What they raise him to be - FelipeTb90 - Harry Potter (2024)

Chapter 1: Prologue

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 2: James

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 3: Lily

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 4: A different choice

Notes:

Hello everyone! Thank you so much for the support this fic has been getting, especially since all that’s up so far is just a little teasing set up, but we’re getting to the good bits.

Now, help me out in the comments and tell me which day is best to set up as my scheduled day for posting on this fic please? Much appreciated 🫶🏻

Thank you! Hope you enjoy.

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 5: The Hard Choice

Notes:

Hello everyone! Another Saturday, another update. Hope you enjoy! (And if you think another day would be better, don’t be shy in the comments!)

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 6: A slight inconvenience

Notes:

Another Saturday, another chapter. Good news is that I have at least 8 weeks worth of updates stored and waiting so I can finally take some time to work on updating my other works soon. 🙌🏻
I hope you enjoy! Thank you for the support on this work 🫶🏻

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 inconspicuous 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 7: The Chosen One after all

Notes:

Happy back to school day! So sad the story couldn’t line up with the time jump to first year but you’ll have to wait till chapter 12 for that. Hope you enjoy this little extra update to celebrate September 1st 🖤

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 8: Alliances

Notes:

Another Saturday, another chapter! Enjoy!

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 9: Our truth

Summary:

Our favorite reporter sits down with the Potters in a tell all interview a month after the Dark Lord’s defeat.

Notes:

Ok, I’m sorry to my therapist who is having me use this fic and update schedule as a way to work on my patience and willpower, along with my self sabotaging tendencies because the whole point of having a schedule and chapters written ahead is to give me time to work on other things, my other fics included 🙃, but this chapter felt a little too anticlimactic to have it be the one that has you waiting for some real shit to happen for a whole other week. It’s Easter eggy for sure and you get a few tidbits of info though. On Saturday 14th we time jump to 1991! It’ll be a Dumbles POV and then on the 21st we get our first Harry POV! Hope you enjoy

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

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 countries 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.)

Notes:

Also give it up for Rita, the OG influencer. It’s giving Shein girly while the true fashion girly pops wear Twilfitt&Tatting’s, if you know you know 😂

Also, props to James for being a goals hubby that has never deadnamed his wife since the resurrection. Very mindful, very demure 👌🏻

Chapter 10: The board is set

Summary:

Time jump to 1991, Albus’ POV of the welcoming feast.

Notes:

Another Saturday, another chapter! We’ve reached year one and we have your favorite villain’s favorite villain recounting some of what’s happened over the last ten years and meeting Harry. Enjoy!

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 11: Better be…

Notes:

Another Saturday, another chapter! This is one of my favorite ones yet! I hope you like it. It’s a long one, about 8k words. I won’t spoil anything so I’ll see you in the end notes for some of what I want to say about it 🫶🏻

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

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 that 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 her 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.

Notes:

Sooo, what do you think? There’s a lot I want to say about it . First of all, sorry to all marauders fans, I don’t fuck with marauders era fics so I either don’t know or didn’t care about certain head canons, like my Mary not being black and stuff like that. Also, it’s been so much fun to write these characters! It’s almost like writing an OC, since most of them were so defined by James and Lily’s deaths that the possibility of them surviving changes everything. First and foremost there’s Harry , of course. He’s not an orphan, not abused, connected to his roots and supported by the adults around him. Severus didn’t lose Lily, patched things up with the marauders and is married with a baby! Completely different person. Sirius was allowed to grow up and mature like a normal person, not a tortured inmate, and Draco grew up with Harry, so he’s also quite a bit different from canon, and it will be fun to see how much is he like Harry and how much is Harry like him now that they grew up together. Did you notice how they switched catch phrases? I will FOREVER be a Draco apologist and stan and I don’t care what anybody thinks. Yes the boy was raised by nasty people with questionable morals, but he was the only one who had his parents behind him, who felt supported as a child should be supported by his parents, and the fact that Rowling created the contrast to gaslight us into thinking that it’s something spoiled children do just so we don’t notice how abandoned the abused main character is? So we think him having to solve everything alone or with two other children is normal? Fuck that, so yes, Harry’s dad will be hearing about a lot in this fic, because my boy ain’t alone no more.
I also made the decision to not give Harry siblings from his bio parents. First and foremost because I wanted to keep the story trim and tight and didn’t want to add more characters I’d have to write plots for, and also because it sorta makes sense to me. They’re still dealing with fumbles and they know voldi didn’t die, so I want to think that they learnt their lesson about having babies in uncertain times, and they would prefer to focus on preparing Harry, so the children came via Mary and Sirius, and they all live a kind of tribal communal life helping out with everyone’s children. I’m excited to write more for Walburga in future chapters! I stan Wally hard, she was a piece of shit mother but she had to raise a piece of crap son as well, in a whirlwind of shit and hurt and shared blame. She’s such an interesting character to explore beyond the one dimension the terf gave her.
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed today’s chapter! First year will be chapters 11-24 give or take if I don’t change anything or add something. But it’s coming out rather fun so I hope you’ll like it.

Chapter 12: Conventus

Summary:

James and Lyra have an impromptu tea party 😏

Notes:

Another Saturday, another update! Enjoy! And in Minnie’s memory, have a biscuit 🖤

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 13: A midnight setup

Summary:

First week and up to the midnight duel, which goes a little different than canon, obvi 🫶🏻

Notes:

Writing has been prolific lately so you get a double update this week 🫶🏻 enjoy!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

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.

Notes:

Firangi, according to the supreme being ChatGPT, is a term in Hindi that can be equated to the use of “gringo” or white people as an adjective.

I also come here in defense of Harry’s marauder name. I found out it’s the name of the ship between James/Sirius after i wrote it, feeling soo good about my wit only to find it was already a thing and a different thing at that 😂 but I decided to just keep it. I just think it fits, you know? He’s their son.

And finally, I would have tagged unintentional Ollivander’s bashing but I used up all my tags 🤷🏼‍♂️😂

Hope you liked the chapter.

Chapter 14: Mabon

Notes:

Nice massive chapter for you this Saturday. Hope you enjoy!

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 15: Troll in the dungeons

Notes:

Another Saturday, another chapter. Enjoy!

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 Baba.” 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 16: Samhain

Notes:

Another Saturday, another chapter. Enjoy!

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 Baba 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.

What they raise him to be - FelipeTb90 - Harry Potter (2024)

References

Top Articles
Latest Posts
Recommended Articles
Article information

Author: Fredrick Kertzmann

Last Updated:

Views: 5862

Rating: 4.6 / 5 (46 voted)

Reviews: 85% of readers found this page helpful

Author information

Name: Fredrick Kertzmann

Birthday: 2000-04-29

Address: Apt. 203 613 Huels Gateway, Ralphtown, LA 40204

Phone: +2135150832870

Job: Regional Design Producer

Hobby: Nordic skating, Lacemaking, Mountain biking, Rowing, Gardening, Water sports, role-playing games

Introduction: My name is Fredrick Kertzmann, I am a gleaming, encouraging, inexpensive, thankful, tender, quaint, precious person who loves writing and wants to share my knowledge and understanding with you.