The Black Book 2

by mosteveryonesmad

Summary:

The sequel to the Black Book.

The Most Noble and Ancient House of Black is still at war. And now their enemy is ready to strike back. Not only will their way of life be threatened, but also the fate of magic itself. It's time for the Blacks to remember all their lessons...and who they were born to be.

Chapter 1: Prologue

Albania, Summer 1996

 

Snape regretted some of his life choices. But as a half-blood, at the height of a blood war, he would have said that he hedged his bets quite successfully. But that was before Dumbledore was killed by “Quirrell.” He scowled—he didn’t believe it for a second but it didn’t matter, not really. His “Light” plan, as he referred to it, was over. Only Dumbledore would have been willing to attest to his “loyalty” to the Light—only Dumbledore was powerful enough to convince enough people of that loyalty. And it had worked, for nearly eleven years.

And with Dumbledore in his corner, he had still kept connections with former Death Eaters, had still kept his “loyalty” to the Dark Lord. They had a plan for the prophecy—Potter would destroy the Dark Lord once and for all—and he had a backup plan, just in case the Dark Lord had another trick up his sleeve. 

Or seven. He shuddered.

Getting bodily ejected from the castle nearly five years ago had been startlingly but not even more startlingly than seeing Pettigrew there as well. The dumb rat. He should have known something was peculiar about that rat when it survived Percy’s first year—that boy definitely did not care for it at all. Clearly, Pettigrew always knew how to survive.

And then, in between the two of them… Ravenclaw’s Diadem…and what it actually was. He shuddered again.

It had been a long five years. And now, he was all in. No backup plans. Few escape routes. Not the ideal scenario. But hopefully…hopefully, this potion would work, hopefully, with enough magical sacrifices, the Dark Lord will rise again.

Notes:

Here it is! The beginning of the sequel!

I'm hoping to update every Monday *fingers crossed*

Stay safe in these weird times everyone!

Chapter 2: Offense

Summary:

Three generations. Three different problems.

September 19, 1996

 

Harry was beginning to regret his plan. He had thought it would be the best course of action—the perfect mixture of casual, so as not to interrupt Hermione’s focus on school but the appropriate measure of publicity. It had to be public. Grandfather was adamant about it, especially considering that they were two years “late.” Harry didn’t mind too much after all Hermione had turned fifteen in fourth year and he hadn’t until nearly a year later. Hermione had also felt that fifteen was too young and Harry honored that. One of the perks of having an older girlfriend was that she would be turning seventeen in their sixth year. Today, in fact.

He took a deep breath and waited for Nev’s signal outside the Great Hall doors in a small alcove. It was pretty late into breakfast, but he had gotten up earlier than everyone to eat quickly. He had a plan. A good plan.

Isobel ensured that Hermione was later to breakfast than they normally were so the Great Hall was packed. The right amount of publicity, but also right before the bell to first classes, so they could retreat to class immediately.

His mirror buzzed in his pocket. Right.

Harry took a deep breath and walked into the Great Hall as Hedwig swooped down in front of Hermione. Harry wasn’t sure, but as he watched Hermione interact with Hedwig, he heard the buzzing of the Great Hall quiet down.

Hedwig held out the small, gold package tied to her leg. Harry couldn’t see Hermione’s face, but he saw her untie the package. Isobel was smirking at him from the other side of the table and he fought the urge to glare. Everyone was watching…hopefully, hopefully not. He took another breath and remembered all his lessons. This was the time to be Lord Potter, Duke of Gryffindor. He straightened even further and took the last steps to Hermione as she opened his gift to her. A delicate gold chain that linked seven rubies encased in golden vines. Delicate, but substantial. And old. It took him forever to find the item in the Gryffindor vault but he knew it would be perfect for Hermione.

“Lady Ravenclaw,” he said roughly.

She whipped around, her long curls flying over her shoulder and shock written all over her face. But then…a shy smile flitted across her lips.

Oh thank Merlin, Harry thought, fighting against the urge to relax at her subtle approval.

“Would you do me the great honor of accepting my first betrothal gift?” He fought to say that slowly, projecting his voice just a tiny bit.

Hermione flushed prettily, but he knew she was more nervous than she would show. She stood carefully, before picking up the bracelet.

“Heir Potter, I would be delighted.” She held out her wrist and bracelet. “Help me put it on?”

Harry grinned, ignoring the cheers that erupted around them. He put the bracelet around her left wrist and, because he was still his father’s son, placed a kiss on the inside of her wrist. The cheers erupted again, nearly drowning out the sound of the bell, and Hermione’s face was beet red. He laughed and drew her into his arms.

“Love you,” he said in her ear.

“Love you too, jerk.”

“Congratulations Miss Ravenclaw, Mr. Potter,” Headmistress McGonagall called over the commotion, “Now, off to classes everyone! The first bell has already rung.”

Harry grinned into Hermione’s hair before leaning over and shouldering her bag. He held out his arm and escorted her out of a bustling Great Hall. Isobel, Nev, Draco, and Blaise joined them at the door.

“Congratulations!” Isobel threw her arms around both of them, squeezing for just a moment.

“Thanks, Isobel but,” Hermione narrowed her gaze at her best friend, “something tells me you knew this was happening.”

Isobel’s eyes widened innocently. “Whatever could you mean my dearest, bestest friend?”

“Ha. And how many times did we have to run back up the tower for a missing book this morning?” Hermione glared. “My arse is sore.”

Harry glanced over her shoulder before smiling innocently at her. “It’s a cute bum though.”

She pinched his side, blushing.

“Honestly Potter,” Draco groaned, rolling his eyes, “Hermione I say this as a dear friend to you, but I think you could do better.”

“Hey!” Harry yelled as everyone laughed, “Thanks, cousin.” He turned to Blaise, “Are you sure you want to be with him? Do you see how he treats family?”

Blaise snorted, lacing his fingers with Draco’s. “Oh yeah, he is a disloyal and cruel man. How have you been friends all these years?”

“Lot of hard work, I can tell you that,” Nev mumbled under his breath—not soft enough though because Draco shoved him lightly in the shoulder.

“Thanks, cousin,” Draco drawled.

Harry caught Hermione rolling her eyes at Blaise and Isobel who snickered in response.  Clearly, their friends were used to their bickering after five years.

“Hey, Fay!” Isobel called.

Fay turned but the smile on her face fell slightly at the sight of them. Or, Harry groaned internally, at the sight of Draco and Blaise.

“Hi Isobel,” she said, her smile turning stiff, “Congratulations Harry, Hermione.”

“Thanks, Fay,” Hermione said. “How was your summer? I haven’t seen you around since school started.”

Fay maneuvered herself to Hermione’s left side, as far away from Draco and Blaise as possible, Harry noted. He caught Nev’s eye who scratched his cheek with his left pointer finger. He nodded his head a fraction—this was going to get bad. It was bad enough last year with Draco and Blaise circling each other and the will-they won’t-they tension that nearly caused Harry to lock them in a broom closet to figure it out. But if he had to deal with it again with Draco, Blaise, and Fay, he was going to shove them in a broom closet sooner rather than later.

“It was…okay,” she grinned tightly, “Father wants to set up a betrothal for me soon, but Mum…well she’s muggle-born so she still doesn’t understand why.”

Harry winced sympathetically and joined Nev to carefully shield how ruthlessly cold Draco’s face just went.

“They didn’t have a contract, did they?” Isobel asked.

Fay shook her head. “No, but then Mum didn’t have a house to claim at the time either. And I’m the last Dunbar, so Father wants to make sure I have an heir.”

“That makes sense,” Hermione said, smiling softly, “I’m sure it will work out in the end.”

Harry bit back a snort. Yeah, it will work out, it will just take him and Nev to shove them in a closet and write out a contact for a litter of Malfoy-Dunbar babies. He frowned suddenly…he wasn’t sure if Blaise had a title in Italy. Right, Malfoy-Dunbar-Zabini babies.

Easy.

There was a brief, awkward silence before Isobel asked, “So what class do you have first?”

Draco cleared his throat and Nev shifted. “Transfiguration.” He cast a sidelong glance to Fay but she was pointedly looking forward. “I’m hoping we will learn more about the animagus process this year.”

“Merlin I hope so!” Harry said. “Haven’t you been working on the process, Fay?”

“Yes, with my father.” Fay smiled tightly at him before looking ahead.

He scratched his cheek with left pointer finger and decided that the next broom closet they passed would have to do.

“And where are our wise ol’Ravens off to then?” Blaise asked, his usual flirtatious tone falling a bit flat.

“Magical ethics,” Hermione grinned. It was one of her favorite classes—and Harry was sure it was partly because it became part of the curriculum because of her and the changes she made as a Hogwarts heir.

Harry, however, groaned and Nev and Draco winced sympathetically for him.

“Last year with the Doge twins Harry,” Nev said quietly, patting him on the shoulder. “You can do it.”

“And the first class where you have rights as her betrothed,” Draco whispered, careful not to let Hermione hear.

Harry grinned widely at that, suddenly remembering that he did just gain certain privileges as Hermione’s betrothed. The first of which was to shield her from the objectionable attention of a slimy, no-good, son of a—

“Harry, what on the green Goddess’s earth has you grinning like that?” Hermione asked.

He placed a quick peck on her head and practically sang, “Nothing dear!”

Hermione shared a look with Isobel and Fay that Harry chose to ignore. Today was going to be a very good day. And nothing was going to get him down.

 

///

 

Sirius took a moment to ground himself, shifting over the cushioning charm for the most comfortable position. He had gone out to the ritual circle to mediate, as was his practice for the last few years, but it was later in the morning than he liked. For early September, the sun still shone hot; he cast a cooling charm and refocused.

He took a deep breath and let his mind flow.

The twins were teething. Rose was debating going back to work. He wondered if she would continue with private animal exploration and study. Carina, his little star, was quite vicious with the family wand they let her practice with. Leo nearly tore down the manor the other day.

He took another breath as the thoughts slid through his mind.

He knew he would be free for an hour of mediation. It had been easier and easier to fall into the practice. The first time he felt the entire hour was spent filtering through the random thoughts in his head.

He took a deep breath and slowly released it.

His mind followed a familiar path. A shaded, dirt-packed trail down a mountain to the river Styx. With each step he took, he breathed a slow, deep breath. By the time he was down to the river, the outside world had faded and he no longer needed to focus on his breath to maintain his presence in the Underworld.

The river was deceptively gentle and smooth but he knew better than to cross without help. He had never crossed the river—he wondered if he was meant to now.

A boat appeared to his left and he approached the hooded ferryman.

“I have no money,” Sirius said.

“You have no passage,” the ferryman rumbled.

“He is with me.” Death appeared on his left-hand side. “I will carry us across the river, ferryman.”

The ferryman bowed and walked off the boat.

“Usually we talk on this side,” Sirius whispered as he clambered into the boat. Death floated to the stern and without movement, spurred it forward.

“I need to show you something.”

They walked through the Elysian fields. Sirius was seeing the only part of the underworld that his mortal mind could comprehend—a vast field of spirits—but he knew the underworld was much more than that.

They stopped in front of a large group of spirits, several of which looked to be tending to the others.

“Death is cleansing,” Death whispered, “But some deaths are magically disruptive, corrupt, cruel…even I cannot fully heal some violent deaths in an instant. Sometimes it takes time.”

Sirius saw children, adults, and even some animals—they were in pain. The others, who were helping, were—unique, shifting in form, there but not there. Sirius transformed to the Grim, understanding flowing through him without conscious thought. He bounded forward, nuzzling and cuddling the wounded spirits.

He was unsure how long he was there, but he was neither the first nor last to leave the wounded spirits. Many had been healed in his time there, had moved from the session into an afterlife beyond his purview. Many needed more time. Instinctually he knew it was time for him to return, that Death had called for him.

He shifted back and silently they returned to the river and crossed over.

“What happened to them?”

Death looked back to him; she was already floating back over the river without the aid of the boat.

“There were four. You have given me two. And now one is killing for life.”

Sirius jolted out of his meditation harshly. His cooling charm had long faded and he had sweated through his light meditation wear. The sun was high overhead and he knew he had been in a trance far longer than one hour.

He heard an elf pop away, knowing it was likely going to Grandmother or Rose to inform them he was awake.

He shuddered despite the heat and took a moment to orient himself, to ease his way back into the land of the living with slow deep breaths. He ran his hands over his body, a habit he formed to ground himself after his trips to the Underworld.

“Sirius!” Rose called from outside the circle.

“May this circle be open but unbroken by the blessings of magic,” he said, officially closing his meditation circle.

Rose rushed in. “Are you okay?” She waved a wand over him and Sirius recognized the rush of diagnostic and health charms.

“I’m fine, love.” He pulled her close.

“You’re trembling!” She gripped him tighter. “You’ve been meditating for hours—you, you had transformed at one point. We wanted…I—” Rose softly hiccuped.

“I’m sorry for worrying you love,” Sirius rubbed her back. “I was with Death—I’m sorry.”

Rose trembled in his arms and hid her face in his neck. “As long as she lets you come back to me.”

May your words have wings, he thought solemnly. He squeezed her tight then eased back. “Let’s go inside, I’m starving.” His lips quirked into a grin, hoping for a chuckle, but she frowned and pinched his side.

They walked slowly back to the house, hand in hand, in silence. Sirius took the time to organize his thoughts…he needed to talk to Grandfather.

“Mum! Dad! Cephée threw up again!” Carina shrieked. “Ew! Percy just threw up too!”

Rose heaved a sigh. “No more children.”

Sirius laughed loudly, a sharp barking sound. “Deal.”

 

///

 

Arcturus had spent many years planning the slow and careful demise of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore’s life during Wizengamot sessions. He had wondered, briefly, how he would pass the time after his untimely, tragic, sudden, and joyful death.

Then Elias Doge became Minister for Magic. His father, Elphias Doge, had been a Special Advisor to the Wizengamot, a trumped-up secretarial position Dumbledore bestowed on him, no doubt to make the fool feel special. But Elias was craftier, Arcturus knew that. How else did he maneuver himself from the dead-end position in the Department of Magical Transportation to Minister for Magic?

He needed to have Lucretia over again to review her memories of him from Hogwarts. Any bit of information would help. And maybe even have the boys join via their mirrors…if Arcturus remembered right, Elias had twins in their seventh year right now.

“Arguments for the opposition?” Chief Wix Harold Fawley called out.

Arcturus waited a moment, testing his own alliance. He saw Lucius lean back as well. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw Theron Nott roll his eyes before lighting his seal. He hid a smirk—Theron was never a patient sort.

“The proposed bill is overbroad and vague,” Theron rumbled. “It outlaws several black magic potion ingredients but also ingredients that are dark, not black.” He glanced over to Arcturus, smirking. “Some uneducated minds might not be able to tell the difference—” A murmur of protest swept through the crowd. “But some of these ingredients can be used to make healing potions or be used in fertility rituals that are can not be classified as black magic.”

Sometimes, Arcturus thought, his ancestors were being funny with their surname.

He lit his seal before someone could call for a rebuttal.

“Lord Black?” The Chief Wix barely repressed his smirk.

Arcturus raised an eyebrow at him. Hufflepuffs, those sneaky little badgers.

“Black magic is an abomination to our Lady Hecate,” he said plainly, staring down Amos Diggory, another pawn in the Light coalition—but what faction he was in, Arcturus didn’t know. The only downside to Dumbledore’s death as far as Arcturus was concerned was the fractioning and fracturing of the Light alliance. “However, by ignoring dark magic, or worse, pushing it into the same category as black magic, we ignore a precious part of our Lady Hecate. A part I would argue that is always in the foreground. She is not only the one to give us magic, not only the one who guards over our magical souls, but she is also the Goddess of Magic, Witchcraft, and the Dark Side of the Moon. A side many have wished to forget. This dishonors her.” He heard the whispers of confusion and once again cursed Dumbledore. At least his great-grandchildren will have a superior education—one that doesn’t gloss over or shy away from the shadows. “Without light, there would be no shadows; without night, there would be no day.” He paused again, hoping to convert a few more hardliners to a more moderate grey. “I long for the day the battle between light and dark settles into its natural cohabitation. Until that day, I will be here, in the middle, to remind you fools.”

He sat among the shocked silence and brooded over his slip. Fuck. He was too old to deal with fools and not call them out on it anymore, but that didn’t mean he wanted to call them out. He preferred a level of professionalism…Sirius will never let him forget this. The last time he lost his temper had been over the MATTHEW Act—but then, he had actually lost his temper; this time he just lost his patience.

The vote was called without further arguments on either side, but neither side succeeded in the two-thirds necessary to win their position. The Light coalition had grown since Dumbledore’s death—the stupid martyr—but so had the Grey alliance. At least the Grey alliance was truly aligned on all issues or else the Light coalition might have won. The Dark alliance had shrunk considerably, but unfortunately for Arcturus, it would be more aptly named the Black alliance. Again, he cursed his ancestors for their sense of irony.

He immediately left the chambers, striding to the nearest apparition point. His patience had officially expired.

Lucius caught up with him. “Shall I put it in my calendar that once I reach my 95th birthday, I will no longer have the patience for the fools of the Wizengamot?” He smirked at him.

Arcturus scowled. “You’ll be lucky to reach your fifties without losing all your patience with these—” He stopped himself before he could say something truly terrible.

Lucius laughed loudly, drawing some attention from the lingering light-plagued limpets. “I’m sure Sirius will entertain me when you’re ready to retire.”

He snorted softly. “I wonder if the Chief Wix will realize there are actual decorum rules for the Wizengamot he can call upon when Sirius verbally eviscerates his enemies.”

“I hope not.”

“I won’t tell my successor—” Arcturus turned to see that Harold Fawley had joined him on the left. Fawley smirked at him. “If you promise not to leave anytime soon.”   

Arcturus quirked a brow. “I cannot tell if you expect a long or short reign as Chief Wix if you are measuring by my continued presence in the Wizengamot.”

“Only measuring my level of entertainment, Lord Black.” Fawley followed them toward the apparition points just beyond the hallway of floos. “Perhaps we can meet for lunch? To stave off my slow death from boredom.”

