! What happened?” Lyra said as she ran to take Harry from him.

“Liebling? Liebling it’s Mutti, it’s ok, relax, it’s ok,” she said as she stroked his hair.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, he’ll kill me, he’s going to kill me,” Harry whispered over and over again.

“Draco? What happened?” James asked the boy, who’d been sitting quietly on the other side of the room with puffy bloodshot eyes.

“He went up to the fourth floor, he’s been seeing Dumbledore there for weeks on his map and he said he was going to confront him so he’d leave him alone. I tried to stop him, but you know how he is, and he made me promise to wait an hour before sending Uncle Sev up, but at the half hour mark I just couldn’t wait any longer and went to get him. We were about to go up when he came back and he just broke down. Nothing seems to be helping,” Draco said between shivers and hiccups.

“I checked him over and he’s fine, no charms, curses or anything, he’s just catatonic. He was worse, but I spelled a mild calming draught into his stomach, I’m hesitant to give him a second one,” Severus said. 

“I think he can take another one if it was mild, we need to know what happened,” Lyra said as she rocked him.

The second potion seemed to settle him finally, though he was falling asleep standing by that point, so Severus spelled a mild pepper up into his system to perk him up enough to tell the tale.

“I’m so sorry Mutti, Abba,” Harry said quietly, “I messed everything up and now he’s gonna kill me,”

“Harry, no one is going to kill you on my watch, but please tell us what happened,” Lyra said into his hair, kissing his forehead.

“Can you take the memory? I can’t,” he said into the hug.

“Sure, just bring it to the surface and I’ll extract it,” she said, flicking her wand from its holster.

Severus produced his pensive and Lyra let the glowing thread fall into the silvery pool.

“Draco, keep an eye on him as we watch ok?” Severus said as the three adults leaned over the basin.

In it they watched everything from the moment Harry left Draco, all the way to him meeting him and Severus back in the common room.

By the time they came out, Harry was much better, but still afraid of what his parents would say once they did.

They came out looking determined, and Harry flinched when his abba strode over to him purposefully.

“Oh laadla, it’s ok, I’m sorry I scared you. Everything will be fine, don’t worry. He won’t touch a hair on your head. And if he dares to, I’ll kill him, and then I’ll bring him back just to kill him again. Don’t worry,” he said as he held him tight.

“We’re taking him home tonight, it’s just a few days until break anyway,” Lyra said. “Will you be a dear and go bring his things Draco darling?” 

“I would, but I’ve never been able to get past his warding,” Draco said sheepishly.

“I’m fine, I can go with you, we’ll be right back Mutti,” Harry said, standing a little shakily but regaining his balance quickly. 

“Fine, but just drop the warding and sit while Draco helps you pack, you’ll crash if you’re not careful,” Lyra said, and with that both boys left to get Harry’s trunk.

As soon as the boys left, Severus cast a silencing charm, and the three of them burst into laughter.

“Holy fuck I’m proud,” James said after catching his breath, “did you see how he wiped the floor with him?”

“I know, he was actually blushing, did you see? He actually thought that old piece of junk was some sort of mythical relic! Even I know what an Arca mirror is,” Lyra said with a chuckle, “my poor baby though, he must have mustered up every ounce of courage he had by the way he broke down,” she said sadly, “he would have made a good lion, or more of a chimera or manticore, half lion, half snake.”

“This? Combined with Hermione’s memory? I never thought I’d live to see the year two firsties made the great Albus Dumbledore their bitch. Thank our Dark Mother for such blessings,” Severus said incredulously.

“Shame he won’t get to remember any of it,” Lyra said, shaking her head, “where is he pyari?”

“He’s still in the fourth floor classroom where Harry left him, probably trying to figure out how to wipe the mirror clean of his own desires,” James said after searching the wards, which he carried along with the headmaster and deputy headmistress as the chairman of the board of governors.

“We’ll be right back Sevy, tell the children we’re up there cleaning this mess up if they return before us,” Lyra said, casting a disillusionment charm on herself.

“Go through my office, you’ll avoid the password in the common room,” Severus said, pointing to the door on their right.

~~~

They found Albus just as they predicted, obsessively trying to wipe the mirror’s records clean as if it were porn.

He never even noticed the silent body bind that hit him in the back.

His eyes widened comically when he saw Lyra towering above him with a sweet smile.

“You tried to make a move on my baby again… naughty naughty boy Alvin,” she said, tisking as if scolding a baby, “that wasn't very nice now, was it? We saw Harry’s memory of the evening and I have to say, even I knew about Arca mirrors, back in fourth year!” She said with a giddy giggle.

“Don’t worry old man, you won’t remember a thing, so you can rest easy knowing that come morning, only one first year will have humiliated you so harshly,” James said from behind her.

“Hold him in the body bind while I work please,” Lyra said to her husband, and then Albus felt it, the barrage against his shields. He had to give it to her, it wasn’t like a battering ram, but a corrosive force melting them away almost, as if they were being doused in acid. He didn’t know how long it took or how long he fought against it, but eventually she broke in and started rearranging things.

“I’m in,” she said, a little out of breath.

“I know it’s tempting, but don’t dawdle looking around, we need to go soon,” James said, keeping his focus on maintaining the restraints.

“Fine,” Lyra whined, and James knew from her tone that she would have rolled her eyes were she not intent on maintaining eye contact.

“I’m done,” she said after some time, wiping the sweat off her brow as she looked at the bow unconscious headmaster.

“Nippy,” James called out, and the elf popped in with a faint crack.

“Master Chairman be calling for Nippy?” The elf said with a bow.

“Good evening Nippy, I trust everything has been going well?” James said pleasantly.

“All bees going well Master Chairman sir, Nippy bees handling Master Chairson’s meals and not letting any filthy Dumbledinger elfies get any nasties in it, no sir. Master Chairson is very kind to Nippy, Nippy is being happy to help nice Master Chairson,” the elf said.

“Thank you for all your help Nippy. I'm afraid I might have to impose on you a little more this evening, but would you mind popping the headmaster back to his office? Sit him down on his desk as if he fell asleep working,” Lyra asked the elf.

“Of course, Nippy bees doing what Missy Chairwife asks of Nippy,” the elf said with a bow, grabbing the headmaster’s wrist and apparating away with him.

“That went well,” James said with a huff, pulling himself up from his crouching position.

“Exceedingly,” Lyra smirked. “I know you said to hurry, but I couldn’t help to look around a little.”

“Did you find anything interesting?” James asked curiously.

“We can talk at home, aresto desiderium,” she cast on the mirror, and proceeded to use it like any normal mirror to fix her sweaty hair with a few grooming and refreshing charms. “I’m almost tempted to leave it off, but I don’t want his doubt to unravel my work. Desiderium recordum,” she added offhandedly, trying to guess how long it would take the brilliant headmaster to figure out the charms on the mirror were now keyed to her, so any further gazing into it would record for her viewing pleasure.

“Can I interest you in a little late night rumble-tumble? It’s been so long since we’ve done it in a broom cupboard, and you know how our late night mischief gets me going, this brings back memories” James said with his hand trailing down wife’s back, fingers loosening the belt of her dressing gown gently.

“Down boy, our son is waiting down in the dungeons, but we have plenty of broom cupboards at home once he’s down for the night,” she said in a husky voice.

“Fine,” James whined, “but next time, I’m not asking.”

“What do you say to having dear old Bathilda over for tea one of these days? I do miss her,” Lyra said cryptically as they made their way down back to the dungeons, ignoring him.

Chapter Text

Easter Break passed blissfully for Harry. He got a few concerned letters from friends that weren’t pacified by Draco’s explanations about why he left days earlier than most for their break, but once they saw he was fine at the Abbott Ostara Ball a few days later, they let him be. They even managed to put together a match with their old league once they got Theo to agree to play. It only took Hermione wanting to watch the game for him to suddenly want to play.

His mother assured him after the events of that night, that the headmaster wouldn’t remember what happened. She’d modified the memories so he would think the night had gone successfully for him, so hopefully he’d back off now that he thought he’d made progress. He’d been lectured of course, but his abba let slip that he was very proud of how he stood up for himself against him, but to please refrain from doing it again, at least until he was older.

It all seemed fine indeed now that he had been back in the castle for a few weeks after break, and through April, not much happened for Harry. The headmaster still had his eye on him, but no more than before and he certainly wasn’t stalking him in the hallways as if he were trying to herd him like a stray lamb towards the room with the mirror.

The Weasel had been acting up lately in class and out of it. All desire to befriend Harry seemed to have left his body and he was now actively antagonizing him. From what Neville and Vati could tell him, he was more tolerated than liked in the lion’s den, with not even his siblings paying much attention to him.

The friendship between Thomas and Finnegan was now cemented and that left Neville drifting as well in his own house, but Harry didn’t let him feel lonely for a second with all the studying they were doing now that exams were drawing near, and he was well liked across house divides so he wasn’t hurting for friends.

So it was that one day, while they were leaving their History lesson to go down to Transfiguration, Hermione fell down the stairs.

“Aresto Momentum!” Harry shouted just in time to turn the fall from fatal to merely painful.

“Hermione! Are you ok?” He yelled, running down the stairs, everyone around them gathering around her.

“I think I sprained my wrist,” she said with moist eyes, “it doesn’t feel broken.”

Uncle Remus walked swiftly past everyone once he heard the commotion outside his classroom, and started asking what happened.

“It was a tripping jinx! I saw it hit her, but I couldn’t see who cast it,” Pansy said, bristling with anger, “it was too crowded.”

“If that is true, then the one who did it better hope we don’t find out. This was attempted murder and they could face charges besides immediate expulsion!” Uncle Remus said over the general noise, quieting the children down instantly. A whiff didn’t reveal any culprits, since the general smell was that of fear and concern, so he couldn’t point out who’d done it. What worried him the most was that he wasn’t smelling any guilt. Whoever did it was glad of it.

“I think the Weasel did it,” Draco told Harry later, as they were reaching Aunt Minnie’s classroom.

“What makes you say that?” Harry said curiously. He’d too noticed he was gone before Uncle Remus could start asking to check wands, and by now he would have cast enough magic to erase any trace of the tripping jinx off his wand.

“He looked almost pleased after she fell,  not quite smug but also not surprised, which is telling. And he left before Professor Lupin could check his wand along with anyone else. Not to mention that he’s running late now, so most likely he’s off casting spells to cover up his deeds,” Draco said. “Should we tell Uncle Sev anyway?” He asked Harry.

“No, I’m handling this,” Harry said darkly. It was one thing to taunt them verbally but to almost kill one of his friends? The Weasel would pay.

“What are we doing?” Draco asked.

“I’m not sure yet, but you know the first rule, we can’t get caught. I think this calls for a visit to Abba's den,” Harry said. 

Uncle Remus, Abba and his father had keyed him into the wards they placed on an abandoned classroom, coincidentally not far from the forbidden hallway on the third floor, that used to be their headquarters in their marauding days. He hadn’t gone there yet, since he wasn’t much of a prankster, to their endless dismay, but just like his mother, he could settle a score like the best of them. It’s partly why none of them pranked him again after he might have taken things a bit too far following a prank his abba pulled on him when he was nine. It took Uncle Sev two weeks to craft a potion to make their hair grow back after the usual ones did nothing, and his abba now wore his hair in a high bun in part because he was too vain to show he still had a little bald spot left on his crown. 

According to his father, they’d left a lot of materials and some journals there detailing their work, and Harry had studied their other journals in great depth, almost as another subject along with his tutoring. He would make him suffer, and it would be barely legal.

“We’ll go after dinner, Uncle Remus told me I’d be sharing the space if I ever wanted to go, so be ready for the possibility of company,” Harry said cryptically.

“Who? Is Professor Lupin using it?” Draco asked, clueless as to who might be using the room.

“You’ll see,” Harry winked cheekily.

~~~

“Evening gentlemen! Don’t let me interrupt, please,” Harry said, coming out from under the cloak with Draco and startling the pair of redheads facing away from them, peering over a bubbling cauldron.

“Hey! How did you find this place!” They said in unison.

“George and Frederic Weasley, am I right? Or Frederic and George, you are remarkably similar after all,” Harry nodded politely.

“Right you are, and who might you two little snakes be?” They said in unison again.

“Hadrian Potter-Black, and this is my friend Draco Malfoy, pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he said with a smirk as he introduced himself, “as for how I found this place? That,” Harry said, pointing to the graffiti sign with the four marauders' names with crude drawings of their animagus forms beneath each name, “is my father, and next to him is my abba, and the wolf on the left? That’s my Uncle Moony, though you know him as Professor Lupin. This used to be their HQ, so… I should be asking you what you’re doing here, but there’s no need for that.”

“We found it at the end of first year! We didn’t mean to trespass or anything, honest! Is Professor Lupin really one of… them?” They said in a rush, with a sense of wonder at the end when they asked about Remus.

“I know you didn’t, don’t worry,” Harry said, waving their concern away, “Uncle Moony keyed you into the wards after the prank you pulled on Graham Montague in your first year. I’m not much of a prankster, not a nice one anyway, and my siblings are too young to be showing any promise yet so they found worthy heirs in the pair of you,” he said with a friendly smile. “Though I’m sure I don’t need to say that every kindness has its limits, so me and mine are off the table.”

“Understood little snake, should we draft the peace treaty in parchment?” They said in unison again.

“No need, I trust you to know what’s good for you,” Harry said dismissively, “and I really didn’t mean to interrupt, and I won’t bother you much anyway, but I do need to fetch one of my abba’s journals and I might come from time to time, but as I said, pranking is not really my style, though I do settle my scores. You’ll have the run of the place primarily,”

“So, are we to assume you have some scores to settle? Anything we can help with?” They said greedily, jumping at the chance.

“I’m not sure I should say, this itty bitty baby bond we have is still so tender and new after all,” Harry cooed, “I wouldn’t want to breach the peace so early,” he said guardedly, “I’m guessing you heard what happened to my friend Hermione as we left History today?” 

“You’re going after Ronniekins,” they said matter-of-factly.

“What makes you say that?” Harry asked pointedly.

“We heard him telling the tale back in the common room. He’s stupid, but not stupid enough to admit to it after Professor Lupin announced the culprit would be expelled and facing charges, but he wasn’t exactly subtle with how little he cared about the fact and how much he thought the poor girl had it coming. There’s no proof he did it or we would have reported it,” they said with a frown.

“Well, in that case, the only help I’ll take is your silence. I won’t ask you to help me if I’m going against your brother,” Harry said seriously.

“Why? Pranking Ickle Wonnie is one of our favorite pastimes, we’d be happy to help,” they said in unison again… it was getting rather tiring.

“Because he almost murdered one of my best friends, and he’s not even remorseful. I wouldn’t classify what I have in mind as a prank, and I couldn’t ask you to do that to your own brother. If you’re willing to stay quiet about the whole thing, that’s plenty for me,” Harry said with a sharp edge to his tone. “But if you want to add to his torment on your own, be my guest, turn his hair and robes Slytherin green for all I care,”

“Mum’s the word then,” they said, “and how would we go about turning his hair green?”

“Page 47 of this journal, it might need some tweaking because the potion and spell turn the hair and robes to Gryffindor red, as it was meant to prank Slytherins, but it’s not a hard workaround,” Harry said, handing them one of his father’s journals where that particular prank was detailed, and grabbing the one he came for.

“I’ll be taking this one and I’ll leave you to your brewing. I hope I can count on you keeping things hush?” Harry said seriously.

“Keep what hush? We don’t know anything,” they said, and Harry nodded approvingly before leaving the room with Draco in tow.

“You were awfully quiet in there,” Harry said leadingly as they entered their dorm.

“And spoil your diplomatic peace talks by angering the Weasley demons? There was no need to get our family feud in the mix. I would have stayed behind if you’d told me it was them,” Draco said as if it was the most obvious thing.

“Dray… that was almost… mature of you!” Harry said in mock shock.

“Shut it,” Draco said with an eye roll, “it’s been known to happen once in a blue moon, now tell me what you’re planning to do to the Weasel.”

“Oh… it’s going to be ugly, ugly and completely untraceable,” Harry said with an evil grin.

“Come see, I’m 98% sure it’s in this one. We’ll need some of his hair, though I’m not against using blood as well,” he said, pulling out the leather-bound journal that read Of love and mischief, the complete works of Prongs and Prongslette.

~~~

It took a week for the trio to catch the Weasel unaware and to gather the necessary materials for what they had planned, after carefully studying his routine. It was sad really, but useful that he was such a creature of habit and a loner in the lion’s den and the time passed would help draw suspicion away from them. Had they done it the next day? Sure, someone imaginative might come to the conclusion that they might have had motive, but a week after? Already forgotten.

As every Friday, Roland was walking back up to the tower after failing to convince either Thomas or Finnegan to quit their homework early to play chess with him, and as always, he took the same route back from the library, where Harry, Draco and Hermione were waiting for their prey.

Harry was under the cloak, waiting by a suit of armor in the portrait-less corridor while Draco was in a hidden alcove behind a tapestry with Hermione, directly in front of Harry.

Once Roland rounded the corner and passed in front of the tapestry, Harry quickly stunned him and he fell back into the arms of a waiting Draco. With studied precision, Hermione dabbed a drop of Potter&Prince Wondrously Luscious Hair Lengthening Tonic on his nape and waited for the lock to grow before snipping it at the original length so it wouldn’t be noticed, taking his necktie as well, while Draco cut his finger and collected a vial of blood before casting a quick episkey and healing the cut. Harry quickly received the necktie from Hermione and replicated it as he’d been practicing with a quick geminio, and slipped the copy back on the boy’s neck with a flick of his wand, tying it a loose knot just as it was. It was all over in under a minute.

They quickly left him there until he woke up naturally from the charm and made their way down to the common room under the cloak, where Theo, Pansy and Blaise were waiting, ready to say they had been with them all afternoon should anyone ask, but who would? They were such nice children, model students really. Hermione couldn’t resist taking an essay due Monday out of Roland’s bag to throw in the fireplace later. 

~~~

“Are you sure you want to do this? It’s harsh Harry, and I’m the one he tried to kill,” Hermione said hesitantly that night in an abandoned classroom in the dungeons, a few levels down from the common room.

“He tried to kill you Mi, he’s lucky he’s alive,” Harry said seriously. To think just a few months ago he’d gone green at the thought of taking a life when his abba told him the requirements to become a necromancer. Now? He’d gladly eviscerate the one that tried to kill one of his friends. “Besides, it’s my mother’s ritual. It worked well for her and she’s much more thorough in her explanations than my abba. It’ll work,” he said.

“I have no doubt it’ll work! That's what worries me. Are you sure we won’t get caught?” Hermione said worriedly. “We could be sent to Azkaban! Or worse… Expelled!”

“It’s completely untraceable, no one managed to find out it was Mutti back then and no one will know it was us now. And if he accuses us because he thinks we have a motive? He’d be basically confessing to attempted murder and frankly I hope he does, stupid bhenchod cunt,” Harry sneered. “And no one is sending the heiress to an Ancient and Most Noble House to Azkaban, nor the son of the Chief Warlock or the son of the Traddie Party Leader for that matter, and neither are we getting expelled with all of our fathers and legal guardians on the board of governors, though I suggest you sort out those priorities,” Harry said with a smirk.

“What is this ritual anyway? It sounds a lot like voodoo,” Hermione said, shaking off her worries. The bastard deserved it, Harry was right.

“I see why it would, but it’s an old Egyptian ritual Mutti adapted herself. It’s dark, I’m not going to lie, but none of us are light wix so dark shmark,” Harry said, shrugging it off.

There wasn’t much ceremony to it, so Harry began mixing the ingredients in the prepared bowl and chanting. 

“Soil taken from under his foot, give my pet substance,” Harry said, pouring the bag of dirt they’d gathered from outside the greenhouses after the weasel stepped on it into the bowl.

“Water taken from his cup, give my pet shape,” Harry chanted next, pouring a vial of water from Roland’s goblet Neville procured for them from the Gryffindor table.

“Blood of his body, bind him to my pet,” Harry said, pouring the blood vial into the bowl with the rest of the sludge.

Then, with care, he mixed the sludge hovering his wand in circular motions over the bowl until it turned to clay, and with his hands he shaped it into a little man, like a doll, which made Hermione’s comment make sense. 

“His hair I give him, in his cloth I dress him, bind my pet to Ronald Bilius Weasley, as we do onto it, let it be done onto him, Imperio Domini Familiaris,” Harry said then as he stuck the lock of hair into the doll’s head and wrapped it in the tie, making it shine bright white before turning into a little replica of the boy in question, still and non sentient.

“Is that it?” Hermione asked, looking at the little miniature Weasley in awe.

“Yes, according to Mutti’s notes, it’ll degrade in two weeks and whatever we do to it, will be done upon the weasel as well. We can’t cast anything on it that will kill him, that’s the only limit. Not because of morality but of impossibility. It’s a safeguard Mutti built into the ritual. We could use it to make him fall down the stairs and that could kill him if I were to say… break his foot while he’s going up or down the stairs, but I won’t,” Harry said with a shrug that was way too casual for Hermione’s taste. “Nothing can be traced back to us. Our magical signatures are tied to the doll, not to Roland. Have you two decided what your punishments will be?” Harry asked them both with a serious face.

“I have,” Hermione said with a smirk, “according to Neville, he’s dreadfully afraid of spiders, and I found just the thing,” she said, rolling up her sleeves and pulling out her wand.

Harry placed the doll on the table, and Hermione pointed her wand at it and cast in a round motion, “sensus aranearum,” and a purplish black jet of light enveloped the doll.

“That’s genius, spiders?” Draco asked curiously, examining the doll. It looked unchanged and inert as ever.

“He’ll feel spiders crawling over him randomly until I lift it,” she said with a wicked grin.

“Lovely,” Harry grinned, “Draco?”

“He eats like a pig, I think he needs to learn some manners,” Draco smiled sweetly, scarily so. “Fames evanesco,” 

“What does that do?” Hermione asked with a frown.

“It’s not a curse, it's not even banned. It’s a dieting charm I saw in a magazine Pansy left lying around. It makes you not feel hungry so it’s easier to diet apparently. I know what Harry has planned so I thought I’d go easy on him and just take away one of his pleasures.”

“Harry?” Hermione asked hesitantly. At least he’d said they couldn’t kill him.

“Visio tenebris culpa,” Harry said with a manic grin, sending a red bolt of light towards the doll.

“I’m afraid to ask,” Hermione said warily.

“He’ll have nightmares until the doll decays fully, because I have no intention of lifting it. And no one else will be able to. They’d have to lift them off the doll.” Harry explained. “It’s called the guilty conscience curse, not the darkest nightmare curse out there though,” he said, “those put you in a coma and trap you in your own worst fears indefinitely, until the person dies from the stress or the curse is lifted. This one will just give him nightmares every night or whenever he’s asleep. It’ll take some time before he suspects it’s intentional, if he ever does.”

“That lenient of you,” Hermione said.

“It’s not all I have planned, but for the second part of my punishment I need the doll to be almost gone,” he said nonchalantly, and wouldn’t say what else he was planning.

~~~

The next day, the three of them sat eating breakfast as if nothing happened, intentionally ignoring the Gryffindor table on the other side of the Hall.

The real punishment would come as their curses accumulated, so there was no real reason to risk exposure just to see Roland slightly sleep deprived and pushing food around his plate with mild disgust, swatting himself randomly and shaking his hair and robes.

Harry thought of going to the den to put the journal back, but he couldn’t trust the twins not to look through it and find the ritual they used. He didn’t know them well enough yet for that, so he wouldn’t until the doll fully disintegrated, if he ever did. It wasn’t knowledge he’d willingly share.

By the end of the first week, he looked dead on his feet and was falling asleep in every class, waking up forcefully because of the nightmares plaguing him and the feeling of legs crawling over him.

He was forcing himself to eat most meals, a nauseous look on his face as he pushed his food down and fought to keep it down. 

Neville told them that by the third day he’d gone to the infirmary and they’d found nothing wrong, as Harry had assured them, but the nurse had him on nutritional potions until he could stomach food again and he was getting sleeping draughts to help him sleep, which only made Harry grin further because the more he slept, the more his nightmares would pester him. Even if the matron deemed it necessary to prescribe Dreamless Sleep instead of a regular sleeping draught, the curse was stronger than the recommended potency for a child of his age and weight.

The twins kept their word and their mouths shut, but looked at Harry with a mixture of respect, curiosity and fear. They probably thought that he’d soften by the end of the week and spear him, but they would have to wait a few days.

A week and a half passed and the weasel had to be admitted to the infirmary and put under magical sleep as the matron spelled potions and nutritional concentrates into his stomach along with soothing salves where he scratched himself raw, and the twins finally caved and asked Harry to please stop whatever he was doing, to which he magnanimously agreed.

The next day, Roland made a miraculous recovery and was only kept an extra day in observation, which was spent sleeping in short bursts, nightmares plaguing him naturally now after so many nights under the curse, and eating copious amounts of food while awake.

That day, Uncle Sev called the three of them into his office.

“What did you do?” He asked, narrowing his eyes at them.

“About what?” Harry asked innocently.

“Hadrian,” Severus warned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I’ve done a lot of things… homework, essays, revision charts for exams, played some chess with Draco… you’ll need to be more specific Uncle Sev,” he said, still clueless as ever.

“What did you do to the Weasley boy,” Severus said, exasperated.

“What makes you think we did anything?” Harry asked, green eyes big and innocent.

“Please, the only thing missing for it to be a signature Hadrian Potter-Black vengeance is a bald crown,” Severus said, “let me guess, some sort of hallucinogen curse, a nightmare curse and what… a nauseating curse?” 

“Ok, fine, I’ll tell you,” Harry said dramatically, “Crawling spiders, a diet charm and the guilty conscience curse,” Harry said nonchalantly.

“And how, pray tell, has no one been able to fix them? I’d say I hope you were thorough, but he’s been checked over by the matron in great detail, and she’s even consulted colleagues in St Mungo’s and no one can find anything wrong with him,” he asked cautiously.

“Don’t worry about it uncle Sev, plausible deniability and all that, but if you really want to know you should ask Mutti on Saturday,” was all Severus could get out of Harry.

~~~

“I have a bone to pick with you, Lyra Seraphine Potter,” Severus said that weekend, stirring some honey into his tea while looking at Lyra with narrowed eyes.

“Do you now? What is this bone about then? Let’s pick,” she said with a smirk.

“I take it you heard about the incident with Hermione and the tripping jinx two weeks ago?” Severus asked accusingly.

“Yes, of course,” Lyra said, “Remy told me that same day. Him and Sirius came for dinner with the children and told us. Then the next day we got a letter from Harry telling us all about it.”

“Well, it appears the little trio managed to get their revenge in the end,” Severus said, “they suspected the Weasel child, with just cause might I add, though there was no proof to accuse him openly.”

“Yes, Remus told us the most troubling thing was that he did not detect any guilt in the air after the fact. Whoever did it had the intention of having her fall down the stairs. No remorse, probably even disappointment that it failed in killing her,” Lyra said with a frown.

“Yes, as it turns out, Harry and his little sidekicks decided the young Weasel boy was to blame and took matters into their own hands. Did you know about this Ly?” Severus asked.

“Not with details, no,” Lyra said, “we wrote back telling him to keep us posted on any developments, but all he wrote back was that he was handling it. I don’t know what he did, but I imagine he handled it more like I would have than how James would?” she asked knowingly.

“To the letter,” Severus said, “the boy spent a week and a half under a guilty conscience curse, with nightmares every time he slept. They added a dieting charm, probably that fames evanesco fad from the girlie rags, and a hallucinogen curse, crawling spiders,” Severus said with a shudder, “apparently the boy suffers from arachnophobia.”

“I’m assuming they weren’t caught? You’re sounding more impressed than admonishing Sevy,” Lyra smirked.

“Not a trace,” Severus said, “no one could find any trace of the curses on the boy, and Poppy had him in a magical coma for a day, which must have been hellish, and she had to spell nutritional concentrates hourly into his stomach because the boy could barely keep water down after ten days of starvation.”

“Ten days? That’s unexpected, was that all? Did the boy recover?” Lyra asked curiously.

“He’s traumatized, obviously. Dreads going to sleep, probably having nightmares naturally if it’s all he can think about, but he’s eating normally and stopped scratching himself raw. He was starting to make a good recovery, but then…” Severus said, unsure of how to continue. He knew his godson had a mean streak and a vindictive one as well. He still remembered having to brew round the clock to give James and Sirius their hair back after that stupid prank they tried to pull on Harry back in 89. It took determination, power and a cold heart to cast a balding curse resistant against hair growing potion at nine with a training wand and nailing it perfectly.

“Then what Sevy? The suspense is killing me,” Lyra said teasingly.

“Then, a few days later, the boy broke both his legs and his dominant arm, in a nasty fall down a flight of stairs apparently, but we both know better, don’t we?” Severus deadpanned.

“How many days later Sevy?” Lyra asked pointedly.

“Three or four? Four,” he said, trying to recall and count the days.

“The boy didn’t break his legs Sev, Harry did,” Lyra said with a… proud smile?

“This is you isn’t it? This is too cruel to be James’ handiwork,” Severus said, “he liked humiliation, but you… you liked pain, to make them suffer.”

“Yep, he used one of mine this time,” she said with that same pleased smile, “remember what happened to Mulciber in fifth year? After he tried to force himself on Mary on her way back from Hogsmeade?”

“The broken legs… how?” Severus asked with wide eyes at the realization.

“Egyptian Clay Golem, slightly tweaked,” she said, “don’t worry about anyone finding out, it’s completely untraceable. I’ll teach you later.” 

She’d have to write to her baby as soon as she got home to congratulate him. She knew exactly where he got the ritual from and if it lasted two weeks it could only mean he’d found the coded notes with the modified incantations to strengthen the bond with blood. James had still been Albus’ pet back then so she’d had to light-wash it a bit to keep up appearances.

“You most definitely will teach me later,” Severus said with a smirk, though a disturbance in the wards distracted him for a moment.

“SEVERUS!” They heard Barty shout all of a sudden, a blood curdling cry that had them running inside.

“Barty? Barty, where’s Ella?” Severus asked once they found Barty standing in the doorway leading to the floo room.

“Sevy,” Barty managed to say, barely above a whisper as he turned his head around. He was white as a ghost.

“Aşkim,” Severus said, holding him up when he noticed his knees failing, “where’s Ella?” He asked again, worry twisting his stomach.

“Missie Ella is being fine with Yasin, Master Severus sir,” an elf said, popping into the room.

It was only then that he looked into the room, and saw the disheveled form of Xenophilius Lovegood with his daughter in his arms.

“Pandi,” Barty whispered, “Pandi’s dead,”

“Aresto Momentum!” Lyra cast as Xenophilius collapsed to the floor with Luna in tow, catching their fall.

“Alper! Ege! Fetch me my medikit! And prepare the Güzelim suite,” he said in rapid succession, levitating their unconscious bodies towards the guest room he asked prepared on the ground floor.

“I’ll call Mary over,” Lyra said, rushing to the floo.

“I need you back quickly! I don’t know in what shape they are and I can’t work on both!” Severus called from behind her, Barty following close behind.

Once Lyra came back with Mary on her tail a few minutes later, they found Severus casting diagnostics and charming potions into their stomachs.

“Update me Severus, what am I working with here,” Mary said, rolling up her lime green sleeves and drawing her wand.

“Luna is the one in the worst shape, her core is unstable, like a magical inheritance gone wrong or something, along with burns and cuts. I don’t know what happened, some kind of magical explosion by the looks of it. Xenophilius has minor burns and cuts and mostly succumbed to the shock, his core is moderately depleted. Whatever happened must have drained him somehow,” Severus said as he applied burn salve on their burns after closing the cuts. Luckily it was all from flying debris so no curses were involved, hindering their healing.

“She seems to be responding well to the stabilizers you administered,” Mary said, casting diagnostic charms of her own on Luna. 

“I think we should wake Xenophilius up. He can take it and we need to know what happened,” Mary added after reading the results of his tests.

“Ennervate,” Severus cast over the blond, and he woke with a gasp and a shout of “Pandora!”

“Phil! Phil calm down please, you flooed here to Princeton Court with Luna, you’ve been tended to and we’re working on Luna. She’s responding well to treatment so far so please tell us what happened,” Barty said.

“She’s gone Barty, she’s gone,” Xeno said, “I didn’t catch it. She said so and I didn’t catch it. On the day of blinding lights shall the rose lose its last petal and the rosebud shall bloom. Beware of those bearing gifts for they are tainted with malice and goat’s doom,” Xenophilius said.

“What does that mean?” Severus asked. He didn’t speak Pandi, it had always been Barty’s department.

“They found out? How? It’s not possible,” Barty said in shock.

“I have to get back. They’ll be there soon. The aurors. Luna was here with you, she’s been here with you the whole week ok? She hasn’t been out of the house, no one will know. I’ll stall as long as I can,” he said, wiping the burn salve away.

“Xenophilius, you can’t go anywhere! Please lie down,” Severus said as the man moved to stand.

“Let him, sevgilim,” Barty said with a hand on his shoulders, “Pandi knows… knew what she was doing,” he choked out.

They watched him go back to the floo, shock keeping their feet planted and Severus only reacted once he felt him leave through the wards.

“What happened?” He asked, turning to Barty, “who found what out?”

“You need to get Lucius here immediately, tell him the rose lost its last petal, he’ll ask if the rosebud has bloomed. Say yes, he’ll know what to do,” Barty said to Lyra, who left without another word to fire-call Malfoy Manor.

“Barty please explain, you know I don’t speak Pandora,” Severus sighed.

“She knew this would happen. Today’s the day of blinding lights. She always said she knew she’d die on the day of blinding lights,” Barty said, almost to himself, oblivious to the tears running down his cheeks. “It was a secret, we kept it ever since Evan died. After he died, Pandora inherited the Rosier title and kept Lucius as steward. No one was supposed to know. With Lucius as steward, people would think his son was the next in line and Druella was the regent. Dumbledore must have suspected, or found out somehow. This wasn’t an accident, not entirely at least, I trust everyone’s mind shields enough to tell you. Pandora created wards around her house for this very day. When someone would come bearing gifts tainted by Dumbledore. Probably Molly Weasley. She assured us the wards would blast a targeted wave, erasing the memory from those not supposed to know. She must have always known it would backfire somehow and willingly hid the connection with the wards and the day of blinding lights.”

“Uncle Barty?” They heard Luna say from the bed, unaware that she’d woken up at some point.

“Lulu, baby, how are you? Are you ok?” Barty said, fussing over his goddaughter.

“Mummy said to tell you that she’s very sorry, but there’s no variant in which she made it past today, it was the most she could delay it, but she rather liked this one because you were happy in this variant,” Luna said in her usual dreamy voice, so like Pandora’s it hurt Barty to hear it now.

“It’s ok Lu, I know she never did anything without a purpose, even if it hurts right now,” Barty managed to say with a smile through his tears.

“You need to breathe Uncle Barty, you can’t take a calming draught, mummy said so,” Luna said calmly, “she said to tell you that she was very happy for you and that she’s very happy with just a middle name.”

“Barty? What does she mean?” Severus said with a slight edge to his voice.

“Right… cover your ears Lulu,” Barty said with a barked laugh, and Luna covered her ears dutifully.

“Wherever you are, Pandora Penelope Rosier, fuck you, and I love you,” he laughed.

“Aşkim, what did she mean?” Severus said, a hint of a smile as he pieced the information together.

“Right, sorry… it’s not how I wanted to tell you, but… I’m pregnant,” Barty smiled sheepishly, “and it’s another girl apparently.”

~~~

“Everything looks to be ok, you’re about 5 weeks along,” Mary said after performing some tests on Barty. “Is this your first spontaneous pregnancy?” She asked. 

“Yes, I took potions for Ella’s, but just as a means to hurry things along. We speculated I could become pregnant naturally due to my magiscore, but we didn’t want to chance it and we wanted to plan around Sevy’s work so she would be born during the summer break without him missing term, only missed by a two weeks,” Barty said with a fond smile, because even with careful planning, Ella was born the first week of September and Severus did indeed miss a few days of term. “I was on the potion for a while after we had her, just to be safe, but I don’t react well to it so we’ve just been using contraceptive charms.”

“Well, someone had one too many at the Abbott Ball and forgot the charms it seems, this baby has Ostara written all over it,” Mary smirked, snickering at the blush on both parents. “I want you to start a regimen of stabilizing potions just to be on the safe side, you’re still within the window for spontaneous miscarriages so take it easy on the casting and the exercise until you’re past the first trimester, I’ll book you in for biweekly checkups with me but feel free to call on me in case of emergency.”

“Lord Malfoy is here,” Luna said dreamily just as Severus felt the wards chime.

“Winky! Show Lord Malfoy to my sitting room please,” Barty called out, extending his hand to Luna.

“Lucius, thank you for coming,” Barty said with pain still in his eyes after seeing Mary off back to the hospital.

“It’s no trouble, I’m so very sorry for your loss, heiress Rosier,” Lucius said, turning to look at Luna.

“Thank you Lord Malfoy, mummy always spoke very highly of you. Thank you for keeping us hidden,” Luna said.

“Heiress Rosier, I have the heirship ring and the means to perform an inheritance test with me. This is most unusual, but all as per the request of the late Lady Rosier. We are honored to continue the bonds of friendship between your house and the Silver Halls,” the goblin that stood next to Lucius said.

“The House of Rosier is a friend of the Goblin Nation?” Lyra asked, perplexed. As far as she knew, only some of the really old houses had the honor, for standing with them at one goblin war or another, or helping with the founding of the bank.

“The Silver Halls have always protected those gifted with the sight, and in turn, we help them with… profitable information,” Luna said simply.

“Did her ladyship’s ritual work as intended?” The goblin asked Luna.

“I’d say it did, but the test should confirm it easily enough,” Luna said, pricking her finger with the silver needle the goblin provided, and letting three drops fall onto the parchment.

“As expected, you have the claim to the title Heiress Rosier. I’d congratulate you if only it were coming to you under better circumstances,” the goblin commiserated.

After she put on the ring, she turned to Lucius and said in a calm voice, “thank you for your continued stewardship of my house, Lord Malfoy. You have my consent to continue on as you have been so far, until the time I may claim my seats for myself.”

“It’s my honor to do so, Heiress Rosier, and if you need anything at all, please don’t hesitate to call. You may expect an owl from your great aunt,” he said before taking his leave.

“Ok Lulu, we should explain,” Barty said, looking at the still shocked faces of everyone around them.

“Mummy was Lady Rosier, but the nargles told her long ago that Dumbledore would make a move on our house. It was a matter of life or death that he did not get control of neither her nor me. A true seer in his service would have been the dark’s doom. So mummy hatched her plan,” she said carelessly, as if she were recounting a fun day out. “She gave proxy to Lord Malfoy after uncle Evie died, and we had everyone think that he was holding the seat for his son, who has the next strongest claim to the title being my great aunt Druella’s grandson. Lady Malfoy and her sisters are stronger in their Black family magics, so their claim is weaker. Mummy was more notorious than she would have liked in regards to her gift, so she pretended to be disowned for marrying daddy in the hopes it would draw attention away from us. When she realized it wouldn’t work, and she saw the day of blinding lights was inevitable, she prepared the rituals,” Luna said, before turning to Lyra.

“She prepared two rituals, one to abdicate in my favor so I could come into the family magics a little early, so I could claim the heirship a little earlier and transfer the proxy rights seamlessly, and one for the blood wards protecting me and the secret from the Headmaster,” she said with a knowing look.

“She sacrificed herself,” Lyra whispered, a shocked tear rolling down her face.

“Yes, she anchored bloodwards to me, so the headmaster may never know who I really am or what I can do. It will be hard, but it’s necessary. People will simply find me… eccentric, unless they’re let in on the secret,” Luna said, before leaning close to Lyra, “she was sad to find out they wouldn’t hold if one didn’t stay dead, aunty Dorcas was fascinated,” she whispered quietly in her ear.

“We’ll protect you too darling. You’ll always have me,” Barty said, crouching down to her level. “Whatever you need moonshine.”

“I know, thank you Uncle Barty. Mummy told me you’d be there, you and Uncle Reggie, but not yet,” she said cryptically, her eyes a little glazed over. “He won’t be back until the day the allfather mends his wayward child,”   

“He’ll come back?” Barty said quietly, hope lighting a spark i that hadn’t burned in a long time.

“Yes, but not yet. Wrackspurts are still clouding everything in regards to him, and I’m still new to the sight, but it’ll become clearer in due time,” she said, “now, could I please have a nap? I’m really tired and I really miss my mummy, she’s waiting in my dreams.”

Chapter Text

“Ready for another round Prongsy?” Sirius said teasingly as they walked up to the castle Saturday morning for the monthly board meeting.

“As ready as I always am to sit through the old man’s endless droning,” James said with an eye roll. 

“Mornin’ James, Sirius. How’r ye lot doin?” They heard from their right, where Hagrid was coming up from the forest with a few dead pheasants tied up by the feet hanging over his shoulder.

“Top of the morning to you Hagrid! Monthly board meeting is all, and you?” James answered affably. Even if Hagrid was still Dumbles’ man through and through, they’d maintained a cordial relationship since the half giant couldn’t keep a secret more than a tomato sandwich could keep a slice in, which had proven useful in the past and would surely still do so in the future.

“Been better, what can I tell ye, forest been keepin’ me busy, something’s been huntin’ them unicorns all year. Makin’ the centaurs right nasty I tell ye. Don’t suppose ye’ll get round to sortin’ the whole mess out sometime soon will ye?” Hagrid said admonishingly.

“First we’re hearing of it, but we’ll bring it up at the meeting and see what we can do, thank you for bringing it to our attention Hagrid,” James said with a worried look. This was bad, very bad indeed.

“Really? Professor Dumbledore assured me he’d brought it up in the November meetin’ and ye lot told him there was nothin’ to be done with the creature wards down because of the… ye know,” Hagrid said with a puzzled look.

“I’m sure he thought he did, but he’s a busy man and it must have slipped his mind,” Sirius said through gritted teeth, “it’s what we would have said anyhow, but perhaps it’s time to reevaluate some of the countermeasures. There’s no need for creatures if it’s causing this much trouble in the forest,” he added thoughtfully.

“What I said! Besides, Fluffy’s owner is missin’ the pup a terrible awful. Perhaps someone else could do some enchantin’ or some sort other magics,” Hagrid offered casually.

“Sure thing, we’ll let you know what comes of it afterwards, Hagrid. Thanks for letting us know,” James smiled as soothingly as he could. 

“This is bad Jim, bad indeed,” Sirius whispered as they resumed their way up to the castle.

“Worse than bad. It means he’s here. Not just an agent. He’s bleeding unicorns to sustain whatever vessel he’s using. We’ll need to speak to Harry after the meeting,” James whispered quickly before they entered the castle and could be overheard.

“Luke, good to see you,” James said casually as he entered the boardroom off of the headmaster’s office.

“James, Sirius,” Lucius nodded, “anything interesting on the docket today?” 

“Final vote on the curriculum changes for the upcoming year. I’d still like to push for an extra teacher position even if Bathsheda says she can handle the workload. Morgana knows we could do with an extra teacher on all core subjects, there used to be bloody departments in my father’s time for crying out loud! Research was done at Hogwarts! Masteries! We’d be able to afford it just fine if the goat didn’t like his pockets,” James said quietly.

“I would too, but you know we can’t play that card until he’s all but bleeding out. Threatening to go through the books is the only thing that makes him back down effectively. He’s already fighting us on the raise we’d be giving Batty,” Lucius said with a frown.

“I know! I know… it’s just frustrating that’s all,” James said, “what’s the quorum for today? Full attendance?”

“Doge sent word that he’d be having Albus take over for him for today’s meeting, and so did the parvenu,” Lucius said with a faint sneer.

“Blessed be the Mother for her graces,” James sighed in relief, “I’m not in the mood for more bootlicking from that social climber.”

James kept both a close eye and as much distance as he could from Harold Brown. He saw too much of Albus in him. Not the power or brain by any rate, but some of his worst qualities. He was a second or third generation wizard who’d made his fortune a little too quickly for anyone to believe he wasn’t crooked, and not in an honorable way as James liked to think he himself was. Word on the street was that he had fingers in all sorts of illegal pies and was suspected of many breaches to the statute of secrecy in his dealings with his muggle investments. James suspected he was now the goat’s main cash cow, so the coven had firmly shut the doors of society to him. Even if he bought his way into many charity balls and fundraising events, the official season was off limits. Even if the snubbing drove him deeper into the goat’s pocket, they’d rather that than having a mole in their midst. 

“If both his minions called in sick, it means he needs the votes secured for something so be on your toes, I’ll let Frank know when he gets here. And I might be presenting a motion of my own,” James said quietly, as more governors came in, “no time to tell you now, just don’t look too surprised, ok?” 

“Showtime,” Lucius whispered as Albus walked in last.

“Ah, welcome everybody to another meeting of the Board of Governors, please sit,” he said in his usual jovial tone, all smiles and twinkly eyes, usurping the lead with no shame whatsoever.

“It’ll be one of those, Frankie, sharp and ready,” James whispered as he sat next to the man with Sirius on his other side.

They went through the motions and monthly updates and reviews with Albus still holding his cards close to the chest. He fussed a little over the final vote to make Ancient Runes a core subject on account of the cost but just as Lucius predicted, a simple offer from Lord Smith to look over the books to find the money to make it work dissolved the issue. After that, Albus finally made his move.

“One last thing before we leave, if I may,” he said offhandedly.

“Do make it quick Albus, I have a fire-call with the ambassador to MACUSA in 30 minutes, not that I’d rather be speaking to Bagnold anyway,” Fudge said with a quick glance at his pocket watch.

“Of course Cornelius,” Albus said, entirely too casually for the minister’s liking, but they were all used to the headmaster’s lack of decorum.

“I’ve been in touch with my friend Nicolas, and he’s beseeched me to please hold on to his stone for a while longer, so I’d like to move for a vote to extend the protection of the philosopher’s stone for one more year at Hogwarts. Threats keep coming his way and it’s just not safe to return it yet,” he said with almost believable concern.

“I’m sorry Albus, but a year has been disruptive enough. Mr Flamel is over 600 years old, I’m sure he’s more than equipped to care for his own possessions,” James said with kindness just as put on and glad it had come to this and he wouldn’t have to present a motion out of the blue.

“Disruptive? Barely!” Albus dismissed with a wave of his hand, “we have space to spare and the children have obeyed the rules to the letter, there’s no reason not to continue.”

In truth, Albus hoped he could extend his little trap longer because the bloody kid refused to cooperate. He was grasping at straws at the moment and he desperately needed more time, and perhaps Tom would be tempted to return if the stone remained within grasp.

“I’m of half a mind to not just deny an extension but terminate the whole affair, Albus,” James said, shaking his head. “Not disruptive? That troll that waltzed in as if it were one of the founders returning home wasn’t a disruption? And funny enough, Sirius and I ran into Hagrid on our way up and he so kindly asked us what we were planning to do about the unicorn issue,” James said with the faintest smirk, just for Albus to notice, “an issue that he seemed to believe you had brought to our attention in November, but we’ve heard nothing about. Care to explain why there’s a creature hunting down the unicorns in the forest and we had to not only find out from someone else, but find out that you were intentionally trying to hide it from the board?” 

“That was handled long before the issue needed to be raised! There was no need to bring it up. It’s been resolved since before the new year.” Albus hurried to say.

“Albus, please… most of us are parents here, you’ll need to do better than that. Even Neville could come up with something better on the fly and that boy doesn’t have a dishonest bone in his body,” Frank said with an eye roll.

“It’s sacrilegious to refuse protection to a unicorn Albus! If something is killing the herd in the forest then I concur with Lord Potter. This is a school, Albus, not a bank. We’ve been generous with Mr Flamel and covered the stone’s security at our own expense. A year is far more than you would have gotten if it had been up to me,” Fudge said.

“The stone stays until June, Albus, then Mr Flamel can make his own arrangements to secure his possessions. I’d advise a more secure vault, deeper within the halls of the goblin nation than the standard personal vault he contracted with the goblins before the current arrangement. He’s an alchemist who’s been in possession of the philosopher’s stone for quite a few centuries after all, he must certainly have enough transmuted gold to cover it,” James said.

“Shall we call a vote then?” Albus said through gritted teeth.

“No need, we’d win anyway and we seem to be in agreement, aren’t we my lords?” Lady Marchbanks asked innocently. “Lovely, no more stone next year then. And we should contact the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures so they can send someone to ward off a paddock to secure the herd of unicorns in danger.”

“And let’s do away with the dog and troll I think. I can get aunt Cass to ward it properly and we could reduce the space this thing takes to a single broom cupboard,” Sirius said, just for kicks.

“No need to incur in more expenses because the headmaster is kind enough to dole out favors that aren’t entirely his to dole out, making use of resources that aren’t solely his to make us of,” The minister said with an eye roll, “but I do agree with Heir Black that we should be rid of the Cerberus and the troll. The stone is protected enough that we can do away with the gimmicky bits and raise the creature wards again without having to retain the services of Madam Black, which we certainly cannot afford.”

“Lovely,” James said, “and right in time for lunch. As a formality, let’s put this up for a vote anyway, lest some say it isn’t official. All those in favor of dismissing the unwanted protections, raising the creature wards back up and calling for the DRCMC to ward off a paddock for the unicorns and dispose of the troll? Say aye.”

A chorus of ayes reflected the win 8 to 4.

“Marvelous, I’ll let Hagrid know to return the Cerberus to its owner,” James called out merrily, “anything else left to discuss?” 

Albus was barely managing to contain his temper so he simply shook his head.

“Then I declare this meeting of the board adjourned, thank you for your time everyone,” James said solemnly.

“Frank, any plans for lunch?” James asked.

“I’m just going to look in on Neville and rush home actually, busy day,” Frank said apologetically.

“No worries, mind if we take him out for lunch? Sirius, Lucius and I were thinking of taking the kids out for a spot of lunch in Hogsmeade, to make the most of the weekend and all,” James said.

“Sure! No problem, let’s find Minnie and let her know before I leave,”

~~~

“I still can’t believe he’d do something like that,” Hermione said during her morning exam revision session in the common room with her friends. They’d all agreed to sacrifice Saturday mornings for revision and have a lie-in on Sundays instead, in preparation for their upcoming exams. Even weeks after the incident with the Weasel tripping her down the stairs, she still felt anxious about walking around the castle and always approached stairs with caution. Even with the looming threat of a Machiavellian headmaster lording over her, the more real, immediate threat of nasty idiots willing to maim and murder out of spite at barely eleven left her that much more rattled. Either Harry, Draco or Theo, or a combination of the three escorted her everywhere, which put her somewhat at ease, especially after Harry confirmed that he’d in fact been behind the nasty tumble the weasel took down a flight of stairs near his common room. He’d just shrugged casually and said that he’d said he wouldn’t kill him with a fall down the stairs, not that he wouldn’t do it altogether. It both warmed and chilled her core to know that she had friends as ruthless and protective as Harry and Draco.

“He’s resentful, and by far the worst of the weasels,” Theo said dismissively from her left, “I guess the twins and his elder brothers are not so bad, but he’s too much like his mother, nasty woman.”

“It’s definitely an isolated issue,” Harry said, “you can’t really blame the Weasleys as a whole, nor the Prewetts. Not bad cousins to have in one’s back pocket, those twins.”

“Cousins?” Hermione asked with a confused frown.

“I thought you would have started studying the family trees by now, don’t let Great Aunt Walburga know you’re behind on your studies though” Draco said with a shudder, “we’re all related in some way or another. If we go back enough we could all find some relation.”

“Their grandmother, Cedrella Weasley, was born Cedrella Black, and our great aunt Lucretia married their great uncle Ignatius Prewett,” Harry said.

“Every time I sit with that blasted book I end up with a headache. It’s the bane of my existence,” Hermione said dramatically, because the thought of a book she didn’t enjoy was indeed a tragedy to her.

“I don’t envy you, starting this late,” Draco commiserated, “but once you get it down you’ll be able to place anyone quickly enough. We all can.”

“Do me then,” Hermione challenged mischievously.

“You’re way too easy,” Draco said with an amused eye roll, “we know we share Black blood through your great great grandfather Marius and my mother is a Black, and on your Burke side, Eloise Burke married my great great great grandfather Maximus Malfoy in 1803, and your great great uncle Herbert Burke married Belvina Black,” Draco said with a shrug.

“We’re not related through the Burkes on the Potter side, since Potters usually marry outside Britain’s marriage mart so there aren’t many families we’re directly related to in England, at least recently, other than the Blacks and the MacMillans. On the Black side though, your great great uncle Herbert Burke married Belvina Black, same aunt as in Draco’s case, and of course Uncle Marius was your great great grandfather.” Harry said, “But we are related through the Potters on your Black side because my great uncle Charlus married Dorea Black.”

“You’re related to me as well,” Millie said with a smile, “your great great great grandmother was a Bulstrode, Marius Black’s mother.”

“I feel a headache coming,” Hermione whined, trying to process the genealogical salad that was the British peerage, but it did give her an idea she filed for later though, “is that why he’s resentful? He should be a part of all this, shouldn’t he?” Hermione asked, “I’ve heard them be mocked because they’re not as well off as most pureblood families, which I’ve always found strange,” she added. Most pureblood families were at least comfortable. However many centuries of accumulated wealth would do that for a family, and from what she’d learnt from her WCE course with Professor Longbottom, the middle and lower classes in wizarding society were mostly made up of “newer” untitled pureblood lines, halfbloods and muggleborns, and as far as she knew, both the Weasleys and the Prewetts were part of the Sacred 28, even if Harry had discarded the list as petty and exclusionary.

“That’s because both his parents were disowned for marrying each other. Arthur broke off his betrothal to Lilia Travers in order to elope with Molly Prewett. It was quite the scandal, Lilia was heartbroken and refused to marry anyone else and Lord and Lady Travers were too old to have another heir. They were pushing for Lilia to have a son before they died so the title would remain in the main line with her as regent, but after the whole mess the title was claimed by an offshoot line when they passed. The Prewetts weren’t happy about it either, and Molly’s parents really disliked Arthur. They thought he was a dimwitted simpleton, dishonorable for going back on his word and they had wanted an heir for her, not the second son of a dark family,” Draco explained. “The Prewetts have always been disgustingly light leaning, bigots really, and Ignatius Prewett was nearly disowned for marrying great aunt Lucretia, but there are dark families and then there are dark families, and the Blacks are the latter. In the end they couldn’t refuse an alliance like that.”

“Wait, did you say dark family?” Hermione said, eyes like saucers.

“We’ll get back to that, but let’s not lose track,” Draco said, “they were disowned and all but penniless after their wedding, and lived out of the Leaky Cauldron for their first few months of marriage until they ran out of the money they managed to withdraw from their trusts to elope, so they couldn’t afford to keep lodging and Muriel Prewett, Molly’s aunt, caved and gave them a patch of land with a shack on it from her share of the Prewett estate in Ottery St Catchpole,” Draco continued, savoring the gossip, “Molly never liked her uncle, especially because her father was the eldest son but was passed over by the family magics in favor of Ignatius. Quite unfair really but that’s how things are, the heir isn’t always the eldest. Neither of them were properly disowned though, just cut off financially. Only a Lord or Lady in their own right, not a consort, can disown a member of the family and they are stripped of the name and family magics. It’s horrible, so it’s reserved for truly atrocious offenses against the family,” Draco emphasized. 

“Like being born a squib,” Hermione said pointedly, still a little resentful.

“When her parents died, she petitioned Lord Prewett for her trust vault to be turned back over to her, but Ignatius respected his late brother’s wishes and even forbade Muriel from slipping them any more money under the table as she had been doing,” Harry supplied, glossing over the jab.

“After Ignatius Prewett, Lord Weasley and Aunt Cedrella died, Arthur and Molly could only claim the title as regents. I’m assuming the Weasleys had a last of line clause in their charter, but their claim was weak considering the fact that neither had been the heir originally and both had rejected the family magics and were cut off financially, so they only claimed the regency in their children’s name and not the property entailed to the title. Arthur Weasley claimed the Weasley lordship and gave Dumbledore the stewardship, and because Molly’s brothers died in the war before Ignatius, she claimed the title and also set up Dumbledore as steward. Muriel is the trustee for the Prewett estate and the Goblin Nation oversees the Weasley trust, until an heir claims the title,” Draco explained.

“Wait, why didn’t Aunt Lucretia or Muriel claim the regency if Molly’s claim was so weak?” Hermione asked curiously.

“According to the Prewett charter, regencies can only be claimed in the name of the regent’s child, and Aunt Lucretia is a Prewett by marriage, so she has no claim to the title, and Muriel was too old to produce an heir so the family magics passed her over,” Draco said.

“Charlus Weasley, the second son, is supposedly the heir to the Prewett line, but he left Muriel to deal with the money and went off to Romania to work with dragons. According to what we’ve gotten out of cousin Dora, he’s not on very good terms with his mother. He saw right through her act and buggered off as soon as he graduated,” Harry said, “they were close in school, and rumor has it that cousin Dora has always carried a torch for him.”

“And William Weasley is the Weasley heir, but neither Arthur nor Molly would touch a knut of the Weasley estate, even if William claimed it tomorrow, but Arthur won’t abdicate. He has denounced his heritage and family magics publicly and moved the seat to the progressive party when he gave stewardship to the headmaster. He says he wants to rebuild the house in the light, even though the Weasley family magics are dark. It’s why they’re called blood traitors,” Draco said.

“How do you know all this, isn’t it exhausting?” Hermione couldn’t help but gawk as she said it.

“It’s our job as heirs to be in the know about this stuff, especially regarding who’s disgraced and who’s on top,” Harry said, “most peers try to have their children around the same time so we come to school around the same time. Alliances need to be nurtured and built and before we come here we need to be able to tell the right from the wrong sort,” he added with a shrug. 

“Anyway, now you have the context, and from what I’ve heard…” Theo said with a smirk, “Molly Weasley took the weasel to get tested when he turned eleven. She was convinced he would take the heirship away from his brother and she’d have a chance to dip her pudgy calloused paws in the Prewett coffers once her youngest son turned seventeen, but alas… it wasn’t to be,” he added with a malicious grin. “You have to admit though, it wasn’t an unreasonable thing to believe. The boy is the most disgustingly Prewett wizard, practically his grandfather reincarnated.”

“I guess the fact that you turned out to be an heiress even though you were an alleged muggleborn rubbed him the wrong way… entitled git,” Harry grumbled. 

“Well, at least he’s been properly subdued lately,” Hermione said with a shrug.

“Quite right,” Harry said with a murderous glint in his eye, which Hermione aptly read as a warning that the redhead should keep it like that or else.

“We should be going up for lunch,” Draco said after a quick tempus charm, “Father, Uncle James and Uncle Sirius should be about done with the Board meeting and they always look in afterwards.”

~~~

“Why don’t you all go ahead? I need a word with Harry, we’ll be just behind you,” James said to the rest of the group.

They’d caught the children on their way to the Great Hall and they of course jumped at the chance for an outing. Hogsmeade privileges were reserved for third year students and up, but all except Hermione had been to the village at some point in their childhood with their parents. They enjoyed showing her around and they stocked up on candy at Honeydukes and browsed the other shops after they grabbed lunch at the Three Broomsticks. The place was packed to the brim but James had reserved a private room for them. It had been a fun day all around but Harry had the feeling his abba wanted to tell him something and finally his suspicions were confirmed.

“What’s wrong abba?” Harry asked worriedly.

“This is for your ears and your ears only, ok chhote?” James said seriously.

“Ok, I promise,” Harry said, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He hated having secrets with Draco.

“I debated whether or not to tell you, but you should be prepared, and I mean it when I say that you cannot tell your friends. It would only scare them and with so little of the school year left there is no reason to,” James said. “Today we learnt something quite worrying. Something has been killing unicorns in the forest. We believe the Dark Lord not only has an agent in the school laadla, but that he is also here in the school.”

“WHAT!” Harry said, eyes like saucers. 

“Yes, I think he might be possessing Quirrell, and he’s bleeding unicorns to sustain himself, so I want you to promise me that you’ll stay out of his radar as you have been doing so far, and that you won’t, under any circumstance, find yourself alone with him. Do you understand me fawny?” James said.

“I want to go home,” Harry said with moist eyes, barely above a whisper, “please, don’t leave me with him.”

“I would take you in a heartbeat, you know I would, but there’s no plausible explanation for it, especially before the final exams. I will speak to Severus as soon as I leave you. Sadly, it will mean he won’t be taking any more weekends off until the end of term though, and will be vigilant. I want you to be careful for the next few weeks Harry, ok? No late night strolls, no wandering the castle needlessly, and I want you in the common room or the library at all times if you’re not in class or meals. Never alone, never.” James said as he held him.

“You have to tell uncle Frank. Neville should know to be careful too, he was part of the prophecy as well,” Harry said after a few sobering breaths. He could do this. For his friends he would do this. He’d been prepared for this very moment his entire life and he wouldn’t fail his family or his friends.

“Has he shown any interest in him?” James asked worriedly.

“No, just me, but that’s what worries me. I’m sure I’m not what he expected, being a Slytherin dark wizard and all. Neville fits the bill of what one might expect of the prophecy child, all Gryffindor goodness and courage even if he’s dark because of aunt Alice. If he were to think he made a mistake choosing who to go after…” Harry said, getting worked up, “abba you have to tell him, please!” 

“I will, don’t worry. I promise I will. Now, we’ve stalled long enough,” James said, casting a few freshening charms over Harry to get rid of the puffiness in his eyes and the snot from his crying. “Let’s catch up with the rest. If they ask…” James said, thinking of something Harry could say as an excuse.

“You told me to steer clear of the forest until they catch what’s hunting the unicorns. I won’t tell the others about Quirrell, but it will help me to keep them off the grounds and sticking to the library and common room outside of classes and meals,” Harry said after some thought. “I’ll talk to Neville tomorrow after you’ve told uncle Frank and he’s had a chance to talk to him. I’ll keep it between us.”

~~~

It was the last class of the year before exams started the following week when it happened.

“Mr Pppotter-Bbblack, c cc could you st stay behind for a qq quick word please?” Quirrell said as the children gathered their things.

“Of course sir,” Harry said, pushing his nervousness behind his occlumency shields, polite mask firmly in place. “Could you wait for me outside? I’ll be right along,” he said loudly enough for the teacher to hear to Draco, Hermione and Theo.

“I’ll run along and tell Professor Flitwick you’ll be a few minutes late,” Pansy said in passing, thank the Mother for her and her quick thinking. “His words are never quick,” she whispered with an eye roll before leaving.

As soon as the children left the classroom, Harry felt the privacy wards go up.

“You know why I asked you to stay behind, don’t you Mr Potter-Black?” Quirrell said, stammer gone. 

Harry took one last breath and took a second to think about how to do this. It seemed like he wanted to drop the act fairly quickly.

“I think I do sir,” Harry said evenly. The man was fishing for information, gauging how much Harry knew and he wouldn’t show his hand so early.

“And you’re not scared to be left alone with me?” The man said with an amused tinge to his voice, and Harry noticed how his eyes turned red.

“No sir, but not for the reason you’d think,” Harry said after a moment. “You’re a death eater and you’ve come to get the philosopher’s stone. People know I’m alone with you and that I shouldn’t be too long, and if you wanted to hurt me the window of opportunity is fast closing or already closed, so I’m guessing you wanted to make sure I won’t stand in the way?” He asked. He decided not to acknowledge that he was in the presence of the Dark Lord unless the other man disclosed his identity.

“Quite perceptive, aren’t you?” Quirrell smirked. “Well, will you? Stand against me, that is.”

“Oh no sir, you’re welcome to it if you want it. Though I think you should be aware that the chances of it being a trap are high. The headmaster’s games are his own and I’m not partaking,” Harry said dismissively.

“You would let me take the philosopher’s stone? With which I could bring the Dark Lord back? Transmute enough gold to fund the dark order indefinitely? Why?” Quirrell asked with genuine curiosity.

“Could you though? I’m not doubting the fact that you could get plenty of gold with it, but the elixir of life is a means of subsistence, not resurrection. If the Dark Lord doesn’t have a body to sustain with the elixir indefinitely, then it’s not much use, is it?” Harry argued, “besides, the chances that the stone hidden on the third floor is a fake meant to lure you in are so high I wouldn’t chance it, but that’s just a lowly firstie’s advice and you should do as you please.”

“Explain,” Quirrell said curtly.

“Well, it’s all a bit nonsensical isn’t it? Why would Flamel even part with his stone in the first place? Why bring it to England? Why store it in the most basic vault Gringotts has to offer considering that with the astronomical riches it has most likely given him throughout the centuries, he could afford the deepest vault in the bank, with the highest levels of protection? And finally, why store it in a school, behind puerile protections even a first year could manage?” Harry summarized. “I think that’s exactly why. The headmaster means to flush the Dark Lord out and get me involved in the whole thing. He’s dangling it in front of us like a carrot, but I’m not interested. And it doesn’t make sense that he’d risk the real stone just for bait. I bet Flamel doesn’t even know what the headmaster is up to, with how deep in hiding he’s supposed to live, and he wouldn’t put his life on the line just to supply bait. But if after all this you still want to go after it? Then you can. You know the protections. The dog and troll are gone, and that leaves the devil’s snare which you can burn, the flying key which you could summon, the chess game which you could either win or blow up, the potion riddle which I’m sure you could solve quickly and the final test, the Arca mirror that is hiding the stone and I’m assuming some warding. I’d do it today, right now even, with the headmaster gone for the Wizengamot. Why wait for the cover of darkness if you could slip out undetected in broad daylight? I’ll just head to my charms class and you can go and see for yourself if I’m right or not,” Harry said with a shrug, as carefree as he could muster it while occluding his nerves.