Arcturus resisted the urge to quirk a brow at the proposal. He had underestimated Fawley as a light pawn before his ascension to Chief Wix. Many from the Grey alliance supported Fawley in the position so Arcturus didn’t resist but…well, he still knew very little about the Chief Wix, only that he had been the longest in position over these five years at nearly a year and a half. He was Light-leaning, that was clear but far fairer to the Dark than any of his predecessors.

Arcturus nodded slowly. “If only to entertain, Chief Wix.”

Fawley smirked at him again, his eyes alight with mischief but Arcturus recognized a gleam quite similar to Sirius. Interesting. He would wait, before introducing Sirius, to evaluate Fawley’s positions…but if they were compatible, Sirius was far more entertaining than he.

Lucius jostled him and he turned to find Lucius glaring at the sudden crowd of people swarming the hall. The crowds within the hall swayed and thickened, a sudden outpouring of people from offices, eager to go home, as the five o’clock hour ticked near.

Lucius grumbled. “I hate when these sessions are too long.”

Fawley rolled his eyes. “I’ll try to shorten them for you Malfoy, so you don’t have to brush elbows with the working class.”

Lucius glared at him and suddenly Arcturus felt his age again—were they about to bicker like teenagers? If so, he was going to call Melania here to twist both their ears and tell them to behave.

“Gentlemen,” he warned softly as they walked through the crowd. Thank the goddess he still had his height, Malfoy and Fawley too, as the three of them together were an impressive and striking trio that cut through this stubborn crowd. They made it to the apparition points without a single elbow in their side.

Fawley stepped onto the apparition point. “I’ll send an owl, Lord Black. Perhaps sometime next week?”

He nodded. “Until then, Chief Wix.”

As Fawley disapparated, someone shoved him hard into Lucius. His wand was already in his hand as he turned to yell at the rude little arse when he saw several spells shot his way. He shielded immediately, blocking two, but he stumbled back, his shield too late for one spell struck his chest.

He thought he heard yelling, then strong hands on his chest, under his armpits…

Blood. There was blood on his robes. His chest felt tight, his whole world felt tight.

His only thought, however, before slipping into unconsciousness, was that the wix responsible was unprepared for the wrath of the House of Black.

Notes:

Yeah, I bet you weren't expecting that pairing...or maybe any of it?

Also, I could not come up with a chapter name-usually I know before I finish writing the chapter but not this time, so that might change in the future. *update: changed the title*

Also, to address some of the readers who are Snape fans, I understand your disappointment, but let's be real, Pettigrew on his own doesn't stand a chance against the Black family.

Also, also, I finally downloaded Grammarly so any further mistakes can be blamed on the app!

I hope you enjoyed the first chapter and thanks for reading!

Chapter 3: Blood

Summary:

Blood is life. Blood is death.

Professor Morgan was leaning against her desk when they entered the classroom. She was middle-aged by magical standards but didn’t look it. Her dark blonde hair fell in thick waves around a heart-shaped face and dark green eyes. She was dressed today as she always was, in the most elegant robes—and according to Hermione, robes that were always seen on Paris runways. All Harry knew was that she was the subject of several teenage fantasies and he was barely immune. It helped a little that his girlfriend also had the biggest crush on her.

Magical ethics was a mandatory class through all seven years since, well, their second year. Cousin Cedrella had initially taught it with the help of Great Aunt Cassie that first semester. Harry enjoyed the class with them immensely even though he knew it wouldn’t last. Great Aunt Cassie had spent most of the previous summer trying to find a replacement for them but it wasn’t until Great Uncle Alphard suggested an old…well, Harry didn’t know it at the time, but an old, scorned flame, Aneira Morgan.

He had found that out later, after he walked in on Great Uncle Alphard in the library with Dad, going on a drunken, despairing rant about that one who got away. It was the summer before third year, and it took him weeks to be able to look Professor Morgan in the eye again after hearing about—however briefly—the passionate and wild sex she had had with his Great Uncle. He shuddered even now, though it was his personal pet project to try to get her and his great uncle back together.

It was also his saving grace and distraction for the class because, while the content was truly fascinating, they shared the class with the seventh years. And for the last four years, he had to deal with the Doge twins. Elijah and Elizabeth Doge were the seventh year prefects for Hufflepuffs…and clearly only got into that house for their unwavering loyalty to themselves.

He sat next to Hermione, in the front row, a sacrifice he has willingly made every year for this class.

“Congratulations Harry, Hermione,” Padma said cheerfully as she sat next to Isobel behind them. Her words carried through the class and prompted everyone else to congratulate them. They replied with murmured thank yous, but Harry noticed that Elijah never actually congratulated him. That arse.

“Congratulations indeed,” Professor Morgan said, calling attention back to her. “And an interesting segue into our topic for today.”

Hermione perked up instantly. “How so Professor?”

Professor Morgan grinned, and with a wave of her hand, had the chalk writing on the broad behind her. Blood magic, it wrote. “Betrothals lead to marriages and in some magical marriages, blood bonds are sworn. Blood magic has been and remains the most controversial magical practice around the world today.” Murmurs swelled within the classroom. “Can anyone think of other types of blood magic?” Several hands shot in the area. “Miss Doge?”

“Magical sacrifices,” Elizabeth said, “Certain types of wards.”

“Excellent, two points to Hufflepuff. Miss Patil?”

“Protection spells and fertility rites.”

“Correct, two points to Ravenclaw. Mr. Doge?”

“Professor Morgan, are there not also some betrothal bonds that can be forced through blood magic?”

Harry’s clenched his hand before he could think. That bastard. Is that how he was going to try to spin Harry’s relationship with Hermione?

Professor Morgan frowned. “I suppose you are jumping ahead, Mr. Doge, and straight into the controversial issue of blood magic. Class, what do you think Mr. Doge is hinting at?"

Hermione raised her hand before he could. He wanted to personally decimate Elijah for that.

“Yes, Miss Ravenclaw?”

“Blood is a magical enhancer. Any spell, ritual, or bond that has been invoked by blood magic will be stronger, more powerful, and more potent than if it had been done without. Some spells do not care if the blood was forcibly taken or not, thus potentially subjugating someone of their own free will. However, there is research that shows that some spells do care if the blood was given consensually or not and that its consent or lack thereof does affect the potency of the spell. In fact, I would argue that any forced betrothal bond would not be as powerful and potentially weakened by the forced nature of the bond.

“Thorough and precise, five points to Ravenclaw.” Professor Morgan grinned at her before turning her gaze to him, “Mr. Potter, you grew up at Ravenswood, correct?”

Harry nodded sharply—this was the first time ever that she hinted at knowing his relation to the Black family. He had thought she avoided the issue because of Great Uncle Alphard.

“Would you be willing to share how the Ravenswood wards were created?”

“Oh,” Harry breathed. It had actually been one of his favorite stories growing up. “Ara, a daughter of the House of Black when the House was still in the Roman Empire, traveled to England on her own to explore. She had, well nowadays it would be considered a mastery, so, she had a mastery in ley lines. She found an intersection of four ley lines, creating a perfect compass with cross-quarter lines, where Ravenswood now sits. She began to build a home there but was attacked by local wix who wanted the ley line intersection for themselves. She defended the area and called for her brothers’ assistance, but they were far away so she had to defend it herself. In the end, she cast a circle on the ley line and sacrificed herself.” The entire class gasped. “When her brothers arrived, several acres of the countryside were encased in blood wards that would not allow anyone but blood relatives to pass. They eventually infused her sacrifice into the wards we have today. But, well, if you’re of Black blood, you can still feel her magic in the wards, all these centuries later.”

“You can still feel her magic?” Macmillan asked. “How horrid!”

Harry scowled, turning to face him. “It’s not horrid, it’s beautiful. Ara sacrificed herself for the idea of a safe home and she still protects us today.”

Macmillan still looked disgusted at the idea but Professor Morgan cleared her throat pointedly so Harry turned back around.

“Thank you, Mr. Potter, for sharing a bit of family history with us, ten points to Ravenclaw. And that brings us to the crux of the issue.” She paused, gazing intently at the class, “Blood magic is not inherently light or dark, but rather the intent of using blood makes all the difference. Ara Black used her blood to create wards that protect Ravenswood over a millennia later. A protection ward is considered Light magic, is it not?” She gazed around the class even though it was a rhetorical question. “However, Mr. Doge has brought up the counterpoint to this conversation, as subjugating someone else’s will is black magic. What many of you may not know is that the Imperious curse began as a blood-based potion that acted much the same way. The potion required the forcible taking of the victim’s blood and when done properly, it subjugated the person to the potioneer and it was nearly impossible to break.”

The entire class seemed frozen at the thought and Harry shuddered. It was one of his worst nightmares. He knew everyone thought he feared the Killing Curse above all, especially considering the memories that surfaced when he began to seriously train in occlumency… But no, the Imperious Curse…he had nightmares of being forced to hurt Hermione, hurt his family because of that curse.

“But, as Miss Ravenclaw has said, blood magic enhances and strengthens any spell or ritual. A protection spell’s power is doubled and yet a curse, equally so. Therefore, what is the most ethical position on blood magic?” She paused but no one hands rose and she grinned at their hesitation. Harry didn’t think there was a right answer. “Your next assignment, due at the start of the next class, will be a two-foot essay on the ethical use of blood magic. You must choose a position—are you for or against blood magic? Do its abuses outweigh its uses? Consider the opposition and directly address why your position is stronger.

 

///

 

“Time for dinner lads,” Sirius said as he secured Percy to his highchair and Tippy secured Cephée.

“Mum!” Percy yelled.

Sirius snorted. “Mum is not dinner anymore.”

“Mum! Mum!” Cephée and Percy began to chant.

“Oh Merlin, someone help me.” Sirius pinched the bridge of his nose and prayed for patience. Carina and Leo were gifts, precious gifts he never thought he would have. Perseus Regulus and Cepheus Orion were his punishment, karma for all bad deeds he had ever done.

He heard Rose’s laughter over his shoulder and the boys screeched with delight once they saw their mum.

“Hello, boys!” She greeted each with two smacking kisses on their cheeks and they giggled in response. “Are you torturing daddy?”

“Ha, ha,” Sirius pinched her side. “Did you gather our actual children?”

Carina’s bright laughter answered that for him. “Grandmama says it’s actually the opposite.”

Sirius frowned playfully. “I don’t know what Grandma is talking about it. I was a perfect little star just like you.” He rounded the table and pressed a kiss on her long, curly black hair.

Rose snorted. And then Leo entered the dining room, talking a mile a minute to Grandma about who knew what. Tippy was popping in and out with a variety of foods. And Sirius took a moment to breathe and enjoy the presence of his family. He wished Harry was there, but he was eagerly awaiting his mirror call for news about his betrothal plans.

“Where’s Grandpa?” Leo asked.

“Still at the Ministry dear,” Grandma answered, glancing at her watch. “The Wizengamot must’ve done a full day.”

Sirius shuddered. He was supposed to have joined Grandfather for the afternoon session. But by the time he got out of his meeting with Death…he had been too tired to go.

“Let’s wait a few more minutes then—” Rose stopped because at that moment the wards shuddered, alerting them all of Grandfather’s arrival home as well as Lucius.

“Stay here!” Sirius ordered as he ran through the halls. The minute they had apparated in, Sirius felt the magical wave of injuries, wrong, hurt along the wards. His wand in hand, he skidded around the corner to see Grandfather and Lucius covered in blood. “Fuck! What happened?” Sirius fell to his knees, falling back into the Hit Wix training he could never forget, casting diagnostics and patchwork healing charms.

“Piercing charm,” Lucius said roughly, “I think. Get ‘Meda.”

Sirius cast his Patronus immediately. “Lesson One. Ravenswood.” He turned back to Grandfather, stomach rolling. His grandfather had been attacked. Attacked. And after this morning, with Death, and… “Fuck! Fuck!” Sirius hit his hands to the ground hard and then refocused.

A pop of apparition alerted him to ‘Meda before the wards could. And then he was pushed aside as she went to work. Lucius sat next to him, breathing heavily.

“Tippy!” He called.

She appeared instantly, her hands wringing as she glanced nervously at Grandfather. “Yes, Master Sirius?”

“Go to the family. Tell them we are having an emergency Gathering.”

She nodded sharply before disappearing with a pop.

Sirius turned to Lucius. “You injured?”

He shook his head. “I’m fine. We cast shields but not before one spell came through.”

Sirius nodded, a lump forming in his throat. “Where were you?”

Lucius glanced at him, face pale but eyes set. “We were at the apparition points for the Ministry.”

On cue, Sirius felt a ward notification; Aurors were requesting entrance to Ravenswood. Sirius shuddered, sudden anger rolling through him. The fucking Ministry. His grandfather was attacked in the fucking Ministry and now, nearly ten minutes later, they were arriving? For what? To help? To interrogate?

“I have extra robes in my rooms. Get changed and join everyone in the Gathering.”

Lucius’s eyebrows shot up. “I thought I wasn’t allowed in that room?”

“Usually,” Sirius stood up and reached down to help Lucius. He turned back to ‘Meda and Grandfather. He was looking better, not as pale as he had been. “‘Meda?” Sirius whispered, hesitant to interrupt her focus.

“I need blood replenishing potions ASAP.” ‘Meda didn’t look up from Grandfather’s chest, her wand still moving in quick, decisive movements.

“Kreacher!”

“Yes, M-m-master S-Sirius?”

“Go to Cassiopeia and ask her to bring several blood replenishing potions directly to the foyer.”

Kreacher nodded and popped away.

“Anything else?”

“Another Healer.” ‘Meda looked up, a short break in her stalwart attention. “The piercing charm went through his lung, Sirius. We’re lucky it didn’t hit his heart. But I can’t heal this alone.”

Sirius cast another Patronus, with a bit more effort than the first. “Uncle Iggy, I need to you come to Ravenswood foyer immediately. It’s a life or death matter.”

He appeared less than a minute later, took one look at the scene, and knelt opposite to Andromeda. “What do you need me to do?”

Sirius took a breath but forced himself to walk away, and through the front door. He felt Lucius follow him.

“You need to get cleaned up,” Sirius muttered.

Lucius snorted. “I’m not about to let you face off a bunch of aurors alone. It’s not worth the lecture I’d have to endure from my wife.”

“Cissy is quite vicious.” Sirius held out his arm, which Lucius grabbed after a moment’s hesitation, and apparated them to the edge of the wards. At this location, Lucius and he could see several Aurors but they could not see them. Yet.

He walked through the last ward line but stopped before he reached the first. In between these ward lines, the Aurors could see him but minor charms and jinxes would still be stopped by the first ward line. Ravenswood was not the most well-warded property in England for nothing and only Hogwarts could boast better wards in the British Isles.

“Auror Shacklebolt,” Sirius called out to the only one he recognized.

“Sirius! I mean, Heir Black, I—”

“Who attacked Lord Black, Duke of Blackmoor?” Sirius cut him up off harshly. He felt Lucius step forward next to him and “ahem” in that rather arrogant way of his. “And Lord Malfoy, Earl of Wiltshire?”

“Lord Malfoy, um,” Shacklebolt stared at his shirt pointedly, “are you injured?”

“No, but Lord Black was. Who attacked us?”

Shacklebolt sighed. “We were hoping you’d tell us. By the time we arrived on the scene, you were gone and witnesses were frightened and—”

“Useless,” Sirius snarled. “Arrived on the scene? They were attacked in the Ministry! Did you have no auror presence in the Atrium? Near the floos? Near the apparition points? These are the entrances to our government and your offices are they not?”

“Heir Black, we do have some aurors present, yes, but it was five o’clock… Everyone was leaving… We had no clear line of sight.”

Sirius growled. “Who was stationed there? Would they submit their memories of the incident?”

“It would be useless if they didn’t see anything, Heir Black.”

“No it wouldn’t be,” Lucius said coolly. “There’s enough ambient magic within the Ministry and especially around myself and Lord Black that it is very likely we could observe people we did not see in memory.”

“That would still take a very powerful pensieve, Lord Malfoy,” one of the aurors snarled, “Not that we would have one.”

“The Black family owns such a pensieve,” Sirius said shortly, “I’d be willing to allow the lead auror on this case access.” He could tell that a few aurors were disgruntled and distrusting of the idea but he couldn’t care less. The Ministry was better in some ways than it was under Fudge, but Doge…well, his father had worshipped Dumbledore and mourned him loudly, publicly, and encouraged others to do the same. If his son was cut from the same cloth, at best he was a fool but at worst he was a fanatic follower. Either way, it was still the unofficial stance of the Black family to not trust anything or anyone from the Ministry.

Shacklebolt, however, nodded sharply. “I’ll collect as many memories as I can.” He glanced at Lucius. “Will Lord Black and Lord Malfoy also be submitting memories?”

Lucius nodded. “Of course, anything to aid in the investigation of the attempted murder  of two nobles.”

Shacklebolt sighed in relief. “Lord Black has survived his injuries then?”

Sirius growled. “So far.”

“Shouldn’t we bring him to St. Mungo’s then?” One of the aurors called out.

Sirius shook his head. “No. Our family healers are tending him. We will update you if there is…a change.”

Shacklebolt nodded stiffly. “I’ll send an owl once I’ve gathered all the memories.”

“Until then.”

Sirius turned and stepped back through the wards without another word. Lucius followed and held Sirius’s extended arm for the return trip. They apparated back into the foyer but no one was there, only a pool of blood on the marble floor.

“We need to destroy all magical connections to his spilled blood,” Lucius murmured, stripping out of his ruined robes. “I didn’t have time to see if I left any behind at the scene.”

Sirius ran a hand over his face. “We should have asked but…”

“No need to give them the opportunity to lie to our face.”

“Tippy!” Sirius called. She appeared immediately before him. “Can you bring Grandmother to me, please? And…and an update on Grandfather.” Tippy nodded quickly before popping away.

“Oh, Sirius!” Grandmother cried out as she appeared in the foyer. She squeezed him tightly. “Oh, I can’t even…” She hiccuped softly and Sirius rubbed his hand soothingly on her back.

“Grandmother?” He questioned softly.

“He’s stable,” She hiccuped again, “And furious of course, but Andromeda and Ignatius won’t let him leave his bed.” She laughed wetly, wiping tears from her eyes. “What do you need from me, dear?”