“You truly are an odd little thing, Harry Potter,” Quirrel said pensively, “with the coot gone for the day and stuck in the ministry, I guess there’s no harm in testing your little theory. Go now, if you stay out of my way, I’ll stay out of yours,” Quirrel said with a nod, smirking in an unsettling way, but Harry didn’t need to be told twice and hightailed out as fast as he could without revealing how scared he’d actually been.

As Harry walked up to charms with a very worried looking Draco and Hermione asking him what took so long, there was only one thought on his mind, playing in a loop:

“I hope the stone really is a fake, or I might have royally fucked up.”

Chapter Text

Tied for first spot!” Draco said triumphantly, exchanging high fives with Harry and Hermione once their final test scores rankings were published on the common room bulletin board. “Second place sure tastes like fourth, doesn’t it Theo darling?” Pansy said, shoving Theo playfully while he rolled his eyes unbothered.

Exams had come and gone and today would be the leaving feast before they returned home for the summer the next day. 

Exams week had been… odd. Firstly, because Quirrell seemed to have taken Harry’s word to heart and vanished without a trace. Harry had written home asking about it and all he got was a cryptic letter from his abba telling him they’d discuss it at home.

He’d yet to tell anyone about his little talk with Quirrell, and if he were to be completely honest? He wasn’t sure he ever would just out of fear of what his parents might say after they told him to stay away from him and out of things as much as possible.

There were whispers that the vampires he’d been so afraid of had finally found him, but Harry knew he had either fled with the fake stone or died.

Uncle Frank volunteered to cover the exams in DADA for the week after the board was alerted of the missing teacher, and by the funny look he’d given Harry, something odd was going on and he was determined to find out why as soon as he got home.

“Any fun plans for the summer?” Pansy asked while they ate their breakfast leisurely on their last day without classes.

“The usual I guess,” Harry said with a shrug, “I’ll be at home with my parents until the Longbottom Ball and then I’m off to spend two weeks with Father, the children and the rest of the Blacks. After that France until my birthday and then maybe we’ll go to our house in Mykonos for a week, but it depends on whether Abba can spare the time and I’d like to get my school shopping done early to start reading up on next year’s classes.”

“You’re such a nerd for being so cute, Har,” Pansy teased lightly, making Harry flush.

“Well, first place doesn't win itself does it?” He laughed as he poured himself a second cup of chai, glad that tomorrow he’d gorge himself on Tippy’s cooking at last.

“What about you Hermione?” Pansy asked.

“I’ll be mostly England-bound for most of the summer. We’ve been invited to summer with the Blacks along with Harry and Draco and though the Potters did invite us to go to France with them, I’ll just be visiting Harry for his birthday party. Aunt Walburga is giving me heir lessons during the summer. She’s been tutoring Mother and Father and I’m to join in as soon as I set foot in the house,” she said, almost slipping and calling her parents mum and dad, but according to Aunt Walburga, such terms of endearment should be reserved for intimate settings. She really wished someday all the code switching would become second nature. 

“You’re all invited by the way! We’re having the usual joint party with Nev on the 30th but we’re moving things to Cap Ferrat this year. Mutti has business in France. Portkeyed invites will be sent closer to the date,” Harry informed the table.

“Well, I hope you all remember to write to me! I’ll certainly be writing to all of you. We have a pending shopping date Hermione Octavia Granger-Burke. Don’t you dare forget it,” Pansy said with finality, Daphne and Milly nodding beside her.

“I haven’t! No need for full-naming. Lets just all get settled in at home and then we can make plans,” Hermione said, trying to keep her smile as prim and proper as Aunt Walburga demanded, but the urge to just grin widely at the prospect of a day out with girlfriends was just too much. Who would have thought? That little oyinbo bitch Alice Worsley from primary could suck it, she had girlfriends now, even if a little voice deep down whispered but at what cost?

“Mother told me we’d have a full house in Wales Har, we should make the most of it and ask cousin Marcus to train with us for next year,” Draco said quietly as he served himself some more bacon.

“Already talked to him, we’re in for a rough two weeks by the manic grin he gave me,” Harry said with a shudder, “but we’ll be ready for the team next year. We have to keep the cup in the house,” Harry said resolutely. Slytherin had won the Quidditch cup with considerable margin a few days ago after beating Hufflepuff spectacularly, and Harry wouldn’t be the one to lower the standards for his house, especially if they’d be taking such a chance on two players as young as them in such key positions.

“We should be getting back down to the common room now, we don’t want our esteemed and beloved headmaster to find any excuse to take points now that we’re on the cusp of taking the cup tonight,” Theo said sarcastically. The older kids had warned them that the headmaster enjoyed stealing the cup for the lions every chance he could, and on the last day of school the Slytherins basically holed themselves up in their common room to avoid points being taken, while Dumbledore and Sev battled it out upstairs, awarding and taking out points from Gryffindor each.

“That’s so unfair! But at least it keeps the thrill of it. We’re way in the lead so at least there’s some element of surprise to it still,” Hermione said.

“I think it’s funny actually, to be so revered while displaying such childish and petty behavior at the same time,” Harry said with an eye roll.

~~~

“It’s going to pass Cissy, we don’t have the votes. The best we can hope for is for it to be revoked once we can prove they’re abusing it,” Lucius said quietly as they heard the Express approaching the platform.

“Surely James has managed to mobilize the liberals to strike it down,” Narcissa said dismissively.

“We won’t be able to strike it down flower,” Lucius said in a harsh whisper, “the goat and the weasel have disguised it as a very reasonable and level-headed bill against the misuse of enchanted artifacts, but we all know it’s just a ruse to raid dark leaning homes. They have their sights set on us, best we can do is water it down in the article votes,” he said ominously.

“Then I suggest we move the most valuable heirlooms to the vaults, they won’t have the power to search Gringotts will they?” Narcissa asked, “that’s goblin territory.”

“We managed to add that fail safe in the last article vote, because the goblins raised objections claiming it would be a breach of the accords, but I’m not taking any chances. I’ve already mobilized some contacts to dispose of some of the most offensive artifacts, and relocated part of the collection to some of our properties overseas as well as our heirloom vault. And I may have to pay a visit to Mr Borgin when we do the school shop-up in August. I’ll have to speak with Hermione about how this will impact her business,” Lucius said. As the trustee of the Burke estate, he held a minority interest in Borgin&Burke’s, 49% against Liam Borgin’s 51% after Caractacus Burke died. The store dealt openly in obscure books, relics and dark leaning gray items for various uses, while moving darker items under the table, all while cooperating willingly with the DMLE in certain investigations to keep a veneer of respectability. Borgin was already actively moving most of his controversial stock in preparation for the bill to inevitably pass, and as part owner, agreed to move some items for Lucius as well. 

“Well, we’ll have to have the elves replicate the rugs, it would be much more suitable for copies to be soiled if we are to host those monkeys then. Have the originals placed in storage,” she said almost to herself.

Lucius only managed a scoff at the futility of her reasoning before they were joined by the rest of their group.

“Luke, Cissy,” James said with a carefree grin, “everything ok?” 

“James,” Cissy greeted him with two kisses on the cheeks, completely unbothered by her husband's mood, “just talking about some unforeseen decluttering is all, might take the chance and redecorate,” she said casually.

“Funny you should mention it, we’ve been clearing some space around the manor as well,” he said with a knowing look, “if you need space to store some knick knacks, we still have some space left at Ravenhill,” he whispered quietly to Lucius. The Peverell estate was off the books with the ministry, heavily warded, unplottable and secure and it usually held the bulk of the Potter and Peverell collection when it came to obscure artifacts. As far as anyone knew, other than some trusted few, the Peverell title came with no other property than what remained in the vaults, and even that was grossly underrepresented.

“It’s always nice to clear some room around the house, I found myself drowning in so much sentimental stuff from my parents that I decided to move Harry’s birthday party to France, take a few trunkfulls of it back to the château on our way to the coast,” Lyra said with an amused eye roll.

“I’ve been meaning to do the same at my parents’ houses, it seems like the perfect time to spruce up the old places,” Alice said by way of greeting as Frank and her joined the group. The news of the bill spread like wildfire and the Yaxley and Rowle estates had been closed since Alice took up the titles while already married and living at Longbottom Manor. She actually didn’t even know what she’d find if she set out to clear any suspicious items.

“Are you sure we can’t strike the bill down?” Lucius whispered to James.

“It’ll have to pass and be repealed later I’m afraid, but I have a plan to speed things along I’ll have to talk to you about later. It’ll involve you,” James whispered back

“So, everyone with their knickers in a twist about Dumble’s new bill I take it?” Sirius said with a shit-eating grin as he joined the group with the twins, his mother, and Hermione’s parents.

“Subtle as a heart attack, Sirius Orion,” Walburga said disapprovingly. 

“Daddy, have some ‘corum,” Larissa said with a disapproving look that rivaled Walburga’s, who looked to her granddaughter with unabashed pride before snickering quietly.

“Aren’t you worried, Aunt Burgy?” Cissa said as she gave her a quick kiss hello.

“We’re Blacks, Cissy dear. If they raided Grimmauld after I stashed the goodies away, they’d find the place emptier than Arthur Weasley’s vault,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “There’s no use, I simply replaced the true valuables with junk that I don’t care whether it goes or not. Ugly wedding presents and relics from my mother’s side. Awful taste, the Crabbes. Might as well make the most of those brainless monkeys and have them do my cleaning for me.” She said with a smirk. As long as her parents lived, she’d been forced to have everything they’d ever given her on display or her mother would go into one of her fits if she came by unannounced as she often did and found her troll foot umbrella stand missing or the dead house elf heads not proudly on display on the wall as it was tradition, but after both her parents died and she found herself a widow, she’d given the place a much needed makeover.

The high pitched whistle of the Express’ breaks distracted the group, and they gathered to wait for the children to get down.

“Abba! We won the house cup!” Harry said excitedly as he ran into his father’s arms.

“You should have seen the headmaster’s face, Father, he looked like he’d choked on one of his pastilles,” Draco said with a snort as he greeted his parents.

After everyone had their respective children in hand, congratulating them for their marks and catching up, they started saying their goodbyes.

“Starlight, might I borrow you tomorrow for tea at the Granger-Burkes’? I have a dance lesson planned for Hermione and she needs a partner,” Walburga said to Harry as they left.

“Of course Granny, is four ok?” Harry said pleasantly.

“Perfect,” Walburga nodded executively.

“Aunt Lyra, would you mind coming too for a quick word? I have this crazy idea I’d like your advice on,” Hermione said mysteriously.

“How intriguing! Of course,” Lyra said with a complicit smirk.

~~~

“Abba, what really happened to Professor Quirrel?” Harry asked as soon as he got James alone. It had taken all day, but his father and uncle Moony had finally left with the twins and Fiona and Harry had been itching to ask all day long.

“Whatever do you mean?” James asked.

“Abba,” Harry said knowingly, “I know something happened. Uncle Frank kept giving me weird looks during my DADA exam. He’s as transparent as Nev.”

“Laadla,” James said with resignation. His boy was too clever for his own good sometimes.

“I spoke to him, before he vanished,” Harry said quietly, “I know you said not to, but he asked me to stay behind after class and I couldn’t say no. I was contemplating not telling you, but I can’t keep secrets from you, so please don’t keep secrets from me,” Harry added pleadingly.

“You’re such a snake,” James grumbled.

“Thank you,” Harry said with a smirk.

“I’m not entirely sure that was a compliment, chhote,” James said with a smirk of his own.

“You’re not so bad yourself, deflecting my question,” Harry laughed, “do you want to see the memory?”

James pulled out the pensieve from the cabinet behind his desk as Harry pulled out the silver strand of memory with his wand. He carefully guided it to the basin and dove in with James to watch it. He’d been careful to add everything, since the moment the teacher stuttered his request so his abba could see he’d been careful letting everyone know he’d be but a moment and that people were waiting outside the door.

“Ok, this might be a good thing, fawny,” James said after some thought. “It wasn’t a magically binding truce, but he did say he’d stay out of your way if you stayed out of his. Let’s just hope he remembers. He’s a wraith made up of barely 1% of his soul. I’m sure the unicorn blood he was using to sustain his possession of that man gave him some degree of clarity after ingestion, but I don’t think it will be enough now that he’s not taking it.”

“Did he go after the stone?” Harry asked, a little more calm now that he knew his abba wasn’t mad at him.

“He went after it, yes. He didn’t get it though. I’m guessing neither Quirrel nor the Dark Lord knew how to work the Arca mirror. Not surprising since Quirrell was a halfblood that used to teach Muggle Studies before he took the defense post, and Voldemort was a muggle raised half blood before he came to power. He’s much like Albus in a way, convinced of his great power and knowledge but lacking in ways that only someone raised in our world wouldn’t,” James said, “we found Quirrel dead at the foot of the mirror. I placed some wards of my own and connected a floo in an adjacent room for easy access if the wards flared. He didn’t unravel it along with the warding Albus placed. Didn’t think to look for one between the layers in the perimeter of the room and around the mirror,” James smirked, very pleased with himself.

“Did the Dark Lord kill him?” Harry asked.

“I don’t think so,” James said, “I wouldn’t put it past the bhenchod, but I believe both the strain of the magic he performed to get past the wards undetected and how much the continuous intake of ill-gotten unicorn blood affected him finished him. There was no trace of the Dark Lord.”

“Well, I hope he’s out there somewhere laying low so I only have to deal with the headmaster next year,” Harry said wistfully.

“He’s likely as weak as he was right after 81 at this point, so I believe this year will be quieter on his side, yes. As soon as I found him, I alerted the rest of the board of my findings,” James said with a pleased smirk. “It didn’t play out well for Albus. In the end it was decided that it would be kept quiet, not what I would have wanted but it certainly chipped away another chunk of his influence. Especially since I volunteered to return the stone to Flamel before he could say otherwise. You should have seen how disfigured his face got at the thought that Flamel would know of his scheme when I went to return the fake.”

“So it was a fake? Did you study it?” Harry asked.

“Quite fake. A piece of transfigured amber with a luminescence charm imbued to mimic the shimmering of the real thing, mediocre at best but enough to deceive at first glance,” James said with a laugh. “You could have made something more convincing with a few hours’ time and a pot of chai.”

~~~

“Madame la Duchesse, Monsieur Le Marquis, welcome to Blackwood House,” Hermione said with a quarter and neck bow each, with Walburga standing to attention behind her as they received them by the floo.

“Hermione dear, I’ve told you countless times to…” Lyra said with an eye roll, only to be interrupted by Walburga.

“We’re in the middle of etiquette lessons Your Grace, this is a teachable moment,” Walburga said with a meaningful look.

“Oh! Well in that case, thank you for having us Heiress Burke, you have a lovely home,” Lyra said with a nod, playing along.

“Please come through to the terrace for some tea,” Hermione said, leading them through the house making small talk with Lyra and Harry without risking a glance at Walburga, lest she get a stinging jinx to the bum for breaking character.

Finally, after the tea was brewed and served to each guest’s specifications, all while never letting the conversation lull and having made a mental note of how they took it for future reference, since according to aunt Walburga it was a slight to ask again in the future, because a good host always remembers how their guests take their tea, Walburga finally ended the lesson.

“An Outstanding as always dear, I dare say you could host the snootiest of my friends with ease,” she said with an approving look.

“She’s really something, isn’t she?” Lyra said with a proud look of her own, making Hermione preen under the attention.

“She’ll be my crowning glory, I have no doubt,” Walburga said, uncharacteristically forthcoming. “An absolute delight to teach.”

“I resent that Granny,” Harry pouted teasingly.

“Well, your results were outstanding as well, but the process? Too much like both your fathers, pure mischief,” Walburga chided teasingly back, “but you will always be my starlight, incorregible as you are.”

“Aunt Lyra, I wanted to ask you something before we go in for my dance lesson, if that’s ok?” Hermione said.

“Of course darling, ask away,” Lyra said casually.

“Well, it’s about my parents,” Hermione said tentatively, “I’ve been studying the family trees as part of my lessons, and came across some things that left me wondering. I know you were an integral part in the whole legitimization protocols so there’s no one better to ask,” she said, circling the subject.

“Yes? Are they ok? Is anything wrong?” Lyra asked worriedly.

“Oh nothing’s wrong! It’s just… a random idea really, but to see if there’s any merit to it I need to understand some things first,” Hermione said. “It’s just been bugging me ever since that day at the bank, just how close they both are to being recognized as wix rather than squibs, and my studies in genealogy gave me an idea,” she said with a hint of a smirk.

At Lyra’s questioning look, she carried on, “well, for starters, I’d like to understand how family magics work. I know we all inherit them from both sides, but at what point are they lost to us? As they trickle down the family tree, what determines whether they get passed along or not? For example, you have the family magics from both your parents’ sides, but on either side, one of your grandparents must have been from a different family so why doesn’t that family magic get passed down too? Or is it absorbed by the more dominant stream? I don’t know if I’m making sense at this point,” she said.

“I see what you mean. It’s a complex topic, but to put it simply? It’s a matter of compatibility, both between the wix and the magic and between the magics themselves, so you’re right to infer that sometimes one strand is more subservient to the more dominant one. It’s what we mean when we talk about making good matches. You want a strong line that will stand on par with yours, not be absorbed as the weaker link. For example, I inherited the Monténèbre family magics from my mother, and the Schwartzstein family magics from my father. My grandmothers on either side were a Polignac and a Battenberg respectively. I have a mild strand of Battenberg family magic but the Polignac family magics melded with the Monténèbre ones because they were weaker but compatible at the same time, so I got them as one, and Harry doesn’t have the Battenberg magics. So, that plays a role, but how compatible your innate core is to a certain strand mixed in your heritage does as well. James and Harry for example, have a very strong affluent of Peverell family magics feeding their cores, and that line married into the Potter line in the fifteenth century. It has ebbed and flowed since then, stronger or weaker depending on the individual,” Lyra explained, an idea of where she was going with this forming in her mind.

“It’s not dissimilar to muggle genetics in a way. Sometimes you get children that very much look like one of their parents or a mix of both, and sometimes they resemble someone further back in the family tree to varying degrees,” Harry added, simplifying it slightly.

“Good! My question is this. When a resurgent is legitimized, we claim the family magics of our ancestors on either or both of our sides, right? But that’s just one of the lines they themselves were entitled to. According to my studies, Marius Black would have had to be disowned both from the Black and Bulstrode families to be cast out as an inexpressive squib, so why do we get to claim only the Black line? Is there a limit to what lines a resurgent could claim if they were reinstated in the corresponding family trees? Because if Mum and Dad could claim their ancestor’s maternal line as well, it might just give them the last push they need to be classed as wix,” Hermione said with a smirk.

“Mione, that's brilliant!” Harry said excitedly.

“I have to admit, the thought never occurred to us, but there’s merit to the idea,” Lyra said after some thought. “The testing we used showed only the squib ancestry and the titles if they were up for grabs, but when you put it like that, it sounds rather obvious!”

“Well, as I said, Marius Black must have been disowned by his maternal family as well, and from my studies I learnt that Octavius Burke’s mother was a Crouch,” Hermione said, “I’ve given it some thought, and maybe an amendment could be made to grant resurgents access to the maternal lines of their ancestry, with provisions against ill intent of course,” she added quickly, “I know messy inheritances and dividing of estates made the process harder when pushing the legislation through, but perhaps if a resurgent is willing to sign away claims of property in exchange for access to the family magics? Make it an agreement between all parties?” 

“That could work, but there’s no need to wait for it to go through the Wizengamot,” Lyra said with a smirk of her own. “It doesn’t need to be stipulated in the law. The fact that it isn’t included doesn’t mean that it isn’t permitted, it just means it’s not not permitted,” she said mischievously. “We could talk to Lord Bulstrode and Barty and see if they’d be amenable to legitimizing you three in their family trees and magics. Barty is a dear friend and Severus’ husband, so I see no problem on that side. I’m not as familiar with Anthony Bulstrode, so perhaps a contract renouncing any claim to his money would get him to agree,” Lyra said thoughtfully.

“Millie is a friend of ours,” Harry said excitedly, “I’m sure she could talk her father into it.”

“And she’s the one that mentioned we were related through Violeta Bulstrode, so I don’t think it would be a problem either. I’d just like to see if their family magics could boost them enough to where they’d be recognized as a witch and wizard, that’s all. I’m sure Mum and Dad would happily sign away any claim to either fortune, it’s not like we don’t have our own,” Hermione reasoned. 

“I don’t see why they’d refuse. You are Blacks and Burkes, they’d be glad to have the connection restored in the present. I play Bluff with Aggie Longbottom and some other ladies, Anthony’s mother among them. I’ll talk you up over our next card game, they won’t refuse,” Walburga said with a definitive nod, “now, go change into dress robes dear so we can start the dance lesson.”

~~~

“Barty! Thank you for coming,” Lyra said when Barty arrived at Gringotts for the meeting. Both him and Lord Bulstrode agreed to a meeting to discuss the Grangers’ case.

“Of course! How do you do, Bartemius Crouch,” Barty said affably to Marius and Evelyn after greeting Lyra.

“Lord Crouch, a pleasure, Marius Granger-Black” Marius said with a bow.

“Oh no! Save the ceremonial stuff for Tony,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand, “I don’t pull rank unless I’m at a ball or in court. Call me Barty please, any friend of Ly’s is a friend of mine.”

“Barty then, it’s nice to meet you,” Marius said with a smile. 

“Evelyn Granger-Burke, call me Evie, please,” Evelyn said with a toothy grin. She could very well become friends with this Barty fellow.

“Evie, welcome to the family,” Barty said with a pleased grin.

“Let’s just hope Lord Bulstrode is as easy to convince,” Evelyn said with a snort. “Thank you Barty, this is our daughter, Hermione.”

“Hello Hermione, it’s good to see you again, welcome to the family as well, will I be legitimizing you too?” Barty asked. “We’ve met before, sabbath balls, and my husband is her head of house,” he said by way of explanation to her confused parents.

“If you wish, then I’d be happy to, thank you Lord Crouch,” Hermione said with a demure smile. She’d given it some thought and though it would be cool, she was very much either or on the whole thing. She had enough power already, this was for her parents.

“I do wish. There’s just me and Ellie as far as Crouches go, unfortunately. I’ll take as many as I can get! No matter how distant. I always wanted a bigger family,” Barty said casually as he poured himself a cup of tea from the provided tea service, it was still rather early to announce his pregnancy. “And please do call me Barty, unless Burgy’s watching of course,” he said with a shudder, “Lord Crouch was my father and a nastier man never drew breath.”

Just as everyone settled again, Anthony Bulstrode arrived with his daughter in tow.

“Lord Bulstrode, thank you for taking the time,” Lyra said with a nod in greeting.

“Lady Potter, how do you do,” he said with a quarter bow, “it’s no trouble, though this little one left me no choice in the matter, regardless of the fact that I would have come anyways,” he said with a smirk looking down at Millie.

After greetings and pleasantries were exchanged, they sat down at the conference table and Lyra took charge of the meeting.

“Well, we are all more or less on the same page, but I’ll explain the reason for our meeting anyway so there aren't any doubts,” Lyra said executively.

“As you both know, along with Lord Malfoy and my husband, I worked hard on the Resurgent Legitimization Act in order for squib descendants to be recognized by their magical families. Up to this point we’ve only legitimized resurgents in the paternal line of their ancestor, but a little while ago, Heiress Burke here present asked me a rather obvious question… What about the maternal line?” She said with a smirk. “As we all know, at the time when squibs were being outcast, they had to be disowned, and in the particular case of the Granger-Burkes, Octavius Burke had to be disowned from the Burke and Crouch families, and Marius Black from the Black and Bulstrode families, which is the reason we are all here.”

At the expectant looks, Lyra continued, “I asked you here today to discuss the possibility of legitimizing them into your respective families. Take it as an experiment of sorts. We don’t really know if it will make a significant difference in their cores or if the family magics will accept them, but it will be most useful to see if it holds merit if we plan to make amendments to the existing protocols,” she said, “so far, we plan to cap it at the direct paternal and maternal lines of the squib ancestor in question, or it would be a never ending stream of legitimizations if one could freely go after the lines of every branch in the tree,” she added diplomatically. 

It was the greatest concern that those she’d brainstormed her plans with had raised. What if they came after everyone? What if they harassed every family? Everyone was distantly related after all, so she decided it would be fair to place a limit on how far back a resurgent could claim family lines just to the parents of their squib ancestor. Allowing claims any further back than that would only add fuel to the fire of that disgusting myth that muggleborns stole their magic from purebloods because if crudely speaking, it was a little bit what they were doing, scrunching up bits of family magic to engorge their cores, even if they technically had the claim. It was a matter of perspective and common sense, which the peerage sorely lacked in Lyra’s opinion.

“From what we’ve seen in prior protocols, protections against monetary claims haven’t been necessary in cases where there is no title to be inherited, since in most cases, their share of the estate would have been handed over to the squib ancestor in their lifetime, so they would have already partaken in their branch’s share of the family fortune, or they’re the last of the line and thus entitled to the estate in its entirety ” Lyra said, “but for your peace of mind, Marius, Evelyn and Hermione are willing to sign away any future claim to any of the Bulstrode and Crouch estates. This isn’t about any money, but about restoring as much of their rightful place in our magical heritage as possible.”

“Sold!” Barty said with a startling slam on the table and a manic grin. “No need for paperwork though. As I said, it’s just me and Ellie so there’s plenty Crouch coin to go around should anything happen to me, and my daughter will inherit the Prince estate in full one day as well, so it’s not like I have to set her up with mine as well,” he added with a shrug, and there really was plenty to go around, even with Araminta on the way. He was a much savvier businessman than his father ever was, and Pandi, while alive, had hinted at lucrative investments plenty of times.

“I don’t mean to pry or make assumptions, but what if you decide to have more children? We’re very happy to renounce our claim, it would give everyone peace of mind to take the money off the table, knowing it will never be an issue in the future, even by the slightest of misunderstandings,” Evelyn said, pushing the papers towards Barty. He was still a young man, what if he decided to have another baby? A Crouch heir that would find his estate chopped up because his father decided he wanted to share with some barely there relations? Best be rid of such chances and nip them in the bud.

Evelyn let out a relieved sigh as Barty signed the papers.

“Not to be rude, but I would be happy to legitimize you if the proper documentation were signed,” Anthony said with a faint blush, feeling like he had to justify himself after Barty’s selfless display. “The Bulstrode family isn’t as old or as wealthy. Great Aunt Violeta betrothal was an exceedingly advantageous match for her in her time, an unlikely love match with Cygnus Black II as just a second daughter of a Most Noble House, and we’ve just attained the rank of an Ancient House with the birth of Millicent, so I’m obliged to look after that legacy for my children, and their children and so forth.”

“We completely understand, don’t worry. To be completely honest? This is more about the family magics for us. Our previous legitimization protocol left us on the cusp of being classed as wix rather than squibs and we are hoping being legitimized in the maternal line of our ancestors will give us the last little boost. So any and all precautions you wish to take to protect your estate are completely fine with us,” Marius said honestly. It was a bold move, exposing their end goal so plainly, but he felt the man deserved an honest answer.

“Then the Ancient and Most Noble House of Bulstrode would be happy to welcome you, let’s just hope it’s enough,” Tony said honestly. He didn’t have anything against squibs, but he knew some who did and if they could dodge that bullet he’d happily help.

“Then here are the contracts renouncing any claim to the Bulstrode vaults from Marius and Hermione,” Lyra said, “already signed with a Blood Quill, read them and sign when you’re ready.”

~~~

Marius and Evelyn were having trouble laying still as the goblin healer cast the same diagnostic charms as before. This go around, it felt… different. They knew there had been an improvement, that was a given, just from the fact that they empirically felt the power coursing through them once they were legitimized, but would it be enough?

They cautiously looked at the schematics projected over them, noticing the size difference in their cores. They certainly looked bigger, about the size the goblin had said a true muggleborn core was, but fruit references weren’t really their forte, was that more like a large grapefruit? Were oranges that size? Maybe that was a small melon? They didn’t know for certain, but they were pinching for power and in the end it would all come down to one or two magical units. They’d done their research and the system was ruthless, they could be looking at a 499 score for their magical core and still be denied their status as wix.

They were still hopeful, since Hermione presented the same signs she did the first time around, core stretched to the brim once again, though luckily her wand remained faithful to her this time, with her affinity firmly cemented and the new family magics being dark in the case of the Bulstrode magics and gray for the Crouch magics.

“Congratulations,” Healer SilverHook said with a terrifying grin that could be interpreted as either pleased or murderous, hard to tell with goblins.

“Was it enough?” Lyra asked, hanging from the edge of her seat.

“It was plenty, your grace. Without a shadow of a doubt. 879 for Mr Granger-Black and 856 for Mrs Granger-Burke. This will be invaluable data to push through the amendments to the act. It appears both of you are especially attuned to the maternal family magics of your ancestors, almost to a greater degree than the paternal line. It will be vital to get it passed and have all prior legitimized resurgents in to claim their remaining line! To think we might have only let them claim their weakest claim without realizing it,” The goblin said greedily, thinking surely of all the extra gold they’d get to manage if they suddenly accessed more lines or stagnant vaults. What a breakthrough! 

“Now, we’ll need Mrs Granger-Burke to take an inheritance test just to be on the safe side,” SharpFang said, producing the parchment and blade.

“Why?” Hermione asked curiously. They’d renounced any claim to any money.

“Your mother is now a Burke witch of age, Heiress Burke. Even with you being the stronger witch, there is a chance you’ve been bumped in the line of succession,” the goblin said executively, “the ring hasn’t left you, but since she’d be eligible to claim the title right away if she had a claim, you’d still be the heiress so it’s not enough of a sign to discard any changes in the line. In the end the family magics will decide,” SharpFang said.

Evelyn pricked her finger and let the three required drops of blood fall on the parchment, watching intently as the spidery red ink wove the text.

No changes, she read as she let out a sigh of relief she didn’t know she was holding in. Even if she had by some stroke of chance taken the title away from Hermione, she would have simply abdicated in her favor. She wasn’t cut out for politics and all the rigorous protocol that came with a title. She was happy to remain at home surrounded by the smell of old parchment and coffee she’d come to crave in the mornings. Her daughter, on the other hand? She was thriving, so she’d let her deal with the hassle of becoming Lady Burke.

~~~

Later that night, as the families feasted in celebration, Hermione snuck out to the terrace for some air and some casting. She’d been itching to do so for some time now, literally, just as the first time.

Just as she had a good rhythm going, practicing her levitation charm by making the fallen petals from the roses dance in the air, Harry startled her by coming out of the house.

“Everything ok Mi?” Harry asked with a frown. She’d seemed off for a little bit before sneaking away.

“Yes, just overwhelmed is all, I needed to cast a little after today and the raucous inside got the better of me,” she admitted. Harry was always a little too observant for her taste, but she’d made her peace with it a while back that she’d never be able to hide much from him.

“How so?” Harry asked, but he had an idea of what might be going on.

“I’m just scared I guess. Everything is… perfect Harry! First I was an outcast only to be told later that I’m a witch, then, when facing prejudice for being a muggleborn, it turned out I had ancestry and then my parents did too and now, when they would have faced prejudice as squibs, it turns out they are wix too and it’s just all so… perfect! Something awful is bound to happen! No one gets everything they ever wanted,” she said with moist eyes.

“I know it feels that way, believe me I do. I don’t talk much about… about that night. But my parents weren’t supposed to have survived it, when the Dark Lord came for us, but they did. I grew up afraid something would happen to them too, like we were on borrowed time. I never told anyone, just my mind healer knows,” Harry said, “eventually you learn to let go, because you end up missing the thing you're trying to hold on to when you worry too much. Enjoy it while it lasts, we can’t control when it ends,” he said softly.

“Harry… May I ask you a personal question?” Hermione said then.

“Sure, what is it?” Harry said cautiously.

“It’s just my curiosity, you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but I remember being self conscious about my core test score in comparison to my parents’ the first time around, and even though they’re wix now, there’s still so much of a difference. 3050 magical units versus 879 for my father. You know how I am, I don’t want it to go to my head so I was wondering if you’d be willing to humble me,” she said with a self-deprecating laugh, “what’s your score?”

“Well, remind me to work on your deflection tactics with you sometime, that was really subpar,” Harry said with a knowing look, “but I’ll indulge you if you promise to tell me what’s really on your mind sometime,” he added with a kind smile. 

Hermione just looked at him for a moment. How could she put into words what she was feeling in a way that didn’t sound unkind, ungrateful or just… how could she tell him that in her embracing of being a witch and a peer, she felt like she was losing just as much of herself as she was gaining? Would she recognize herself in the end? Would Hermione Granger-Burke erase Hermione Granger? Is this just normal growing up stuff? Or could her worries be valid? Best save it for another time. Or maybe get a therapist like Harry. Mind Healer, they’re called mind healers, don’t slip. Bugger.

“Anything over 2000 is a very respectable score and you’re right to be proud,” Harry said, oblivious to her inner turmoil, “and yes, it’s a very personal question. We don’t go bragging about it and most like to keep it a secret. It’s as much a thing to boast as it is something that will put a target on one’s back,” he said in a warning tone. “I can tell you if you promise to keep it to yourself and to not look at me any differently… It's 6190.”

“And people call me a peacock,” Draco said from behind them, stepping out onto the terrace and startling the pair.

“How long have you been eavesdropping,” Harry said, annoyed at his friend.

“Enough time,” Draco smirked. “Please, like I’d go around spreading the gossip, I thought we were friends,” he said with a mock wounded look on his face, a hand dramatically on his chest, “besides, you told me ages ago what your score was,” he said to Harry with an amused eye roll, “want to know mine? 3000 is quite the score Hermione, but Harry’s right, it's best kept hush unless you want to be swimming in betrothal proposals within the hour,” Draco said with a wink.

“I see you’re bursting to tell so why not,” Hermione said with a smirk.

“I did say that most people preferred to keep it secret,” Harry said with a smirk of his own.

“4670, and that’s just from my last scan. We’ll all keep growing our cores until we’re seventeen,” Draco said with a smug grin. He was absurdly proud of it of course, he was a Malfoy! Malfoys had always been powerful, and he had strong affluents of Black and Rosier family magics from his mother’s lines, as well a respectable amount of Polignac family magics from his paternal grandmother, and he told Hermione so.

“Wait, you’re even more related?” Hermione said, eyes wide. She remembered Aunt Lyra saying her grandmother was a Polignac. 

“Our grandmothers were third cousins once removed, it’s not that big of a deal. It was an arranged match, my grandfather didn’t meet anyone that caught his eye for a few seasons in a row so his mother owl-ordered Grandmama from a French catalog, it’s a running joke in the family,” Draco said dismissively.

“I don’t even know how to make sense of that,” Hermione said, doing the genealogical math in her head.

“I don’t either, that’s why everyone’s either a cousin or an aunt/uncle for us, depending on their age. Saves the whole degree of removal headaches,” Harry said with a shrug.

“There you three are! Come, we’re starting the ritual,” Lyra said, motioning them to follow her and the rest of the adults out to the grounds.

Marius and Evelyn had researched the ritual they were about to lead as soon as the possibility of claiming their additional lines became real. A way to show Mother Magic their gratitude for her gifts.

Everyone stood in a circle around the standing stone that stood proud in the gardens, with Marius and Evelyn in the center.

“Thank you for accompanying us today, as we give thanks to our Blessed Mother for all the gifts she has seen fit to bestow upon us,” Evelyn said with a clear voice.

“As you all know, this house was fit to be a magical residence because of the ley line that runs through the property, and the stone that marks its path around which we gather today. We never expected any of this, in our wildest dreams, but we are so infinitely grateful, for your support and for the gift that is magic,” Marius said evenly, though a touch of emotion didn’t go amiss to anyone.

He levitated small cloth purses filled with daisies, bundles of agrimony and a small rough citrine with a small Gebo rune carved into it to everyone around him, all symbolizing gratitude.

“Spirits of the Earth, wood of oak for protection, walnut for wisdom and mahogany for growth and guidance, ground this ritual of thanks,” Evelyn said, placing a bundle of logs at the foot of the stone.

“Spirits of Fire, transformative force of nature, burn long and true, may your warmth protect this coven on this night of gifts,” Marius said, casting an incendio at the logs

“Spirits of the Air, breath of life and renewal, keep this fire lit in the name of our Blessed Mother,” Evelyn said, making a wide circle with her wand casting a ventus charm that swept around them.

“Spirits of the Water, purification and cleansing, wash away our troubles and cleanse our hearts of hate,” Marius said, casting a wide circle of his own as a light mist fell upon the crowd.

After that, one by one, they stepped forward to lay their purses around the fire as Marius chanted in Latin.

“Magna Mater Magica, accipe haec munera ut signum gratitudinis nostrae pro omnibus donis quae nobis tribuisti”

Hermione watched in awe as little tendrils of white flame licked every purse, burning the flowers and herbs and lighting the etched citrines incandescent, the runes shining bright before going up into dust. She couldn’t contain her grin as she felt the magic sizzling on her skin like static electricity. 

She felt some of her lingering worry melt away with the magic of the ritual. Yes, she’d changed, but didn’t everyone? She’d come from a completely different world, black and white, both literally and figuratively. She’d compromised as she saw the muddled grays her new friends lived their lives in, but she just had to make sure that she still liked who she was at the end of the path. Easier said than done, right?

Chapter Text

“Are you packed yet mein liebling? Your father will be by to pick you up soon,” Lyra said casually, buttering her toast.

“All packed, promise,” Harry said.

“I hope you haven’t forgotten anything because I won’t be sending you a single sock or suffer any sneaky elf coming to fetch things for you. You’ll have to endure your father taking you shopping for it and whatever else strikes his fancy once you’re out and about,” she smirked, “so please go and double check you haven’t left anything behind.”

“You know you don’t always have to be the bad auror, don’t you pyari?” James asked, after Harry left shuddering at the thought of his throbbing feet after a shopping trip with his father.

“What’s my other option? You never discipline him, I didn’t even know you were familiar with the concept,” Lyra teased. He was the fun one, and she was the strict one. It worked well for them and Harry was all the better for it, she didn’t need to be the fun one. She needed her baby to be a good responsible person, and to be ready when it counted. Harry didn’t doubt for a second that they both loved him equally, but someone needed to have a firm hand and James would never be it.

Harry ran up the stairs to double check his things. He’d be damned if he had to suffer through one of his father’s shopping sprees just because he left a book or a pair of swim-trunks at home. He’d been saved from the annual trip to the tailor’s so far, thank the Mother. His Mutti said they’d wait until just about before term started because he was mid growth spurt and whatever she bought now would have to be charmed by the end of the summer and thus last less. He had to admit that she was right, he was a little taller and his joints had been bugging him since Ostara. He just hoped he wasn’t going to be achy all summer or it would mess with his quidditch training.

And if he was completely honest with himself? He was a little torn about leaving. The annual fortnight at Tŷ Du’r House with the whole Black clan was usually the highlight of his year, and normally he’d be counting the minutes to go! But after a year away from home, he’d just started getting used to his old routine and he had missed his parents.

“Master Hadrian sir, you must be going down now, your father is being downstairs to fetch you,” Essie said suddenly, popping into the room and scaring Harry out of his musings. 

“I’ll be right down Ess, thank you,” Harry said quickly, throwing an extra pair of quidditch breeches in his trunk, just in case. They were running rather tight, and a bit short, but with a little luck he’d get a little bit more use out of them before his father saw him in them and dragged him up and down all through the alley only to go to Quality Quidditch Supplies last. Perhaps he could owl-order some sneakily enough.

“All packed there pup?” Sirius asked once Harry came down to the entrance hall.

“All ready!” He said, patting his pocket. “Are we apparating or portkeying?” Harry asked, a little winded from rushing down.

“Apparating,” Sirius said, looking at his pocket watch, “chop chop! We have a full house today for lunch and you know how strict Mother is about punctuality.”

“I’ve just barely finished my breakfast, are we apparating to the house or are we walking from Aberystwyth?” Harry said with a smirk.

“Well, you need to get settled, unpacked and I thought you might like to squeeze a little flying before lunch! Marcus has a whole timetable ready for you boys. There’s a blackboard and everything,” Sirius said, tapping his wrist as if time were of the essence.

“Ok, bye Mutti! Bye Abba!” He said, rushing a hug and kiss to his parents. He wanted to act as happy as always for his father’s sake. And he did use to rush out like a whirlwind every year before.

“Be good this summer ok liebling? No pranks,” Lyra said with a stern look.

“Wrong person,” Harry smirked, pointing to his father with a shake of his head, “you should be telling Father, I’m no prankster. Don’t disown me please!” He mockingly cried to his fathers.

“Such a disappointment, I know, but there’s always hoping for Rowy or Lissie,” Sirius said with feigned sadness.

~~~

“Ok pup, you’re in your usual room with Draco. We’re tighter than sardines this year!” Sirius said as they walked up the gravel path to the house. Tŷ D’ur House was one of the oldest and best kept secrets of the House of Black. Purchased in secret in the twelfth century, though Harry thought it might as well have been seized from its previous owners, because one did not go around house hunting in the twelfth century after all. It had been continuously added onto up until Grandfather Arcturus, who added the pool and quidditch pitch for his quidditch crazed grandchildren, and it wasn’t registered with Gringotts or the ministry. It was also heavily warded and unplottable. It was under a Fidelius charm as well, with the sitting Lord Black as secret keeper, and only family knew the secret. This wasn’t a house meant to entertain, so it was much more casual than Black Manor or any other Black residence, which were more of a statement than a home. It all had its limits though, because, casual holiday home or not, Harry still had to bring a roster of 14 smart robe sets for dinner, lest his granny transfigured his day robes into a dress again if he dared come down in them.

“Remus went to pick up the Grangers with a little note from Grandfather to let them in on the secret. He’s ecstatic to have the house this full again, which is good because he’s been rather down lately more often than not,” Sirius said with a little frown. 

“The Flints arrived yesterday in full and the Malfoys should be here before lunch as well, if they haven’t arrived already, we’ll see. Aunty Dru and Uncle Cy should be here before lunch too, and Aunt Cass arrived yesterday. Aunt Tish will arrive on Sunday, she got roped into spending a few days on the coast with Muriel Prewett,” he said with a little grimace at the end.  

“Cool! I haven’t seen cousin Dora in ages!” Harry said as they bounded up the hill, glad to see her and also glad he’d get first pick of the bed if Draco wasn’t here yet. They always competed for who got there first to claim the bed by the window. “Is Aunty Mary coming with Fiona?” 

“Next week, Mary couldn’t get the time off this week and had to take extra shifts, and Fiona is up at Dùn Rois with Minnie for the week,” Sirius said. Mary was offered the headship of the Magical Maladies Ward at the hospital every year, and every year she turned it down to work mainly on the floor tending to patients. She wanted to be a healer, not a bureaucrat, she always said. He knew his father said she couldn’t get the time, but Harry knew that she most likely wouldn’t. Her patients came second only to Fi, so she must have jumped at the chance to take on more hours with her away at Granny’s. 

“Master Hadrian sir, welcome back to Tŷ D’ur House, you is being in the Rigel suite with master Draconis for the duration of your visit,” Tully said with a bow.

“Thanks Tully! I’ve missed you!” Harry said, startling the elf with a hug, partly because he was used to being like that with the Potter elves and because he secretly enjoyed how affection unsettled the stoic Black elves, even if they secretly liked it.

“Elevenses is being served in the morning room Master Hadrian, can I be taking your things up?” Tully asked, still blushing.

“You know how this works Tulls, is Draco here yet?” Harry asked with a smirk as he handed her his shrunken trunk.

“Not yet Master Hadrian, you can be taking the bed with a view, sir,” she said with a smile as she bowed and popped away to set the trunk at the foot of the bed.

Harry cast a few freshening and straightening charms on himself for good measure and for the elder’s sake, even though he’d dressed not long ago and how disheveled could he really be? So he walked alongside Sirius towards the morning room for some tea and pastries with the rest of the family. Tully hadn’t failed him yet in all the years he’d been coming for the summer so he was counting on some passion fruit eclairs, and the Black family blend was surprisingly aromatic for a firangi blend so the tea would be lovely and spiced with bergamot, pink peppercorns, cardamom and orange peel. 

“Starlight! Aren’t you a fine sight for these old and weary eyes,” Arcturus said from the high back armchair from which he usually held court.

“You don’t look neither old nor weary to me grandfather,” Harry smirked with a nod.

“Oh but I am, child, old and tired,” he sighed as he sipped his tea, most likely spiked.

“Nonsense, you’re an ox who’ll outlive us all,” Harry laughed.

“I very much hope not, what a dreadful prospect,” he said with another doom filled sigh. He’d been having these apocalyptic episodes more frequently lately, and they always ended in some variation of “I’m just waiting for…”

“I’m just hanging on with tooth and nail until my petit étoile and my Bellybean come back to us, then I can finally go to my Mellie,” he said with a forlorn look, right on schedule.

He was just about to make the rounds and greet the rest of the family, when Draco and his parents entered the room.

“You! Bested me yet again I see,” Draco said in mock outrage in his best ‘we shall duel at sunrise’ voice, “you leave me no choice, I shall have to crush you on the pitch,” he added with his nose upturned.

“Chance would be a fine thing for you,” Harry snorted as Draco came and gave him a quick hug. “I thought you’d all be a bit later.”

“Like I wouldn’t try to beat you to the good bed,” Draco snorted.

After greeting everybody finally, Harry managed to sit down at last with a cup of tea and just as he was about to bite down on an eclair… the Grangers arrived.

“Aunt Meda, where’s cousin Dora?” Draco asked as the Grangers made the rounds.

“Outside with Rowan and Larissa, they were getting rather boisterous so Dora took them to feed the kelpies by the lake,” Andromeda said.

“But aren’t kelpies dangerous?” Hermione asked, coming to say hello to the boys after greeting lord and lady Flint.

“We throw chum from the pier, it’s fun to watch as a kid, someone usually levitates it over the lake after we throw some in the water to draw them up and then we watch the kelpies jump to get it,” Harry explained. “So suffice it to say, swim in the pool, not the lake. And don’t go in the forest, the tree line is the ward line and it’s also full of creatures that would happily gobble you up,” Harry said with a scary grin.

With that, he finally sat back down with his pastry, and as he was about to take a bite…

“HAAAWY!!” yelled Rowan and Lissie, running towards him.

“Oh sod it,” Harry thought to himself, biting the pastry anyway as the two menaces collided against him.

“Hdmfsgh,” Harry hummed with his mouth full as the children yapped about the kelpies.

“If it isn’t my itty bitty baby cousins, at long last,” Dora said with a wry grin, stirring her tea.

“Nope, those are your itty bitty baby cousins, we are almost twelve,” Harry said with a smug grin, nodding towards the children who’d already run off to play by the window.

“Dora, have you met our newest cousin? This is Hermione Granger-Burke, heiress Burke,” Draco said, introducing Hermione, though they’d met at his Mabon Ball when he was receiving guests with his parents, so he wouldn’t have known.

“It’s good to see you again, heiress Flint,” Hermione said with a nod.

“We met last Mabon Dray, though reintroductions are in order I see! Call me Isadora or Dora, cousin, lovely to see you again!” she said with a wink. “I do love your hair like that! May I borrow it?” she added, and Hermione watched with wide eyes as her hair turned into deep dark chocolate coils just like hers.

“What do you think? Suits me? Suits me not?” She said, modeling the style.

“I don’t know if you have the bone structure for such curls Dora dear, but the color is lovely,” Andromeda said with a wry grin without lifting her eyes from her issue of Enchanting Houskeeping, used to her daughter’s antics by now. She was eternally grateful that the blood adoption just wiped out the measly Tonks family magics, feeble as they were. She’d kept the metamorphmagus gift and the rest of the Black magics though, thank the Mother, but did away with the name. Entirely her choice of course, considering she’d always loathed the name Nymphadora, but was used to Dora by the age of ten when her husband adopted her, and there were a few Isadoras in the Flint family tree so it fit rather nicely.

“Perhaps,” Dora smirked ruefully, and with a shake of her head the coils loosened into soft waves.

“Much better dear, lovely,” Andromeda said with an approving nod before settling back with her magazine.

“Of course you’d think so, it’s basically your hair,” Dora snorted. Even if she could change her appearance at will, it was rather tiring to keep focused and maintain a shift. Not draining per se, but she had always been flighty and easily distracted and they sometimes slipped. It’s why she’d given up on adding to her height, that and the fact that she knocked and tripped over everything when taller. She thanked the Mother everyday that her blood adoption gave her some of her father’s best features and erased the most offending traits inherited from her sire. It had been a tough conversation with her mother, just before she was to be blood adopted and Andromeda was making sure her daughter would keep a good memory of her father. Dora went and told her point blank that she’d seen her father tampering with her potions, so she’d run into her on purpose that day so she’d drop the flask, scared that it would be something dangerous. She’d heard them fighting later and she’d known what she did, and she was happy she did it. She wanted nothing to do with her sire, so she changed the Merlin awful name he’d saddled her with and asked for a banishing ritual to be added to the blood adoption, eliminating her sire from her bloodline rather than just adding his father in. Even if she could disguise some of her late sire’s features by morphing before, she was happy she would never recognize him in her reflection. 

“Dora, where’s Marc?” Harry asked curiously. He was anxious to know how their training was going to go.

“Out in the pitch running drills for your quidditch bootcamp of course, it’s either that or the library,” Dora said with a grin that belied the suffering her brother was about to subject her little cousins to for two long and tiring weeks.

“You’ll have to wait until after lunch now if you want to go out and fly, Marcus should be getting back soon anyway if he intends to make it in time for lunch,” Andromeda said with a glance at the grandfather clock in the corner.

~~~

In the end, summer with the Blacks this year turned out to be the most physically grueling two weeks of Harry’s life. Yes they had fun and swam in the pool and watched the kelpies feed and all the regular activities, but Marcus had them up and running laps around the pitch at 7 AM sharp everyday. Then a quick shower, breakfast with the family and back to the pitch for physical training, drills and maneuvers. 

Harry didn’t make it past the very first day with his old gear. After lunch, Marcus told them to change and be at the pitch in 20. He took one look at Harry’s too tight and too short gear and with a sigh of frustration sent him off to get proper fitting gear while he worked chaser drills with Draco.

“I can’t have you training with your breeches riding up your arse and pinching your ballsack cousin,” Marcus laughed as Harry blushed, which made Marcus laugh even harder, “oh don’t be a prude cousin! You’ll be sharing a changing room with a number of older boys, that’s the least of what you’ll hear and see this year,” he said with a snicker. “And for your information, it’s not just the breeches. If your gear doesn’t fit, then your movement is hindered and it might just be the edge your opponent needs to get the snitch out of your grasp. Don’t be a Weasley about it and start penny-pinching on me now,” he said with a sly grin. 

“Now, before you go, what does your regular routine look like?” He asked, and was not impressed by the lack of answer. “I run a tight ship, and endurance and stamina are a big part of the game. We don’t just train drills and formations during practice. There’s a lot of emphasis on physical training as well. Cardiovascular work and calisthenics,” he said seriously. “I won’t go easy on you just because you’re young. If you want to keep your spot on the team you’ll have to work for it and keep up with the rest.”

“Yes captain!” Both kids said in unison.

“Good, I like that attitude,” he said with a wry smirk. “I won’t lie to you Dray,” he said, turning towards Draco, “I’ll be focusing on you for the most part. I know you’re good, I’ve seen your matches and you deserve the spot, but a lot of what makes our team good is the sinergy with the rest of the chaser squad, which will only come to you as you train with them, so you’ll need to keep up. Don’t feel like I’m singling you out or that you're in some way behind, the seeker position is less physically demanding than the chaser, so Harry objectively needs less work to do the same thing. You’ll be playing with Pucey and me, and we are both older and fitter, so you’ll have to put in the work in the training room if you want to cut it as a chaser. Montague would have continued if I hadn’t assured him that you’d be a fine replacement so he could focus on his OWLs. Don’t let us down.” Marcus said to Draco, who nodded with determination. He was used to this by now. Being a Malfoy opened a lot of doors, but staying in the room was always on him.

“Harry, with you I’ll be focusing on getting you in shape for the year. I won’t mince words kid, you’re the best seeker I’ve ever seen outside of the pro circle, you’re already reasonably fit for the post and it’s not a position that’s too related to what the rest of us are doing below while you’re scouring for the snitch above us, so practice for you will be different than the rest of the team. We’ll work on your flexibility and stamina, as well as getting some meat on those bones so you can withstand a full match without keeling over. I’m sure you’ve noticed the difference between your league’s matches and the school matches,” Marcus said, and Harry had. He’d been to many professional matches as well and knew that his league could be described as ‘cute’ in comparison, and the school matches were a good middle ground between his junior league and a professional match.

“For us it’s not just ending the game quickly. It’s great that you have a fast response time and can spot the snitch within five minutes. The real trick to a good seeker, in a tournament setting at least, is to keep the other seeker off the snitch for as long as possible so we can win with as much advantage as needed to rack up the points to win the cup in the end. Sometimes 180 points won’t be enough, so I’ll need for you to hold off on catching it until we have a hundred point lead on our opponent already scored and only then you can catch the snitch, for example, so you’ll have to maneuver and feint to trick the other seeker, or block him if he makes a play for the snitch before it’s time. For that, you’ll need stamina,” Marcus said, conjuring a piece of parchment and quill.

“This is a list of things I need you to get for you and Draco. I know I put the fear of Merlin in you just now, but don’t worry. We won’t do anything too high impact until you’re at least fourteen. You’re still growing boys and I don’t want to stunt your growth by having you lift weights or anything that intense just yet. That’ll come later so for now we’ll work with your own body weight, simple push ups, lunges and squats and things like that. Get two Train-O-Balls with beginner calisthenics routines for each of you. They should be able to sort you out by your age at the store so they won’t give you anything you’re not ready for,” Marcus said reassuringly.

Harry nodded seriously, excited for what was to come. He’d always been an active child, bordering on hyperactive really, and he’d gotten into the habit of running on his mat the previous year and actually really enjoyed it, so the prospect of exercise wasn’t daunting. He’d begun to notice he was filling out and shooting up slightly, not just because his mother declared him to be mid growth spurt, but because his clothing was starting to run not just short, but tight. Marcus was tall and solid as a rock, with thick muscular arms and a broad back. He was closer to what a beater should be built like but was a damn good chaser, agile and nimble in spite of it, and also quite handsome, though Harry didn’t know when he began to notice such things, but it did make him curious to see what it would look like on him. 

Ever since Harry was very little, he’d heard Dora tease her brother, telling him that being blood adopted by her mother had done wonders for his looks, and once Harry was old enough he learnt from the gossip machine that was polite society that Marcus’ mother had been a rather unpleasant looking German witch, or rather unpleasant in general if the gossip was to be believed, who his grandparents had saddled his father with swiftly after aunt Meda was potioned up by the mudblood and broke their contract, to minimize the scandal. She’d been sickly though, and died when Marcus was four going on five, and had unfortunately left him with more than just galleons in his trust vault, but also “unfortunate features”, as Granny liked to describe people that were “aesthetically challenged”.

Luckily, Harry managed to convince his father that he truly had no time for a full on shop-up and really just needed to pop over to Harriman’s and Quality Quidditch Supplies and be back to train with Draco and Marcus, so it wouldn’t do to spend the whole afternoon out and about.

The first few days saw them dragging themselves to dinner and almost falling asleep on top of their desserts, but by the second week they’d gotten the hang of it, and in the end the early mornings and grueling days became not only bearable but fun. Marcus left them with the order to keep up their routine for the rest of their holiday. They’d resume flying along the rest of the team once practices started for the year, but they needed to keep building their endurance up until that point.

~~~

“Merlin’s beard liebling!” His mother said when Sirius dropped him off, “did I send you off on holiday or to auror training! You’ve shot up like a weed!” She knew it was impossible for him to have actually grown noticeably taller in just two weeks, was it? But still… something in his posture maybe? He looked so… grown! Some of the softness in his features had begun melting away from the increased exercise as well.

“It certainly felt like it,” Harry said with a laugh, “cousin Marcus would certainly make a fine military instructor! We spent the whole holiday training with him for when we join the team. It was a lot of fun!”

“I’m glad you’ve had some fun to get you through some less than fun activities then. I’m sure I’ll be receiving a strongly worded letter from your grandmother today. Look at those ankles! It’s lucky we don’t leave for France for a few days because I’m afraid we won’t be able to push a visit to Mr Twillfit’s for when we return,” Lyra said, shaking her head and occluding strongly. She’d sent off a child and gotten back a little man! It took her by surprise to see her soft baby boy’s face begin to show his Black sharpness and hints of a broadening back. She shook her head to dispel any further thoughts of how fast Harry was growing up and turned to Sirius instead.

“Siri, would you like me to save something for Rowy or should I just donate the whole lot to charity? I’m afraid nothing will fit now.” Lyra said, remnants of a frugal past still surfacing every now and then after many years.

“What are we, Weasleys?” Was all Sirius said with an amused eye roll. Besides, Harry favored Indian inspired kurta sets as per Potter tradition, and he was more than able to have his children clothed in the finest, thank you very much. Not even while disowned and living with James had he abandoned the pleasures of acromantula silk and bespoke tailoring. Even in his most rebellious era he’d switched from Mr Twillfit’s to Vivianne Westwood’s store on the King’s Road, just to spite his mother when she spotted him in the Alley wearing muggle punk garb.

“I had that coming,” Lyra shrugged as she chuckled. Bloody ponces the lot of them, she thought to herself, laughing inwardly. There was a fine line between a hand-me-down and an heirloom it seemed. A very blurred one. Sometimes she just couldn’t help her upbringing, and she’d be having some serious words with that noodle of a tailor now that she found he’d been making the clothes to measure and charming it to grow instead of shrink! No wonder the charmwork gave away so fast and she had to replace them so much! She’d make sure he added a couple of inches onto every garment and then charmed it to fit, so Harry could grow into it as the resizing charms faded. It’s either that or taking her business elsewhere. Sneaky little twit. Just because she had money to burn didn’t mean she had to burn it. After all, her muggle father had always instilled in his daughters the importance of being thrifty with their money. 

“That’s fine,” Harry said with a shrug, to the shock of both of them, and it must have shown because he started laughing.

“What? It’s really fine, it’s the appointments for dress robes I hate, all that trying on and talking about frilly bits and bobs I don’t care about bore me to death, but if he’s just going to update my measurements so we can order the usual then it’s no big deal,” he said with another dismissive shrug, “besides, there’s this new book that’s just come out I really want to get so I can take it to France if we’re going to do the mandatory F&B run.”

“Ah! There it is, mystery solved,” Lyra smirked ruefully. “Fine, no need to break tradition.”

~~~

“Come on! First one to break pays for the crêpes!” Draco grunted through the push ups. 

It was like any other summer really. Two weeks with the Blacks, then two weeks in France. The healthy dose of competition was new though. They’d both taken Marcus’ training to heart and were pushing each other everyday.

“Don’t worry, I’ll hold yours so you can eat, unless you want to surrender while you can still hope to move your arms later?” Harry grunted cockily, though he wasn’t sure he’d end up in much better shape afterwards. He’d be lucky if he could lift his arms to bite down on his own crêpe if Draco didn’t fold soon. 

The heavily warded island of St. Jean Cap Ferrat sur Mer, off the coast of Nize and opposite the muggle peninsula of St. Jean Cap Ferrat had been the preferred retreat for the French wizarding aristocracy for centuries, first to escape the harsh winters inland, and then for the summer once it became fashionable to sport a tan, and both families had been delighted to find out that Lyra’s family’s villa neighbored the Malfoy estate on the island once Lyra’s identity became public and she was free to enjoy her properties without need for secrecy. It was a close knit community, with private estates that shared a private beach on the side facing the mainland and a lively town with a few resorts, beach clubs and houses for rent on the side facing the ocean where those without their own property lodged for the summer. 

They had a group of summer friends they’d made throughout the years, which made the whole trip fun. A lot of them went to Beauxbatons now, like the Delacours, the Villeneuves, the Orlys, the Sinclairs and the Barbaracs, and they all were more or less the same age, give or take a few years. The undisputed queen bee of the group was of course Fleur, La Comtesse Delacour, the eldest daughter of the Marquis Delacour, the current Grand Sorcier of the Asemblee Nationale de Magie, and granddaughter of the High Chieftainess of the European Veela clans, as they were known by wix, but to their allies and other creatures it was a royal court and Mireille Satigny was their Queen. Neither Fleur nor her mother Apolline were in the line of succession though, because they’d both been born half witches instead of full blooded Veela. The Veelas were an all female race, and their mating with muggles and wizards resulted in full blooded Veela about half the time. 

She was three years their senior, fifteen now, so they’d reached a point where the age difference was more noticeable so she wasn’t giving them so much as the time these days, much too cool to spend her holiday with the children, but the rest were closer in age. She wasn’t exactly nasty, just uninterested in that classical detached way teens were about everything, but Harry’s parents were also close with hers, both from summering together as well as their work in the ICW, so they saw a lot of each other either way. 

Armand Delacour held a seat in the Council of Warlocks as the French equivalent of a Chief Warlock, and was a close ally of both James and Lyra. He held the Monténèbre family seat in stewardship, and probably would until Harry produced an heir able to take it on. Lyra was too busy and Harry wouldn’t be able to if he took on the rest of James’ seats when he came of age or James decided to let him use one of their ten votes later on. One couldn’t serve in a foreign parliament while also sitting on the Wizengamot.

“Boys? What are you doing?” James asked, stepping out onto the terrace where they set up their little training corner. The grounds weren’t as expansive as their other estates, with most houses perched closer together on the cliff with stairs carved into the stone to go down to the beach below. Not nearly enough space to have a proper run so they’d brought their running mats and other equipment down and set it up outside. 

“Winning,” Harry grunted with a final push up as Draco dropped down exhausted finally.

“That’s my prongslet!” James said with a mix of pride and apprehension. His boy was indeed growing up so fast. Yes, James still has a good foot on him, but at this rate, he’d be catching up to him by his fourth or fifth year! Lyra had come to him when he came home, the day Sirius dropped Harry off, and he’d initially brushed it off. He was his baby! They’d have plenty of time before he grew up, but when James saw him… he had to admit Lyra was right, his teenage years were upon them. He had to remind himself that this was why he’d come back, why he brought Lyra back… to have a chance to see him grow up! He just thought it wouldn’t pass them by quite as fast.

“Abba, are you ok?” Harry asked, and James realized he’d been staring into nothingness a bit too long.

“Just dandy!” He said with a carefree smile, “now, to the showers the both of you! A nice long hot one or you’ll be sore all day and tomorrow probably! It smells like my daadi’s kitchen out here! Reeks of cumin!” He said with a scrunched nose. 