Sirius sighed, tension leaving his shoulders for the first time in what felt like hours even though it had only been an hour at most.

“Lucius and I are going to purge his magical connection to his blood and…”

“As his magical wife, I’m the next best thing to help assist you.” Grandmother nodded firmly and turned to Tippy, “Please bring any clothes…well, any things that have Arcturus’s blood on. Provide Andromeda and Ignatius with robes if necessary.”

Tippy popped away and within moments, clothes began appearing on top of the pile Lucius had started in the pool of blood on the foyer floor. Grandmother had begun to draw a circle line with her wand and Lucius was changing without an ounce of body shame into clean robes after a few extensive cleaning charms on any blood that dried on him. For a moment, Sirius was prepared to start the ritual when a vial of blood appeared onto the pile of clothes. They stopped and stared.

Someone… Sirius growled. It was proof…definitive proof that someone had planned for this attack. That someone had a want for Grandfather’s blood.

“Blood magic,” Lucius whispered.

Tippy appeared before him, looking exhausted in a way that alarmed him. She must have expended a lot of her magic to look this way.

“Tippy where did you find this?”

“Albania sir.”

All three exclaimed, “Albania?”

She nodded vigorously. “I not see any wix but I felt bad magics so I took it and left.”

“Bad magics,” Grandmother whispered. “Oh Lady Hecate, guard us.”

“Can you sense any more blood?” Lucius asked.

Tippy shook her head. “That be all.”

Sirius breathed a sigh of relief. At least they got it before it had been used. “Come on,” he gestured to the two of them, “Let’s get this over with. We still have…gods, we still have other things to worry about.”

Blood magic. Magical souls wounded even in death. Assignation attempts.

Their enemy was on the move.

Notes:

woo! another chapter down. thank you, everyone, for leaving wonderful comments <3

FYI, this might be edited in the future-- I had some late inspo/new thoughts but decided to post this as is in order to keep with my schedule. I'll make a note if I do edit it and if it substantially changes the chapter that you *should* reread it.

Otherwise, enjoy and may the force be with you :)

Chapter 4: War

Summary:

The House of Black is at war.

Sirius followed Lucius into the room for the impromptu Gathering. Grandmother had retreated back to her rooms to care for Grandfather. Rose had Percy in her lap and Aunt Lucy had Cephée in hers. Dora was distracting Carina and Leo with her infamous pig nose but nothing could ease the tension in the room.

“Lucius?” Cissy held her hand out for her husband and no one commented on the slight tremble in her fingers. Lucius gripped her hand, placing a quick kiss to her fingers before settling beside her at the table. 

“I’m fine,” he murmured. 

“And Arcturus?” Uncle Cygnus asked, looking to Sirius. 

Sirius settled uneasily into the head chair at the table. “Grandmother reports he’s stable. Tippy!” She appeared to his left. “Go to Andromeda, ask if she can come to the Gathering.” Tippy nodded, ears flapping, before popping away. 

“Who the bloody fuck attacked Arcturus in the middle of the fucking ministry!” Uncle Alphard yelled. 

“Alphard!” Several voices yelled, or in the case of Uncle Cygnus, sighed dramatically. Uncle Cygnus waved a hand to Sirius’s children, the only young ears in the room, “There are young children present, in case you’ve forgotten,” he drawled. 

Sirius glanced at Carina and Leo, both of them staring at him, their eyes wide and worried. He held out his arms and they immediately gathered in close. “Grandfather is fine,” he murmured softly. He glared at his uncle before looking to Dora. “Is your dad here? Could he—”

“No Daddy!” Carina pushed away and stomped her foot. “I want to stay. I want to know what happened.” 

“He’s at home, but I’ll send a patronus,” Dora said. 

Sirius nodded to Dora gratefully before turning to his fierce little stars. He gathered Carina close again. Leo had tucked his riotous head of dark blond curls into his neck and was sniffling. He squeezed them closer. “Grandfather is fine,” he said softly, “He was hurt but Cousin ‘Meda and Great Uncle Iggy are taking care of him. Cousin Lucius brought Grandfather safely home and now the  adults  are going to protect the family.” 

“Daddy!” Carina yelled but Sirius cupped her cheek before she could work herself up to a rant.

“Look at me little stars, both of you,” Sirius reached up and brushed Leo’s hair from his face. “I know you want to help, but you are still young—”

“But—” Carina tried to yell but Sirius narrowed his eyes in consternation and she stopped and pouted. 

“It is the adult’s job to protect the children. Period.” He looked between the two of them. “What’s lesson number one?”

“Family first,” they both said immediately. 

“Family first doesn’t mean rushing headfirst into danger because there might be a threat,” Sirius said solemnly, laughing and cringing internally as all the memories of him doing exactly that filtered across his mind. He had learned that lesson the hard way, in a Ministry holding cell before his grandfather had calmly come to his rescue. “Family first means gathering the family close, sharing all the information we have, and coming up with a plan together.”

“But—”

“Carina,” Rose said sharply, “You are my baby. You are not old enough.” 

“Daddy!” Leo and Carina glared at their mum before turning to him, Carina’s dark blue eyes and Leo’s grayish-brown pleading with him.

“Lesson number six.”

Leo frowned, struggling to remember but Carina said softly, “If you cannot, someone else can.” 

Sirius nodded encouragingly. “Which means?” 

“Help!” Leo said loudly, his pride over knowing the answer causing him to shout, “If you can’t do something, you ask for help.”

“Good job, Leo,” Sirius smiled. “Now, my little stars, I know you want to help, but this is not the job for you. Not yet.” He shushed Carina softly before she could try to argue again. “When you are older, you will be here to help the family but for now, the best help you can be for the family is to stay with Cousin Ted. Okay?” 

They both nodded, Carina somewhat mulishly. 

“Maybe we can make cookies for Grandpa Arcturus?” Ted’s voice carried over from the door. “I know cookies always make me feel better.” 

Sirius could see both of his kids perk up at the thought cookies, even though they both tried to fight their natural joy. He stifled a grin and glanced at Ted. “That sounds like a great plan, Ted, and a perfect way to help the family right now.” He turned back to Carina and Leo. “Will you please go with Cousin Ted and help him make cookies for everyone?” 

“Yes, Daddy,” Leo said, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before bouncing off to Ted.

“Mmokay,” Carina mumbled, mollified and defeated. Sirius hugged her quickly and kissed her forehead.

“Thank you, my little star.” 

Carina nodded before walking over to Lucius. “I’m glad you’re okay Uncle Lucy.” Lucius reached his arms out for a hug and Carina quickly wrapped her arms around him. 

“Thank you starshine,” he said softly, “And thank you for making us cookies. That’s exactly what I need to feel better.”

Carina mumbled something but Sirius couldn’t hear. Judging from the amused look on Lucius’s face, it was probably some snark over the situation. 

No one could ever accuse a daughter of the House of Black accepting defeat  gracefully . 

Finally, with one last, reassuring look from Ted, Carina and Leo left the room. Sirius sat back down at the head of the table, pressed his left palm to a rune, and sealed the room. Not a full seal, as he still wanted Andromeda to join them, but he did lock down the full house wards. No one was going in or out of Ravenswood without risking a fatal injury.

After Sirius felt the wards lock into place, he turned to Lucius. “What happened?”

Lucius shifted in his seat before sitting up even straighter. “We had left the Wizengamot session and were walking towards the apparition points. Chief Wix Fawley joined us after a moment and we were talking. There…there were a lot of people, everyone was leaving to go home.” Lucius frowned. “I…will need mediate to recall the exact words in our conversation but the Chief Wix noted my displeasure over the crowds and joked that he would try to get us out earlier so we wouldn’t have to deal with all the people.” 

Sirius frowned. Was that pertinent to the attack or was Lucius just being thorough?

“We three stood together and cut through the crowd to the apparition points—it was not difficult but bothersome. At the apparition point, Arcturus finalized a plan to have lunch with the Chief Wix and then Fawley apparated away. At that moment, someone pushed into Arcturus who stumbled into me. I turned and saw three spells coming at us. We shielded but one came through and struck Arcturus. I sent a widespread blasting spell, it pushed everyone away from us so I hoped it knocked down our attackers. At the very least, it distracted them and I dragged Arcturus to the apparition point and apparated us both here.” 

“Did you see who fired the spells?” Callidora asked. 

Lucius closed his eyes, still frowning. “I can’t…right now, I can’t see or connect anyone to the spells. But I’ll meditate on it. And hopefully, with the other memories, we can see who fired.”

“Other memories?” Callidora looked from Lucius to Sirius.

Sirius nodded. “Aurors arrived a few minutes after Lucius apparated here.” His lip curled in disgust and anger. “They also apparently didn’t see who attacked. But the lead auror on the case, Shacklebolt, agreed to gather the memories of the aurors who were on duty. We’ll review it, along with Lucius’s and Grandfather’s memories in our pensieve.”

“You can’t give the Ministry access to our pensieve!” Aunt Lucy looked appalled. “They’ll have to come into Ravenswood…into the dimensional pocket where it’s held.” 

Sirius almost growled—who cared about that when Grandfather was attacked!—but Rose placed a hand on his and cleared her throat. “Can we move it? Maybe to one of the dower properties?”  

“Grimmauld Place,” Cygnus said before anyone could suggest anywhere else. Sirius shuddered. He hadn’t stepped into Grimmauld in years. He honestly had hoped to die without ever going back to that place. It was a prison…one that he broke free from but his father, his brother…they never did. “Orion was brilliant with wards—no one can get in  or out  of that place without permission.” 

Callidora pursed her lips. “It has been used as the de-facto place of meeting for the Blacks before.”

“Mostly to those we wish to spite,” Cedrella muttered.

“Or who we don’t trust with access to Ravenswood,” Alphard added, “And right now, that’s everyone but family.” 

Tippy popped to his side and everyone focused on her. “Master Black be resting,” she said firmly, “Mistress Black and Missus Lucy’s Iggy be watching him.” 

“And Andromeda?” Sirius asked.

“She be coming now.” 

“Thank you Tippy. Go to Grandmother and see to her needs.”

Cepheus began to squirm and mumble in Aunt Lucy’s arms. Before he could build himself up to full-blown tantrum, Sirius reached out and took him into his arms. He bounced him gently as he thought through the night’s events. Cephée grabbed a chunk of his hair and chewed it. 

They haven’t even gotten to the worst bit of news.

“Grandmother, Lucius, and I performed a blood cleansing ritual.”

“Good thinking,” Dora muttered.

“Quick thinking,” Lucius countered, “As Tippy retrieved a vial of his blood from Albania.” 

Silence fell in a thick wave. Then someone choked on air and the yelling started. Sirius couldn’t tell who was saying what between Uncle Alphard’s ranting, Cousin Cedrella’s threats, and the rest of them going off. 

There was a loud bang at the door and everyone turned to see Cousin Cassie there with her wand out. “What the bloody hell is going on here?”

“Language,” Rose groaned, bouncing Percy, who had started to cry at the outburst. Sirius turned Cephée slightly, hoping that if he didn’t see his brother crying he wouldn’t also cry.

“Blood magic,” Cygnus growled. He turned back to Sirius. “Did you get all of it?”

Sirius nodded. “Tippy confirmed. She got it all before it could be used.”

“Did she say anything else? Did she see anything else?” Cygnus pressed.

Lucius and he shook their heads. “She sensed ‘bad’ magic, got the vial, and got out quick.” Sirius gestured Cassie in and Andromeda followed behind her. “‘Meda, how’s Grandfather?”

She sighed, dropping into the chair next to Dora. “He’s stable. The piercing charm was through and through. Cousin Iggy and I healed his lung and the puncture wounds. I transferred two blood replenishing potions directly into his stomach and he took another, as well as a deep tissue knitter before he fell asleep.” She looked at everyone in the room. “He will be fine,” she said firmly, “But, we’re lucky. He’s lucky. Two inches higher, and it would have pierced him straight through the heart.” 

Sirius shivered before clutching Rose’s hand. Grandfather was fine. He was safe and he was alive.

“So,” Cousin Cassie harrumphed, “the real question is about the idiot who attacked us…were they sharp with their wand work, or were they sloppy?” 

Dora leaned forward, catching Cousin Cassie’s eye. “It would depend on the blood magic, wouldn’t it? How many spells require the donor to live and how many don’t?”

“Or if there was an opportunist in the crowd,” Narcissa murmured. “Lucius and Arcturus were walking with the Chief Wix. What if Arcturus wasn’t even the target and they just missed hitting the Chief Wix?”

Sirius groaned. There were too many options, too many risks. He shook his head, thinking of his conversation with Death. Had that seriously just been this morning? 

“It doesn’t matter,” he said flatly. “Whether Grandfather was the target or Lucius or Fawley, someone took Grandfather’s blood. Someone has declared war on the House of Black. And I think it’s Voldemort.” 

 

///

 

Harry felt gross but Cho had insisted on Quidditch practice right after dinner and Draco insisted on a bitch session as soon as they could. So here he was, sweating, dirty, and wishing Cho had just quit the team after he made seeker instead of easily pivoting to chaser. If only he was the captain this year, he wouldn’t be wishing for a shower in an abandoned classroom watching Draco pace and mutter.

“Spit it out Draco,” he groaned, leaning against a desk and crossing his arms, “I have to mirror call Dad soon—you know he wanted to know how the betrothal went.” 

Draco sneered at him. “Oh so sorry to keep you from telling your dad what he already knows happened.” He threw his hands in the air. “Was it really a surprise when Hermione said yes? You’ve guys been together for years now.” 

Harry scowled but bit his lip from saying something he’d regret. He knew Draco was just upset over Fay. 

Nev heaved a sigh worthy for the stage. He pushed himself off the desk at the front of the class. “Draco—”

Draco glared at him. 

Nev put his hands up in surrender. “Why don’t you just talk to her?” 

“Oh, what a brilliant plan. Why haven’t I thought of that? How quaint, how pure and simple.” 

Harry caught Nev’s eye and they both winced. Draco was really working himself up into a full-blown rant.

“So simple in fact,” Draco continued, pacing in front of them, “It’s almost like I thought of it before—and, you know, already  tried !” He whirled at them. “She runs from me! And Blaise. And—”

The door opened and Blaise walked in, rubbing the side of his face. He winced when he saw Draco and Draco rushed to him.

“Are you okay?” 

Blaise nodded, squeezing Draco’s hand. “Yeah but…” He sighed. “This might be more difficult than we thought.” 

“What?” Harry frowned, sharing a confused glance with Nev. “What happened?”

Blaise settled on a desk across from them and groaned. “I tried to talk to Fay in the library.” 

“Fuck,” Nev whispered. Harry patted his shoulder sympathetically; yeah, his plan clearly failed.  

“Yeah,” Blaise said flatly. “Long story short, she slapped me and we’re both banned from the library for a month.” 

“She slapped you?” Draco yelled, his face going ruddy with temper. 

“Hey, calm down,” Blaise tugged Draco to him. “It’s kind of my fault? Maybe. I don’t know, she was walking away so I grabbed her arm and she yelled and I yelled and then she slapped me. So…yeah, maybe I deserved it a little bit.” 

Harry winced. “Yeah,” he said slowly. “How can you two be so gone on her and not—”

“Shut up,” Draco snapped.

“Hey!” Blaise raised his hands. “To be fair, it’s not like triads are common—”

“Yeah they are,” Harry, Nev, and Draco protested immediately. 

Blaise shook his head. “They aren’t common outside of the Black family. I didn’t even realize that was what Draco wanted until…”

Until Harry threatened Draco that he would shove them into a broom closet if he didn’t do something soon. They had all been friends and watching Draco pine after Blaise and Fay, watching Blaise and Fay circle each other, both insecure of each other while clearly having feelings for each other and Draco and…ugh, watching that had been annoying for him, but distressing for Hermione. And it had been their OWL year—yeah, that was way too much stress for their fifth year. 

This year, Harry would like to promise Hermione a peaceful, stress-free year. But so far, Fay refused to join them for library sessions or pickup Quidditch games and he knew both Isobel and Hermione were upset at losing a friend.  

“Right, well, do you think she’ll listen to me?” Nev glanced between the three of them. “I mean, we do live in the same tower, so she’s probably in the common room now.” 

“And what would you say?” Blaise asked at the same time Draco yelled, “You can’t tell her how we feel!”

Everyone turned to Draco, eyebrows raised and he glared back—his pouty glare though, so Harry knew he felt defeated. “It’s ungentlemanly,” Draco muttered, “She should hear from us how we feel about her.” 

Nev snorted and teased, “We call it cowardly in Gryffindor.” Draco snarled but Nev laughed. “I’m not going to tell her how you feel. I’ll just loudly talk about how normal triads are and how the Black family is famous for having a few.” 

Blaise frowned, thinking, and asked, “And how are you going to do that?” 

Nev glanced at Harry, smirking, “Gryffindor’s honor.” He raised his right hand in the air, “I’ll get it done without saying a word about either of you.” 

Draco’s eyes narrowed, trying to find the loophole in his pledge. “Okay,” he said slowly, still unsatisfied but stuck without another way around it.

“Great!” Harry clapped his hands. “With that settled, I’d like to go shower now.” 

Draco muttered under his breath, “Yeah okay, fine.” 

Harry rolled his eyes as Nev followed him out the door. “Good night Draco, Blaise. See you tomorrow!” 

“Bye!” Blaise called after him. 

Nev and he slowly trudged up the stairs. After they were a good distance from the classroom, Harry asked, “So how are you going to do it?”

Nev dissolved into a fit of laughter and Harry started snickering, imagining what Nev had in mind. 

Nev straightened with great effort and fixed his tie, an evil glint in his eye. “Well, as Fay and I are the sixth year prefects, it is our job to educate and foster the younger kids. So I’m going to call a meeting with all the younger years and tell them all about triad relationships and that if they have more questions they should ask me, or you, or Draco, as the Black family is infamous for having triad relationships.” Nev glanced to him, smirking, “While looking straight into Fay’s eyes.” 

Harry snorted before dissolving into breathless laughter. “Merlin, I wish I could be there—” He paused, eyes alight with mischief. “Actually, if you give me an hour I can shower and run back with my cloak!” Last year had been the first time he was allowed to take the cloak to Hogwarts…well, he was pretty sure “allowed” actually meant that Dad had made a convincing duplicate to fool Mum into thinking he hadn’t brought it with him. It was…nice to have a piece of his first dad with him at Hogwarts and he was  almost  over the fact that Dumbledore had stolen the cloak from him. He felt a duty to use the cloak at lease once a week, in honor of having it back where it belonged, with a  Potter .

Nev laughed sharply. “Yes perfect, then you can be my witness so Draco and Blaise can’t accuse me of lying.” 

Harry grinned. “Brilliant. Give me an hour!” Harry ran off, jogging up to Ravenclaw tower at a steady pace. 

He found a first-year at the knocker, near tears, and sighed. This was definitely the worst part about Ravenclaw tower. He smiled at George. “Hey George, riddle giving you a hard time?” 

George hitched his bag higher on his shoulder. “I can figure it out,” he said quickly, “I know I can but…”

Harry clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, kid, I’m pretty sure it’s supposed to stump us at times.” 

The Grey Lady appeared beside him at the moment. He bowed his head. “Hello, Miss Ravenclaw.” 

“Mr. Potter, Mr. Lewis.” 

“Hi,” George said softly, shifting closer to Harry. 

“Mr. Potter’s assessment is correct,” she said, looking back to the Eagle Knocker, “How else are you to learn if you don’t know the answers.” She gestured to the door, and Harry gamely knocked. 

“My life can be measured by hours,” the Eagle started, “I serve by being devoured. Thin, I am quick. Fat, I am slow. The wind is my foe.”

“I said fire,” George started, “but—”

“Incorrect,” the Eagle said. 

“Right,” George groaned. 

Harry scratched his head. Six years and he has never heard the same riddle twice. He wondered how the hell Rowena Ravenclaw managed it…he was sure it was one of Hermione’s many side projects. 

“Um…”

“A tricky one, to be sure,” the Grey Lady said, before walking through the door into the common room.

“I wish I could do that,” George muttered.

“Same here,” Harry chuckled. “But I think I got it. Its life is measured in hours…so a candle?”

The door swung open. 

George sighed in relief. “Thanks, Harry!” 

He smiled, patting him on the back. “No problem, and don’t be afraid to knock. Sometimes it’s  wise  to ask for help.” 

George snickered before running off to his friends. Harry glanced around and found Hermione near the fireplace with Isobel, Luna, and a few other girls. She looked up to him, grinned widely, and waved him over.

He stopped behind her chair and pressed a quick kiss to her hair. “Evening ladies,” he said, winking. Several of the younger girls giggled and blushed.

“Evening Casanova,” Hermione drawled, rolling her eyes. She sniffed loudly before turning to him and frowning. “You stink. I thought the practice was over hours ago.” 

“Draco called an emergency cousin gathering,” Harry said, shifting to sit on the edge of her chair. “I’m actually just here to shower and I’m going to meet back up with Nev.” 

Hermione raised an eyebrow and Harry nodded, knowing she had correctly guessed that it was Fay Draco was worried about. She sighed in relief. “Well, I hope you solve that issue soon.” 

“Fay is hanging out with a lot of wrackspurts though,” Luna said dreamily, “So be careful.” 

He chuckled. Trust Luna to say everything and nothing all at the same time. “Thanks, Luna, I’ll warn the others.”

She beamed at him as everyone laughed softly around them. He was glad that Isobel befriended Luna almost as soon as she was sorted. Luna was…strange…but strange in such a Ravenclaw way that Hermione was constantly asking her questions. He figured learning how Luna saw the world was one of the few things that Hermione ever struggled to understand, not that it stopped Hermione from trying to figure it out. 

Harry glanced at his watch. “I got to go,” he said, popping back up, “I’ll be back before curfew.” He pressed a quick kiss to Hermione’s cheek before bounding up the stairs to his room. “Hey, Kevin!” He called to his roommate, who was on his bed making careful notes about the runes laid out on his bed, before stepping into the adjoining showers. 

“Hey Harry, wait!” 

Harry popped his head back from the bathroom door. “What’s up?”

Kevin pointed to Harry’s bed, “Your mirror mate, it’s been buzzing.”

Harry frowned, before walking back to his bed. He knew he should have called his dad earlier but Dad never really called him. Dad knew he would call him before bed, at the very least. He opened his side table just as his mirror started to buzz again. 

“Dad,” Harry said, answering the call. 

Dad’s face appeared in the mirror, but it wasn’t…He looked drawn, and pale, and… Harry collapsed onto his bed. 

“Dad?” He croaked. 

“Everyone’s alive,” Dad started firmly. But that wasn’t comforting at all. 

The rest of the conversation did not go better.

Notes:

A day late, dollar short. Oops! But in my defense, I usually write on Sundays, and I couldn't finish up the chapter because of Mother's Day. So, happy belated Mother's day!

I hope y'all are staying sane during this quarantine and staying safe. I know I'm about to reach the limits of my sanity so I'm finding new ways to entertain myself.

Anyone have any good fanfics to recommend?

Chapter 5: Defense

Summary:

The best defense is a good offense.

 

*Trigger Warning*

There is a brief conversation about rape. There are NO descriptions of rape and there is only a *there if you squint* reference to a non-main character being a victim of rape. Mostly the conversation is Prof. Lupin explaining consent and that the use of lust potions invalidates consent.

The next morning, Harry went to the end of the Hufflepuff table. The first years were startled and sent confused looks to their prefects, but everyone else mostly ignored him. Hermione had chosen to sit next to him this time, which he knew was for their betrothed status—and he couldn’t even really appreciate it.

Draco and Nev joined him as soon as they entered.

“Morning,” Nev said softly as he sat down.

Draco grunted.

Hermione reached over and prepared their tea silently. They started to eat, in silence, knowing their brief moment of stolen peace would disappear once the morning newspapers hit.

Harry was sure he heard the first gasp from the Head Table, but soon murmurs and furtive glances were coming from every table. Hedwig had delivered the paper to Hermione, per usual, before settling on Harry’s shoulder. Harry caught a glimpse of the headline: “LORDS BLACK AND MALFOY ATTACKED; LORD BLACK CRITICALLY INJURED!”

“It’s very brief,” Hermione whispered, “A statement from Auror Shacklebolt confirming that Lor—that Great-Grandfather Black was injured but healed and resting at home.”

Harry squeezed Hermione’s hand and slowly sipped his tea. It was important to represent a united front against whoever orchestrated the attack even if…well, even if they didn’t really know who it was. Dad didn’t have enough information to pass on. Just a warning to be careful, to pay attention to anything unusual, and to not cause trouble. That was a first from him.

Harry tensed, sensing someone walking towards them. He turned to see Sullivan Fawley approaching from his side of the table.

“Fawley,” he said, careful of his tone. Dad had gone over the various theories of the attack, including that the target might have been Chief Wix Fawley, Sullivan’s dad. Harry didn’t agree but they had to tread carefully.

“Potter,” Sullivan sat near him and nodded to them in turn, “Longbottom. Malfoy. Lady Ravenclaw.”

Nev nodded back, Draco grunted, but Hermione smiled and said as planned, “How are you doing Sullivan? Is your father okay?”

Fawley nodded stiffly. “He’s fine, of course, shaken and angry.” He stared at Harry. “He’s tried to contact your family but he hasn’t heard from them. He’d be relieved to know your great-grandfather is well.” Fawley turned to Draco. “And your father too, of course.”

“My dad locked down the house,” Harry said, his voice carrying ever so slightly, just enough for the eager ears to hear, “All mail was redirected to Gringotts. I’m sure they’ll respond soon.”

“‘Course,” Fawley

“Oh Harry, that reminds me!” Hermione said, her voice carrying over as well, “I need to write to Centurion Rugnut—he’ll want to hear of our betrothal of course, but maybe I can send along a missive to reach out to your father as well.”

The Blacks were formally aligned with the Goblin Horde but, for various reasons that honestly confused Harry half the time, that alliance had been kept secret. Harry was sure it had been formed during his first year, but, well…he hadn’t been fully briefed on everything that happened that year. He honestly wasn’t sure if he would have ever been briefed on it…until now.

Hermione, however, was well known to be aligned with the Goblin Horde—honestly, it was kind of amazing her relationship with the Horde. So it wouldn’t be a surprise that she would contact them over an attack of her betrothed’s family or that the Horde would be willing to work with the Blacks as a favor to Hermione. Dad was very clear about this part of the plan—that the notion of the Goblin Horde helping them was because of Hermione and not their own, very secret alliance. Harry didn’t know why, but he hoped, when they went home for Mabon, it would become clear.

“I’m sure Hedwig would be willing to make the trip for you,” Harry said. On cue, Hedwig hopped over to Hermione’s shoulder with a little hoot and Hermione rummaged through her backpack for some parchment and a quill.

Fawley cleared his throat roughly. “It would be an immense relief to me, Lady Ravenclaw, to know the Goblins are looking into this attack as well.” He caught Harry’s eye before staring meaningfully at Hermione. “My father was up all night at the Ministry trying to figure out who and how this happened…and…”

“And who the target was,” Draco added icily.

Fawley nodded stiffly. “It was an unusual group to target.”

“Two prominent members of the Grey alliance and a prominent Light leader who leans neutral?” Neville started sarcastically. “Either the Light isn’t happy with your father cozying up to the Grey or…”

“The Dark faction is hoping to clear out the Grey.” Elijah Doge sauntered over. He smirked at Harry before shifting to a soft smile for Hermione and sitting down close to her.

Harry wanted to punch him in the face.

“How are you Lady Ravenclaw?” He bowed his head to her. “It must be troubling to deal with such a crisis in your potentially new family.”

Hermione frowned, catching the not-so-subtle hint that Harry’s family was not yet hers, not yet her responsibility or burden. “It is indeed troubling, Mr. Doge. But I have every confidence in my family to appropriately deal with our enemies. The Houses of Black and Potter have not stood for centuries for naught.”

“And yet yours has stood for millennia,” he countered easily, “even without…active participation.”

Hermione quirked her lips into a semblance of a smile as she folded up her finished letter. She tied the letter around Hedwig’s leg as she said, “I wouldn’t say without participation, considering the fact that my citadel has been the home of one of the greatest wix schools in the world.”

Elijah laughed and Harry still wanted to punch him in the face. “Touché, Lady Ravenclaw.” He leaned closer to her, obviously trying to go for charming but Harry felt it was almost leering as he said, “And what a beautiful citadel it is.”

Sullivan grunted and Harry shared his frustration at the turn of conversation. Trust Elijah to choose now—or really any moment he could—to flirt with Hermione. Before he could redirect the conversation, or call him out for a duel—gods he wish he could—, someone cleared their throat behind Draco.

Everyone shifted their attention immediately to the newcomers, startled, as they were all engrossed in their conversation.

“Fay,” Draco breathed.

She stood defiantly, her shoulders back, chin up, but Harry could see a slight shake in her free hand. Her other hand, however, gripped Blaise’s hand tightly. Harry quickly glanced to Neville, noticing a ghost of a smile. Damn—he didn’t realize Neville actually had a chance to go through his plans.

“It’s almost time for class,” she said. She held her hand out to him. No one said a word about the slight tremble in her fingers. Draco jumped up and grabbed her hand without a second’s hesitation. She smiled widely and in the next moment, Draco had her up against his chest, threading his free hand through her hair and firmly kissing her. Fay made a muffled noise of shock before settling into the kiss. She never let go of Blaise’s or Draco’s hands.

Draco released her a moment later, panting, as the rest of the Great Hall whispered loudly.

“Now really,” Headmistress McGonagall called exasperated.

“Ten points to Gryffindor,” Professor Sinistra countered after a slight smile to the Headmistress, “for being brave.”

Remus—Professor Lupin laughed loudly before adding, “Ten points to Slytherin, for acting swiftly.”

McGonagall scowled at her two professors before pressing her lips into a tight smile. Harry began cheering and the rest of the Great Hall joined in. At least there was some good news for today.

Fay blushed furiously at the attention but smiled as she saw the exuberant smiles of both Draco and Blaise.

“Let’s go to class,” she said, blushing.

Draco quickly grabbed his things. He gave an incredulous glance to Neville before grinning widely at Blaise.

“I’ll catch up,” Neville said, smirking, as Draco and Blaise arranged themselves around Fay and led her out the Great Hall.

Once they left the Great Hall, Harry sighed. “I wish I could have seen her face, Nev.”

Neville grinned widely before it dropped. “I forgot to tell you.” His shoulders tightened for a second before relaxing. “Well, she’s a Gryffindor for a reason—I knew she’d act quickly once she understood.”

Hermione sighed heavily. “Thank all the gods for that.” She frowned suddenly. “Dammit, I think Luna won the bet.”

Harry laughed sharply. “‘Mione, love, you don’t bet against Luna.”

Hermione grinned, kissing Harry quickly on the cheek. “Where’s the fun in that? Besides, she said Ravenclaw isn’t going to win the Quidditch cup—do you still not want me to bet against Luna?”

Harry frowned seriously. “She didn’t actually say that, right?”

Sullivan laughed. “You’ll probably still beat us though if it makes you feel better.”

Harry snorted. “Well, when Diggory graduated, your team didn’t stand a chance.”

“Where’s your House pride, Fawley?” Doge snapped bitterly. He was one of the Chasers for the Hufflepuff team. He opened his mouth to continue but Hermione stood up suddenly.

“Nope, enough Quidditch talk.” Hermione started to gather up her things. “Harry, let’s go to class.”

Harry smirked at Doge, before grabbing Hermione’s book bag and sliding it over her shoulder. “‘Course, love, let’s go.”

She looped her free arm around his as they walked out of the Great Hall. Harry glanced back once and was relieved when Doge had moved back to his sister. Neville was talking to Fawley still. Good. Maybe Fawley would say something to Neville that he wouldn’t say in front of him or Draco.

They headed towards the Defense classroom in a roundabout way, hoping for a secluded corridor.

“How was that?” Hermione whispered when they were finally alone.

“You were perfect.” Harry grinned at her before opening a door to a broom closet.

She rolled her eyes and laughed as she walked in. Harry immediately dropped their bags and put strong repelling and privacy charms on the door.

“Class starts in ten minutes,” she said pointedly.

He wrapped his arms around her before settling against the wall. “So I have five minutes to snog my future Lady.”

It was dim but Harry was inches from her face so he could see the pleased smile she had. He could hear it, too, from the sound of her voice as she said, “Well then, carry on.”

They weren’t even late to class so Harry felt he had one moment of victory today.

Professor Lupin was at his desk in front of the class, a knowing smirk on his face. Harry caught sight of a map on his desk and blushed. Okay, so maybe not as circumspect as he was hoping.

“Morning, Professor,” Hermione called cheerily.

“Good morning, Lady Ravenclaw.” Remus shifted his smirk into a genuine smile at her and then turned back to him. “How are you doing Harry?”

Harry frowned and shrugged. “Dad said Grandpa was fine so…” Hermione and he settled into their seats as the rest of the class quieted down, eager for more gossip.

“Your father wouldn’t lie to you,” Remus said gently before turning to the rest of the class. Harry felt their eyes on the back of his neck but ignored it.

“Good morning, class.” Remus stood up from his desk.

“Good morning, Professor,” the class chorused back.

“Today, we are continuing our lesson for this week on the difference between light, grey, dark, and black magic. Can anyone recall from the last lesson why this class is so named?”

Hermione’s hand went straight up but Professor Lupin called on Hannah, who had raised her hand as well — if just a bit more timidly.

“Miss Abbott?”

“At the time of the founders, the class was called Defensive Magic but during Grindelwald’s first rise to power in the early 1900s, the Ministry passed many laws about the classification of magic and the Board of Governors for Hogwarts pressured then Headmaster Phineas Black to rename Defensive Magic to Defense Against the Dark Arts.” Hannah paused, catching her breath and glancing warily to Hermione and Harry before adding, “In 1992, it was changed back to Defensive Magic through the Founder Protocols.”

Harry resisted a smirk. The Founder Protocols were the best.

“Excellent, ten points to Hufflepuff.”

Professor Lupin glanced to Harry and Hermione as well, and Harry let his smirk widen for a moment. He could see Remus resist smirking back.

“Mr. Potter, would you like to share why the name was changed back?”

Harry grinned. “Defense Against the Dark Arts is a misnomer—” He heard various scoffs around him so he added, “At least to those of us who consider the dangers of all classifications of magic. Someone could just as easily kill me with a levitation charm if they decided to levitate me over a cliff.” He heard some laughs at that, so he knew he won over some people.

Hermione continued seamlessly, “We’d be doing the students of Hogwarts a great disservice if we didn’t prepare them to defend themselves against all types of attacks. No one considers lust potions as dark magic but they still take away, at least some of, your free will just as the Imperius curse does. And anyone can buy a lust potion while only a few wix are even capable of casting the Imperius curse!”

Professor Lupin nodded sharply, a frown at the corner of his lips as the rest of the class suddenly quieted at that disturbing thought. Trust Hermione to cut straight to the ugly heart of things.

“Is it even possible to overcome the effects of a lust potion?” A girl almost whispered from the back.

“There’s no way any of us could overpower an Imperius curse!” Macmillan huffed.

Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“That is incorrect, Mr. Macmillan,” Professor Lupin corrected gently. “I, myself, as a werewolf, am completely immune to the Imperius.”

Macmillan’s jaw dropped open before snapping shut with a sharp click.

“I have also seen many people throw off an Imperius curse with enough practice.”

Harry studiously avoided his eyes. This past summer Dad, Grandpa, and Uncle Lucius had taught Nev, Draco, and he how to throw off an Imperius curse with Professor Lupin’s help. He had learned that Uncle Lucius had been the victim of when he was a teen and had learned to fight it off under vicious circumstances. He wasn’t about to let them be victims either. It was the most grueling thing in the world and Harry knew that his “order” to cast a tickling charm at Neville wasn’t anywhere close to the orders Uncle Lucius was given.

“Why would anyone practice that?” Justin called out, shocked.

But Susan answered quickly. “Aurors practice it all the time. So they can’t be used by criminals to destroy evidence or gain access to sensitive information.”