“Malfoys don’t stink! The hubris!” Draco grumbled goodnaturedly as he and Harry went inside and up to shower, playfully shoving each other as they waddled like foals, legs like jelly after their routine. 

~~~ 

“So, where’s your father? Did you come with just Aunt Cissy?” Harry asked as they walked down to the village with their parents a little ahead. Harry’s mother and aunt Cissy were in similar flowing white linen dresses and ridiculously large brimmed straw hats, while James was wearing a long linen kaftan that would have looked ridiculous on anyone else, but he carried it off perfectly. They could have just apparated, but it was only a short walk and the day was nice.

“He had some business to take care of back home before he could join,” Draco said quietly, “he’s been very cryptic lately, as if I don’t know about the Dad-Weasel’s nasty bill that he’s pushing through. Makes me sick that it’ll pass next session. Are you going?” he asked curiously. It was customary that after their first year, the heirs would attend the last Wizengamot meeting before term started along with their parents, to learn the ropes. They could technically attend all sessions, and they certainly would as they grew older, but not many pulled them out of school for them and during the summer most preferred to let their children enjoy the holiday and have them attend just the August session.

“Yes I am! I’m rather excited actually, I’ve wanted to go for a long time!” Harry said, “I hope I get to sit next to Abba as he presides over the meeting! And it’s sad too that a bill like that will pass on our first time there. My parents think I don’t know either, but I’ve seen them moving things around and taking things to Ravenhill. And they thought I didn’t notice the trunks Mutti left at the château when we stopped by to visit my grandparents’ portraits,” he said quietly. 

“I know right? I tried to have father take me last year, but he wouldn’t budge,” Draco said, clearly displeased about it. “Anyway, he thinks he’s being discreet but he’s been visiting Borgin’s more often lately. But before aunt Lyra hears… Did either of your fathers tell you the bad news?” 

“About the fraud the goat hired to teach DADA you mean?” Harry said with an eye roll.

“How on earth did he get that lunatic past the board! I thought they had control over it.” Draco said.

“Not on this they don’t, it seems,” Harry said with a grimace, “apparently Lady Marchbanks fancies him or whatever, and from what I heard Father say, so do the minister and Lady Smith, who had to sit in her husband’s stead because he came down with a rather nasty case of doxy fever,” Harry whispered, entirely repulsed by the idea of who the short, old, pudgy and married minister fancied.

“Well, all the girls will be nutters for the tosser,” Draco said dismissively, “did you know Pans has a poster of him in her room?” He said with a wry smile.

“Ugh, it looks like it’s going to be another year of self study,” Harry groaned.

“Yep,” Draco said, dragging out the p, “did you hear the latest? Millie’s betrothed,” Draco said, changing the topic.

“Already? To whom?” Harry said.

“Otto Holstein, like the cow breed,” Draco said with a smirk, “he’s 14, German family, not in line for any title but respectable fortune, they apparently do deal in cattle as their name suggests and they do quite well for themselves. He’s the nephew of the current Baron Holstein, one of three children, middle child,” Draco listed in hushed tones. 

“I've met the Baron, pleasant enough man. Is he nice? Is she happy?” Harry asked worriedly. He didn’t like the whole contract thing, and was very grateful his parents were against it as well. 

“They met last week for the signing of the contract. She seems happy, at least from the pictures she sent that Pans showed me, and he’s handsome, and nice from what she told her in her letter. They look cute together, or at least I think so,” Draco said with a shrug.

“Good, I’m happy for her then,” Harry said, “when do you think we’ll get to meet him?” He asked. With Millie being heiress to the Bulstrode title, he’d be expected to move to England and take her name, especially with him having no title of his own. It was a logical move and one many expected from the coming generation as those that partook in the marriage market started to be promised in marriage. The war left many titles condensed in one family and one heir, much like Harry and Neville or Theo, so people were reluctant to marry heirs to other heirs, opting for second sons or daughters and often foreign, to freshen up the gene pool with fresh blood from the continent. It also relieved the pressure on the couple to produce heirs for every line.

“They’ll just exchange letters and visit on holidays until Millie passes her OWLs and then they’ll enter a proper courtship. I guess he’ll come for the season then to escort her to parties and such,” Draco shrugged.

“Speaking of parties, I heard you had to drop Brown from your party, is that true?” Draco said then with a worried look.

“Yes,” Harry said, a little sad, “Abba and Mutti said that she may be a very nice girl, but her father isn’t and if I give her an in, he’d try to push in. They let Madam Esther go when I told them she was Lavender’s piano tutor too, did I tell you that? Nasty old hag, but I was looking forward to resuming lessons this summer! We were moving on to Rachmáninov!” 

“I like Lavender too, but you have to admit she’s a terrible gossip. She’d blab to her father about anything and everything we told her, and Father doesn’t like him either. He says he’s a social climbing parvenu and a Dumbledore fan to boot. He’s the one that secured the old Gamp seat on the board for him. Paid a small fortune for it,” Draco said, ignoring Harry’s whining, he was already a proficient pianist and could practice on his own just fine, and he preferred Harry’s renditions of Beethoven over Rachmáninov anyway.

“I know, that’s why I didn’t argue, and at least I hadn’t managed to invite her so I didn't have to uninvite her, but I like her too, and she’s very close to Vati and Padma. They're having a tough time with it as well, because their parents won’t receive her either, or they’d have to receive her parents too,” Harry said. “It’s just sad she has to pay for the sins of her father and all that.”

“We don’t have to be nasty to her though, just keep her in her proper sphere,” Draco shrugged, “we can still be civil or even friendly at school, just watching what we talk about around her. And around cousin Dora too, because she absolutely hates her older sister, Hydrangea or Poinsettia or some other horrid flower name that escapes me,” he said maliciously.

“Marigold,” Harry said with an eye roll, “she was in her year wasn’t she? Gryffindor?” Harry asked.

“Yes, and apparently she was sweet on Charlus Weasley, borderline stalker-ish. Of course the goat encouraged it and never did anything about it, happy to have a prospective Lady Prewett in his pocket to control him if he were to claim the title, no doubt. I’ve heard Dora say he ran off to Romania first chance he got so he wouldn’t get forcibly hitched to the bint, amongst other things. Lucky any contracts had to be signed off by Muriel as the trustee and not just his puppet parents,” Draco said with a pointed look.

“Well that explains it then,” Harry said, “Abba doesn’t want me to shun her outright though. She may prove useful in the future, if we want to get the right intel to the right ears,” Harry said, and he couldn’t help the little smirk that creeped on his face as he said it.

“So, sweet or savory?” Draco asked as they approached the crêpe stand in the village square, ready to pay up on their bet. 

“You get a sweet one, and I’ll get a savory one, and we can split them. I’m not in the mood for two but I’d like a bit of both,” Harry said after some thought.

“Coming right up!” Draco said casually, stepping up to the till to order. “Bonjour, Could I get a chocolate hazelnut crêpe with raspberries? And one with shrimp, chives and Gruyère s'il vous plaît,” Draco ordered in perfect French.

Harry shouldn’t have worried really, he thought of giving Draco his order but he of course knew. He knew he always got that one because it was the punchiest one out of all the other bland options, and he knew he preferred raspberries over strawberries when paired with the sickly sweet chocolate hazelnut spread. The tartness cut through it better in his opinion, even if Draco liked strawberries best.

“So, who’s coming early for your party? Nev I assume?” Draco said as they munched on their crêpes. 

“Nev and Susan. Aunt Amy will try and get away on the day, but she’s sending Susan to spend the weekend along with Nev and his parents. 

“Isn’t Hermione coming for that too? Is Great Aunt Burgy really putting that much pressure on her?” Draco asked curiously.

“Of course not, you know how she is,” Harry said with an eye roll, “if anyone is putting on the pressure, it’s herself! Ever since her parents started tutoring towards a full education, she’s been revising along with them, as if she hadn’t placed first along with us,” Harry said snickering, “and that’s on top of her heirship lessons. She’s already passed etiquette with flying colors, but she’s stuck on genealogy and estate management. I’m helping as much as I can,” Harry said with a shrug.

“Me too,” Draco said, “we were asked to bring the Burke ledgers to Tŷ D’ur for those lessons.”

“She’ll be here on the day with her parents and granny. Father, uncle Remus and aunty Mary are coming with the children on Friday,” Harry said mid bite, Merlin it was good! Oozing creamy bechamel enriched with Gruyère and richly seasoned chopped griddled shrimp with lots of chili flakes and fresh chives. 

“Hey! Halfsies remember? It’s time to trade,” Draco said, handing him his and taking Harry’s before he wolfed down the entire thing.

“It’s just so good!” Harry said with his mouth a little full still, “sorry.”

“It’s so spicy,” Draco said with a faint frown as he took a much more proper bite out of the remaining crêpe.

“You could have gotten one you liked too,” Harry grumbled.

“But you like this one best,” Draco shrugged.

It wasn’t something particularly strange for them, accommodating each other like that. Harry knew as well that Draco liked strawberries over raspberries, absolutely detested blueberries and a bunch of other things like other favorite foods, favorite books and brands of quills and parchment, colors etc.

So why was it all of the sudden giving him this weird warm feeling in his chest? 

“Boys! There you are,” James said, walking up to them while turning the heads of several witches and wizards, with the way his billowing kaftan clung to his frame against the wind. “Your mothers have proceeded to the yearly ransacking of the market, so we have a good hour of leisure before we head back up for lunch. Ludovic’s for some cold sirop?”

After enthusiastically agreeing, especially Draco, who wanted nothing more than something cold to wash the spice down, they made their way to the beach club. Sirop was one of those treats Harry only had in the summers. Sugary syrup in various fruity flavors served in a tall glass with crushed ice and fizzy water. They joined the rest of their usual group on the terrace overlooking the beach, the children in one table with their sirops, mimicking their fathers in the next table over with their spritzes while their mothers bought out the vendors in the market. 

“I have no idea how you can possibly stand that wretched man Dumbledore and those disgusting bills he pushes through your parliament James,” Armand said as he nursed his Americano with a sneer, “it’s an infringement on private property! I’m glad his days in the ICW are numbered. It’s tiring work keeping him in check there as it is, and I don’t know how you can handle him on both fronts.”

James just smirked in amusement. In confidence, every foreign dignitary or noble he’d met spoke perfect English, either having learnt it the usual way or through language amulets, which were banned in Britain. But in the presence of those they considered lesser or to gain an edge? They resorted to heavily accented English and played dumb. It certainly gave them an advantage in negotiations if the other party thought you couldn’t understand them properly. 

“Patience is a virtue as much as she is a cruel mistress. His time is coming nearer everyday,” was all James said, taking a sip of his Lillet spritz, “as for that bill, it won’t stand for long. And so far all the nuisance it’s brought is just some light redecorating and redistributing of artifacts,” he said, shrugging dismissively.

~~~

“So, you actually want it to go through?” Lucius said in disbelief, “why?”

“Because Arthur Weasley thinks he can mess with us and get away with it,” James said calmly. “He’s been under the goat’s protection far too long. His department is useless and a waste of ministry resources as it stands today. If we let him have his time in the sun only to scorch under it then it will be one less problem going forward, and we can finally overhaul it so it can actually serve its purpose,” James said with a shrug as they watched the children running and jumping in the pool. 

“And where exactly do we fit in with this plan of yours Jamie?” Amelia asked curiously, “I’m not exactly thrilled about it myself. You know the House of Bones is gray for a reason, and I don’t exactly have the time to move heirlooms around like you do.” She’d barely found the time to portkey to France for the party, not even enough time to change or bring something to change into, considering she’d been staying in her office sofa for the last few nights, making the most of having sent Susan to France early, so she stuck out like a sore thumb in her uniform amongst the rest of the linen clad parents under the shade of the buganvilias that covered the terrace. 

“Well, I believe they’ll use the law to go after the big fish in power, so the goat can move for our dismissal and take over certain departments and regain his post as Chief Warlock. He knows he has only this year left before Ly takes the election home and succeeds him as Supreme Mugwump, and he’ll be out of the ICW for good,” James said with a smirk.

“That doesn’t sound like good news James, or something we should even let him entertain, so I ask again, what’s our play?” Amelia said seriously.

“Well, can’t you see the massive hit it would be if the courts realized that’s their play? They wouldnt be able to pass anything again without it being heavily scrutinized, and I have it on good authority that Arthur Weasley likes to dabble in the same activities he’s oath-bound to punish in his department. A shed full of muggle paraphernalia which he likes to apply charms to. His crowning glory? An old Ford Anglia he’s modified to fly with all sorts of nifty charmwork added. He’s built his glass house, we’re just doing our duty by throwing the rocks,” James said with a malicious grin.

“And how do you expect to bring him down and repeal the bill without any of us going down with him?” Lucius asked. The House of Malfoy had been dark since its inception, and the collection of artifacts that would be penalized under this new law was vast. He found new things everyday, things he’d need to hide, and other fascinating things he’d forgotten about.

“Well, I have a pretty clear idea of when they’ll make their grand move, wanting to make a splash. It’ll involve you Lucius. It’ll involve us all if I’m right. After that, we’ll have the whole Wizengamot on our side and then it’s just a matter of raiding Arthur right back after an anonymous tip from a concerned citizen,” James said with a smirk.

“They’re going to raid the Malfoy Mabon Ball,” Amelia gasped. How stupid could they be really? The whole of parliament would be there, and their play was to barge in forcefully? With their children right there? By Merlin, that would backfire.

“Exactly, so just make sure the manor is clean by Mabon and you’ll be just dandy Luke, really. Like I’d let you down after all these years my friend,” James said, shaking his head.

“Cissy won’t like this,” was all Lucius said. He spent the rest of the party, right up until both birthday boys had to blow out the candles on their cake, thinking about all the things he had yet to get rid of or hide. Unaware of one in particular that had wrapped its clutches around him, sensing its time had come.

~~~

“It’s almost time,” Harry whispered later that night as he watched the tempus countdown to midnight in his room go down to zero.

“Happy birthday Harry!” Draco whispered with a wide grin once the clock struck twelve. He couldn’t remember exactly which year they’d started with their little tradition, but most years Harry’s joint birthday party with Neville devolved into a slumber party and they’d taken to waiting for midnight. It was just him and Draco awake. Neville had given up at around eleven and promptly fell asleep, his soft snoring mingling with the sound of the waves outside.

“I wonder what Abba and Mutti got me this year. They never give me their present at the party,” Harry said thoughtfully. It was no surprise that everyone else’s presents were quidditch related this year. His father had given him three full sets of custom made, pro-grade Slytherin quidditch gear with all the charmwork added to have it last at least two years, making the most of the measurements taken for the generic gear they bought earlier in the summer, complete with extra cushioning charms on the breeches to supplement the ones on his broom, dragonhide gloves, goggles and padded guards for his chest, arms and shins. 

“I hope it’s the Nimbus 2001. Father will certainly like having to buy one less for the team,” Draco said with an eye roll.

“You didn’t manage to talk him out of it then?” Harry asked.

“He just said I shouldn’t care what anybody else thinks, which is rich coming from a man who’s obsessively concerned with what anybody thinks of him. Honestly! It’s either one or the other. Either I protect my reputation and the name of Malfoy, or I don’t give a damn. Pick one, for sanity’s sake!” Draco huffed.

“Well, we did get in through the side door, so what if it looks like it? Is it really that different if people think we got in because your father bought broomsticks for the team instead of us getting in because the captain’s our cousin? Or because both our parents are governors? I think what he means is that for those in our position, people will always talk, because even if we earned it, we’re in a position to have been handed it anyway and they’ll be quick to believe that, so we should just let them think what they will and carry on,” Harry said diplomatically.

“Will we ever be able to exist outside their shadows, be our own people?” Draco asked in defeat.

“Nope,” Harry said, shaking his head in sympathy, “sorry to be the one who has to break it to you, but individuality is for the spares, not the heirs. We have duties, and that will always come first. I’ve seen what rebelliousness brings. You know what happened to my father. The sooner we make peace with the fact that we have to work within the confines of our duties the better. It’s not all bad, we’re tremendously privileged, and at least for me it’s worth it,” Harry said with a shrug. 

“It’s so unfair,” Draco grumbled.

“Yes, why did it have to be you! You could have been so happy, slumming it as the eighth ginger weasel wearing Percy’s old robes! But no! You just had to go and be born with a goblin silver spoon in your mouth in the master suite at Malfoy Manor!” Harry said teasingly.

“You know I was born in the Aurelian parlor, no time for mother to get upstairs,” Draco said with a fond eye roll. His mother has told him the story of his birth many times, how she’d gone into emergency labor very suddenly, with strong contractions so early on that she daren’t walk upstairs so the healer on call set up shop right in the parlor where she had her needles charmed to knit him booties and hats while she read.

“I’ll tell you what. We’ll make a pact,” Harry said, sitting up cross legged on the bed and turning to Draco, “you and me, as long as we live,” he said, putting out his hand, “no matter what, we believe in each other. No matter what anybody else says, we know what’s true and what’s not.”

“Always,” Draco said, clasping his hand.

“Always,” Harry confirmed, and they both felt the warmth of their magic, sealing the pact.

“Have I ever told you how glad I am that my parents needed their image sanitized after the Dark Lord fell?” Draco said teasingly, trying to cover the warmth in his chest.

“Not since I last told you how glad I was that my parents needed to establish themselves in the Dark Order before he came back to hunt us down,” Harry smiled back, eyes glimmering.

“I need the loo,” Draco said suddenly, scrambling up to hide his blush.

“Ok,” Harry said with a shrug, weird.

He plopped back down on the bed, ready to sleep now that it was officially his birthday, when a pop sounded in the room.

“Didou? C’est toi?” Harry said, trying to find the elf in the dark. Why would it come so late? Or early, depending on how one looked at it.

“Mister Harry Potter sir, Dobby has come to warn good Mister Harry Potter.”

Chapter Text

“Hadrian, may I have a quick word?” Lucius said as they all went through to the terrace for coffee and cake after dinner. Everyone who hadn’t come just for the party the day before had stayed for the weekend and they’d had a quiet but fun birthday lunch and dinner for Harry on his actual birthday, where his parents did in fact present him with a brand new Nimbus 2001, which he’d ridden for most of the afternoon, in spite of how low the island’s ward dome was, but he just couldn’t wait to test it out in the pitch at home. 

“Of course Uncle Luke, is this about Dobby?” Harry asked curiously. He’d of course heard the little elf patiently as he tried to circumvent his oaths and warn him that he should not return to Hogwarts this year, but had been unable to tell him why, other than that terrible things would happen. As soon as he saw the chance, he’d told Lucius about it. He knew the elf superficially, he was one of the younglings of Draco’s nanny elf and one of the groundskeeper elves at the manor, quirky little thing, still in training to be sworn in fully, overeager and most taken by Harry’s kindness over the Malfoy’s detached civility when dealing with their elves.

“Yes, I wanted to thank you for letting me know. It appears you’ve saved me from a rather large and embarrassing security breach,” Lucius said with a sigh, “he was being groomed by Dumbledore it seems, trying to sway him to take employment at Hogwarts so he could be ordered to reveal our secrets. He has been properly sworn into servitude to our house, along with the rest of the younglings, just in case, and ordered to remain there unless called away by me, Cissy or Draco. I tried to get to the bottom of things regarding the claims he made about what this year had in store for you but he showed signs of mind tampering, so any memory that could be relevant is either lost or tampered with. I’m sorry I cannot give you any more answers, but I’ve spoken to your fathers and we will be especially vigilant to whatever schemes the old man has planned for the year,” Lucius said with a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“I’m glad it was caught in time then! I guess we’ll have to see what comes of what he might have overheard about the headmaster and his scheming once things start to unfold, unfortunately,” Harry sighed in frustration.

“Unfortunately, yes, but with a little luck, whatever it is he’s planning will be another nail in his coffin and it’ll bring him closer to the edge until he finally falls. He didn’t come out of the whole stone debacle unscathed. You will be kept safe though, so perhaps it may play out in our favor after all,” Lucius said, “now, let’s join the others before they wonder why we’re taking so long,” he added with a reassuring squeeze to his shoulder.

~~~

“Are you worried?” Draco asked that night. No one fussed if he wanted to stay over or not, and most nights he did, or Harry stayed next door. Harry caught the loaded looks their parents exchanged sometimes but was too young still to understand what a night without kids in the house meant for their parents. No silencing charms.

“Not overly so. It does make me wonder if I’ll ever have a normal school year, but something tells me we won’t until the old man is cold and in the ground,” Harry said with a shrug. “It is odd though, don’t you think?” 

“What is?” Draco asked.

“Your father said Dobby came to warn me about Dumbledore, but it doesn’t make much sense. He was having trouble skirting around his fledgling vows, only he wasn’t sworn into his service at all, only your family’s. Why would he have any difficulty conveying information about someone he wasn’t sworn to?”

“You heard what Father said, he was tampered with mentally, perhaps he managed to get him to take some sort of secrecy vow,” Draco said after some thought. He didn’t like the implication that his father was lying. “Something to ensure he only told you the bare minimum to entice you, like last year.”

“That makes sense,” Harry said, “Did you get a look at the booklist? Ridiculous! Seven books? What a shameless cash grab!” Harry said then. Lockhart had indicated his entire bibliography as the required textbooks for the year.

“I know! It almost makes me feel bad for the weasels. They can barely afford a secondhand book each and now they need seven books a head?” Draco scoffed.

“He’s a fraud! I hope the curse gets him sooner rather than later,” Harry grumbled.

“Chance would be a fine thing,” Draco agreed. “Are you packed for tomorrow?”

“Of course not,” Harry snorted, “but the portkey is set for the evening so I have all day, and it’s just the shopping and books I brought and whatnot. Most of the clothes stay here. Are you leaving earlier?” He asked.

“After lunch, we’re having dinner with Mémé and Grandfather before they leave for Spain,” Draco said.

“How is he?” Harry asked quietly. Uncle Cygnus’ health had been on a decline for some time now and the healers recommended warmer weather, so Aunt Druella and him were abroad most of the year chasing the summer. They only spent about a month in Britain in the summer other than coming home for the weekend each sabbath for the balls, spending the rest of the year in Spain, Greece and the southern hemisphere for the winter.

“Better, avoiding the cold has done him good, but I’ve heard Mother discussing it with Aunt Meda. It’s not sustainable. I’d be surprised if he lasted the year,” Draco said sadly.

“I’m sorry Dray,” Harry said, squeezing his hand.

“It is what it is. The dragon pox epidemic really did a number on the older generation. I’d be surprised if anyone from our grandparents’ generation lives over a hundred. It’s lucky it spared the younger generation back then,” Draco shrugged sadly. He was conflicted about it though. He loved his grandfather, but he had to admit that he wasn’t the nicest man. He was perfectly nice to those he deemed worthy of being nice to, but Draco had always intensely disapproved of how he treated his Mémé, like she was only some pretty vase on a shelf, instead of the powerful witch he knew her to be. His grandmother had taught him a lot about magic when he was little, in spite of her upbringing. And if people thought his parents spoiled him? They had nothing against his grandmother. She had just been expected to be pretty, breed and entertain, but she was a voracious reader and skilled duelist. His mother had told him that she was the one that encouraged her elder sisters when she was little, to be their own people outside of who they would end up marrying, because even if that fate was inevitable, they could still retain some level of agency over themselves by cultivating their talents. It has somewhat tempered once it came time for her youngest, because Grandfather Cygnus blamed his wife at first for Aunt Bella’s rebellion and then Aunt Meda’s, but even if she’d done her duty in marrying Lucius, she was an accomplished healer, just as skilled as her eldest sister was in dueling and curse-breaking, or Aunt Meda with her runes. 

“We’re still doing the school shop-up together right?” Draco said, changing the topic.

“Sure,” Harry said knowingly, lightening the mood, “we’re going with Hermione and her parents as well. You should see her mum in F&B! And I thought I was bad!” Harry added for levity’s sake. It would be a quick trip this year, without the hassle of trunk shopping, wand shopping and all the other one time purchases of a firstie. According to his mother, the only books that changed each year were whichever ones the new DADA teacher assigned and electives from second to third year, so it was just a matter of getting the latest edition of the same books year after year as early as they wanted and then they’d just go for tradition’s sake to get the DADA text. Their potion’s kits were supplied by Potter&Prince so they would skip the apothecary, as if they’d ever put so much as a knut in the competition’s pockets, and then it was just a matter of getting some rolls of parchment and self inking quills because Harry and Draco used never-ending notebooks to keep their notes together by subject in preparation for OWL and NEWT revisions. They both had their measurements recently updated and on file at Twilfitt’s so they only would only need to pick up their robe order on the day and then it was just a matter of leisurely slurping on towering fudge sundaes as the masses got progressively frazzled around them.

~~~

Would this day ever end? What was supposed to be a quick trip to get the few things still needed for school turned into a slow, unbearable stint at the tailor’s. If only his mother hadn’t forced Harry to try on his robes! That sneaky little noodle of a man once again tried to cheat his way into further purchases by making his robes to a perfect fit and charming them to grow instead of making them bigger and charming the fit to shrink, and his measurements were slightly off kilter from the last time they’d been updated even if it was a mere two weeks ago. He’d never seen his mother use the thrall so blatantly before! Lucky for them, the man was weak and fell for it right away, and the store had been mostly empty of anyone magically sensitive enough to feel the compulsory magic imbued in his mother’s voice. It was one of the best kept secrets of the Schwartzstein line, the ability to either seduce or subdue their opponents by imbuing their voices with compulsions. Weak wix would fall for it without realizing it, while stronger opponents would eventually fold but know what transpired, which is why they rarely used it. Harry couldn’t control it yet. It only came out when he was either really angry or passionate about something, but he kept a good grip on his temper with his occlumency so he wouldn’t slip. It was lucky Mutti came and cleaned up his mess after he confronted the headmaster over the mirror, because the man had only been rooted to his spot by how much magic Harry put into his outburst, it turned out, and he would have known if not obliviated.

He’d ended up having to wait for a whole new set of robes to be made, free of charge, with a slew of everyday pieces thrown in, and not while reading a book or running the rest of their errands in the meantime, mind you, no. He had to try on a whole wardrobe’s worth of casual wear for his mother’s benefit, who decided to torture the tailor by having him run around in circles fetching different colors and styles all the while having to make the school robes at the same time. If only Harry hadn’t been caught in that crossfire.

By the time they left the store, Harry was tired and quite grumpy, but looking forward to the bookstore where he could finally relax and peruse the shelves for something interesting. The news that ancient runes was now a core subject he’d be taking this year instead of the next as an elective brightened his mood, especially because it moved up other practices in his timetable, like his bloodcraft. He’d progressed along swimmingly with his dark arts training last year, with private lessons with Uncle Sev in the deepest corners of the dungeons, where his mother, aunt Alice and him had a room much like the marauders’ den, which they’d warded heavily over the years to mask the use of dark arts from the school wards.

Along with Draco, Neville, Theo, and later Hermione, once she came into her heritage, they made their way through Thy first steps into Arts Dark with ease. It was still mostly theory, and controlled practice. The mark of an accomplished dark wizard was control, after all. All magic follows intent as its most basic tenet, but dark magic was more primal, earthen and ancient. It was fueled by emotions, not in the sense light propaganda touted, but at a root level. One does not have to hate someone for the intent to cause harm to be there, or love someone for the intent to heal to be there in the case of dark healing work, but the fuel that powers the magics comes from a mastery of emotion. The correct regulation and dosification of said emotions while powering spellwork, and the ability to stop, most of all. Dark addiction was a very real problem. The rush of power and unfiltered euphoria that came with dark magic could very well cause addiction if the caster is unable to exercise control. It’s why the mind arts were so commonplace amongst dark aligned wix. Most purebloods were taught basic shielding in order to protect their and their family’s secrets from intrusion, regardless of affinity, but it was rare that light aligned wix delved deeper than that.

Now that he would be taking runes a year earlier, he’d be able to begin studying bloodcraft with his mother and Sirius next summer, because no matter how much he read on the subject, they wouldn’t budge on him having at least a year of formal training in runecraft before ever delving in blood magic. He’d spend the year studying the theory with the help of Uncle Sev along with his runes and by the time summer came he’d be ready to do his first ritual hopefully. 

All his merry thoughts of blood rituals stopped when he saw the garish sign and the crowd outside Flourish&Blott’s.

“He’s signing his books today of all days?” Harry groaned. He didn’t want to meet the man ever, least of all in public with so many reporters and photographers around.

“There’s quite the commotion indeed,” Lyra said, almost rolling her eyes as they approached the bookstore.

“Can we just owl-order them?” Harry said in defeat.

“We’re already here, we’ll slip in and out. Besides, the signing is almost over. With a little luck he’ll still be desk-bound and we won’t bump into him,” James said, dreading the attention they were surely about to get if there was press inside, but the Gryffindor in him refused to cower. As if the Chief Warlock would be run out of a bookstore by a reporter or two!

“We should have sent away for the books,” Draco said once they found each other inside the shop, full to the brim.

“My sentiments exactly, but Abba wouldn’t hear of it, we were already here,” Harry said dejectedly in his best impresión of his abba’s voice.

“As if Lockhart wasn’t enough, the weasels in full are just a few people behind us, don’t look,” Draco muttered quietly.

“I thought something smelled musty,” Harry said, uncharacteristically nastily. He still hadn’t forgotten Ron’s attempt at Hermione, or the bill his father was pushing through the Wizengamot.

“Control yourself, not in public,” Lyra chided quietly.

“Sorry,” Harry said just as quietly, schooling his features. Luckily the crowd was large enough he wasn’t in full view of anyone at his level.

“Bad news,” they heard Theo say by way of greeting, “good morning Lady Potter,” he said with the customary bow to Harry’s mother. 

“Theo,” Lyra said, with a raised brow and a quirk to her lip as the only answer.

“Sorry, Aunt Lyra,” Theo corrected instantly.

“Much better,” Lyra nodded, “now, what news is bad dear?”

“The only way to purchase the books is to get in line, Mr Lockhart is selling them himself,” Theo said with a badly disguised grimace.

“How enterprising,” Lyra said with a much better disguised one, “best get in line then.”

The group moved to get in line, and a rather awkward moment happened when the Weasleys moved at the same time and Arthur got there just before Lucius, who was a little ahead.

“Mr Weasley,” Lucius said with his nose upturned. He’d never dignify a blood traitor with a claim to his title as weak as his by addressing him as Lord Weasley. 

“Malfoy,” Arthur sneered while his children assessed the situation, all but Ron, who scowled at Lucius with the same viciousness as his father.

“Well? Do go through, the secondhand section is on the mezzanine,” Lucius said with feigned innocence, moving a little aside, “though it looks like you’ve already been,” he said, picking up a ratty old book from Ginny’s cauldron and putting it back with a quick sleight of hand.

“I’m actually in line to buy Mr Lockhart’s books,” Arthur said curtly, turning his back on them and getting in line ahead of them.

“How novel, though would you mind terribly if we went ahead? There aren’t enough hours in the day to wait for you to count knuts to pay,” Lucius said, while the rest of their party just refused to engage or acknowledge their little spat. 

Harry in particular was oblivious to it, just trying to avoid the little girl’s intense gaze. He’d made the mistake of catching her eye and she was now quite monochromatic, orange as a carrot all over and looking at him like he was a zoo animal.

What surprised Harry the most, however, was how Arthur’s children were looking at him more harshly than they were at Lucius. Most of them, that is. Percy even threw Lucius an apologetic wince, while the twins looked like they wanted to be anywhere but there. They gave him a quick nod when they spotted Harry, but were otherwise quite interested in watching the dust settle on the shelves once his father stepped on every trap Lucius laid for him.

“Next!” Lockhart called with a toothy grin that would pass for dashing. “Who do I make these out to?”

“There’s no need to hold the line up, they’ll all be students of yours in a month after all,” Arthur muttered, “they can have them signed at school.”

“Most considerate old chap! There are quite a lot of books indeed! Do move along now” Lockhart said, eyeing the group next to Arthur greedily before looking to his side where a clerk was waiting to process the purchase.

“Let’s see, five packets… that’ll be 140 galleons, Mr…?” The bored looking teen said.

“Weasley,” Arthur said faintly. He wished that he had in fact let the bastard Malfoy go first after all. He wasn’t even sure he had the money.

“Oh,” the teen said with a knowing frown. 

“My Lord Chief Warlock! Lockhart said, standing up and coming round the table to greet him, a subtle nod to his photographer.

“Mr Lockhart,” James said a little warily.

“How good of you to come! I guess now is as good a time as any to make the announcement officially! With the Chief Warlock and Chairman of the Board of Governors present, it is my pleasure to tell you all that I will be taking on the post of Defense teacher at Hogwarts!” He said loudly above the noise of the crowd, which erupted in applause.

“Yes, I know, it is a challenging post, but I’m sure that I, Gilderoy Lockhart, will succeed in eliminating the dreadful curse on the position. Frankly! I’m surprised no one called me sooner!” He laughed.

“Well, we certainly have great expectations,” James said, the sarcasm lost on Lockhart.

“And this is Heir Potter I presume? I’m sure we’ll get on wonderfully my boy! Perhaps a photograph?” He said, his hand moving to maneuver Harry into the picture, but James caught it smoothly into an impromptu handshake for the photo.

“We don’t manhandle other people’s children Lockhart. It’s in rather poor taste,” James said through his teeth as he smiled for the picture. 

“Now, we are in a bit of a hurry I’m afraid,” he said, “we’ll take four packets please,” Lucius said to the cashier, who was still receiving sickles and knuts from Arthur in the background.

“That’ll be 112 galleons Lord Malfoy,” the teen said, giving him the invoice, which Lucius stamped with his ring.

“Thank you Lord Malfoy,” the teen said, handing Lucius the shrunken packages.

“Thank you,” Lucius said with a dismissive nod, glancing at Arthur sideways. “Disgraceful,” he muttered down his nose.

“We have a very different idea of what disgraces a wizard, Malfoy,” Arthur grunted angrily.

“Would expect nothing less of a blood traitor. It must sting to know who your late parents would agree with as far as disgraces go,” Lucius sneered quietly over his shoulder, turning away to follow the rest of his group out, only to be knocked over by an enraged Arthur, knocking Ginny down with them.

“Weasley!” James hollered over the crowd, which dispersed as much as the close quarters allowed. “Honestly, this is most unbecoming of a ministry Head. Should I flag down an auror, Lucius?” He said, pulling Arthur up and away with a quick flick of his wand.

“No need, much to do today still, to lose any more time with the likes of him,” Lucius said. “Are you well, child?” Lucius said, picking up Ginny’s books and putting them back in her cauldron. “I’m sorry you were caught in the middle of that,” he said with a curt nod before leaving the scene along with the rest. 

~~~

“Can you believe that man?” Draco grumbled as he ate his ice cream with Harry, Hermione and Theo. By the time they made it to Fortescue’s, there weren’t any tables big enough for their party available, so they broke apart taking up two, one for the kids and one for the adults. Luckily both had an inbuilt privacy ward so both groups could discuss recent events to their heart's content.

“Well, your father did goad him relentlessly. But to strike like that? Like a common muggle? Disgraceful indeed,” Harry said, ever the devil’s advocate.

“That’s exactly why he did it,” Theo shrugged, “wix never expect a physical attack,” and he should know. He had trained in hand to hand combat since he was nine with his father, and only those closest to him knew how dexterous he was with the pair of Norse daggers he always had strapped to his shins.

“Interesting,” Harry muttered to himself. Should he learn? He couldn’t ask his parents, who were still not even sure he should be training as hard as he was for quidditch, much less in combat, be it wix or muggle. Perhaps Theo could teach him? He was one of the few who saw past his bookishness, who saw how controlled and deliberate his movements were. It’s what made him such a good quidditch player too, even if he had no real interest in the sport.

~~~

“Are you sure you wouldn’t have preferred to sleep in laadla? Today of all days?” James said as he ran into Harry coming in from his morning routine as he went down for breakfast.

“Why?” Harry asked.

“You have your first Wizengamot session today. I’d imagine you’d want to be well rested for that,” James said cautiously. He was of two minds about his son’s recent habits. On the one hand, it wasn’t like he was doing anything harmful. If he were to look at it from an outsider's perspective, he’d be laughing at himself for worrying about his son’s sudden penchant for exercise, but he was still having trouble with letting go of the child he saw him as.

“I’m not tired?” Harry said, though it came out more like a question. He’d always been an early riser, and he’d been at it long enough now that he was used to his morning routine. “Besides, it doesn’t do to start breaking a habit so soon after picking it up. One little excuse here, another there… that’s how it starts,” he said with a shrug. “I’ll be just a moment and I’ll join you for breakfast,” he said, rushing past James to go shower and dress for the day.

~~~

“So, how will it work?” Harry asked, “will I sit with you as you preside over the meeting?” 

“No, your mother will be sitting in for the Potter seat today so you can sit with her. There’s no heir’s seat for the Chief Warlock, and I won’t be able to explain everything while presiding over everything,” James explained.

“Oh, ok,” Harry said, a little bummed out he wouldn’t get to sit next to him.

“Hey! I may not sit on the Wizengamot, and I would have taken the consort seat if I hadn’t taken over your dadaji’s business, but I’ll have you know that I am the High Elderwoman of the Council of Elders in the International Confederation of Wizards and favorite to become the next Supreme Mugwump,” his mother said in mock indignation. “Anyone would be lucky to have me explain a little legislative meeting,” she huffed.

“It’s not that I don’t want to sit with you Mutti, it’s just that I thought I’d be with Abba and I’d get to see Headmaster Dinglebum from that vantage point, is all,” Harry grumbled with an eye roll. He knew his mother was probably even better suited to the role than his abba.

“It is a very entertaining view from my seat pyari, I don’t blame him,” James snickered, “but alas, the duties of the Chief Warlock during a meeting are incompatible with what Lords and Ladies do with their heirs during the sessions they are expected to attend. They usually run a little longer, because most of them take the time to explain and discuss things with them before casting their votes or during arguments.”

“I hope you’re taking this chance with the seriousness it deserves, liebling, yours might be the first generation that could use the seats as they were intended to be used in the olden days,” his mother said ominously. 

“You mean I might take a seat early?” Harry said with wide eyes. 

“We’ll see, if it’s something you’re interested in then we can discuss you taking over one once you’re of age, but now that the population is recovering from the wars, the families are finally growing enough that there’s a real chance to spread out the seats in the family as it was first intended. If not yours then definitely the next one,” Lyra said. 

Most families still held the entirety of their seats with only the current lord or lady sitting in parliament, casting every vote allotted to their houses, while only a few were willing to let the heir claim one early if they had more than one seat. Noble Houses had only one vote, but Most Nobles Houses had two, Ancient and Most Noble Houses had three and Most Ancient and Most Noble Houses had five. In the olden days, before Grindelwald’s war decimated wixen population worldwide, the noble families were larger and usually more than one branch could hold a seat if the house was high-ranking enough, but then came the wars and it limited both their numbers and their desire to spread power out, especially once the Dark Lord concentrated his base by having his allies consolidate the entirety of their seats under just the lord or lady in order to streamline his ranks and ensure voting went his way. The light did the same in return, less people meant they’d agree easier and present a stronger and more united front, so the tradition of giving out seats within the family to those with political aspirations was largely forgotten.

“Yes! Thank you! I’ll be the most serious one there! You’ll see!” Harry said, “well, unless father goes.”

“He is going with Arcturus,” James said, though his smile was half sad and half amused. Arcturus was considering retirement, had been for a while, so Sirius had been shadowing his grandfather for some time now. James would be ashamed to admit how surprised he was with Sirius’ political side. He’d never so much as read the court transcripts they received as heirs growing up, but now? He had a good sense about people and a talent for bridging gaps and settling ruffled feathers, not to mention a more studious approach to the transcripts and bills being voted on. A wealth of hidden depths.

“Then I’ll be the second most serious one there, promise!” Harry said cheekily.

~~~

“Now, the most important thing today is for you to get the lay of the land mein Schatz, see the little groups and cliques, who they rally behind, how they react, etc. You know the theory of how the Wizengamot works, and you’ll have years to observe how it runs in reality, but it pays to know what makes both your opponents and your allies tick so you can play your hand right when the time comes,” Lyra said inside their little privacy ward once they took their seats. “What can you tell me so far?”

“The factions are pretty clear. Most of the libs defer to Abba with varying degrees of subtlety. The traddies do the same with uncle Luke and Grandfather Arcturus, but the proggies seem divided. Uncle Frank and Lady Abbott seem to have formed their own band within the party with Lord Patil and Lord MacMillan. Also, Lord Doge has a crush on the headmaster, which is just… yuk,” Harry said with a slight grimace.

“He always has, and Alvin’s made the most of stringing him along ever since he joined the courts. His influence has dimmed somewhat over the years, but the sum of those that still support him do carry weight even if he has to scrape the cauldron to come up with enough votes to pass his bills. He sent some of his supporters over to the libs when it was clear he’d lose the chiefdom to your father anyway, to try and sow discord from within, but they’re iced out by the rest and if they were to return to the progressive party it wouldn’t affect the balance of the chamber. The chamber is composed of 50 seats, as you know, and currently 47 are active and three are dormant. His seats were never put in stewardship, so they lay dormant,” she said, referring to the Gaunt and Slytherin seats, “and the Selwyn seat has no known heirs to claim it after the late Miss Umbridge passed away some years ago. There’s probably a resurgent somewhere with no idea of their heritage, and it’s partly why we pushed through with that initiative. The Selwyns were a dark-gray leaning Most Ancient and Most Noble House, long standing members of the liberal party.”

“Who are the moles Mutti?” Harry asked, discreetly looking around the lords and ladies surrounding them in the liberal bench.

“Lord Odgen, Lord Montgomery and Lady Edgecombe. So you see? Even with those votes the progressive party is still in the minority, and they have to resort to trickery such as masking bills as something else like they’ve done with the improper use of enchanted artifacts bill they’ll push through today.”

“Gran’s cousin is a dumbledinger?” Harry asked with slightly wide eyes, trying to keep a pleasant facade. They may not be able to hear them, but most were observant of body language and it simply wouldn’t do to display emotion for their benefit.

“Light bigot, kicked and fussed but reluctantly made the switch once commanded to. All for the greater good of course, as Albert likes to say,” Lyra said pleasantly, but Harry could hear the smirk in her tone even if her face remained impassive. “Augusta used to be the same, but around the time Neville was three your aunt Alice decided to finally grow a spine and she made sure her mother in law changed her tune and cut contact with Algernon Montgomery.”

“Then how come Abba couldn’t gather the necessary votes to strike this bill down?” Harry asked, focusing on the here and now, leaving the fact that Gran used to be a bigot for later analysis.

“What makes you think he couldn’t?” Lyra said innocently. 

“So it won’t go through?” Harry asked in confusion.

“Oh, it will,” Lyra said, the faintest quirk of her lips seeping through her composed facade.

“But there’s enough libs and traddies to strike down anything he throws at us! Why would they let it slip through?” Harry asked.

“Optics. When you paint a bill as sensible and for public benefit, and you manage for it to gain traction and popularity with the public, it looks bad to vote against it. The traddies value their image. They’re still severely judged for their role in the war so any outright attempt at a takeover would spark revolution. They work covertly with your abba and the rest of the libs to push for incremental change,” Lyra explained patiently.

“He wants it to go through!” Harry said after some thought, “he has a plan doesn’t he?”

“I knew you’d get there,” she said with a gentle squeeze on his shoulder. “But it’s more fun if we watch it unfold, so that’s all I’m revealing for now.”

~~~

“Horrid law,” Hermione said from her seat next to Lucius and Draco, watching James tally the votes.

“Indeed,” Lucius agreed, “but it won’t affect your business as much as I initially believed,” he said quietly, even while inside their privacy ward.

“Won’t it?” Hermione said, taking care to keep her face bland and placid as Lucius had instructed her. She could see the vultures in the visitor’s gallery trying to read lips and glean the mood of the lords and ladies below.

“There’s a plan in motion. I can’t say much, but the law will hopefully be repealed come Yule, so it’ll just be a few months of decreased revenue until we can operate normally once again,” Lucius reassured her.

Hermione brightened up a bit at that. She’d been ecstatic to learn that one of her family businesses was a store that dealt in obscure artifacts and most important of all, books! 

Apart from the stock that moved through her shop, she’d learnt that Dùn Búrca, her family estate in Ireland which she had yet to visit, had a superb library almost rivaling the mythical Black library at Black Manor. The Burkes were avid collectors and scholars it seemed, which fit her perfectly and made perfect sense to her. Her family Grimoire read more like a compendium, documenting every obscure finding each Lord and Lady Burke made in their travels and purchases, starting with Ferdinand De Burgh in 1389, the patriarch of her line. Hers wasn’t a particularly gifted line, like the Blacks with their metamorphmagus abilities or penchant for blood magics, or Harry’s parselspeech, but the Grimoire had a vast wealth of knowledge in various practices like ritualistic magic, runecraft, arithmancy and spellcrafting gathered by every Burke before her. 

“That’s good… at least from the latest reports, we haven’t had to liquidate stock at too much of a discount and we’ve made good margins so with all the extra stock we’ve had to move, there are enough funds to see us through the dry spell,” Hermione said quietly.

“I’m glad you’re keeping on top of your dossier,” Lucius said approvingly. “Most of the money that’s come in came in through the back room, not the shop floor though,”

“We can inject it into the business gradually to boost sales until Yule, get a few shills to purchase clean stock from the shop floor with it, then put it in storage for a while so it can be restocked later once this whole thing blows over,” Hermione said offhandedly.

“You can do that?” Draco said, a little confused.

“There is such a thing as money laundering, but it’s a pesky muggle concept,” Lucius said dismissively.

~~~

“Not even a common scourgify on their bloody boots!” Pansy said loudly as they discussed the rest of their summer on the way to school. 

“I know, mother had the rugs replicated,” Draco said with a sneer. After the law passed, the raids started almost the next day. Most families in the coven were safe by the time they started though, apart from the hassle and carelessness from the squads, if only because Amelia kept them up to date as much as she could with her shadow owl, being the head of the DMLE, with access to the plans.

“They didn’t find anything, of course. Anything compromising has been safe in our vaults since word spread about the bill,” Pansy said with a shrug.

“It’s a nuisance, yes, but the more they raid and the more they find nothing, the worse they look, and even if they knew for a fact that everything has been hidden away in the bank, they can’t search it without starting the upteenth goblin war,” Harry said. “They tried to raid the Abbey too, but the house is unplottable so they lost the element of surprise, all we had to do was close down the wards and they had to ask Abba for permission to come through,” Harry snickered. “It was actually rather funny to watch them making a mess while the elves followed putting everything to right as if nothing happened. Dad-Weasel left as red as his hair at the end of it all, and we were cleared.”

“Of course they cleared you,” Draco scoffed, “we’ve had two raids so far, and I don’t think it’ll be the end of it.”

“They’ve left the store alone for now, just the one raid, thank the Mother,” Hermione said, “lucky for me, Dùn Búrca has been closed for decades now, as far as they know. I wish I could have visited for longer but I just went for a short visit yesterday to take over the wards and raise them, and refresh the oaths for the elves.”

“That’s good Mi! I hope they leave you alone,” Harry smiled at his friend, “and yes, it’s a nuisance, but from what I managed to gather, that’s actually part of abba’s plan. Get everyone fed up with it enough to repeal during the next session or the one after that,” he said to Draco with a shrug.

“Have you seen Luna anywhere?” Draco said quietly next to Harry.

“From afar, she was with little Weaselette on the other end of the platform, if the ginger head was anything to go by, though they had their heads turned away from me. You know how she is though... If she hasn’t found us it means she wasn’t meant to find us,” Harry said quietly of his ethereal godsister. She wasn’t exactly his godsister, but they’d been thrown into a playpen often enough  as toddlers with all the time she spent at Uncle Sev’s being uncle Barty’s goddaughter. They’d been put up to speed regarding her situation and asked to keep an eye on her and take her under their wing if possible. Just Draco and him though, the only ones whose occlumency was strong enough to be trusted with such secrets. It was still a wait and see kind of situation whether the rest of their friends would be able to see her true self past the bloodwarding.

~~~

“Look, there she is, she’s talking to Girl-Weasel and that boy, who is he?” Draco said as they spotted Luna’s platinum head amongst the cackle of firsties waiting for the sorting.

“Dunno, he looks nice though, very… eager,” Harry said with a shrug at the boy Luna was distractedly talking with, who was looking around in utter awe. Probably a muggleborn given his excitement.

“Where do you think she’ll sort into?” Theo asked him. 

“Probably Ravenclaw, like her father, though her mother was a Slytherin. She was friends with Uncle Regulus and Uncle Barty, so it could be either or,” Harry said with a shrug. “It would be worlds easier to have her in the pit if we’re to keep an eye on her, instead of asking Padma and Tony to.”

“Would the ease compensate for the attention it would bring her from him?” Draco asked. The whole point was to keep Luna safe from the headmaster, so would it spike his interest if she ended up a snakelet?

“Maybe it’d be for the best. He tends to write us off as lost causes once the hat makes the choice. The only one he keeps nagging is me,” Harry said absently, “is the girl weasel looking at me?” He asked suddenly, averting his eyes from the children.

“Indeed she is, she clocked you a few moments ago. She’s very intent,” Draco said mockingly, “do you think she knows about that betrothal her parents sent yours? Perhaps she’s looking to seal the deal,” Draco teased, remembering when Harry told him about it a few years ago when he overheard his parents laughing about it, “do you think we’ll have ourselves a ginger in the pit by the end of the feast?”

“Impossible,” Theo huffed from their right, “Weasleys have always been Gryffindors, even when they were openly dark leaning, and if you factor in the Prewettness of it all, there isn’t a chance.”

“You never know, I wasn’t a legacy sorting after all,” Harry said with a smirk, “Potters have been Gryffindors for centuries as well, with the odd Claw here and there. I’m the first Slytherin Potter in… I think I’m the first actually,”

“Look, that’s the boy Lu was talking to,” Draco interrupted as Colin Creevey was called up to the hat.

“I’ll tell Nev to keep an eye out for him,” Harry said once the hat called Gryffindor.

“Why?” Draco asked, “he looks like your typical muggleborn, nothing remarkable, look how he gawks!”

“Exactly,” Harry said with a pointed look. “He’s happy, magic is real and he’s come to learn it. Life is perfect right now. It should stay that way. Besides, he should take him under his wing before he falls in with the wrong crowd.”

“Look, it’s Lu’s turn,” Draco shushed him, watching Luna walk up to the hat, the rest of the kids being sorted as they bickered. 

“First hat stall of the evening,” Theo said after a few minutes passed without a verdict.

“Slytherin!” The hat called finally, and Harry let out a sigh of relief, watching Luna walk to sit next to Daphne’s sister Astoria and the rest of the first years already sorted into Slytherin. 

“Daph?” Harry said after a moment.

“Yes?” she said, turning away from whatever she was discussing with Hermione and Pansy.

“Could you let Tory know to be nice to Luna? She’s… unique. I don’t want her bullied,” Harry said seriously, “best be nice about it first. Draco and I don’t want to have to intervene if something happens later.”

“Of course! I was meaning to go say hello anyway,” Daphne said casually, though she knew they didn’t mean it as a threat to her sister. They knew she was a sweet and gentle girl, incapable of bullying anyone. In fact, it would be more realistic to expect her to be the victim rather than the perpetrator. The little blond girl was still an unknown variable in the snake pit, so it was best to establish her place in the pecking order quickly before anyone did anything they might regret later.

“Tory! I knew there wasn’t a chance you’d be a Puff, cousin Geoff was just being a pest,” she said by way of greeting, giving her sister a hug.

“Thanks Ducky,” Astoria said with an eye roll, as if she’d be a Puff! “May I introduce my new friend Luna Lovegood? Luna, this is my sister Daphne, she’s a second year.”

“Hello Lovegood, it’s nice to meet you,” Daphne said politely, “you’re Professor Prince’s goddaughter right?” she added for the rest of the firsties’ benefit, let them pick up on it if they were truly as cunning as they ought to be.

“In a way,” Luna said in her usual dreamy voice, “Lord Crouch, his husband, is my actual godfather, but uncle Sevy is my honorary one I’d say,” she said with a shrug, “please call me Luna.”

“Daphne then,” she said with a soft smile, realizing what Harry meant by unique, though there must be more to it if she was Pandora Rosier’s daughter. “If you ever need anything, I’m available, though I’m sure Harry or Draco will have you covered.”

“Thank you,” she said, and the amused twinkle in her aqua eyes belied the hidden depths Daphne guessed were there.

She returned to her seat as the other firsties began to ask her how she knew Harry and Draco, and questions about Professor Prince and other things.

“Done, if anyone touches her, they don’t deserve their placement. I couldn’t have made it more clear if I spelled it out,” she whispered to Harry.

“Thanks Daph, you’re the best,” Harry said with a wide smile.

“GINEVRA WEASLEY!” They heard aunt Minnie call out then, and Harry saw how the little girl looked towards him before going up to the hat.

“She’s watching you like a hawk! She’s actually trying to get sorted into Slytherin!” Draco whispered loud enough to be heard by more than just Harry.

“Don’t be mean Dray, her only crime so far is that she’s a little creepy,” Harry chided quietly, trying to avoid Ginny’s gaze, “we don’t know if she’s anything like her brother. Maybe she’s like her elder brothers. Let’s reserve judgment, shall we?”

“GRYFFINDOR!” The hat called after a few minutes, the second hat stall of the evening.

“See? I told you there was no chance,” Theo said, as they watched the girl mask her initial disappointment and march towards the lion’s table.

The feast continued without a hitch, and by the end, the Headmaster introduced Professor Babbling to the students who would be taking Ancient Runes as a core subject from now on. It got a mixed chorus of clapping and groans until it was made clear that it applied to students below fourth year, those from there and up could still opt to take the course but they wouldn’t be required to sit the OWL for it if they didn’t wish to catch up. By then, only those third years that thought they’d dodged the bullet remained sullen. 

Harry barely refrained from rolling his eyes dramatically as the girls around him swooned when Professor Lockhart was introduced.

“He’s so dreamy,” Hermione said, more to tease Theo than anything else. The man was indeed handsome, but a little too… plasticky, not that any of her friends would understand the term, other than Harry perhaps.

“Get him fired before I gut his sorry fraudulent arse,” Theo murmured quietly to Harry, glaring daggers at the teacher.

Chapter Text

“I had you pegged as a Claw, cousin, why did you decide on Slytherin?” Draco said later, once they met Luna in the common room, securing a secluded lounge by one of the fires further in the back, away from prying eyes and eager ears.

“Mummy thought I’d have an easier time in this variant if I went to the pit than up to the eerie, and she’d rather I keep uncle Sevy close. The little teacher isn’t up to the mark, as far as keeping his ravens in line, but he’ll prove useful later on,” Luna said simply. “It took some convincing, but Alistair conceded in the end.”

“Alistair?” Harry asked.

“The hat, you didn’t ask his name?” Luna asked, a little confused. “Rude.”

“Didn’t get the chance before he sorted me,” Harry said with a shrug.

“Cousin?” Hermione whispered to Theo.

“Draco’s grandmother is her great aunt, they’re second cousins,” Theo said, “you’ll get there,” he said then with a reassuring look. He remembered how his tutors had drilled the family trees into him like it was yesterday. 

“We’re happy to have you Lu, were the other first years nice?” Harry asked, “you have any problems, you tell me or Draco and we’ll sort it out.”

“Everyone was great. Mummy was right, Claws may be smart, but snakes are clever, so everyone’s been able to figure my quirks out,” Luna said with a soft smile.

“Is that safe?” Harry asked, concerned for her secret.

“The goat’s hooves can’t reach down here, and it was bound to happen. They’re not entirely in the know, not about everything, but they know enough about Mummy and the peculiarities of the Rosier line to know I’m not just weird. It’s nice, freeing,” she said with a happier smile.

“That’s nice at least,” Harry said with a smile. “If you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to ask, ok?”

“The kind-hearted lion needs to claim the phoenix for himself before the goat gets a second pet bird. He needs to burn anew before the first snow,” she said abstenly, eyes glazed over before regaining her composure.

“Who’s the phoenix Lu?” Draco asked, unfazed by her episode.

“The boy she was talking with at the sorting,” Harry said shrewdly, “I already told Neville to take him under his wing, to make sure he isn’t sucked in by the mugglefication machine in the lion’s den. Gran will take an interest as well.”

“Thank you Harry,” she said quietly, “he will be very dear to me one day.”

“Why did you call him phoenix?” Draco asked.

“Give it a moment D, it’ll come to you,” Harry said teasingly.

“He’s a resurgence!” Draco said triumphantly after a beat. 

“Yes, and he needs to be legitimized before the first snow, so our safest bet would be Mabon? If Nev and him hit it off he can invite him to visit,” Harry said, “Samhain is out of the question for hosting and it’ll probably have already snowed come Yule Break.”

“Is he from a relevant line? Why is it so important Lu?” Draco asked quietly.

“He could swing the chamber,” Luna said, “if swayed, he’d be a dangerous tool for the goat.”

“The Selwyn seat,” Draco whispered in surprise.

“That makes it tricky then,” Harry said, suddenly concerned. “The Selwyn seat is dormant, not in stewardship, so I don’t know if the regular protocol would work since there’s no active head of the family to legitimize him. I’ll write to Mutti tonight and ask what she thinks we should do.” 

“What just happened?” Hermione whispered, pulling Theo discreetly aside, “why is she speaking in riddles? And why is she talking about her dead mother as if she were still alive? I know that sounds awful but I don’t know how else to phrase it,” she asked quietly.

“She’s a seer,” Theo said in a quiet hush. “The Rosier line has the gift of sight springing up every few generations. Pandora Rosier was a very powerful seer, though it was only known in certain circles.”

“She can see the future?” She asked.

“Not just that, she’s a seer, she can see. The future, through the veil, different planes… Some even theorize some seers can see past the multiverse, alternate realities and the like if they’re powerful enough. Sort of like what you’d call a medium. She probably has a way of communicating with her mother. Either through dreams or visions, I don’t know,” Theo explained.

“I love magic,” was all Hermione could say, goofy grin and all, before sobering some, “what’s the deal with the Selwyn seat?”

“It’s one of the inactive seats in the Chamber,” Theo said.

“I know, Gaunt, Selwyn, Slytherin,” Hermione said from memory.

“The thing is, most seats that don’t have a lord or lady, have a steward, like yours. These seats are unclaimed by either heir or steward, so they just sit there, and there’s no Lucius for the kid like there was for you, so the solution will have to be creative. And as far as why it’s important to not let Dumbledore take control of the boy? Well, first as a matter of principle, obviously, and then because Selwyns have five votes, as a Most Ancient and Most Noble House. The Proggies may be fewer in number, and it might be just one more member…”

“But it’s like five of the ones he has already,” Hermione finished, “Jones, Vance, Doge, Diggle, they each have one vote, it’s like getting double his base it one go,” Hermione reasoned.

“Yes, and if he were to call back the moles he sent to infiltrate the Libs, he’d outweigh his in-house opposition, and maybe shift the balance in the entire chamber,” Theo said worriedly. “You saw how he managed to pass that horrid bill, it would just get easier if he had the Selwyns under his thumb.”

~~~

“Fuck!” James moaned, thoroughly spent and sated as Lyra rolled off him. “I love September 1st.”

“That’s mean Jim,” she laughed, pulling the sheets over herself.

“Of course I miss him, very much so, but I love not having to be quiet,” he said, laughing lightly.

It was one of those few little traumas that wouldn’t go away. Neither of them had ever been able to sleep, nor do much of anything else, with any sort of silencing charm or privacy ward up. The fear of something happening to Harry and them not noticing was too much, even now, over a decade later. So quiet sex it was, because being in a room too far away from him was also out of the question.

“I think I’m going to take a quick shower, I’m beyond scouring charms,” James said, getting up from the damp sheets, spelling the wet spot dry with a lazy flick of his wand. 

Not five minutes later, showered and in fresh linen bottoms, he returned to find his wife reading a letter.

“Harry’s?” He asked as he got back to bed.

“I’m having a strong case of déjà-vu,” Lyra said absently as she read. “He had a pleasant train ride, the feast was ok, Luna sorted Slytherin and the Weasley girl tried to get herself sorted to the pit as well but ended up a lion. Honestly, I wonder what fluff Molly has stuffed her poor head with,” Lyra summarized as she read. “They found another resurgent, Luna did, in fact. A muggleborn by the name of Colin Creevey. Luna said he’s the heir to the Selwyn title, and that it’s imperative he be legitimized before the first snow. Harry says he’s already tasked Neville with taking him under his wing, and he’ll talk to Minnie as well so she can keep an eye on him.”

“That’s going to present some challenges then,” James said knowingly.

“Yes, Harry’s asking the same. With no steward, there’s no one to perform the legitimization. I’ll have to speak with King Ragnok about this. Perhaps the boy could petition the family magics directly, like a modified charter change ritual,” she said as if thinking out loud.

“Maybe I could do it? The Selwyn seat has always been in either the Liberal or Traditionalist party, and if my memory serves, it was a Lib seat before it got ceded to the floor once Remy took care of Umbridge. As both the leader of the Libs and the Chief Warlock, I could act as head considering I am the head of the Wizengamot as well as the party?” James brainstormed along with his wife. Inactive seats got ceded to the floor if there was no one to claim them, the votes being tallied with the winning side only once the result was called, in a symbolic gesture. It only happened to unclaimed seats with available but unknown heirs though, because once a line died out completely, the chamber would erase the family crest off the seat and it would shut down proceedings and kick start the process to issue new letters patent for a new line to be ennobled and fill the spot. It’s how Albus got the Vance and Jones families ennobled and sitting in his party, after the McKinnon and Meadowes lines died out with Marlene and Dorcas. 

“Too vague, and it’s more linked to the magic of the Chamber and the seat than the family magics themselves. Perhaps the waters? Appeal to the Mother directly?” Lyra said.

“Or maybe through the maternal line? Acting as a legacy consort of sorts?” James mused after a while.

“That could work, but we’ll need a few options up our sleeve just in case. Luckily term started on a Friday this year. I’ll send a quick note to Minnie tomorrow and see if I can drop by for a cup and a ginger newt and tell her about the boy so she can keep an eye on him,” Lyra said.

“Leave that to Harry, he already thought of that and will probably beat you to it. Let’s focus on the legitimization part,” James said mid yawn.

~~~

“Minnie, thank you for seeing me,” Lyra said, stepping out of the floo in Minerva’s office. She did listen to James and left it till Sunday instead of Saturday.

“It’s always a pleasure to see you dear, though I’d like you to call on me for more than just intrigue, as delicious as it might be,” Minerva smirked as she set the tea to steep. “I’m assuming this is because of what Harry told me about Mr Creevey?”

“Yes, I’m going to need your help with this case. Last we found a resurgence, Sevy was her head of house so we went through him for everything. This case presents some difficulties though,” Lyra said with a deflated sigh.

“Have a biscuit, Lyra,” Minerva said with pursed lips, placing a ginger newt on her saucer with her cup of tea. “I would welcome the challenge if I were you. Your protocol is impressive, but perfectible. You didn’t account for the Selwyns, and we know why the Gaunt and Slytherin seats are inactive and not extinct. You’ll figure it out, of that I have no doubt,” she said matter of factly.

“I’ve spoken to King Ragnok, and our best bet is a modified charter change ritual so the boy can petition the family magics directly. It opens up a can of worms though. It would have to be highly regulated because if knowledge of the ritual got out…” Lyra trailed off.

“You’d have undesirables accessing family magics they have no business accessing, asking things that might as well be granted if they prove worthy,” Minerva finished her statement with pursed lips, “yes, I see the conundrum.” The possibility of line theft if a ritual allowed those not recognized by a family’s magic to access them? Even the off chance that the magics would find the intruder worthier than their current lord or lady was enough to second guess the possibility.

“The other would be for him to commune with the Mother directly, taking the waters,” Lyra said warily.

“I think that would be… wise,” Minerva said with slightly pained eyes.

“Why? Do you have… concerns?” Lyra asked knowingly.

“Nothing definitive, but after Severus, and after Albus tried to force my hand into leaving Harry with your sister before we knew how things went that night… knowing how he would be treated? I vowed then and there to remain attentive. I refuse to ignore the signs ever again. I was the one to visit him. It would have been Albus, but after his… poor management of the task last year, it was decided we’d relieve him of such duties, so he could rest, of course,” Minerva smirked.

“What caused your concern?” Lyra asked worriedly.

“It was nothing overt. If there is in fact something there, it’s been masterfully hidden beneath a veneer of respectability. His home seemed loving and his parents too, but the boys…” Minerva said.

“He has siblings?” Lyra pressed on.

“Yes, a younger brother, Dennis. He’s also listed in the book of admittance, due to join next year, and Mr Creevey confirmed he too has displayed signs of magic,” Minerva said, “the family, at least the parents, are deeply religious. Some evangelical sect of Christianity, the name eludes me,” she said with a wave of her hand, “the fact is, their demeanor changed minutely as I explained everything. Their smiles turned ever so slightly off. And the boys were reactive and attentive to the parents’ mood. Hypervigilance is always a marker of volatile guardians. Also, the parents were quite tall, and the boys are on the waifier side, thin and small for their age. Mr Longbottom mentioned the boy was sick after the welcoming feast, which is not uncommon, given how the children tend to overindulge at the sight of all the food, but it could very well be refeeding syndrome. Not enough to conclude anything with any acceptable degree of certainty, but it stood out.”

“We’ll have to look into that more closely then. I hate to be Machiavellian about it, but it may play in our favor,” Lyra mused. “Is Poppy trustworthy?” 

“Yes, without a shadow of a doubt, but the premises aren’t. Albus would have access to the files if any health scan is performed here,” Minerva said. The amount of times she’d had to hold Poppy’s arm to stop her from either cursing Albus or resigning was beyond count at this point. The only reason she hadn’t quit so far was because Albus would surely place someone of his on the post and that would be disastrous indeed.

“Would she be able to pass his case on to another physician if she felt unequipped to deal with it?” Lyra said with a sudden smirk. “Let’s say, she performs the scans, finds that as a mediwitch, she’s out of her depth and it would be in the best interest of the patient to pass the case on to a private healer, before the file needs to be updated and filed in the school.”

“Then Mary could take it over, that could work,” Minerva said quietly.

“We could slip an in depth inheritance test in as part of the testing if the health scans show any signs of abuse, to look for magical family that could take them out of their situation,” Lyra said, weaving her plan on the fly, “it would take care of how to break the news to him, since we can’t wait until Samhain, provided he actually shows any interest in performing the ritual. It was how Hermione found out about her situation.”

“Leave it with me,” Minerva said, “I know there’s intrigue afoot, but this is a child, possibly abused. Political machinations aren’t my priority.”