Professor Lupin smiled. “Five points to Hufflepuff; that is an excellent example.” He waved his wand and suddenly permission slips were being handed out to each student. “This is a permission slip. I’ve been granted leave by the Ministry to cast the Imperius curse on each student who has a signed permission slip. There is a list of ‘orders’ that I can ask of you, nothing embarrassing or dangerous of course. You have one month to get this slip signed but I suggest you send it home tonight if you are so inclined. A signed permission slip does not automatically mean you must follow through. You can change your mind at any moment.” Professor Lupin paused, staring at each student for a moment. “I’m going to repeat that because it’s important, not just for this, but for…any other situation.” Harry gulped, recognizing the beginning of the tenth or twentieth sex talk he received; he had honestly lost count because it seemed that every relative he ever had wanted to give him, Nev, and Draco the sex talk. “You can change your mind at any time. You can have your parents sign the slip, believing you will want the practice. You can show up to class a month from now, convinced you want the practice. And you can change your mind once your name is called.” Harry felt that Professor Lupin was staring more at the boys than he was the girls when he finished that speech but he wasn’t going to say anything.

Hermione frowned, however, and raised her hand.

“Yes, Lady Ravenclaw?”

“You’re talking about rape.”

Professor Lupin laughed sharply, but it was cold and sad. “I’m talking about consent but yes, there is no consent in rape. It’s also…” He paused, and Harry could see Remus trying to figure out the best way to explain a concept. It was a familiar look growing up when Remus was teaching him before Hogwarts. “Wix are uniquely protected by their magic from…most assaults, physical, emotional, and sexual. Our magic is naturally defensive — likely due to the witch burnings.” He looked around the room. “If you are ever in a situation, even with muggles, that you feel unsafe, let your magic respond and let the Ministry can deal with the Statute of Secrecy — your safety is more important.” He frowned, before glancing at Hermione and another student behind Harry, and added, “But, unfortunately, wix have created potions, such as the lust potions—” Harry turned, curious, to see Megan Jones, a Hufflepuff; he wondered if she was the one to ask about the lust potions. “— which trick your magic into thinking your safe. Which leads us back to today’s lesson, in fact. Occlumency, or the magical art of protecting your mind, is a skill that will aid you in overcoming almost any form of magical influence from lust potions to the Imperius curse. And today, we will begin the first step in mastering the art.”

The class gasped sharply in near unison before devolving into excited whispers.

“But I must warn you,” Professor Lupin called the class back to attention, “In order to master occlumency, you must practice on your own — far above the time I have to teach you. I will give you the framework, but you must dedicate yourself to the practice.”

 

/// ///

 

Arcturus glowered at Sirius from his bed. He was fine.

He shifted a little in his bed and winced. Sirius raised his eyebrow in a manner so like his father that Arcturus winced again.

Okay. Maybe he wasn’t completely healed just yet.

“Have you heard from Rugnut?” He asked to distract Sirius from watching his every move.

It didn’t work.

“They’re scrying for him but…”

“He’s not likely to stay in Albania,” Arcturus grunted. That slippery little bastard had been in Albania — had he been there the whole time? “We’ve been overestimating him.” Arcturus knew if he was on the run, he wouldn’t go back to a place he had been hiding before and they had known Voldemort had been in Albania when stupid Quirrell had found him.

Sirius sat down heavily in the chair nearest his bed. “I don’t know, Grandfather. I…” Sirius gazed up before sighing.

“Enough with the dramatics boy,” Arcturus snapped. “What’s on your mind?”

Sirius laughed harshly. “Death took me to the Underworld.”

Arcturus choked on his breath and wheezed, “What?”

“Dramatic enough?”

Arcturus glowered at his grandson. That was not something to say lightly. “What happened?”

“I…” Sirius ran his hands through his hair before closing his eyes; Arcturus waited impatiently for him to gather his thoughts. “Death took me…and I’m pretty sure others…not that I know or could recognize anyone…to heal souls that had been magically sacrificed.”

Arcturus winced. “He’s harvesting the magic of innocents then.”

Sirius nodded slowly and added softly, “A lot of souls."

They were silent for a few minutes, both mulling over the information — trying to see the complete puzzle when they only had a few pieces.

“Lucius’s mark?”

“The goblins feel confident that they are close to removing it. It’s…it’s a nasty bit of curse work but they are trying to preserve Voldemort’s magical signature. It would make scrying for him easier.”

At that, Arcturus growled. Who would have thought that splitting his soul would make it harder to scry for the fucking bastard? He was sure it was an unintended benefit of splitting your soul that every time they tried to scry for him, the scrying crystal would whizz about random locations before falling on the bank, defeated. He didn’t have the patience that the goblins seemed to have for that. He was grateful for his viciously precise and determined allies.

“He must already have followers,” Arcturus said suddenly. A disembodied spirit only had so much power on this plane — and definitely not enough to throw a cutting curse.

“If it was Voldemort that attacked you. If you were, in fact, the target.” Sirius glowered at the corner of his bed. “There are too many variables.”

“Then let’s take them away.” Arcturus shifted up in his bed, wincing, but managing it without Sirius’s immediate offer to help.

“Where should we start?”

“Let’s assume I was the target,” Arcturus started slowly.

“And that they wanted your blood, but not you dead.”

Arcturus smiled wanly. “Worst-case scenario then.” Arcturus steepled his fingers together. “There are only a few rituals or potions that would call for blood, forcibly taken.”

“Resurrection ritual being one of them,” Sirius muttered darkly.

“Full body and mind control is another,” Arcturus added. He felt that was more likely. “I’m not Voldemort’s greatest enemy…” He paused for adding softly, “I’m not the child who supposedly vanquished him.”

Sirius growled. “You don’t think he…” 

“Harry is in the safest place on Earth…besides Ravenswood. Maybe even…” He didn’t complete that. Ravenswood had fatal ward triggers in place; he didn’t think even Hogwarts had that…but he might suggest it to his future great-granddaughter-in-law. She was a practical girl — she would see the benefit of it.

Sirius pressed his lips together tightly. “Let’s assume it’s Voldemort. Let’s assume he wanted your blood for the Imperius potion. What would he gain by controlling you?”

“Access to Harry,” Arcturus responded immediately.

“But then I would be a better choice.”

“You weren’t there that day, but you were supposed to be. Maybe they just took the opportunity.”

Sirius shook his head. “That doesn’t feel right. Why rush? It must have taken time to plan it all…why…” Sirius frowned. “Let’s assume Malfoy was the target then. Same plan. What would they gain access to by getting control of—”

Sirius stopped sharply and locked eyes with Arcturus. They both whispered, horrified, at the same time, “The diary.”

Notes:

Omg hello, so sorry for the ridiculously long wait. I'm hoping that I can post every two weeks now. *fingers crossed*

Also, check out The Black Book Universe for a Fay POV.

Also, also, I love doing these little snippets, so if you have any scenes that haven't been addressed in the fic or you want scenes from different POVs, let me know!

Chapter 6: Foolish

Summary:

The Goblins have a decision to make.

“I have good news and bad news,” Sirius started blandly once Narcissa and Lucius were seated comfortably in the study.

“Bad news first,” Narcissa said as she reached for her husband’s hand.

“Grandfather and I think Lucius was the target.” Sirius ignored Narcissa’s sharp hiss. “We think they were going after the diary.”

Lucius hummed in agreement, but the slight curl in his lip betrayed his nonchalant response. “If the goblins research is anything to go by, it would have been in his first horcrux—” His lips twisted even more as Lucius ground his teeth. “And therefore, the biggest piece of his soul.”

Narcissa squeezed Lucius’s hand. “And the good news?”

Sirius grinned widely, relaxing in his chair. “Remus managed to mirror call me in-between classes. It seems Draco and Blaise were finally able to woo Fay—” He shrugged, “Or something to that effect. Draco will probably call you tonight requesting a contract. Apparently, he snogged her in the Great Hall. Remus gave him ten points.”

Narcissa half-laughed, half-sobbed, and Lucius shot him a grateful look. The news wasn’t pleasant—that her husband had been targeted by Voldemort—but the fact that Draco was happy, in love, and finally going to be able to sign a contract for the triad Draco had always wanted…well, that made it a little easier.

“Are you picking up the children for Mabon or is it Augusta’s turn?” Narcissa asked after a moment.

Sirius shook his head. “I’m going. Hermione is coming as well, so…”

“Should we invite Miss Dunbar and Mr. Zabini then?” Lucius asked. “After all…”

Sirius was shaking his head, cutting him off. “No. I think…” He held his head in his hands. He didn’t really want this but Grandfather felt that it would be prudent. “Grandfather thinks it’s time to bring the boys into our discussions.”

Lucius’s eyebrows rose. “Not another Gathering?”

“No, nothing like that but—”

“They’re only children Sirius!” Narcissa moved to stand, “How could Cousin Arcturus even—”

Sirius raised his hands, begging her to sit back down. He agreed, technically, but… “They are sixteen Narcissa. They’re almost adults and we…we can’t afford to coddle them.” Sirius glanced pointedly at Lucius. “It could be to their detriment to withhold information.”

Narcissa hissed but sat back down.

“And Lady Ravenclaw?” Lucius prompted.

“Their betrothal contract has been ready for years. They’ll sign it and she’ll be included in the discussion. She is an adult.”

“Barely,” Narcissa muttered.

Sirius smiled wanly. “She’s also the brightest witch of her generation and…” His smile faded. “We’ve been hitting dead ends.”

“You’re going to tell them about the horcruxes?” Lucius asked, his eyebrows shooting up once more.

“We’re going to tell them everything.”

 

///

 

Harry felt oddly morose the next morning. He had packed up his day bag and brought it down to breakfast, knowing that his dad would be picking him, Draco, Neville, and Hermione for Mabon.

They were still one of the few groups of students to go home for all holidays. Hermione and he recognized the traditional holidays in the school year by canceling afternoon classes and morning classes the next day — a small concession in some of his aunts’ and uncles’ eyes but nothing too disruptive for the non-religious either. There were events held by professors who followed the old ways and students were allowed to come and go as they pleased. Or, like the Blacks, leave the castle to be with their family during the holidays. Most students stayed at the castle for most holidays — it was really only Beltane and Samhain that more students left to be with family.

Hermione and Isobel, and in recent years, Blaise, were always invited and most of the time came over for the holidays. There was always an odd holiday where one or all of them felt pressure from school work to skip but this was the first one where only Hermione was invited.

It was…nerve-wracking, Harry decided.

Isobel and Blaise took no offense, except for curious and worried looks. Fay had been disappointed and worried that it was because the family didn’t like her, Harry had learned from a late-night mirror call between him, Nev, and Draco. Draco ordered them both to reassure her.

But Harry knew it wasn’t that. The look on his dad’s face when he told him the new plan said…it was family business. And only Hermione was considered family at this point…or would be in a few hours.

Draco was at the Gryffindor table with Blaise, Neville, and Fay, much to the dismay of Weasley. It had been years since they had any actual issues with Weasley but he was still a bit narrow-minded in Harry’s opinion. His sister, Ginny, was better — almost too Gryffindorish for Harry, but Aunt Cedrella was pleased with her. He wondered if she was going to come over for Mabon…she and the twins made an appearance every once in a while.

Harry shook his head and focused on his breakfast. He was going to get answers soon enough.

“Hermione?”

Harry looked across the table to where Hermione and Isobel were sitting. Isobel had a worried look on her face as she called Hermione’s name again. “Hermione, are you okay?”

“Yes, yes,” she said, shaking her head a little, “I’m fine. Just…” She held a hand to her head. “I think…I think I should stay here. Harry…”

Harry frowned. They were going to sign their betrothal contract today. “Hermione—”

She cut him off. “That’ll be alright, won’t it?” She shook her head again. “I don’t feel so good. Maybe…”

Harry reached across the table but Hermione leaned away from him. Harry felt cold at the action. “What’s going on, love? Are you sick?”

She winced. “Maybe? I don’t…” She shook her head again, wincing. “My head hurts.” She reached up to hold her head in both her hands and Harry felt his stomach drop as soon as he registered what he was seeing.

Harry choked on air. “Hermione!” He jumped over the table, nearly falling on top of her in his haste to get to her.

“Merlin, Harry! What’s wrong?” Isobel scrambled out of his way.

“Remus!” Harry shouted. The entire hall went silent but Harry wasn’t paying attention anymore. “Hermione, look at me.” His hands shook as he forced her to meet his gaze. “What did you eat? What did you drink?”

Hermione half-heartedly pushed him away. “Merlin, Harry, you’re embarrassing me. What—” She stopped, swallowed, and seemed to notice for the first time that her betrothal bracelet was glowing. “Why is my bracelet glowing?”

Remus arrived, took one look at her bracelet, and started to scan the food at their table. “Everyone, stop eating and drinking at once.” Goblets and cutlery clattered loudly on every table in the Great Hall.

“St. Mungos?” Headmistress McGonagall asked as Madam Pomfrey started to scan Hermione.

At those words, Hermione’s eyes widened and her wild gaze settled on Harry. Harry put on a brave face for her and cooed softly, “Don’t worry sweetheart. You’re safe with me. Nothing bad is going to happen, I promise.”

“Let’s take her to the infirmary,” Remus said, “Mild obedience potion, but nothing lethal.”

Harry shuddered, his magic flexing at the threat. Not lethal but horrifying to think about.

“Filius?” McGonagall wordlessly conveyed her needs as he just nodded sharply. Harry saw him shoo some of his classmates away from their former seats and put their section of the table in stasis.

Harry took Hermione’s hand and formed a human shield around her as Remus led the four of them out of the silent Great Hall.

Hermione’s hand tightened and loosened around his the entire time they walked to the infirmary but Harry didn’t let go…or let her go until she was seated in an infirmary bed. Madam Pomfrey hurried toward her office stores after she ran a diagnostic on Hermione. Hermione looked so small at that moment. She wrapped her arms around her knees and was viciously biting her lip. Harry had never known her to be so quiet.

“Miss Ravenclaw?” McGonagall began softly.

“Harry, go away!” She shook her head violently as tears fell down her eyes.

Everyone jumped in shock at her words but Harry just growled.

“So the person who potioned you doesn’t like me,” Harry crossed his arms in an effort to keep his magic from lashing out, “Good. I hate them too.”

“Perhaps, Miss Ravenclaw, you should tell us everything you feel right now,” Remus said gently. “Even if…it’s not what you want.” Hermione’s wide eyes met Remus’s, fearful and worried. “We won’t let you out of our sight until the potion has been neutralized so stop fighting it for the moment and perhaps it will give us clues as to what the perpetrator wanted from you.”

Hermione settled her gaze on Harry for a long moment before turning back to Remus.

“I want to stay here. I don’t want Harry. I don’t want to leave Hogwarts today. I want to go to the library. I want to study for Magical Ethics class.” The words tumbled from her lips in a mad rush. “I don’t feel good. So I’m not going to go with Harry. I’m going to stay here and go to the library and Harry is going to leave me alone. I don’t—”

Hermione bit her lip again and shook her head.

“That was very good Hermione,” Remus said gently. “If you don’t feel good, perhaps you should stay in the infirmary and Madam Pomfrey is going to get you some medicine.” He turned to Harry and McGonagall and whispered, “Stay here.”

Harry glared at him. He wasn’t leaving Hermione’s side…maybe ever at this point. She was right in front of him. Right. In. Front. Of. Him. And she was drugged. He wasn’t going to take his eyes off of her for a second.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Remus follow Madam Pomfrey to her potion stores. Hopefully, they would have a cure or else they were just going to have to wait for Hermione’s magic to burn through the potion. She seemed to already be doing that…but it could also be the bracelet’s doing.

“Go away Potter,” she said, “I don’t want you here.”

“Whoever gave you that potion is an enemy of my house,” Harry replied flatly. He wasn’t bothered much by what she was saying, except for the fact that the words seemed to be painfully pulled out of her. He was going to kill anyone who caused Hermione pain.

“I don’t feel good,” she said again, “I want to stay at Hogwarts today.”

Madam Pomfrey appeared at that moment when a purple potion. “That is a good idea, Miss Ravenclaw. And I have some medicine for you as well.”

Hermione eyed the nurse and Harry’s heart stuttered. Were they going to have to force her to drink the potion? For a moment, everyone was silent. Hermione shifted, clenching her fists and crossing her arms — Harry felt weak in the knees at what they were about to do — but then she leaned forward…and opened her mouth. Quicker than Harry thought possible for Madam Pomfrey, she uncorked the potion and carefully spilled it into Hermione’s open mouth. Hermione swallowed quickly, choking at her haste. She gagged once but kept her mouth tightly closed.

After a minute, she relaxed by degrees, her breathing slowed and her fists opened slowly.

“Miss Ravenclaw, how are you feeling?” Madam Pomfrey asked. 

She promptly burst into tears.

Harry took a hesitant step forward, unsure how she would react, when she reached a hand out and said, “Harry.” He leaped forward and crawled onto the bed, wrapping his arms tight around her and pulling her to his chest.

“I want to go home,” she cried. “I don’t want to be here.”

Harry held her tighter. “Do you want to go to the Keep? I can call Doxy.”

She shook her head. “Ravenswood. I want to go to Ravenswood.”

“She’s clear,” Madam Pomfrey whispered as she tucked away her wand. Harry didn’t even notice her checking Hermione over. “The potion has been neutralized.”

Harry turned to Remus.

“I'll tell your father what happened if you don’t cross paths. I think Filius already called the Aurors to investigate.”

They both turned to McGonagall and she nodded. “Yes, they are arriving by the floo in my office now. Your father is walking up from the front gates now if you want to wait.”

Harry shook his head. “No, we’ll leave now. Doxy!”

Doxy appeared with a pop on the bed. She gently patted Hermione’s knee before taking Harry’s hand. “Poor Lady. Doxy takes you home now.”

Harry felt the uncomfortable squeeze of apparition before he landed in his bed at Ravenswood. He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“Doxy, can you let my mum and everyone know what happened?”

Doxy nodded and popped away.

Harry laid down on his bed, shifting Hermione in his arms until they were facing each other. Hermione was focused on his tie, her tears slowly drying on her cheeks.

Her breath hitched as she asked, “My betrothal bracelet can tell if I’ve been potioned?”

“All Gryffindor jewelry has certain safety measures in place,” Harry murmured.