“Of course, if there’s abuse involved, the priority is their wellbeing first, politics second,” Lyra said, blushing subtly. 

~~~

“What should we expect from his first lesson?” Draco wondered aloud as their group headed up to their first DADA class of the year.

“Pure poppycock I’d think,” Harry grumbled.

“Hey Nev!” Harry said upon arriving, finding everyone waiting outside the classroom.

“Hey Har, ready for… whatever this will be?” He said with a smirk.

“You mean if I’ve cleared space in my calendar for all the self studying I’ll have to do towards my OWLs for this year? Yes,” Harry grumbled, “though I’m not ready to endure the class itself.”

“I heard from Susie that it’s absolute bollocks,” Neville said, “they had him earlier today, and he gave them a quiz about… himself! Stupid pointless questions like what his favorite color is or when his first Witch Weekly award was won.”

“Really?” Harry said, a smirk spreading across his face, “we might be able to work with that.”

“What are you thinking?” Nev asked.

“I’ll tell you later,” Harry said quietly, “how’s the Creevey boy settling in?” 

“Good! I like him, he’s very chipper, but I’m a little worried about him,” Nev said.

“Why?” Harry asked, frowning slightly.

“He’s very skittish, and he just sort of… shuts off when he thinks no one is looking, but is back to his chipper disposition as if switched on as soon as someone pays him any attention. I thought it could be homesickness, but he’s very coy about his home life,” Nev said with a frown of his own, “he could talk your ear off about his little brother, who’s also magical by the way, according to him, but he’s very concise about his parents, and the smile never seems to reach his eyes as much when discussing them.”

“You think he’s having trouble at home?” Harry asked, “wouldn’t be the first. Are his parents religious?” 

“Extremely, it would seem. He told me he grew up Baptist? Whatever that means, but he let slip that their magic wasn’t something his parents were particularly happy with. It goes against their beliefs I think,” Neville said.

“Has he said anything about his introductory material? Is he interested in Gran’s class? It might be a problem if he’s religious too,” Harry asked.

“Oh, that won’t be a problem. He’s absolutely fascinated by it all. Read everything Professor McGonnagal gave him twice over. He brought his camera so he could send pictures home to his brother,” Neville said.

“I’m assuming you warned him?” Harry asked.

“Yes, I told him it would be a breach of the statute of secrecy if he sent the pictures home, but he could put an album together so he can show it to his brother over the holidays, but not his parents. I offered to help him with getting them developed the magical way, so they move,” Neville said.

“I’m glad,” Harry said, moving a little ways away from the rest of the class and putting up a discreet privacy charm. “He’s important Nev, a resurgence in the Selwyn line, Luna saw it. We need him away from You Know Who,” Harry said.

“Which one? You Know Who? Or He Who Must Not Be Named,” Neville asked teasingly.

“Both,” Harry snorted, “but I meant the one currently making us suffer through what will undoubtedly be a terrible class and teacher.”

“Ok, I’ll keep him close,” Neville said determinedly.

“Please do. Mutti is already on the case, so you should be hearing from yours soon. Perhaps you should invite him to spend Mabon with you, so we could get him sorted,” Harry said, but before Neville could say anything, the door opened and the Ken doll ushered them in with his clearly glamoured smile. Too bad that out of his friends, perhaps only Hermione would get the reference.

Walking in as if he were on his way to an Azkaban cell, he took his seat next to Draco, with Hermione and Theo on his other side, and Lockhart turned around with a flourish once he reached the blackboard.

“Welcome! Welcome children, to Defense Against the Dark Arts! I’ll be your guide through this perilous journey into the shadows, and I will teach you how to best protect yourself against them!” He declared with his chest puffed. “My name is Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, third class, honorary member of the Dark Force Defense League and perhaps not most important, but certainly noteworthy… five times winner of Witch Weekly’s Most Charming Smile award.”

“You may call me Professor Lockhart,” he said after an awkward pause, as if he expected them to applaud. “We will start with a quick quiz!” He said excitedly, “oh, don’t give me that look! How well you do today will be a fine indication of how well you’ll do the rest of the year, so put your thinking hats on!” He said, floating the tests to them.

Harry couldn’t believe his eyes as he read the questionnaire… What is Gilderoy Lockhart’s favorite color? Really? His grade, a whole year’s worth of base knowledge towards his OWLs would hinge on whether he knew the tosser’s favorite bloody color? Unacceptable. He’d made them buy seven bloody textbooks and he was quizzing them about his autobiography?

He kept reading and found all the questions followed the same line or skirted propriety as an acceptable question, the closest being the one asking to describe his duel with a vampire… and what he was wearing for it.

Luckily, he wasn’t the only one finding it utterly ridiculous. Theo was practically shaking in his seat, and Harry truly thought he might throw one of his daggers at the man and sort things out quickly. 

Hermione has a vicious glint in her eye, but began answering the questions because she had obviously read the books.

Draco still looked like this was some sort of joke, and photographers from the Prophet would burst out of the office up in the Juliet balcony and give up the plot.

And begrudgingly, Harry had to admit that the Weasel’s reaction came at the perfect time.

“Excuse me? Your favorite color? Your signature robes? In what year did you win your fist charming smile award? How is this remotely relevant to this class?” He said, going on a rant that provided enough distraction for Harry to discreetly replicate his test and store away the copy, which Draco and Neville copied when they saw and figured out what he planned to do.

It was certainly admirable, the brashness with which the Gryffindor stood and ranted, and opportune too, but Harry wasn’t a lion, at least not in the Gryffindor sense, so he began writing his answers, pulling on his occlumency to access the memories of him skimming his book, looking for the answers. He would not suffer anything below an Exceeds Expectations even if the material tested was rubbish. 

The weasel got himself a cushy week’s worth of detentions for his outburst, and for handing in the test blank. The rest started hanging in theirs slowly, until everyone had finished and were sitting there with a mix of resigned and enraged faces.

“Now, as I said, it’s one of my duties to prepare you to face various dangerous creatures, some of the foulest that roam our lands. Fear not children! I will be here leading you on through these treacherous roads. For in this cage? Something dark and vicious awaits you,” he said, rattling the cloth covered bird cage sitting on his desk, and dramatically lifting the velvet covering.

“Cornish Pixies? Dark and vicious?” Finnegan said with a snort, “my garden’s full of them! Not so bad, the little buggers, mischievous more than dangerous.”

“Is that so Mr Flanagan? Well, let’s see what you make of them!” He shouted dramatically, releasing the pixies and ensuing the subsequent pandemonium.

Almost everyone fled immediately as the pixies wreaked havoc upon the room, while Harry, Hermione, Theo, Draco and Neville hid under their desks. Lockhart tried to cast some sort of charm that failed miserably before a pixie took his wand and proceeded to bring down the dragon skeleton hanging above them.

“Well, I trust you lot have things handled, just round them up and put them back in the cage will you?” Lockhart said as he ran up the stairs to lock himself up in his office.

“Oh bugger!” Neville shouted exasperated, coming out from under the desk and shouting Immobulus! Effectively freezing every pixie in the class.

“Help me round them up,” he said, levitating them back to the cage.

The rest quickly cast levitation charms until they had them all rounded up and in the cage, and Neville rummaged through his satchel and pulled out an atomizer.

“You carry pixicide in your bag?” Theo said incredulously.

“Of course, I’m down in the greenhouses more often than not, and I handle pest control in my own greenhouses. Stand back please, it’s not toxic but it is rather irritant if it gets on your skin,” he said as he pulled a pair of long gloves on.

“This was incredibly irresponsible! He doesn’t know if the muggleborns in the class have had their pixie fever inoculations! And they’re a garden pest! If any escaped and found their way to the greenhouses Professor Sprout would have his hide made into an apron,” Neville huffed as he sprayed the cage, the little blue devils falling down and piling up at the bottom.

“Done,” Neville said with a proud huff, “we should get going, we need to find Zach.”

“Smith?” Hermione asked, “why?”

“Because his father is also on the Board and we’re going to be writing some very detailed letters to our parents about this sham of a class, of course,” Draco said quietly, waving his blank test around.

~~~

6 AM the following Saturday found Harry and Draco up and ready for their first practice with the team. 

They dressed in their usual athletic gear for their morning workout, taking their brooms and flying gear to store in the Slytherin locker rooms. According to Marcus, now that he had everybody’s schedule, they’d be having a morning workout together Monday through Friday, and flying practice on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays after dinner, with the chance of more if the situation called for it.

“Jog down to the pitch? To warm up?” Draco said with his teeth slightly chattering.

“Literally,” Harry responded, watching his breath puff in the morning chill.

After ten minutes of brisk jogging, they made it to the pitch and made their way to the gym under the stands.

“Cousins!” Marcus greeted them with a sharp grin when they entered the gym. “Welcome to the Slytherin Quidditch team! Let me introduce you to the rest of the team,” he said, steering them towards the other boys setting up behind him.

“Team! Meet our newest members! This is Draco Malfoy, our new chaser,” Marcus said, a hand on Draco’s shoulder, “and Hadrian Potter-Black, our new seeker.”

“Well met everyone!” They both said eagerly.

“Boys, you know Adrian Pucey, our fifth year chaser and prefect,” Marcus said, pointing to a handsome boy with shoulder length brown hair pulled back in a tight knot. 

“Good morning lads,” he said with a wink, “looking forward to seeing what you’re made of, Marc here has been singing your praises for the best part of last year, ever since Graham decided to go all nerd on us and bail.”

“Over there is Miles Bletchley, fourth year keeper,” Marcus said, pointing to a sullen looking fridge of a boy, broader even than Marcus himself, “mornings aren’t his thing, so don’t expect him to be lucid. He just goes through the motions until he’s had some coffee.”

“Back there, setting up their weights are Peregrine Derrick and Lucien Bole, third year beaters,” Marcus pointed out, getting a polite nod from both boys.

“Now, the morning routine is easy. Keep up what we set up during the summer, we can tweak it if you find it’s getting too easy,” he explained as he set up his own station. “Equipment is personal, and I'd recommend you leave your stuff upstairs in our changing room. The warding is decent but add your own. You’re Blacks so I don’t think I need to offer any assistance, but I can do it if for you if you’d like.” 

“I didn’t even know this place existed,” Draco said, looking around. 

“Not many do, and I can assure you we’re the only team who uses it. It’s mostly abandoned as you can see, judging by the newest and latest equipment available,” he said with a sarcastic snort as he pointed at the rusty benches and weight sets. “But if the state of the school broom fleet is any indication, it shouldn’t seem strange now should it? Bloody school is going to shit,” he grunted. “I’d also advise you to keep a set of gear, school robes and some casual clothing in your locker so you don’t have to carry shit around for matches or practice and you can get changed here. I demand punctuality from all teammates and it’s more efficient that way. The elves tending to the pitch know to keep the things you leave here in their place, so just place your dirty gear in your assigned laundry bin upstairs and it’ll be kept here.”

So Harry and Draco started their routine like most mornings, falling into easy camaraderie with their fellow teammates, even Bletchley, who seemed to perk up a bit after the endorphin rush.

“Alright everyone, get your arses up to the showers before we’re late for breakfast!” Marcus called some time later.

Harry and Draco were laughing along with the rest of the boys as they teased them and joked around on their way up.

“Don’t be shy boys! Nothing you haven’t seen before!” Adrian teased over his shoulder with a booming laugh, slapping his own arse as he walked shamelessly to the showers, towel slung over his shoulder while Harry and Draco undressed slowly, facing away from the others and trying to cover themselves.

“You get used to it pretty quick, don’t worry.” Derrick said reassuringly as he pulled his pants down and wrapped his towel around his waist. “Best to just rip it off like a plaster! You’re strapping young lads! Nothing to be ashamed of!” He said with a wink before leaving them.

“Leave the babies alone ye lot!” Marcus yelled with an eye roll. “Don’t worry cousins, this is a shame free zone. We all have the same bits,” he said with a cheeky grin.

“I’m not a baby, you’re sounding like Dora,” Harry said with an eye roll, even if he was still blushing slightly. 

“Attaboy,” Marcus winked, pulling down his pants and going to shower himself.

Harry then exchanged a resolute look with Draco, both smirking a little before pulling down their pants in one motion and slinging their towels over their shoulders. Both still blushed a little, but the desire to prove themselves to their teammates and most of all, to belong, was more powerful than modesty.

“Hey Perry! How’d your date with the Stephens girl go? Happy ending?” Bole asked.

“Working on it,” Peregrine winked from the stall next to his fellow beater, “I’m not rushing it though, I really like her.”

“Nice, you could do worse, so good luck with that,” Bole said.

“And you? Any luck with the Davies boy yet?” Perry asked, wagging his eyebrows.

“Keep it sanitary lads,” Marcus warned.

“Come on Marc! Boys gotta learn!” Adrian laughed. “You boys are now part of the fittest house team in the whole school. Soon you’ll be able to pull like it’s nothing,” he winked.

“Pull what?” Harry asked.

“Pucey,” Marcus warned, “let them hit the big p before corrupting them irreparably, at least?” 

“Pranks?” Pucey said lamely.

“He means dating, cousins,” Marcus said with an eye roll.

“Oh! Yeah no way.” Harry and Draco said in more or less the same words at the same time, shaking their heads vigorously. 

“Can one date though? I always thought one day mother and father would tell me who I’m to be married to and then I would marry them,” Draco said, shrugging in confusion.

“Oh cousins, cousins… remember this day and we’ll reconvene next year,” Marcus chuckled.

“Who’s the big p?” Harry asked, amid the team's laughter.

Chapter Text

“Have a biscuit, Mr Creevey,” Minerva said to the nervous boy sitting in front of her, steeling herself for the difficult conversation ahead. 

“Yes ma’am,” Colin said quietly, taking a biscuit from the tin.

“How are you settling in?” Minerva asked lightly, deciding to start easy.

“Oh! Very well ma’am, thank you! Classes are great! I’m struggling with some but Neville has been great with helping me and giving me books so I can get caught up! And Potter-Black and his friends have been very helpful as well, they let me join their study group!” He said excitedly.

“That’s very nice Mr Creevey. It’s good you’re fostering friendships across houses. It’s the mark of a good lion to be friendly and helpful to everyone. I wouldn’t want you to fall in with those that still incite rivalry. There’s a little bit of every house in all of us. It’s important to concentrate on the common ground,” Minerva said with a slightly quirked lip, her version of a kind smile when in Professor mode.

“Yes ma’am, Neville invited me to spend Mabon with him, his parents and Professor Longbottom in a few days. I’m very excited to go and celebrate with them,” he said, slightly more subdued.

“That was very kind of them, and I have no doubt that you will be a fine guest,” she said, a little more seriously.

“Oh yes ma’am! I’ve already begun studying for it, and the ball afterwards,” Colin smiled brightly.

“I will see you there then,” she smirked slightly.

“You’ll be there too? Wicked,” he said breathlessly.

“Yes, I always attend the four sabbath balls, I’m the Lady of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Ross,” she said, smirking a little more distinctly when the boy got a little flustered, “in school I am but your teacher, Mr Creevey. No need for formalities,” she said.

“Oh, ok, thank you ma’am,” Colin said, his shoulders sagging slightly, relieved he didn’t have to do a mental run through of his etiquette notes.

“There is one other thing I wanted to discuss with you Mr Creevey. I want you to know that whatever you tell me will be held in the utmost confidence, unless it’s necessary to discuss with the appropriate people for your benefit and your benefit only,” Minerva said cautiously.

“Ok,” Colin said quietly, guessing where this might be headed and dreading it terribly.

“I received the results of the health checkup you had with the school matron yesterday, and I have to say, the results are worrisome,” she said softly, “so much so, that as a mediwitch, which is the wizarding equivalent to a nurse, Madam Pomfrey feels she isn’t the best option to treat you and has passed your case on to a healer, a wizarding doctor,” Minerva said, “now, it’s not only because it’s my duty as your Head of House, but also as a matter of personal principle that I have to ask you if there is anything you would like to tell me. I promise I will do everything in my power to help you. You are not alone in this Mr Creevey,” Minerva said resolutely.

“Oh no! I get why you’d think… that, but it’s a common misconception! I’m just very clumsy, you see… tumbles and falling off trees and roughhousing with my little brother,” Colin said, trying to sound as convincing as he could.

“Yes, the amount of fractures for your age would certainly indicate as much, but there’s also the case for your severe malnutrition and stunted development,” Minerva said gently.

“I’ve always been a picky eater?” Colin said quietly, voice a little too high.

“Your behaviour during meals here would suggest otherwise,” Minerva countered gently.

“Mum’s not that great a cook…” Colin countered back, matching her blow for blow.

“Mr Creevey… Colin, please let me help you. I’m sad to say your case is not that uncommon amongst muggleborn children from religious backgrounds, but there is a way out of this if you let us help,” Minerva said, struggling to keep her emotions in check. How many cases like this one had passed her by unchecked? How many times had she been too busy, too blind or… how many boys and girls had to go back to hell just because people in her position had been oblivious? Not one single more.

“I can’t,” Colin said after what seemed like forever, barely above a whisper.

“I promise you, you can,” she said gently, offering him another biscuit.

“You don’t understand, I… I can’t!” Colin said, the tears he’d been trying to hold back falling freely now.

“Help me understand then, please,” she whispered.

“They have my brother! If I say anything, they’ll do something to Denny! He’s magic too, and I’ve always taken the blame for the devilish things that happened. They know though, they know he’s been taken in by the great deceiver too but I made a deal, as long as I don’t say anything and I take twice the punishment, they’ll leave him alone! I can pay for his sins! I’m strong, I can take it,” he said, his jaw set in determination.

“Oh, poor bearn, come here, can I give you a hug?” Minerva asked, crying openly too, coming round her desk and pulling him into a motherly hug when the boy nodded. She wouldn’t know it was the boy’s first, or the impact it would have on him later on.

“You’re so brave, dear, no wonder the hat chose the lions for you. But you don’t have to carry this alone. You don’t have to go back to them, and we will certainly not leave your brother there, so don’t you worry about a single thing,” she said as she soothingly rubbed his back.

“That’s what the other teachers said too, in primary school. They’d send CPS to the house and my parents would twist everything, showing the perfect front, and they’d leave. Then I’d get beaten and soon I found there was no point,” Colin said in between sobs.

“That might be the case, but now you have something you didn’t have back then,” Minerva said soothingly.

“What?” Colin asked, nose scrunched.

“Magic,” Minerva said as if it were obvious. “We take the treatment of magical children in the muggle world very seriously in Wizarding Britain these days dear, and in a you versus them scenario? You and your brother are the magical ones, and even if it’s an ugly thing to say, you could be lying to get away from them and you’d still manage it. We don’t let magical children suffer at the hands of muggles. Not anymore at least.”

“You promise? And we can take Denny too?” Colin said quietly, so vulnerable that Minerva could have said she’d take them even if it meant killing the monsters that did this to them, but she held her tongue.

“Yes, I promise,” Minerva said firmly. “Now, as I mentioned, your case has been handed over to a healer, who happens to be my daughter. So I would like to call her so she can do a few more tests and determine the best course of treatment. Would that be ok?” Minerva asked him, making sure to make eye contact and speak very clearly.

“Yes please,” Colin nodded.

~~~

“Hello Mr Creevey, I’m Healer MacDonald, I work in St Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and also as a registered pediatric healer and case worker with the Office for Children’s Protective Services of the Department of Magical Welfare,” Mary said soothingly, crouching down to eye level with Colin in front of her.

“Well met, Heiress Ross,” Colin said, bowing awkwardly in his seat, with no room to stand with her in front of him, but careful to observe proper protocol lest he disappoint Professor Longbottom. 

“Well met,” Mary said with a fond smile, “what a polite young man,” she said approvingly scooting back a little to avoid being head-butted, “would you consent to me performing some tests on you today? Let me explain what will happen... I will run some more in depth diagnostic charms than the ones the school mediwitch performed, and I will also be performing a goblin blood inheritance test. This will allow us to see if you have any magical heritage and thus family that could take you in within the magical world. This means that a case file will be opened up with the division. There will be no need for you to enter in a fostering arrangement due to you attending Hogwarts in the interim period until definitive placement can be arranged. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Colin said, his jaw set in determination. “What will happen to my brother?” He asked.

“He’s magical too?” Mary asked calmly.

“Yes! I swear! He can do magic, lots of things! He can make his stuffed animals dance ever since he was very little, and he could lock doors too! And he heals really fast like me,” He said quickly.

“His name is in the book, Mary dear,” Minerva said.

“That got us a nasty beating, when you said that at our house,” Colin laughed casually, as if discussing the weather. “Muggles believe witches sign their names in Satan’s book to get their power.”

Minerva could just silently gape, her heart breaking for this boy who could be so dismissive about his pain. “I’m sorry Mr Creevey,” she said solemnly

“Then he will be retrieved from your home and he will go through the same process as you, and you will be placed together either with family or a foster family if your tests show no relations that could take you in, but you won’t be separated, you have my word,” Mary reassured him, turning the focus back to proceedings. “Now, let’s move on with the tests, that will clarify both your situations,” she said with a gentle pat on his knee, regretting it instantly when Colin flinched noticeably.

“I’m sorry, I should have asked if that was ok,” she apologized instantly.

“It’s fine, sorry,”  Colin said, a little flustered.

“No, it was not. Your body is your own and only you can determine who can touch you and in what manner. It was wrong and careless of me,” Mary said softly, but seriously.

She then had him lie down in a conjured cot, and ran every standard test and some more in depth when the results merited it. 

“I think you’ll like this one,” Mary said, trying to keep her voice light and even, in spite of her inner rage at the results she got. “I will test your magical core, to see if your magic is ok. With the amount of damage you have sustained up to date, I wouldn’t be surprised if a lot of it is focused inward to sustain you, and that can be dangerous in some cases. Have you had any trouble during practical lessons?”

“Not yet, it’s still just theory, but what I’ve tried from the books has been hard. I wanted to study ahead, sorry,” Colin said quietly.

“That’s fine and very proactive of you, but if my intuition is correct, you may be working with a limited portion of your core available to you for casting. Stay very still ok?” Mary said, and started the complicated chant while waving her wand over him in a whirling motion.

Colin’s eyes bulged as he watched the ball of light floating over him, and how it switched on command as Mary moved her wand around, showing flows of magical light going in and out.

“Blessed be the Mother,” Mary sighed in relief, “your core is healthy, which is good, but you indeed have a significant amount of magic working on healing and maintaining your body in a functional state. That is neither healthy nor productive in the long run. Wild magic can heal you, but it doesn’t always heal you right, as is the case with the amount of broken bones you have that have healed out of place.”

“I will compose a treatment plan that will revert most of the effects of the damage you’ve suffered, but there’s nothing I can do to revert it fully,” Mary said, and it wasn’t a lie, even if she had been briefed that the boy would most likely be taking the waters, but that was truly the only way to make him right fully.

“Now, please give me your dominant index finger. I will cast a numbing charm and I will make a small cut with this blade, so seven drops of blood can fall on the parchment. It will reveal your ancestry and if you’re related to any wizarding family that could be willing to take you in,” Mary said, “I will teach you the numbing charm afterwards, because you might need to perform it again at the bank if the test shows any relevant heritage or claims. Only goblin witnessed tests are considered valid by the Silver Halls for inheritance purposes, but for the purposes of placement this will be valid.”

Colin felt as the cooling magic numbed his finger, and he didn’t even feel the subsequent prick. He watched in awe as the blood weaved itself into dark red spidery letters on the parchment.

Name: Colin David Creevey

Date of birth: August 1st 1981

Blood Status: Muggleborn, Resurgent Pureblood upon legitimization.

Ancestry:

Father/Sire: Robert Creevey - maternal great great great great grandmother Calpurnia Selwyn

Mother/Bearer: Julia Creevey née Smith - maternal great great great grandmother Evandra Yaxley

Magical claims, lordships and heirships:

Family magic claims: Selwyn, Longbottom, Yaxley, Ross.

Lordships and heirships:

Heir apparent to the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Selwyn by right of blood, right of magic pending legitimization.

Heir Presumptive to the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Longbottom by right of blood, right of magic pending legitimization. 

Magical next of kin:

Lord Francis Augustus Longbottom

Lady Alice Helena Longbottom née Yaxley

Lady Minerva Isobel McGonagall-Ross

Heiress Mary Elizabeth Jane Sarah MacDonald-Ross

The Dowager Lady Augusta Cornelia Longbottom née Montgomery.

“Well, this certainly makes some things easier, and some harder,” Mary sighed in a mix of relief and something else Colin couldn’t quite place, showing Colin the test.

“Why?” Colin asked, reading the test and looking at Mary quizzically for an explanation.

“The Selwyn line is inactive. I don’t know if you’ve covered this yet in your WCE class, but most houses that have an unknown heir or heiress are in what’s called a stewardship, where an allied lord or lady watches over the house’s affairs until said heir comes forth to claim their birthright. The Selwyns died out in all but your squib line without appointing a steward,” Mary explained.

“That doesn’t sound easy,” Colin said warily.

“Yes, that bit isn’t, and it will take some creative thinking to be able to get you legitimized without an acting head of house, but you are related to both the Longbottoms and the Yaxleys, not to mention us!” Mary said.

“I’m related to Professor Longbottom? To Neville? Wicked!” Colin said happily.

“That’s right, and not only that,” Minerva said with a soft smile, “Neville’s mother is the current Lady Yaxley, so with both her and her husband listed as next of kin, the claim is next to unbeatable. If the Longbottoms are willing to take you both, you could be looking at a permanent move instead of a visit come Mabon.”

“So it’s really over?” Colin said quietly, not quite daring to hope, perhaps the Longbottoms wouldn’t want the burden of two more children.

“Colin, would it be ok with you if I called for Professor Longbottom to come?” Minerva asked.

“Ok,” Colin said cautiously. Better to know sooner rather than later if it was all just a fool’s hope. “Could Neville come too?”

“If that’s what you’d like, then yes,” Minerva said soothingly, then scribbled a couple of notes and called a house elf to deliver them. She was too old and unwilling to kneel in front of the hearth for fire calls and patronus messengers were too inconspicuous for so early on a weekday, especially to summon a student. 

Not five minutes later, Augusta Longbottom stepped out of the floo, not a speck of soot on her teaching robes.

“Minnie, so sorry for stepping through unannounced, but I am getting on in life to be trotting up and down this castle on a whim and you did say it was urgent, is everything ok?” Augusta asked. “Mr Creevey, Mary dear, good to see you both,” she said, curiosity mixing with worry on her face. A summons to a room with a student and a healer? 

“Aggie, do have a biscuit,” Minerva said, offering up her biscuit tin.

“Oh dear, it’s one of those calls then,” she said, taking one. “Is everything ok, Mr Creevey?”

“Read these, Aggie dear,” Minerva said, handing over Mary’s scans and the inheritance test last.

Augusta paled as she read the chart,, injury after injury dating back years, bruises, fractures, concussions, nutrient deficiencies, brittle bones, muscle atrophy, hernias, perforated eardrums, and so on.

Her knuckles were white as bone gripping the parchment, and her teacup was vibrating on its saucer. Once she finally got to the inheritance test, the cup finally shattered.

“So sorry Minnie,” she said absently, repairing the cup and vanishing the spilt tea with a careless flick of her wand.

“Come here child,” she said quietly, looking at Colin right in the eye.

Colin got up slowly, moving with practiced caution until he stood in front of his teacher, who lifted her hand to touch him, looking at him meaningfully for approval, and once he nodded faintly, she lifted his chin to stare at him directly in the eye.

“Listen to me very carefully, Colin, and you’ll have to excuse the familiarity, because I will not dignify those beasts with the use of their name ever again. You are safe, this is over. I want you to really hear it, believe it, because it’s true,” Augusta said, enunciating every word. “You will come live with my son and his family at Longbottom Manor, and even if by some infinitesimal twist of fate, he were to refuse to take you on, I’d disown him on the spot, lord or not, and I’d take you in myself in the Dower House. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“I have a brother…” Colin said softly, barely audibly.

“Child, you could be a quidditch team’s worth of children! I’m not leaving a Longbottom in that cursed place for one second longer,” Augusta said with a huff.

“Mary dear, are you handling their cases then?” Augusta asked executively.

“Yes I am,” Mary confirmed, “though nothing has been filed yet.”

“Lovely, that much easier then,” Augusta said, rolling up the sleeves of her robe and casting her patronus. “Be a dear and go to my Francis, tell him to come to Minnie’s office immediately with Alice, no dawdling, from his mother,” she said to the hare, before it hopped away to deliver her message.

~~~

“Mother, as I’ve explained countless times, you just have to give the literal message to the patronus, it doesn’t need instructions if you cast it with intent,” Frank said a few minutes later, stepping out of the floo, followed closely by Alice, after the patronus instructed him to go to himself and tell himself to come. 

Before they could be brought up to speed, there was a knock at the door.

“You wanted to see me Professor?” Neville said as he walked in, “Father? Mother? Is everything ok?” He asked, puzzled by the unlikely gathering.

“Come in Neville dear,” Mary said.

“Is Colin ok, Aunty Mary?” Neville asked, his face contorted in confusion.

~~~

“Colin, let me explain what’s going to happen now, so you can stay calm in the meantime, ok?” Frank said after introductions were made and they got caught up.

“Ok,” Colin said, much calmer now that it looked like things were shaping up for the better.

“There’s protocols to follow in cases like this,” Frank said, “My wife and I will be going with Mary to the ministry now to file for both yours and your brother’s custody. What will happen next is that a team will be assembled and dispatched to your house, and your parents will be asked to sign away their parental rights. If they accept, a team of obliviators will modify their memories, faking your deaths and removing any knowledge of the magical world. It’s the cleanest break we’ve found in cases like this. Then your brother will be brought to the DMW,” Frank said calmly, “he will be looked after and comfortable while the team works modifying their memories and gathering your things. Then, we will take you both to Gringotts, where all the official stuff will happen. You will be legitimized and then we will take you and your brother to our house to get you settled.”

“Ok,” Colin said meekly.

“You’re staying only because we still can’t take you out of school legally. Professor McGonagall will escort you to the bank as your head of house and then, once formalities are dealt with, we’ll take you to our house,” Frank said, his tone remaining calm and comforting, “we hope that in time you can think of it as home,” he added.

“I have a question,” Colin said softly.

“Of course, ask away,” Frank said encouragingly

“How will they fake our deaths?” He asked.

“The most common ones are car accidents and house fires,” Mary answered for Frank.

“And what will happen to our parents?” He asked then.

“They will remember that you both died, and live on from there,” Mary said.

“No,” Colin said quietly, “they don’t deserve that, I want them to pay,” he said a little more forcefully.

“If they refuse, they will be brought up on muggle charges of child abuse, and we always make sure those charges stick,” Mary said, “it’s an incentive to take the deal.”

“Can’t you like… frame them for our murders or something instead? I don’t like that they’ll win. It’s what they’ve always wanted. To be rid of their hellspawns,” Colin said through angry tears.

“This is what has to happen officially,” Frank said, letting some of his own anger seep through in his voice, “what happens later is a whole other matter,” he said quietly, only for him to hear, not that anyone in the room would object.

~~~

“Hello, my name is Amelia Bones,” Amelia said to the little boy that answered the door, “are your parents home?”

“Yes,” the boy said shyly.

“Your brother Colin sent us to help you,” Amelia whispered, crouching down to his level, “I want you to call them and then go to your room and lock the door, can you do that please Dennis?”

The boy just nodded with wide eyes, and flinched when his mother’s voice sounded from behind him.

“Dennis? Who is it dear?” A tall, thin woman dressed in a cream colored blouse under a cornflower blue pinafore dress came from the kitchen, drying a plate with a rag.

Dennis just gulped and ran up the stairs before she could reach the door.

“Julia Creevey?” Amelia asked flatly.

“Yes? How may I help you?” The woman said pleasantly, though Amelia detected an edge of suspicion in her voice.

“Amelia Bones, head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement,”Amelia stated, “I’m here because of your son Colin.”

“Is something wrong with Colin? Has he done something? Please come in,” She said, and Amelia didn’t know if it was because she knew the truth after looking at the evidence or if her senses were indeed well tuned, but she noticed the slight uptick in her tone, and the barely noticeable change in posture, as if preparing herself to perform.

“Is your husband home madam?” Amelia asked.

“Yes, should I call him?” Julia asked.

“That would be best, yes,” Amelia said, standing just inside the foyer with the open door behind her, giving her disillusioned team a chance to enter quietly behind her before the door closed.

“Jules? Do we have company?” A tall, thin and balding man dressed in slacks and a short sleeve dress shirt, complete with tie and tie clip, entered the sitting room. Together in their picture perfect house they looked like something out of a Norman Rockwell scene.

“Robert Creevey?” Amelia asked.

“Yes? And you are?” The man asked warily.

“Amelia Bones, head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement,” she introduced herself again, “I’m here because of your son Colin.”

“What has Colin done now? I hope he’s not causing trouble for you!” The man said, shaking his head with feigned fondness, “that boy is a trouble magnet.”