Hermione took a deep breath, closing her eyes, then she said, “We’re signing our betrothal contract today.”

Harry’s stomach dropped. Did she not want to sign it anymore? Harry choked, “Yes.”

Hermione shuddered. “What…what if…the person…wanted to prevent that?”

Harry frowned. There were plenty of legal ways to challenge their betrothal. The simplest being to ask Hermione out on a date. The worst was to challenge Harry’s suitability as a suitor in a formal duel. Why would they go this route…with an illegal use of a potion?

“I want a blood contract.”

Harry nearly jumped at her words. “Hermione! We—”

She shook her head, staring pleadingly into his eyes. “I’ve been looking into them since our last Ethics class. There are some that can prevent us from cheating on each other by neutralizing lust potions. What if…”

Hermione shuddered again and Harry wrapped her tightly in his arms. She tucked her head into his chest and said, “What if they were going to potion me again? What if they started out with a mild obedience potion hoping no one would think twice about me wanting to study in the library?”

Harry shuddered this time. His worst fear had always been the Imperius curse being used on him…now it was replaced with the fear of the Imperius curse being used on Hermione.

He thought of an old betrothal ritual he read years ago, as part of his summer lessons with Cousin Cygnus. He’d have to claim his title, something he hadn’t planned to do for another year, but it would protect both of them from almost all behavioral potions and curses.

“I have a contract in mind,” Harry whispered.

 

///

 

This was not his week, Sirius decided as he listened to Minerva describe the recent events to him and the Aurors. Shacklebolt was in charge once again; Sirius wondered if he was just going to be the personal auror service for his family for now on.

“Hold on.” Sirius raised a hand as the Aurors moved to dismantle the stasis charm. “Has anyone informed the Horde?” Sirius turned to Flitwick, just in time to see the blood drain from his face. Well, at least someone understood the implications of what happened this morning.

“I’ll call them now,” he squeaked, before running down the length of the empty Great Hall.

A disgruntled auror asked, “Why the hell do we need goblins? A student was potioned— I don’t even know why I’m here, to be frank. This happens all the time—”

The Grey Lady hissed at him. Sirius was glad he didn’t have to do that himself—it would probably be considered unseemly by this grandmother.

“The Lady Hermione Jean Dagworth-Granger, Countess of Ravenclaw, Baroness of the Ancient House of Dagworth-Granger was potioned with an obedience draught,” Sirius drawled. “Or have you forgotten that she claimed her titles at fifteen? Have you forgotten that she is a member of the House of Lords?”

“Have you forgotten that Clan Ravenclaw is an ancient ally of the Goblin Horde?” Centurion Rugnut entered the Great Hall with a small contingent of goblin warriors. “Heir Black, has someone declared war on my ally?”

The disgruntled auror choked on air. Sirius fought back the urge to roll his eyes—at least now he understood the seriousness of the situation.

“That remains to be seen,” Sirius pinned him with an intense look, hinting that he was certainly willing to declare war. “Master Flitwick performed the stasis charm so the scene is still undisturbed for your analysis.”

“So he told me.” Rugnut gestured to the goblins behind him and they all jumped forward to work the scene. Several had long metal-wrought staves in their hands, shining gems on one end and wickedly sharp points on the other. “Let us see if it was a foolish child or a foolish enemy.”

Notes:

Yay! Sort of in the groove of things. Hope y'all enjoy this chapter.

Also, I'm re-reading Harry Potter and I have a question for y'all.

Backstory: At the end of Chamber of Secrets, Dumbledore says something to the effect of "There is a piece of Voldemort in you, Harry." Seriously.

So I'm of two minds on this issue: 1) Dumbledore is more evil/grey than canon-focused people say. (He had 4 years to figure out a way to get rid of the horcrux in Harry and his best plan was "let him kill you" ?!) 2) Hermione is actually the smartest person in this wixen world because she apparently is the only one to figure out that a giant snake is the monster of Slytherin and if she had 4 years to figure it out, she would have come up with a better plan.

What do you think?

Chapter 7: Clever

Summary:

Mabon is a time to find balance.

A clever enemy, Sirius decided, after the goblins finished analyzing the scene. An obedience potion delivered via elf magic with instructions spelled into the potion at the last step, rather than tied to force someone obedient to a person’s magical signature. And there wasn’t enough potion left to even attempt to gather a magical signature from the spells worked into the potion.

Clever.

Cleverer still, though, that Remus thought to see what Hermione was directed to do. He had gone to the library after Harry and Hermione left for Ravenswood, but besides Madam Pince and few students grabbing a book before classes, there was nothing. No clue as to what would have happened if Hermione had gone to the library alone.

Unless it was a child, a student…but what could they want? What was their purpose?

Sirius apparated home to find it in its usual flurry of activity. Rose, bouncing Cephee on one hip, stopped briefly to kiss him on the cheek.

“Harry’s in your office,” she said as she walked to the kitchen.

One thing after another. Would he ever get a break?

Sirius walked to his office, took a deep breath outside the door, and prepared for the next battle.

Harry was sitting in his favorite armchair near the fireplace, sprawled out, just as he used to do as a child, with a book in his hand. Sirius missed the days when the books were nursery rhymes or muggle comic books. This book was decidedly not a muggle children’s story. It looked too old, frayed at the seams, and with a decidedly magical aura clinging to the pages.

Harry straightened up in his chair. “Dad—what—”

Sirius raised a hand. “The goblins analyzed the scene but they couldn’t trace it back to any single person or creature.” He settled in the chair opposite Harry. “What are you reading?” The title was worn off the spine.

Harry’s face flushed but he spoke with confidence. “It’s a book about magical bonds Cousin Cygnus made us read for summer lessons a few years back.” Harry marked a page in the book before handing it to him.

Sirius thumbed through the pages, landing on the one Harry had marked: Magicis Fidem. “Mhmm.” Sirius waited for the obvious explanation. He hadn’t read the ritual himself but he had an idea of where this was going.

“Hermione’s been looking into blood contracts for our betrothal,” Harry whispered, “She…she’s worried that someone might…might have planned to potion her again…” Harry clenched his fists. “Or worse.”

Sirius flinched. Or worse. What was the potioner’s plan? Would they attack again? Hermione clearly feared so. Sirius read through the betrothal ritual. Old fashioned, magically difficult, but surprisingly light given its use of blood — binding their blood and magic to each other, to always be loyal to each other. Some would say it was as good as a marriage bond — and it was definitely designed to be.

He thought he had another year before he had to think of his oldest as married.

Sirius looked to Harry, who has chewing his lip. Something Lily used to do that when she was nervous about something. Sirius smiled wistfully, imaging what Lily or James would have said if they were here.

With Lily, it would be logistics first. Only magically mature wix could perform this ritual.

“You’ll have to claim your title.” The only way Harry would be considered a magically mature wix.

Harry nodded. “I know it’s not what we planned but…I’m ready for it.”

“‘Course you are, but…” Sirius wondered if James would’ve thought of the consequences. Certainly not when they were young but now, as a father of sixteen years? His stomach clenched and heart hurt in the distant sort of way it always did when he thought of all James should have been able to do.

“Dad?”

Sirius blinked back tears. He would be Dad for both of them. “Some people will see it as good as a marriage bond, lad, are you ready for that? Is Hermione?”

“Well,” Harry frowned, “I mean, I always knew I was going to marry her. So…I’ve been ready for that for years now.”

“And Hermione?”

“I think so,” Harry whispered. “I know she’s scared of…”

“Her betrothal bracelet worked just as it should,” Sirius interrupted gently, “You guys don’t have to do this because you’re afraid. That’s…that’s the worst reason to do it.”

“I’m not afraid.”

Harry and Sirius jumped at Hermione’s firm voice from the door. She frowned, well, more like pouted, before grimacing.

“Sorry, I was looking for Harry and overheard you two talking.”

“Come in,” Sirius waved her in. “This concerns you too.”

Harry held out his hand and Hermione sat primly on his lap in the cozy armchair. Sirius didn’t bother hiding his grin at the two of them. They fit together and they knew it.

“Magicis Fidem?” Sirius raised an eyebrow.

“It’s one of the few blood betrothals that’s notorious for still being light magic,” Hermione began. Sirius had a feeling she had already made a list of talking points to defend their choice. “It is a very strong betrothal ritual that neutralizes all lust potions and behavioral spells, only excepting the Imperius curse. And—”

“And it’s as good as a marriage bond in some people’s eyes,” Sirius interrupted. Were they ready to be married?

“It’s not a marriage bond.” Hermione frowned.

“Hermione,” Sirius sighed. She was technically right but… “It’s also the only light blood contract that can only be broken in ritual.” Or death, but really he didn’t want to think about that.

“So?” She crossed her arms.

Sirius snorted but Harry squeezed her into his side. “So, people will talk,” Harry said, “But anyone who knows anything about the Potters would’ve known that I was always going to marry Hermione. And I am.” Harry looked up to Hermione and grinned. “We are. Not until we have our NEWTs of course, but until then, we’ll have this betrothal bond until we can replace it with our marriage bond.”

Hermione smiled widely. “Your future Lady.”

Harry wrapped Hermione in his arms and nuzzled her neck, grinning just like James had done when Lily finally agreed to marry him.

Sirius laughed instead of cried. Damn the Potters for always making him feel turned inside out.

“Alright!” He raised his hands in defeat. “You’ve convinced me. Now, you have to convince Hermione’s family. When are we doing this?”

“Today,” they both said resolutely.

Well, fuck.

 

/// ///

 

Arcturus couldn’t stop smiling.

A blood contract. The Magicis Fidem betrothal ritual. He had done the same with Melania so many years ago. He glanced over to where she stood in the West position, pleased and honored they were given places in the circle. He could already see her planning their wedding — during Ostara, most likely, to continue the balance of energy from today. He was sure Mabon wasn’t exactly the first holiday anyone would think of to do a betrothal ritual, but he saw the unique blessing it would give to their union. Today the masculine and feminine energies were in balance and in this ritual, this balance will be highlighted. Partners, equals, in all aspects of their life.

Arcturus glanced at Rose and Sirius, who were also in the circle at the North and South points, respectively. Hermione’s family stood outside the circle, unfortunately; as muggles, or squibs, this high-level ritual magic was beyond them. Almost everyone else in the family was here, outside the circle, including the twins who were being entertained by Tonks and Remus.

Hermione and Harry linked blood-slicked hands in the center of Ara’s circle and began to chant the circle opener.

Arcturus slashed his own palm with his athame and allowed his blood to drip on the Eastern point; everyone followed in clockwise order.

They began their own chant, repeating, “Tenemus circulum. Honoramus animae.”

Hermione’s and Harry’s voices carried over theirs, rising and falling in rhythm with the beat of their two hearts. Their magic pulsed out of them in tune, spreading out from the circle.

Together they said, “Copulare nostris animabus. Copulare nostris cordibus. Copulare nostris magicibus.”

Magic swelled between them, encircling, entwining them with ribbons of light for those fortunate enough to see their magical bond. He grinned, smug, at how natural the bond was at it began to weave and form around them. Soulmate sight indeed.

In unison, Harry and Hermione completed the ritual. “Usque in finem, nostris animabus, nostris cordibus, nostris magicibus, erimus alter. Sic fiat semper.”

As one, everyone spoke the closing words, “This circle is open but unbroken and so it shall remain by the blessings of magic.”

Hermione and Harry grinned widely at each other and shared a quick, deserving kiss. Arcturus joined the applause that had started.

He couldn’t think of a better way to celebrate Mabon. Too bad they had other, more demanding matters to deal with.

Later, though, after dinner had been enjoyed and the young ones were put to bed, the family, Hermione included, gathered in the formal dining room.

Various conversations took place while the children—no, he could no longer call them children, could he? Not when he was bringing them into a war. The teenagers, the young wix, the young adults who were being called upon to help them fight a war that started decades before they were born.

Children. They would always be his children, just as Sirius would be. He would still shield them the best he could, and…telling them was a shield in and of itself. Better for them to know than for them to stumble upon it without support. It was the argument he used to convince Augusta…that and the fact that Draco and Harry would have immediately told Neville. She wasn’t pleased but she was a Gryffindor, so Arcturus thought she knew better than most how fool-hardy young teenagers could be.

So they explained it all. All the times Sirius met Death. The horcrux in the locket. Professor Quirrell and the fragment of Voldemort’s soul that had been caught by Death itself. The remaining four that has turned to the remaining three that has turned into the remaining two.

Hermione, his newest great-granddaughter-in-law, was taking this rather calmly. Harry, on the other hand, was not.

“Are you…are—” His voice was soft but shaking with restrained rage. “Are you saying there’s a prophecy…and that’s…that’s why he went after…that he killed my parents because of me?”

Hermione put a hand on his knee and squeezed.

Arcturus felt a little guilty. He honestly hadn’t even thought of the prophecy since that night Sirius came home to share the sordid details. He was a little distracted and gleeful, riding a little high from the death of Dumbledore, which crashed with the continued survival of Riddle. The prophecy…well, it was in the Department of Mysteries to be sure and it seemed rather foolhardy to risk exposure of their plans to go pick up a prophecy that likely added little to no value…if it even existed.

He still remembered the words Dumbledore had intoned with false gravity, “Fate is guiding Harry and I on a difficult path.” Had he dismissed the actual importance of the prophecy based on the false importance Dumbledore had given himself?

Foolish. How dare he be so foolish. He glanced over to Sirius, who looked devastated at the inevitable path his son took. Of course, Harry would take the blame for Riddle’s deranged actions.

“Your parents,” Rose said after a few moments, swallowing back tears, “died fighting a monster, died protecting you from a monster. It is not your fault.” Rose stood and knelt beside Harry, cupping his face when he had turned from her. “Harry, darling, it’s the honor of any parent to die protecting their child. You—I would happily die for any of my children.”

“Mum—” Harry stuttered to a stop.

She stood and pressed a kiss to his hair before sitting back down next to Sirius. Sirius squeezed her into his side, kissing her cheek, and murmuring something too low to be heard properly.

“Do we know the words of the prophecy? Or if it was an actual, true prophecy?” Draco asked.

Sirius winced, catching his eye. Maybe they should have talked to the children sooner. “We were led to believe that Dumbledore witnessed the prophecy himself but…no, I, we—”

“We didn’t look into it, given Dumbledore’s history,” Arcturus finished flatly. They were fools. Blinded by — Melania squeezed his hand. He looked up to her soft smile. She knew he was berating himself for this slip and she was forgiving him so he could forgive himself. He raised her hand to his lips. They would rectify this mistake and move on. “We can go to the Hall of Prophecies tomorrow and see if it is true.”

There was silence for a moment and Arcturus took the time to look at the four children. Neville was still, grave and silent. Draco was looking at his parents as if seeing them for the first time. He knew they all knew, that Abraxas was an abusive man but it was clear that Draco had been shielded from the specifics of the abuse until now.

“Death told you to bring them the remaining four? Back in our first year?” Hermione spoke slowly, her gaze on Sirius.

Sirius nodded.

“And then you found the diary, that was given to Lord Malfoy’s father by Riddle himself in our second year.”

“We did,” Lucius said, and added softly, “You may call me Uncle Lucius, as Harry and Neville do if you wish.”

Hermione nodded, but her gaze seemed unfocused on the present conversation.

“And then, you said, that goblins have been scrying for more—for the other, well, now three pieces, but it hasn’t been working since—”

“It always lands back on the bank,” Sirius finished for her.

“But,” Neville started slowly, flickering his gaze between Hermione and Sirius, “You said that Death said one of them is killing for life so…”

Sirius nodded. “One of them, one of the horcruxes is gaining power. Probably needs to find a body somehow but we don’t…” Sirius sighed. “We don’t know how yet.”

There was silence at that. There was still much they didn’t know. What the three other horcruxes were, where to find them, where to find the horcrux that was killing for life — and how was it killing for life? Did Riddle have followers, loyal followers still around? Arcturus thought of Snape, who had disappeared on that night in 1991 — where did he go? Was he loyal to himself or did he turn back to the only master he had left?

Hermione turned to Alphard. “You said, from your research, that Tom Riddle was a half-blood? And Head Boy at Hogwarts?”

Alphard snorted, a wry grin on his face. “Research is a loose term for not realizing I went to school with a psychopath but yes.”

“He was a year below me,” Lucretia added softly and Arcturus shuddered, realizing all over again that his children had shared a common room with that monster. “He was always polite, smart, and charismatic. I remember…” She winced. “I remember him asking the prefects about wizarding customs and books on it all. He…I wouldn’t have known, really, that he was raised with Muggles if I hadn’t overheard that.”

Hermione had a curious look in her eyes. “Did he have money? To…to buy books and such?”

Alphard frowned and shared a look with Lucretia and himself. “I don’t know. He didn’t…he wasn’t wealthy by any means but…”

The look on her face shifted, a soft purse in her lips as if she was sorting through something.

“Do we know where he lived? With who?”

Lucretia sighed; research on the history of Tom Riddle was fraught with difficulties. “No — no one who would have known him well is willing to share and, from what we can gather, he never spoke of his life outside of Hogwarts with any casual acquaintance.”

Alphard leaned forward, watching Hermione, studying her.

Hermione, however, was looking over his shoulder, her gaze unfocused. “Madam Pince told me that the Hogwarts Library hadn’t been updated since Phineas Black was headmaster. It was part of the reforms we made as Hogwarts Founders.”

Arcturus was relieved that everyone looked as puzzled as he.

Thankfully, this seemed to be a normal occurrence for her as she continued unprompted. “Which means, that the library selection of our first year still matched the library selection Riddle had.”

No one had time to voice the obvious question — “Why did that matter?” — because Hermione was answering it already with a wry grin, as she glanced around.

“The Dagworth-Granger library hadn’t been updated for nearly a century by the time I got my hands on it and I had hoped that the Hogwarts library would be better stocked on wix customs and cultures than it actually was.”

No one seemed to know where she was going but Hermione didn’t bother to explain. She turned back to Sirius. “The goblins — have they been using a pendulum to scry or scrying crystal?”

Arcturus blinked, struggling to keep up with her line of thinking. He hadn’t thought to question the goblins methods—they had magic different and beyond their own.

“Pendulum, I believe,” Sirius said slowly, “But maybe both? I haven’t asked.”

Hermione frowned. “We should ask. We should…” She paused, blushing, before straightening in her chair and saying, “Well. Maybe their scrying is working. And it isn’t landing back on the bank but landing on the bank.”

Arcturus’s mouth dropped. He still had no idea how she had gotten there but…

“Why do you think so?” Alphard asked before anyone else could.

Hermione blushed. “Well, besides Hogwarts, Gringotts is one of the most magical places on Earth—” Several people, Lucius and Arcturus included, spluttered in swift denial at that. But Hermione merely grinned shyly. “At least for a muggle-raised wix, that is. And he didn’t have an ancestral estate to visit as I did. So, I imagine Gringotts seemed even more impressive to him then.”

Lucius frowned. “But he did hide one of his horcruxes at an ancestral estate, not his own but…”

“But an estate to someone close to him,” Hermione added, “And I imagine, without visiting Ravenswood, that Malfoy Manor was the most impressive magical estate he ever had access to.”

Draco snorted indignantly. “Malfoy Manor is a very impressive magical estate, thank you very much. Just because we aren’t self-sacrificial, like the Blacks, doesn’t mean our estate isn’t magically magnificent.”

Lucius shared a smile with his son while everyone laughed. Hermione smiled apologetically.

“You read the same books he did,” Rose said suddenly, eyes wide in equal parts awe and pride, “You read the same books on wix customs and wizarding history as he did so you know that he would have seen Gringotts as a magically significant place.”

Hermione smiled wanly and nodded. “To the muggle raised, Hogwarts and Gringotts are the most magical places we are introduced to.” She paused, and for the first time, she seemed hesitant to speak. “Also I…When I claimed the wards at Hogwarts, anything with black magic was ejected from the grounds.”

Everyone froze, staring at her in abject horror. Hogwarts. He put one of those things at Hogwarts. Arcturus mouth dropped.

“Where were these things ejected?” Sirius whispered.

Hermione shook her head. “Most likely right outside the boundaries but…it was two people and one object. They aren’t there anymore, obviously.”

“What do you mean obviously?” Alphard asked before Arcturus could get a chance.

Suddenly he was quite furious with himself for not bringing the children into this conversation earlier. What had Hermione figured out in a few minutes that had taken them years to understand?

“Well, when I first claimed the wards, I was…connected, so to speak, with many of the ancestors who also held the wards.”

Arcturus’s mouth dropped. “That…that would mean…”

Hermione nodded, her cheeks flush. “Apparently, it was a long-held tradition that at the end of the Head of House’s life to sacrifice oneself for the wards. It ended with Rowena, of course. And actually—” Her face and neck turned red as she spoke softly, “Ara might have gotten the idea of self-sacrificial wards from one of my ancestors if my many greats grandmother Rodina is to be believed.”

Sirius laughed loudly, breaking the stunned silence. “And here we all just thought we were just a touch crazy.”

Everyone laughed and Rose snorted. “You still are.”

“So,” Alphard sat up, eager, “Your ancestors have been connected to the wards and, and watching over the castle so to speak.”

Hermione nodded. “I’ve gone back to the ward circle a few times to talk to them. We’ve decided that two wix and a highly magical but black object was ejected when I reclaimed the wards. Helena has searched the surrounding grounds and the object is no longer there.”

“And you think it was a horcrux,” Lucretia said.

“Yes.” She faltered, “Well, a strong maybe. I think…I think if we find a horcrux in Gringotts then definitely. It would fit with…”

“Who he was,” Lucius leaned forward, the only shift in his body that betrayed his excitement. “An estate, a school, a bank — all highly magical places he had access to. But…” He shook his head. “Would he really be so foolish to put such an obviously black magic object in a Gringotts vault?”

Harry frowned. “Why is that foolish?”

Hermione squeezed his hand, a smile playing on her lips. “The Goblin Horde specifically have a clause voiding the proprietorship of a vault ‘containing any magic or magical item that by nature or design would offend Lady Hecate herself,’ Hermione quoted a line from a Gringotts contract that Arcturus doubted most people even read. “And the Goblin Horde has on several occasions denounced all black magic as magic that would offend Lady Hecate.”

Arcturus laughed, it burst out from him before he could help it really. This little witch was brilliant. Everyone looked at him, startled and amused, waiting for an explanation.

“But Riddle never received a proper education on the Goblin Horde,” Arcturus said after he could settle his joy to a smug smile, “Which means, as Hermione has already deduced, he likely viewed Gringotts as just a bank.”

“Like a muggle bank, most likely,” Hermione added, “And muggle banks would never allow anyone to search the contents of a vault without proper legal intervention.”

Harry grinned wryly. “So what you’re saying is that he’s an idiot for putting a horcrux in one of the easiest places to find it.”

Sirius laughed sharply as Hermione shrugged. “Well, not easy. We still don’t know which vault to look in it for.”

“Bellatrix,” Narcissa said suddenly. “She—” Narcissa looked to Augusta and Neville, grimacing for a second, before turning towards him.

He nodded and quickly spoke to ease Narcissa’s distress.

“Let’s go inform our friends that they were very wise indeed to ally themselves with the Ravenclaw clan.”

Hermione flushed under the praise.

Notes:

Something to distract you from today.

Also, holy shit this took so long to write because I had to work through Hermione's thought process 1000 times before it felt believable.

Hope you enjoyed <3

Chapter 8: Propriety

Summary:

Harry and Hermione tie up loose ends.

Harry trembled with a terrible kind of energy. Hermione shifted in her sleep, turning over to him and snuggling back into his side. He tried to relax, knowing his anxious energy would manifest into anxious magic which would feed into their bond and wake her up.

He took some slow, deep breaths. It would be okay. They would go to the Hall of Prophecies and learn that there was no prophecy and Dumbledore was just talking out of his ass.

He yelped as a finger jabbed him in the ribs.

“Calm down,” Hermione ordered, “You woke me up with your nervous thinking.”

Harry snorted. “Sorry, yeah, I’ll just try to keep these thoughts to myself.”

Harry caught her rolling her eyes before she shifted to look up into his eyes. “Or maybe voice these thoughts aloud so they don’t keep you up.”

Harry opened his mouth, closed it, and frowned. “I don’t even know where to start.”

Hermione frowned before shifting fully out of his arms. She propped up pillows against the headboard and bade him to join her, sitting up against the pillows.

“Doxy?”

Doxy appeared at the foot of the bed.

“May we have a tea service please?”

Doxy snapped her fingers. “And some bacon and fruit too. Call for Doxy if you want more for breakfast.”

Hermione smiled. “Thanks, Doxy, but I think we’ll go down for a full breakfast soon.”

Doxy nodded and popped away.

Harry frowned at the tea service. He realized he kind of wanted to stew in half-mindless sleep for a few minutes. Hermione caught his eyes and smirked as if knowing he hadn’t wanted to actually talk about what was bothering him.

Tricky little witch.

He took his time making his tea, nibbled on a piece of bacon, and wondered if anyone had more patience than Hermione to sit and wait. Or maybe she just knew how little patience he had.

Finally, he whispered, “What if there is really a prophecy, about me and Riddle, and he killed my parents, and grandparents, to get to me?”

Hermione held his hand and waited for Harry to meet her eyes. “What if there was a prophecy about…Dumbledore and…and Perseus and Dumbledore decided he needed to kill Percy because of the prophecy. Would you stand aside to let that happen?”

Harry growled at the thought. He didn’t even appreciate the fact that his animagus spirit was coming out when he didn’t even know his form yet. His thoughts were focused on his baby brothers and how he’d kill anyone who would even think about hurting them.

Hermione squeezed his hand. “Would you want Percy to feel guilty? If you died for him? If I died for him?”

Harry shook his head, words beyond him at thought of someone killing Hermione…someone trying to kill Percy. That hurt.

Hermione squeezed his hand again. “I know I would want Percy to feel loved, so completely loved, because I would rather die than anything happen to him.”

Harry looked down, blinking away tears.

“I,” Harry swallowed back a sob, “It still hurts to think about.”

Hermione snuggled into his side. “Of course, love. But put the blame on whom it belongs. Not you, not your parents or grandparents. Riddle. It was always his fault.”

Harry nodded and took a deep gulp of his tea, once again trying to settle his magic. And then he felt it, Hermione’s magic, reach out to him, wrapping him up in love and security. A few tears leaked at the feeling. Warm. Protected. Loved.

“I love you,” Harry said, choking up, “so much.”

Hermione pressed a kiss to his neck. “I love you so much.” Hermione settled into his side. “Now, let’s finish this tea, get ready for the day, and kick ass.”

Harry snorted into laughter. “Yes ma’am.”

Kick ass, though, started with joining the rest of the family at breakfast. Draco and Neville had gone home as had almost everyone else, except Uncle Alphard and surprisingly Great Aunt Cassie. Hermione made a noise of glee and abandoned him upon entering the breakfast room to sit by her side. They immediately picked up a conversation from…somewhere. Uncle Alphard, who was closest to them, gave them both a look of surprise and Harry decided he didn’t want to know what they were talking about. If it could surprise Uncle Alphard…well, nothing good could come from that.

Harry passed Leo, ruffling his hair, and sat next to Carina, who tilted her cheek up just like Grandma; Harry kissed her cheek with a loud smacking noise. Carina wrinkled her nose but giggled all the same.

“Morning, starshine,” he said. She beamed at him so Harry felt it was all well worth the effort.

“When are we going to play today?” She asked.

Quidditch of course, but she didn’t need to say that. They always played a round of quidditch whenever he was home for a holiday. He grimaced before looking up to Dad and Grandpa.

“This afternoon, little star,” Dad said, “Harry, Hermione, and I have to run some quick errands at the Ministry and Gringotts.”

Carina pouted, her bottom lip jutting out in the full furious display. “You’ll be quick about it right?”

Dad snorted as Mum sighed, her eyes rolling skyward. “Carina, that was rude.”

Carina frowned at Mum. “No, it wasn’t. I was just asking—” But she trailed off at the warning look Mum gave her. “Sorry, Dad. Will you please be…efficient with your errands so Harry can teach me the Wronski Feint?”

Dad smirked at her, holding in a laugh. “We will endeavor to be as efficient as possible little star.”

Carina narrowed her eyes at him, disbelieving, before turning to Harry and whispering, “Can you leave now? So you’re home sooner?”

Harry snickered and heard a few more snorts and snickers to know that Carina wasn’t as good at whispering as she should be. He leaned down to her and whispered quietly enough so no one else could hear, “You have to be quieter if you don’t want to be overheard.

Carina pinned him with a look that said she clearly knew that. Harry straightened as he laughed loudly. “Right,” he said normally, “I should start calling you little snake.” He ruffled her hair gently before turning to Dad and Hermione. “Can we leave soon so I can teach the next Slytherin seeker the Wronski Feint?”

Grandpa laughed. “I’m sure Draco would be happy to teach his protégé. Why don’t we ask him to come over soon, Carina?”

Harry leaned over, wrapping Carina in his arms and turning her away from Grandpa. “What! No! I’m the big brother, I get to teach quidditch moves. It’s written in the sibling code.”

Carina, giggling, tried to squirm out of his grasp. “I promise I won’t let Draco teach me anything quidditch related…until…” She settled into her seat with a thoughtful face, “Until one in the afternoon.” She wagged her finger in Harry’s face. “So you have to finish your errands before then.”

Dad, snickering, said, “Alright then! You heard the little star, we got to go if we want to be back by one.”

Harry exhaled sharply. While he wasn’t actually prepared for this…he was kind of glad they were just jumping in headfirst. Maybe he was a little more Gryffindor than he thought.

Hermione, on the other hand, looked stricken at the idea. She grabbed his outstretched hand as they made their way to the foyer with the floo, and mumbled, “But what’s the plan? Are we really just going to walk into the Hall of Prophecies without a plan?”

Dad snorted. “Sometimes, Hermione, the simplest plan is best.” He turned to her after grabbing the floo powder on the mantle. “I’ll go first, then Harry, then you. We walk past the checkpoint and straight down to the Department of Mysteries like we have an appointment. Make limited eye contact with people but walk with your head held high, like you own the place…”

“Like how you walk through the library,” Harry added, teasing her.

Hermione jabbed her elbow into his side and he winced. Dad rolled his eyes, smiling.

“We go in, we see if there’s a prophecy, and we get out. Then we file your betrothal in the Office of Magical Bonds and floo to Diagon Alley to file your betrothal with the Horde.”

“And tell them what we discussed last night?”

Dad nodded, his face suddenly, well, serious. “And be home by one.”

A simple plan was sometimes best.

And it certainly went well in the beginning.

They walked through the Ministry with ease, Hermione’s head held high as she emanated her “I’m on a mission to the library” energy. Through to the elevators, they walked down the eerie Department of Mysteries hallway, all to the revolving doors.

“Hall of Prophecies,” Dad called out clearly.

The doors spun for a minute until it stopped with a door opening in front of them. In they walked and immediately met with a…person in a hood. For a wild, fleeting moment, Harry thought it was Death until he remembered that Unspeakables also wore hoods that hid their identity.

“Good morning,” Dad said cheerily. “My son just claimed his title, and as is tradition for the House of Gryffindor, he is here to see if any prophecies bear his name.”

The Unspeakable stood still. Harry wasn’t sure if they were looking at him, Dad, or Hermione but he focused on wearing his most neutral expression as if Dad didn’t just pull that excuse from his ass. At least it was partially true. He did just claim his title.

Slowly the Unspeakable nodded and turned around. Harry wasn’t sure if they were meant to follow but Dad did so immediately.

For the first time, Harry took a look around at the Hall of Prophecies. It was blinding row after blinding row of immense shelves filled with white, glowing orbs. It, honestly, seemed ridiculous. How were they supposed to find the prophecy they were looking for with all of this? Was there a system of sorts? A book perhaps?

The Unspeakable turned into a row and they followed. It looked like the shelves went on forever but he knew that had to be impossible. Although, why were they stored like this? And did it go on forever? Was that possible?

They walked for a few minutes more before the Unspeakable stopped and turned to face them. They gestured to an orb.

Harry’s heart dropped. He had been holding onto some hope that maybe, maybe it wasn’t true.

But there it was. An orb with the name Tom Riddle and then his own name…with a question mark though…as if the prophecy was still unclear on if it was actually about him. Harry frowned and reached out to take it when Dad stopped him.

“We’d like a private listening room.”

The Unspeakable flicked their wand presumably, as the wand and their hand were still hidden by their sleeve, and the orb floated ahead of them. The Unspeakable led them back where they came. Another turn, more walking, and finally, they were in a dark room with the prophecy glowing faintly in a stand and the Unspeakable left.

He reached out again, but Dad stopped him again.

“Tilly,” he whispered. Tilly appeared beside him silently. He nodded to the orb and Tilly snapped her fingers. Another orb, an exact replica, appeared floating in front of her. She switched the orbs and silently popped away with the original orb.

Dad waited a few minutes while Harry and Hermione stared at him silently. Clearly, they were not privy to the whole plan. Finally, Dad led them out of the room.

“Thank you for your assistance,” Dad said to the Unspeakable outside the door. “We’ll see ourselves out.”

Harry wanted to protest that he was horribly lost when the Unspeakable nodded and gestured to a door that Harry had not noticed when they first entered the room.

And like that, they were out of the Department of Mysteries and riding the elevator up to the Office of Magical Bonds on level five. The bond paperwork had already been filled out, probably by Grandpa, Harry thought, but it still required their signatures. Hermione signed where indicated, with a large smile. Harry grinned at her, happy to have these pleasant distractions from the mystery still waiting for him at home. He didn’t fail to notice, though, the peculiar and, well, judging, looks from those around him. He put on his best, haughty but bored Heir of Ravenswood face that he borrowed from Dad when he turned to those people. To Hermione, though, he bestowed a wide grin and kissed her cheek, close to her lips to flirt with propriety. Hermione giggled, either unaware or unperturbed by the judgmental eyes of the office. It helped him relax.

When they flooed to Diagon Alley, Harry relaxed. It had felt like going into a lion’s den back at the Ministry, unsure if they were going to come out the same. It was nice to be back in the fresh air and on safe ground.

Especially in Gringotts. As soon as Hermione entered, there was a flurry of activity and they were immediately swept away into the safety of the Horde. Hermione began chatting with the guard escorting them, Sverit or something like that. Harry resisted rolling his eyes — it would be just like her to learn every goblin’s name.

Finally, they were guided into a room with Rugnut, Talnuk, the Black account manager, and Dryk, the Gryffindor account manager, the only goblins Harry had actually met.

“Rugnut,” Dad said, placing his right fist over his heart. “A pleasure as always to see you.”

Rugnut returned the greeting, but then rolled his eyes. “Pleasure as always Sirius.” The emphasis on Dad’s name told him all he needed to know about their relationship. Clearly, Dad was never as serious as Rugnut would like. Or maybe Rugnut did enjoy the bit of humor Dad always brought with him.

Dad laughed before turning to the other two goblins and greeting them as well. Harry repeated the greetings, albeit briefer. They nodded in return to him before bowing over their closed fists to Hermione.

Hermione smiled and curtsied to each in turn. “Rugnut, Talnuk, Dryk. May the blood of your enemies run as a gold river to you.”

They three each grinned, sharp and vicious, “May the gold river enrich us all.”

Harry shared a smile with Dad, knowing that such traditional greetings would be welcome from Hermione but definitely not by them.

Rugnut gestured to the seats as he took the seat at the head. Harry held out a chair for Hermione before sitting down himself.

“Now,” Rugnut steepled his hands together, “What business brings you three to Gringotts on this balanced day of Mabon? Business or pleasure?”

Dad grinned, sharp and a little wicked. “Why not both?”

“Business first?” Rugnut asked.

But Hermione shook her head. “No, let’s get the pleasant things finished before we have to deal with…” She eyed Talnuk and Dryk.

Rugnut grinned again, sharp and mean, “So pleasure?”

So for the second time that morning, Harry and Hermione signed various betrothal contracts — these slightly more extensive as their alliances joined. Harry felt grateful that these contracts had already been negotiated and poured over the past few years so that Harry could just sign them without worrying.