“I am not here because he did anything,” Amelia said, “I am here because you have been found guilty of endangerment, abuse and neglect against a magical child.”

“He’s doing that again?” Robert sighed in frustration. “I’m really sorry for the confusion, Miss Bones, but Colin has an overactive imagination. It’s not the first time he has spread falsehoods about his treatment at home. According to our pastor, it’s a cry for help, just seeking attention,” he said so self righteously that Amelia would have gladly punched him.

“Yes, your son cried for help, and we answered,” Amelia said harshly, “you’ve misheard me, it seems. I haven’t come to make accusations. The evidence speaks for itself. Your son’s testimony, coupled with his medical history, is more than enough proof to find you both guilty, so I will present you with your options,” she said, waiting for a response but they were both stone faced and quiet.

“You have two options, the first being you sign these papers, relinquishing your parental rights, and the second is to refuse and face the muggle authorities for the same charges,” Amelia said seriously, “I’d take the first option, our conviction rates are just magic,” she added, but she barely got to finish before the monsters were eagerly agreeing.

“Yes! Take him, take them both! We thought we’d have to wait another year to get rid of the other demon child. This is a God fearing home and we don’t want them or any of your kind bringing in your wickedness. Sinful, disgusting demons! You will all burn in hell!” Robert said, dropping the act.

“Do you have a pen I could borrow?” Julia asked, looking like her birthday came early. 

“Yes, a very special one,” Amelia said, glaring at them while pulling out the paperwork and the blood quill.

“Done!” Robert said after signing. “Take him away then, but not a thing leaves with him! You can sort your own lot out, that creature won’t profit from us good Christian folk. Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live! We have suffered enough.” 

“Auror Mitchum?” Amelia said, gaze over their shoulders, which made them look, but there was nothing there except a faint rippling in the air,  “we’re ready for obliviation.”

Before the Creeveys could say a word, Mitchum locked them in a body bind and the two obliviators dropped their disillusionment charms and got to work. 

“Healer MacDonald, everything in order here?” Amelia asked, leaving the obliviators to do their work and going upstairs where Mary was checking on Dennis.

“Just about done Amelia,” she said in the same soothing tone she used to speak to Dennis, without looking up from him and the scans she was performing.

“Good, so it’s confirmed?” Amelia asked.

“Yes, everything’s in order,” Mary said, handing her the inheritance test, which matched his brother’s in all but the titles. Heir presumptive to the Selwyn line and no other.

“Hello Dennis, I’m Amelia Bones, I run the equivalent of the police department for the Ministry for Magic,” she said in a reassuring voice, crouching down to meet the boy at eye level. “Has Healer MacDonald explained what will happen now?”

“She said I don’t have to live here anymore, and that Julia and Robert will never harm us again,” Dennis said quietly, dropping his gaze to the floor.

“That’s right, never again,” Amelia said soothingly, “we are going to take you to the Ministry for a little bit, before a nice wizarding family who’s related to you, the Longbottoms, can take you in. It’ll only be for a night at the most, and then you’ll get to go live with them. I know them personally and they are very nice people, and they have a son a year older than Colin, who’s very good friends with him so I’m sure you’ll have a lot of fun.”

“Ok,” Dennis said softly.

“Is there anything you’d like to take with you now? We will pack the rest of your things so you can take them with you when you go live with the Longbottoms,” Amelia said.

“I have my monster bag ready in the closet. I don’t want anything else,” Dennis mumbled.

“What’s a monster bag?” Amelia asked with a kind smile.

“It’s from the song! Colin made sure I learnt it. I’ve known it by heart ever since I was like little little,” Dennis said, perking up.

“I don’t know that song I’m afraid,” Amelia said.

“Monsters, monsters, mum and dad are monsters! When they get mad, make sure you run and hide, find a good spot and stay very quiet inside. Don’t say a word and let Colin handle it, and if the worst happens, grab the monster bag and make a run for it!” Dennis sang the childish rime happily, seemingly unaware of the heartbreaking implications.

~~~

“Are you ready Colin?” Minerva asked the boy, ready herself to take him to Gringotts.

“Yes ma’am, will Dennis be there?” Colin asked.

“Yes he will, if he isn’t already there with Lord and Lady Longbottom then he’ll arrive shortly after us,” she said, extending her hand. “Now, we will be traveling by floo network. Grab firmly onto my arm, keep your arms in and close your eyes. When I say now, you will step forward with your right foot, ok?” 

“Yes, I understand,” he nodded.

The landing inside the large meeting room was wobbly, but he kept his balance without falling. He did cower behind Minerva slightly, when he realized the room was full of people and scary looking creatures he assumed were goblins. The drawings in the history books didn’t really do them justice.

“Col?” He heard then, and all but ran towards his brother, who had been hiding behind Neville’s father when they got in.

“Denny!” Colin yelled, crashing into his brother’s arms, who met him halfway.

“It’s over Col, they said we don’t have to go back there,” Dennis whispered into the hug.

“I know, it’s over,” he said, pulling out of the hug and examining his brother, his hands still holding him by the shoulders.

“You’re too skinny again, didn’t you find the protein bars I hid in your spot?” He asked worriedly.

“Julia heard the wrapper, I didn’t hear her get close,” Dennis mumbled, “she… I had to give them to her.”

“That doesn’t matter now, it’s over,” Colin said firmly.

“Colin, Dennis,” Alice said softly, “we should proceed with the formalities, and afterwards we can go and get a nice big ice cream and you can keep catching up, is that ok?”

“Yes, sorry Lady Longbottom,” Colin said sheepishly.

“I want you to meet a very dear friend of mine,” she said, guiding them further into the small crowd.

“This is Lady Lyra Potter, my best friend from school, she’s also Neville’s godmother,” Alice said.

“Hello boys,” Lyra said softly, “I apologize for the rather large crowd, I imagine it must be quite overwhelming. Come sit and we can go through what will be happening today ok?” 

“Ok,” Dennis said, the smell of the hot chocolate coming from the tray by the sofa calling to him like a siren.

“Now, I am here as the head of the Legitimization Initiative. I’m not normally required to be present for a legitimization protocol, but your case is rather special,” she said.

“Because we don’t have a… Stephen?” Dennis asked quietly, trying to remember what the nice healer lady told him the day before.

“A steward, yes,” Lyra smiled, “it’s never happened before, so we have two options we will try consecutively, in case one doesn’t work, but I’m confident they will.”

“Ok,” Colin said.

“We decided to throw the kitchen sink at the problem right away, so to speak,” she said with a smirk, “I understand you have some pressing health issues, due to what you’ve been through, so if our first attempt doesn’t work, it will at least work in healing you,” she said with sad eyes.

“What do we have to do?” Colin asked seriously.

“It’s very simple, you just have to… take a bath,” she said with a shrug, “you see, down deep in this bank, which is only a bank on the surface, there are many wonderful things, caves studded with gems and tunnels and great halls carved into the bedrock, but the most wonderful and secret among them are magical healing waters, said to have been a gift of Mother Magic herself to the goblins. When one takes a bath in them, they are healed of all ailments, old and new, and some say one can even see Mother Magic while their bathing,” she said, as if she were telling them a bedtime story.

“Ok,” Colin and Dennis said with wide eyes. 

“You just have to go into it with the desire to be recognized by your family magics very strong and present at the forefront of your minds. That way, we believe she will be able to do it in place of an acting head of house,” she explained. “If by some reason, you come out and we find that she couldn’t or wouldn’t, which I frankly don’t believe but we still need to prepare for the eventuality, we have prepared a ritual for you to commune directly with the Selwyn family magics. It’s not a hard thing to do for those with free access to them, but tricky enough that it’s our plan B, because access to them is what we need to ask for, do you understand?” Lyra asked.

“Yes,” they nodded emphatically, they would go into those waters wanting nothing more than to be recognized by the Selwyn magic.

“Before you take your plunge, you will be legitimized into your other lines, that’s why there’s so many people here, apart from the official personnel from the ministry like Lady Bones or Healer MacDonald,” Lyra said.

“We have more family?” Dennis asked with such a hopeful look that it almost broke Lyra’s heart, and she couldn’t help but think how this might have been her baby, if Petunia had ever gotten her ugly claws on him if they’d stayed dead after that night.

“Yes, you do! Let me explain,” she said with a smile, “your test showed us that you descend from two wizarding families, the Selwyns and the Yaxleys, from the paternal and maternal sides respectively. Your Selwyn ancestor Calpurnia’s parents were Flavius Selwyn and Aurora Longbottom, and your Yaxley ancestor Evandra’s parents were Evander Yaxley and Mòrag Ross, so you are related to both the Longbottoms and Rosses as well.”

“Wicked!” Dennis said with a wide grin.

~~~

“Now, remember to think really hard about being recognized by the Selwyn magics, ok boys? After you wake up, we will perform an inheritance test to see if it worked. Ok?” Lyra asked before the boys left with Healer SilverHook to bathe in the waters after they were legitimized into their other lines.

“Yes Lady Potter,” they said at the same time, nodding seriously, very focused.

“I’m going to need some time in the dueling room tonight,” Lyra said after they were gone. “Blow some dummies up, before I track their parents down and blow them up,” she said with a sneer.

“Francis,” Augusta said commandingly.

“Yes Mother?” Frank said on instinct more than anything.

“You will be blood adopting those boys as soon as they wake up,” she said, daring him to challenge her.

“Mother! Are you out of your mind? We met them yesterday! How on earth do you think that will go down? They barely know us! Let them acclimate first, build a relationship with us and then we can discuss it,” Frank said, appalled by the suggestion.

“Francis Augustus Longbottom so help you Merlin! Those boys need a family, and they need protection. There will be uproar in the courts as soon as it leaks! People will try to take them from you! Use them! You know who’s going to be the first. They need protection, they need Longbottom and Yaxley blood so not even Merlin himself can stake his claim on them,” she said angrily.

“Mother…” Frank started, but Augusta didn’t let him finish.

“You will adopt my new grandchildren, that’s final.” She said with a look that could melt goblin silver.

“She’s right Frank,” Alice said to Frank’s surprise. “I understand where you’re coming from, and I agree, but they need protection and stability. It can be another formality for now, they don’t even need to call us Mother and Father until they choose to, but they will be protected and our claim will be ironclad.”

“It would be beneficial in other aspects as well,” Lyra said thoughtfully. “You know how the magic of a blood adoption works, it would encourage the bond, and those boys need good parents, and they should feel secure that you won’t give them back if they do anything that could displease you. Being adopted would give them that, otherwise you’re just the place where they spend their holidays until they come of age, however nice you are to them,” she said.

“Even if it isn’t my place to say, I agree with Lyra,” Minerva said for good measure.

“That’s what I don’t like about it! It feels like we’re tricking them into something. What if down the road they think what they feel isn’t real?” Frank asked in frustration.

“You can’t fake love Franky, it’s just a nudge, like when Neville was born. We loved him right away, right? Just because he was ours, but now that he’s older and we know him, we love him even more, right? It’ll be the same, I think, and for the best, for both parties’ sake,” Alice said placatingly.

“I will ask them, but if they say no, I will wait before asking again,” Frank conceded, “and we should tell Neville before anything happens, that’s the best you’ll get out of me.”

~~~

“I wish I had acted on my suspicions sooner,” Minerva told Mary after she returned from fetching Neville from school and they continued to wait for the boys to wake from their bath. “I saw signs, I should have acted sooner, not just because they were heirs.”

“You saved their lives Minnie,” Mary said, squeezing her hand for comfort, “and I’m not saying it to be comforting. I spoke to the obliviators after they were done. The only thing that kept those boys alive after you confirmed they were magical was the fact that you were there, that they then knew there were more people like their children, and they might come after them if something happened. And the only thing that kept us safe from another witch hunt was the secrecy clause in the admittance contract we make muggle parents sign, otherwise they would have gone to their church and who knows what could have happened,” Mary said with a chill.

“Those poor boys,” Minerva whispered.

“If that letter had come by owl, they would have been long dead before you even met them. I had to prescribe strong stomach soothers and antiemetic draughts after they were done sorting through their heads,” Mary said. 

“What will happen to them? Do you know?” Minerva asked.

“Nothing good. We followed protocol, but there may have been some malicious compliance,” Mary said with a smirk. “Mackenzie may have bent the rules a little. We didn’t outright frame them for murder, but the death of the children was left… open for interpretation. And we may have implied the parents’ involvement. And if we follow up to see if the muggle police followed the crumb trail or not? Well, that’s off the books.”

“Neville darling, we need to ask you something,” Frank said with Alice sitting next to him.

“Of course,” Neville said.

“What would you say if we told you we were considering blood adopting Colin and his brother?” Alice asked.

“Really? Wicked!” Neville said with wide excited eyes, “don’t act like I haven’t been asking for siblings since forever. And at least this way it’s not a boring baby, they’re my age!”

“Ok, now that we have your blessing, we’ll ask them once they come up,” Frank said, a little reluctantly.

“You don’t sound too excited about it Father, I hope you can hide it better in their presence, or you’ll hurt their feelings,” Neville said seriously.

“It’s not that I don’t want to! Of course I do. It’s just that I think it may be too soon,” Frank said.

“Just be honest with them. I have no way of really putting myself in their shoes, but if I were them? I’d imagine I’d come out of it really struggling with trusting adults, or really eager to please them so they’d love me, or some combination of both,” Neville said after some thought, “be honest, don’t lie, and make sure they know their place with us isn’t conditional. It’s what I feel you’ve done with me and I turned out acceptably,” he added with a smirk and a shrug.

~~~

“Colin? Are you awake?” Colin heard Dennis say, muffled but progressively clearer as he shook off the cotton fuzzing his brain. 

“Colin! Nothing hurts!” Yep, that was definitely Dennis.

“Denny? Are you ok?” Colin asked, sitting up on the cot he was in. It looked similar to the infirmary at Hogwarts, but not quite.

“Never better! And you?” Dennis asked.

“Yeah, I’m… I’m fine!” Colin said, because it was true, he’d never felt better! Dennis was right. He couldn’t remember the last time that nothing had hurt.

“WOW! Colin, you look so good! Do I look different too?” Dennis said, and Colin turned to look at his brother and it almost made him cry.

He looked like a ten year old boy, a healthy ten year old boy. He no longer looked like he was seven, his cheeks were rosy and his hair was the shiniest, most healthy shade of bronze he’d seen. “Yeah Denny, you look different too, how do I look?” Colin asked.

“At least two years older, and it’s hard to see lying down but I’d bet you’re taller too!” Dennis said.

“Did you see her too?” Colin asked quietly.

“Yes,” Dennis said sadly, “she was so… nice.”

“I know right?” Colin said wistfully. So that’s what love feels like, huh? Was all he could think about. That woman with flowing dark hair and swirling bright eyes that looked like galaxies. He’d never forget how warm and safe he felt in her arms. That’s what a mother should be, like her and Professor McGonagall, he thought, not like Julia. Never like Julia.

“I think it worked,” Dennis said, “you know more magic that I do, but when I asked her about the family magics and if she could letimigiggy us or something or other, like the nice lady said to do, she just smiled, but I felt like…”

“Like walking through mist in the morning,” Colin offered.

“Yeah! In the forest, it smelled like pine and wet dirt,” Dennis said.

“I think it worked too, considering it feels like I ate a whole second cone of chips after smashing one already at the chippy. I feel even more stuffed than before the bath!” Colin said. It must have worked if his core felt even more stretched than before, right?

“Ah! Messers Selwyn, you’re both awake, lovely,” the goblin healer that brought them down before said, and his chipper disposition looked terrifying to be honest.

“I’ll just perform a couple of tests to make sure everything is fine before I let you get dressed so we can rejoin your party,” the goblin said.

“Mr healer sir?” Colin said quietly, “I don’t wish to be a bother, but could you charm our clothes a little bigger? I don’t think it’ll fit anymore,” he said, almost imperceptibly, but the goblin seemed to hear him fine.

“Of course,” he said, clicking his fingers and moving his claws over their folded bundles of clothes. “There, I am no tailor, but that should tide you over,” SilverHook said.

“You don’t have a wand like Colin?” Dennis asked, confused by the lack of a wand. Every magical person he’d seen so far used one.

“We don’t, wizards denied us the privilege, back in the day, thinking they were delivering a crushing blow but we’ve never really needed them. Goblin magic works differently,” the goblin said with an expression akin to pride, though it was hard to tell.

“Wicked,” Dennis said with wide eyes.

“Ok, everything looks perfect, and your cores are both healthy. For Heir Selwyn, you should cast as much as possible until the discomfort subsides, that will help with its management while also settling the stretch naturally and more effectively in the long term. For Mr Selwyn, care and vigilance to manage outbursts of accidental magic, or perhaps you could start practicing with a training wand before Hogwarts next year and will help the unpleasant feeling of pent up magic,” SilverHook said.

“So it did work then?” Colin asked with a grin.

“It did, yes, your cores show a strong affluent of Selwyn family magics, so even if you haven’t claimed the heirship, it’s still easier to refer to you by your titles,” SilverHook said, “now, get dressed and I’ll escort you up.”

~~~

“Colin, Dennis, we have something to ask you,” Frank said, calling the boys to sit with them in the little sitting area at the end of the room.

“Yes?” Colin said, a little distracted by the weight of the ring that now sat on his finger. It felt amazing to put it on, the same cold prickling feeling of walking through mist he felt before, with the fresh scent of pine needles and wet soil.

“I want you to know that I’d understand if you don’t want to,” Frank said, “it’s very soon, I know, but we don’t just want you to come live with us as our wards.”

“We would like to adopt you,” Alice said quickly, after she saw the boys’ wheels turning fearfully. Leave it to her darling husband to word it just shy of “you’re not coming home with us.”

“Adopt us?” Dennis said quietly.

“I know it’s very sudden, and you don't know us well enough yet, but we don’t want to be just a convenient arrangement for you to have somewhere to live until you come of age and into your inheritance. We would very much like to give you a home, if that’s something you’d like,” Frank said.

“I thought what we just did was you adopting us?” Colin said, a mix of confusion and shame evident on his face, embarrassed to have assumed as much most likely.

“In the muggle sense, yes it was, taking custody of you would make us your adoptive parents, but in the wizarding world, there’s something called a blood adoption,” Alice explained calmly, “it’s a potion we all drink, mixed with your blood and ours, and it effectively makes us family, not just on paper, blood family,” she said with a gentle smile.

“May I speak with Colin for a moment?” Dennis said while Colin remained quiet, looking down at the floor.

“Of course, you should talk it over amongst yourselves, we’ll give you some privacy,” Alice said, nudging her husband to stand and let them talk.

“I don’t know if that was too much too soon Allie,” Frank said quietly on the other side of the room, watching the children huddled up together.

“Everything about this is too much Frank, but the truth of the matter is, even if it fell on our lap like a boulder, those are my children. Don’t ask me to explain how or why I know, but I can feel it in my magic,” Alice whispered. 

“That sounds very idyllic, but I don’t think it’s going to be an and they rode their broomsticks into the sunset kind of situation,” Frank said.

“You think I believe we’ll just take them home and tomorrow they’ll be calling us mum and dad and telling us they love us? Honestly Frank! I know what we’re getting ourselves into. Months, perhaps years of mind healers, walking on eggshells as we find our footing around each other, trying to earn their trust, and Merlin knows however many challenges, but they’re worth it, they’re ours. I know you feel the same, I can feel it in your magic as well,” Alice said.

“We’re ready,” They heard Colin say from across the room.

“So, have you made a decision?” Frank asked, sitting back down across from them.

“We have a few questions,” Colin said, more self assured than before.

“Of course, ask away,” Alice said reassuringly.

“Why?” Colin asked plainly.

“Many reasons,” Frank said evenly, “first and foremost, because you deserve it. We would very much like to be the parents you deserved to have all along. And second, for various practical reasons. We want to give you the most security and stability we can, so we hope that by blood adopting you, you won’t have any doubts about your place in our home. We don’t want you to ever think that you could do or say anything that would make us not want you anymore, so you’d be as much our children as Neville is, we want you to feel as secure as he feels at home.”

“It would give you protection as well,” Alice said, trying not to scare them, “you are the last of a very old and powerful line, and when people find out that it has resurfaced, they might try to take advantage of that, of you. It would be far more difficult to do so if you were our children instead of just our wards. People could try and fight our claim and take you away from us. It’s very unlikely they’d succeed, but not impossible. As our children though? No one would be able to touch a hair on your heads.”

“Ok, will it affect us in any way? Would we lose our Selwyn blood by replacing Robert and Julia?” Colin asked.

“If we did that specifically, then yes. But we won’t perform a ritual of banishment in combination with the adoption for that very reason. We will simply be added as your parents. Harry is an example of what would be our case. He was adopted by his father, Sirius Black, but James and Lyra Potter are still his birth parents, so he has three parents. If you were to take an inheritance test after the adoption, we’d be listed as your blood adopted mother and father along with your birth parents,” Alice explained. “It might alter your appearance slightly, but nothing major.”

“Shame,” Colin said, “ I would have liked to be rid of them for good.”

“You are rid of them,” Frank said firmly, “you can think of it as Selwyn blood now, not Creevey. As for how much it will affect you physically? Magic is fickle. If you dislike a resemblance to any of them strongly enough, it might indulge you and change it,” Frank explained.

“On that note, would you like to keep your names? You’ll take the Selwyn name, of course, as the last heirs of the line, but the option of changing your first names is on the table as well,” Alice said.

“We’re definitely dropping the Creevey name,” Colin nodded in agreement along with Dennis, “and the only thing I don’t like about my name is who gave it to me, otherwise it doesn’t bother me. I know it’s not the most wizarding name though. Do you think we should change our names?” 

“If you feel like yourself being Colin Selwyn, then I’d stick with it. It does have a nice ring to it though, if you ask me,” Frank said with a shrug.

“I like Dennis, it would be weird having another name,” Dennis said a little self consciously. He used to sneak watching Dennis the Menace while Robert and Julia were in bible study, and he always envied him, but at least they shared a name.

“One last question,” Colin said, “is Neville ok with this?”

“Completely on board,” Frank reassured them, “he was here and tried to wait for you to wake up but he had to return to class. We sent for him, so we could talk about this with him. His exact words were I’ve been asking for siblings since forever and at least this way it’s not a boring baby, so you can see he's very excited to have siblings close in age. The closest thing he has to a brother is Harry, since they’re godbrothers.”

“Ok,” Colin and Dennis said, after sharing a loaded look, “we’ll do it.” 

Chapter Text

“Lord Longbottom,” Gareth Greengrass greeted with the customary quarter bow. They were mingling after the first quadrille of the night but he hadn’t had a chance to say hello before. “How are the children settling? If there’s anything you need, you must let me know at once,” he said with real concern. As the Head of the Department of Magical Welfare, he took the Child Protective Services Office very seriously.

“Lord Greengrass, good to see you,” Frank said affably, “and thank you for everything you did to expedite things the other day. The children are settling in nicely so far, thank Merlin. They stayed at home with Neville and Mother. We almost didn’t come but Mother insisted we keep the engagement,” he said.

“I’m glad… well, if there’s anything you need, don’t hesitate to ask,” Gareth said again.

“Now that you mention it, could I trouble you for some recommendations? I’d like to set them up with a mind healer, but I don’t just want to take them to St Mungo’s and let them see a random one. Do you know of any with the required expertise?” Frank asked.

“I’ll owl you a list of the ones we work with the most,” Gareth said with a nod.

“Thank you, give my best to Livia if I don’t see you with her again tonight,” Frank said.

“She’s around here somewhere, I’m sure,” Gareth said with a snicker, “surely catching up on the latest gossip with Lady Parkinson and Lady Bulstrode.”

“How are they really?” James asked quietly, throwing a discreet privacy ward up once Gareth left them.

“It’ll take time, but we’ll get there. I think it’s still sinking in for them, that it’s truly over. It’s just been three days so far, but their moods have lifted considerably. It’s quite endearing really, they emulate Neville in everything around the house. It’s both endearing and sad actually, that they think he sets the standard and anything below it would displease us. They started calling us Father and Mother as soon as we got home! Little Dennis sometimes slips and calls me dad, which of course I don’t mind in the least but he always corrects himself so fast,” Frank said sadly, “I had to sit them down and explain that while they’ll receive etiquette lessons in the future, it’s not a priority right away and they can call us whatever they’re comfortable with.”

“I’m sure Augusta is chomping at the bit to start their lessons though,” James teased lightly.

“She took a liking to Colin long before everything unfolded, and he was genuinely interested in her class, but I don’t want them to feel like they have to learn to be our children. They’ll learn our ways in time because they’ll have to assimilate eventually, but right now? I want them to know we want them just like they are and we don’t want to change them,” Frank explained. “We’ll take it at their own pace.”

“So Lyra was right then, about the adoption,” James said knowingly.

“Too right,” Frank sighed, “I thought it would be just a nudge, an impulse to care for them, protect them, and it would lead to a deeper bond in time, but… by Merlin James! I already love the little squirts. They’re my children,” he said with a shrug, as if it was the most logical, obvious thing in the world.

~~~

“You should have seen them Ly,” Alice said, out on the terrace while James and Frank talked inside.

“I’ll visit soon,” Lyra said, “but there was no need for me to stick around for the adoption. That was a private moment.”

“It was both heartbreaking and heartwarming to witness,” Alice said, “I thought they might change a little, you know? Like the touch of silver in Harry’s eyes, or the slightly sharper Black features he got from Sirius when he adopted him, but I wasn’t expecting them to change that much! I was both flattered they’d want to look like us, and brokenhearted at how much they must have hated those monsters, to the point of not wanting to see them in the mirror.”

After the blood adoption was finalized, Colin could almost pass as Neville’s twin, if not for little details that Alice knew were Selwyn traits, like the mauve eyes the family famously had, much like the Blacks and their silver eyes. Dennis looked positively Yaxley-esque. He kept his Selwyn hair like Colin, a beautiful strawberry bronze that sometimes had slightly green tinges when the light hit it just right, like oxidized copper, and the Selwyn mauve eyes. A striking mixture for sure, but his general bone structure and features reminded Alice of her cousin Corban when he was young.

“Are you worried? With them looking so drastically different, it might attract attention,” Lyra said cautiously.

“Not really. Colin’s smart, and he has his Selwyn ring to protect him. I don’t think his choice of godmother was entirely sentimental either. He craves safety, and Minnie gave him that, and might have been the first adult to do so. She’ll look after him well while in school,” Alice said, “I’m worried about sending Dennis to school though, but I have a plan.”

“Oh?” Lyra said.

“I’ll have to speak with Neville, and consult the family magics, but I’d like to make Dennis the Yaxley heir,” Alice whispered. “There’s no way I’m sending my boy to Hogwarts without protection. He needs a ring and lucky for him he has a mother with two to spare. He was already a Yaxley before I adopted him, and it would take pressure off of Neville to have so many children, but I should ask him nonetheless.”

“I don’t think he’ll object to it,” Lyra said, “it’s a good idea, and when Harry used to ask for siblings he’d do it so he could share the load, as he put it, not because he was lonely or any of the usual reasons children ask for siblings, so perhaps it’ll even be welcomed,” she added sadly. 

“You still could, you’re still young…” Alice said.

“I know I say that when asked, but I missed my window Al,” Lyra said, “and I learnt my lesson, no babies in turbulent times, and I don’t see us dispatching Alvin anytime soon, not soon enough for me to still be of decent childbearing age, and we both know he could still come back.”

“I’m sorry Ly,” Alice said quietly, eyes as sad as Lyra’s. “But you never know, Euphemia wasn’t young by any standards when she had James, there might still be time. You’re thinking in muggle terms again. A longer lifespan means longer stages as well, and you’ll live longer than most wix.”

“Don’t be. It was a conscious choice. Harry needed to be powerful and influential for what’s to come, I couldn’t afford to spread out his titles, and he grew up around enough children, so loneliness was never an issue,” she said with a resigned shrug. At least James was in agreement. They would have wanted nothing more than to raise Harry and however many more children Mother Magic might have blessed them with far away from all the intrigue, but after learning about her true plans for her child, they knew it would only bring hardship to go against them. If her baby was to be a fated paladin in a game of divine self correction, then she’d raise the best damn paladin the world would ever see, and he’d be ready to succeed and live a happy life after he fulfilled his destiny. 

“What on earth is going on inside?” Alice asked then, distracted by the noise coming out from the ballroom. “Is the minister’s wife drunk again? Merlin help us… every damn ball,” she huffed.

“That doesn’t sound like a drunk guest,” Lyra said with a frown, taking Alice’s arm to go inside.

The scene that greeted them upon entering was something they didn’t expect. 

As soon as they crossed the threshold, an auror stepped up and guided them rather forcefully to the center of the ballroom, where all the other guests were being rounded up.

“Excuse me! There’s no need to touch me, I’m going!” Lyra said, pulling her arm away from the man.

“EVERYONE TO THE CENTER! NO ONE LEAVES THIS ROOM! THIS IS A MINISTRY ORDERED RAID ON THIS PROPERTY! STAY CALM AND COMPLY!” They heard Arthur Weasley’s voice amplified through the room.

“Ly, do you see Frank anywhere?” Alice said, the people around them knocking into them as the aurors tightened the perimeter.

“Where’s James?” Lyra said, looking around frantically, “Severus!” She called out as soon as he saw the sparkling blue sapphire evil eye motifs of Severus’ circlet flash out of the corner of her eye and sure enough, he was making his way over to her.

“Severus! Where’s James! Where are the children?” She asked hurriedly, those around her freezing as soon as they heard her.

The children.

“I think he’s at the front, with Amelia, Lucius and the minister,” he said, grabbing her wrist and trying to make way towards the front of the room.

“Did they bring the children in? Severus, where’s Harry?” She asked, trying to see over the people.

“No, they broke in and started rounding us up like cattle.,” he said with a sneer. “I got dragged into the crowd but last I saw James he was trying to get to the front of the room.”

“WEASLEY! ENOUGH!” Lyra heard Amelia yell when she finally reached the front of the room, “Rufus, either you stand down and accompany me to get the children or so help you Merlin…”

“I can’t Madam Bones, as per article 3 of section 4 subsection 4b of the Misuse of Enchanted Artifacts Act of 1992, raids are run by the Head of the Department, I am not in charge here and I answer to Mr Weasley,” 

“Cornelius, do something!” Someone hissed behind the minister, eliciting a chorus of people calling for the minister to put a stop to the circus, but he was like a deer caught in headlights.

“Minister, if you’d like to have any chance at reelection, I suggest you snap out of it and do something,” Lyra whispered to the man.

“Weasley, comply with Madam Bones at once! Head Auror Scrimgeour and her will go and get the children and bring them here, and you can proceed with your travesty of a raid, no one is stopping you,” Fudge said then.

“Minister, according to the law, I am within my faculties to conduct this raid as I see fit. There is probable cause to believe Lord Malfoy is in possession of illegal artifacts. Previous searches have proven unsuccessful so more extreme measures had to be taken,” Arthur said firmly.

“So what, holding our children hostage while you ransack our houses is on the table?” Lucius sneered, “you’ve trashed my house three times already. How many more times will I have to be subjected to this farce?” 

“As long as it takes to find what you’re hiding, Malfoy,” Arthur sneered back at the blond.

“Cornelius, this is a blatant abuse of power. Three searches have yielded no tangible proof of guilt. I warned you this would happen,” James whispered to the minister, “the mess is made, we’ve unleashed an inquisition upon the public, one that doesn’t care about presumption of innocence. How much longer until they start planting evidence? How much longer until they plant a dark object in your house and remove you from office? Weasley is too little a man to be behind this Cornelius, I told you this bill was Dumbledore’s brainchild, a way of coming for all of us, you specifically, so stop the madness before you lose the support of the Wizengamot.”

“That is quite enough Weasley,” Fudge growled, spurred into action finally, “that was not a request, it was an executive order from the Minister for Magic. Your little resentful display has gone on long enough, you and your team can vacate the premises, immediately.”

“But minister!” Arthur sputtered, mouthing like a fish out of water. Dumbledore promised him this wouldn’t happen!

“Not another word, Weasley. I’ll deal with you tomorrow, leave your calendar open,” Fudge sneered at the man.

“You heard the minister!” Scrimgeour yelled, “Aurors, retreat!”

“Thank you sir,” Rufus said with a nod, grateful that the circus was over.

“Lucius, the children,” Narcissa said evenly, but the restlessness was barely disguised.

Lucius didn’t spare a glance in Arthur’s direction before leaving to get the children with James, while Amelia tried to contain the rest of the guests from following, assuring everyone that their children would come to them. 

“Mr Weasley, thank you for coming, but I’m afraid this event is by invitation only,” Narcissa said coldly, “Dippy can see you out.”

“This isn’t over,” Arthur threatened quietly.