“Well, then,” Rugnut organized the paperwork after each goblin had a thorough look over. “With these signed, there is no reason for Talnuk and Dryk not to be included in these discussions.”

Talnuk grunted. “Oi, I’ve been a part of this for a while now, it was Dryk we’ve been waiting for.”

Harry sent Dryk an apologetic look, even though it wasn’t exactly this fault. “I’ve just been looped in as of last night.”

Dryk sent a withering look to Harry before turning to Talnuk and Rugnut. “Someone tell me what’s going on right this minute.”

Hermione bounced in her seat. “Can we save the full explanation? I want to know if my theory is correct and…”

Rugnut sent Dryk a toothy grin. “What’s the theory Lady Ravenclaw?”

“I believe that inside Bellatrix Lestrange’s vault there are one of the horcruxes.”

Talnuk growled but it was mostly overshadowed by Dryk shouting, “Horcruxes!” He stood up from his chair, an odd color rising in his face as he shouted again, “What the bloody fuck does she mean one of them?” He turned on Rugnut, “How dare you hide something like this? Does your father know? Where is Ragnok?”

“I’m here.”

Everyone jumped from their chairs. Ragnok approached from a side entrance Harry didn’t even notice. The three goblins and Hermione gave the traditional greetings. Harry glanced over to Dad, unsure of how to respond. Dad gave him a strained grin and bowed to Ragnok. Harry quickly followed.

Ragnok nodded stiffly in return. It was silent for a moment as Ragnok seemed to appraise him. Harry stood up straighter.

Ragnok turned to Hermione. “Are you sure about this one? Gryffindors can be so temerarious.”

Hermione shot him a look that told Harry many things. Firstly, this was not the first time she was meeting him. Secondly, she had a close relationship with him, and finally, thirdly, that she liked him.

She laughed at Ragnok while rolling her eyes before pinning Harry with an overly fond look. “He sorted into Ravenclaw — he’s definitely the best of their lot.”

Harry grinned weakly, still reeling from the revelation that his betrothed has a close friendship with the Chieftain of the Goblin Horde.

Impressive, breathtaking, scary — also three words he would use to describe Hermione.

“So, what did you learn?” Ragnok said as he settled down in the chair previously held by Rugnut.

Hermione repeated herself. Dryk gave a growl of anger but otherwise remained silent.

Ragnok steepled his fingers together. If Harry didn’t know better, he would have said he looked very calm and relaxed. But Hermione’s hand was currently breaking all the bones in his own, so he knew that there was a problem…even if he didn’t know what yet.

It became apparent as soon as Ragnok spoke, his voice low and furious. “Get a team of cursebreakers down there immediately.”

Rugnut nodded and moved to turn out of the room but then Tulnuk spoke. “Her vault is no longer under the Black family accounts.”

Ragnok growled and Tulnuk held his hands up.

“Technically, the Black and Lestrange family had joint status over the account until…”

Dad slammed his hand on the table. “Fuck!”

Harry and Hermione jumped.

He sent them an apologetic smile. “Who would have ever thought that disinheriting Bellatrix would bite us in the ass?”

Hermione frowned, turning back to Ragnok. “But what about the clause voiding the proprietorship of a vault ‘containing…’”

“‘Any magic or magical item that by nature or design would offend Lady Hecate herself?’” Ragnok finished with a wry smile. “We still need permission to enter the vault…or evidence of such an artifact inside.”

Hermione frowned, as did Harry. What was the point of having such a clause if they couldn’t check to see if it was followed? Why couldn’t they just open the damn vault, find the object, and void proprietor or whatever then? Who would ever know the difference anyway?

Actually, Harry straightened in his chair, who would know the difference?

“The Lestrange brothers are in Azkaban,” Harry said, his thoughts tumbling over each other.

Dad snorted. “I still doubt they’d give us permission to open their vault.” Under his breath, he added, “Bastards probably still think he’ll come back and save them.”

Harry nodded. “Right and Bellatrix is still there. And she didn’t have any kids before she went to prison…and neither did the other Lestrange brother—what was his name?”

“Rabastan,” Hermione answered.

Harry shot her a surprised look and she grimaced. “Still technically a part of your family so still technically about to become part of mine.”

Dad laughed, but it was harsh and sad. “What a terrible addition to the prestigious line of Ravenclaw.”

“Indeed,” Rugnut muttered.

But that sort of made it easier for him Harry realized. “Brilliant!” Harry ignored the confused looks directed at him. “Hermione, is there anyone who has a direct relation to the Lestrange brothers that aren’t in prison?”

Hermione frowned, her eyes unfocused just above his shoulder. Slowly she shook her head. “No direct relation. They do have some distant cousins, of course, but…” Hermione’s eyes lit up as they met his. “You’re brilliant!” She jumped forward and placed a loud kiss on his lips.

Harry grinned, wrapping her up in his arms, savoring the moment until his dad started to cough. Right, they were in the middle of something.

“Catch us up with the rest of the class?” Dad asked, chuckling.

Hermione beamed at him so he took the lead. “Right, um,” Harry glanced from his dad to Ragnok, “I don’t know all the rules of the bank or the Horde but…if Bellatrix’s vault can only be accessed by herself or the Lestranges, then well…the only three people in the world that would apply to are in Azkaban for the rest of their lives.”

Ragnok slowly raised his eyebrow. “Are you suggesting we steal from their vault?”

Harry blanched. “No! No, not at all… I’m just saying…well…Aunt Narcissa believes that Bellatrix was given a…a horcrux…and Dad mentioned that your scrying for Riddle always landed on the bank…so technically we have some evidence of a black object and…” Everyone was looking at him now. Shite. He thought it was a good idea. “Well, the only people who would complain about the sufficiency of the evidence isn’t here. And when we find the object, then proprietorship of the vault is, uh, voided. Right?”

Ragnok stared at him and no one said a word. Harry resisted the urge to gulp, knowing that everyone would see it. Slowly, Ragnok turned his gaze to Hermione.

“He’s rather devious, isn’t he?”

Hermione grinned broadly. “Told you,” she sung smugly.

Harry let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding as Ragnok clapped his hands.

“After hearing the evidence presented before me, I, Ragnok, Chieftain of the Horde, do believe there is an object within Bellatrix Lestrange’s vault that voids her proprietorship thereof.” He turned to Rugnut, “Get the cursebreakers now.” He turned back to Tulnuk. “Satisfied?”

Tulnuk grimaced. “Let’s hope they stay in Azkaban or else explaining this to the Ministry may result in another rebellion.”

Dad laughed sharply. “The House of Black would be happy to go to war with the Horde.”

Tulnuk sighed. “As if that’s comforting.”

Notes:

NaNoWriMo has given my writing new life. Here's to hoping I can churn out chapters every week now.

Enjoy!

Chapter 9: Moves

Summary:

Loopholes and tying up loose ends.

Harry and Hermione were quiet when they returned home having witnessed a horcrux being destroyed by the goblins in ritual fiendfyre.

Sirius didn’t feel elated either, as he saw Death for a fleeting moment, in the shadows. And now they all knew what was waiting for them at home.

They walked straight into the main dining room from the floo room, where most of the adults of the family were gathered around the orb emitting a bright white light.

Sirius squeezed Harry’s shoulder. Harry straightened up taller next to him and made his way over to the prophecy. Hermione walked tall next to him, holding his hand. Sirius made his way to the other side of the table and stood behind Rose. Her hand gripped the one he had rested on her shoulder.

After a brief, tense moment, Harry picked up the orb.

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…”

With shaking hands, Harry put the orb back down. No spoke for a long moment. It was silent except for the sharp scratches of Cousin Cassie’s quill.

“Pick it up again, Harry,” Cassie said, “I didn’t catch that last bit.”

Harry, Draco, and Neville glared at her. Grandmother looked aghast at her nonchalance and opened her mouth to berate her but Hermione spoke instead.

In steady but solemn tones, Hermione recited the entire prophecy.

Cassie looked up after she had finished writing with a grin. “Thank you, love, not all of us are blessed with such a memory.” Her eyes lit up again and she turned to Cousin Cedrella, “Can you imagine what their children will be like? Potters were no slouches with potions either you know.”

Cedrella stared at Cassie before sighing, long and loud. “Well, I’m glad someone isn’t worried about this.”

Honestly, Sirius felt like throwing up. There was no way in hell he was going to let his son face Riddle alone.

Cassie waved a hand, dismissing the reproach. “Oh please, prophecies are…”

“Divined by fate?” Uncle Iggy growled. “Not to be trifled with?”

“Self-fulfilling and madness to interpret?” Uncle Cygnus added.

“Only for fools,” Cassie rolled her eyes.

Sirius caught Grandfather frowning at them all. He wanted to believe Cassie but…

“This is a true prophecy,” Grandmother said, “It would have to be a true prophecy to be recorded for the Hall of Prophecies. That is ancient magic.”

“Yes, but I can already think of a few different ways to circumvent this prophecy whilst still technically fulfilling it. I’m sure our dear Hermione could think of a few hundred more ways to get around this as well.”

Everyone’s eyes swiveled from Cassie to Hermione, who was frowning at her.

“I would need to read more on prophecies of course,” Hermione started slowly, “I see what you mean.”

“Can someone explain to me then?” Harry asked tightly.

Cassie smiled at him. “If the prophecy is talking about you, which, if anyone cares to remember there is another boy who was born at the end of July—” Neville’s face went sheet white and Callidora made a soft keening sound while Augusta gasped sharply.

“Alice and Frank did face Riddle three times,” she said softly.

Harry’s hand flew to his forehead, where sowilo was marked there forever, and frowned.

“He didn’t technically mark me, either,” Harry said softly.

Cassie nodded, grinning wide still, “Exactly! That was your mother’s doing, brilliant witch that she is.”

“Mark could mean something less literal though,” Tonks said. “It could mean that Riddle had just chosen to attack the Potters and that’s how he marked them.”

Cassie nodded again, still grinning. Sirius had an urge to punch something. “Ex-act-ly!” She annunciated each syllable.

“Which means hand could be figurative as well!” Hermione exclaimed. “Like a chosen champion!”

Cassie raised her hands in praise. “See? We’ll need to spend some time with the prophecy, of course, to make sure Fate isn’t cheated her due, but she has given us plenty of wiggle room to work with.”

Hermione nodded seriously. “Right, I’ll need a lot of books and…”

She continued speaking but Sirius wasn’t paying attention anymore. The prophecy had felt like a weight, and now, he felt a little bit free. A little bit lighter. His son wasn’t going to face Riddle alone, they would put in a champion for him, a right-hand man. It would be okay.

It had to be okay.

 

///

 

Carina pounded on the dining room door at one o’clock sharp. Harry, Neville, and Draco jumped up immediately, eager to leave the serious discussion behind. Moments later, Sirius followed them to the outdoor patio that had a clear view of the quidditch pitch. He watched as they all launched into the air and flew their way over.

Rose wrapped her arms around him from behind. “How you feeling, love?”

Sirius sunk a little into her embrace. “Could be better. Could be worse.”

She chuckled sharply. “That’s encouraging.” She shifted around, tucking herself into his side, so they could both watch most of the children in their lives fly about. “You put safety charms on Leo’s broom, right?”

Sirius winced. “Right, uh, don’t be mad, love but…”

Rose groaned. “You forgot.”

“Harry’s out there! Nothing bad will happen.”

“Sirius,” Rose pinched her nose, “Please for the love of…”

“What did you do this time, Pads?” Remus snickered behind him.

Sirius turned and glared at his best friend. He caught sight of a broom. “Are you going to head out there?”

Remus nodded. “Yeah, I lost a bet with Tonks, and they…”

Sirius laughed. “What are they making you do?”

“I’m making the old man play quidditch with me, obviously.” Tonks strolled around the corner, broom over one of their shoulders, and a wide grin on their face. They had shortened their hair from the hot pink tousled bob to a hot pink buzz cut, probably due to the upcoming quidditch match they were going to play.

Rose relaxed next to him. “Tonks, Remus, could one of you activate the safety charms on Leo’s broom please?”

“No problem, cuz,” Tonks said as they walked past Remus, accidentally (or maybe purposefully) knocking the end of their broomstick across his face.

“Ouch! Tonks!” Remus growled.

Tonks grinned cheekily before setting off, flying over to the pitch. Sirius heard them shout at Leo to get his broom over to them.

Sirius smiled devilishly at Remus. “I think they aren’t going to stop flirting until you give in, old man.”

Remus glowered at Sirius. “I’m thirteen years older than them!”

Rose scoffed. “Maybe physically but mentally, I think you and Sirius are barely thirty. Barely.”

Sirius laughed. “I knew you were the love of my life for a reason.” He placed a loud, smacking kiss on her cheek. “No go on, you barely thirty-year-old man before my cousin decides to lock you in a room for the next bet you lose.”

Remus glared at both of them before taking off, mumbling under his breath about the craziness of the Blacks.

“Where are the twins?” Sirius asked, suddenly realizing it was too quiet in the house.

“Hopping between hands, most likely. Your grandmother and many aunts and cousins shifted into the parlor to plan our son’s wedding.” She shuddered. “I don’t want to think about it for another year. At least.”

Sirius frowned. “Agreed.”

Thinking about the wedding, thinking at least two years in the future, Sirius wondered if the Riddle would be dead by then. They had destroyed one more horcrux that day. They were down to one then. And the one ejected from Hogwarts, which…was probably in Albania, fighting for life. Sirius shuddered and Rose squeezed him tighter to her.

Would Riddle know that another one of his horcruxes was destroyed? Would it spur him to make a move quicker than they wanted? 

 

///

 

Arcturus sat at his desk. Ravenswood was quiet for the first time in days; all the children—young adults—were back at Hogwarts. Hermione had utilized the help of everyone’s elves to scour all the libraries she had access to. In the end, they had a pile of over a hundred books on prophecies — Hermione had wanted to take them all to read but he put his foot down. Instead, between several family members, everyone took about six to seven books, although Cassie and Hermione took ten each. And she made everyone promise that once they were done with a book they would return it to the general collection. Arcturus knew that by Samhain, Hermione would have likely read at least twenty of the books.

The prophecy changed his plans for Riddle. Again. He had read Cassie’s handwritten copy several times over and already he thought of thousands of ways to interpret it. As the seventh month dies — Did that mean the seventh month in the Gregorian calendar? The seventh month as in the literal name September? Or the seventh month in the Celtic calendar?

And what did dies mean? The very last day, like Harry’s birthday, or maybe the second to last day, like Neville’s birthday?

Arcturus shook his head. He couldn’t get bogged down in the details. Not yet.

There were still many other things to worry about. Like whoever attacked him and Lucius. Or who tried to attack Hermione? Were they part of the same plot? An attempt to get close to Harry or close to another horcrux?

Or worse, were they different enemies? Unrelated with different aims?

Arcturus rubbed his forehead and groaned. An unknown enemy was an unknown variable. He couldn’t account for countermoves.

But at least today, hopefully, more information would come to light. He was planning on meeting with Auror Shacklebolt at Grimmauld Place to review the memories gathered.

He checked the time and straightened his robes as he stood. Lucius was meeting them at Grimmauld but he wanted to make sure Sirius was ready. Nearly everyone wanted to review the memories but he knew they were already pushing themselves into an official investigation. If they went too far, they’d lose access to all the information. Besides, Arcturus promised to pay special attention so Cygnus and Alphard could review his own memory of the pensieve.

Sirius was waiting for him at the floo with a grim expression. He raised an eyebrow in inquiry.

Sirius smiled tightly. “I hate that stupid house.”

Rose entered the foyer at that moment with Cepheé and Percy each on a hip.

Sirius’s smile loosened at the sight of them. “Hello boys,” he reached out and took Cepheé into his arms. “Isn’t it a bit early for them to be up?” He asked as cuddled with Cepheé.

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, but I think they noticed you were gone.” Arcturus’s eyebrows rose; his expression matched by Sirius. Rose went on, “They got fussy when you left the room and started to babble for ‘da-da’.” She shrugged. “I figured they might feel better if they saw you one more time before you left.”

Sirius frowned slightly, eyeing the two boys. He held Cepheé tighter to him and reached out to cup the back of Percy’s head. “Morning boys. Are you going to be good for Mama today?”

They babbled some more, ‘da-da’s and ‘ma-ma’s and ‘sahs’ which everyone agreed was their way of saying ‘stars,’ who were Carina and Leo, of course. Not to be confused with “Hawwy,” which they started to babble around the end of August.

Percy threw his arms in the air and reached for Sirius. Carefully, Rose transferred Percy into Sirius’s other arm and helped him to support both of the growing twins. Percy stuck his face straight into Sirius’s neck and fell silent.

“Are they sick, do you think?” Rose asked, pressing a hand to Cepheé’s forehead. He had laid his head on Sirius’s shoulder and continued to babble.

Sirius shook his head and took a deep breath. Arcturus had a feeling as to what he was doing. He tapped into the family magic as well, breathing deep and settling the rolling energy into a smooth, calm wave. He was sure everyone would feel the steadying pressure, and he hoped it helped Sirius to calm his own magic.

Sirius nodded slowly after a minute as the twins calmed down and settled into a light nap in their father’s arms.

“What was that?” Rose whispered, eyes wide.

Arcturus grinned. Brilliant. “They inherited your gift, didn’t they, Sirius?”

Sirius nodded, frowning again. He handed back each twin slowly. “Do you need help getting them back up to bed?”

Rose shook her head. “Sirius?”

He kissed her forehead. “Nothing bad, I swear love. But you know how I’m sensitive to magic?”

Rose squeezed the twins to her. “Oh, oh.” She sighed. “They felt your magic and were worried.”

Sirius smiled grimly. “I’ll try to do better in keeping that under control.”

“We’ll all have to do better,” Arcturus corrected gently. “They’ll be able to feel everyone’s magic.”

“Right, right,” Rose sighed. “Okay, I’ll let everyone know.” She leaned up and kissed Sirius quickly on the cheek. “Go on, I’m sure I made you late now.”

Sirius dropped quick kisses to each of the boys before giving her a peck on the lips. “Yeah, well, I think I needed this.”

Rose laughed. “Looks like the boys are already looking after you.”

Arcturus chuckled lightly. “Come on.” He stepped up to the floo and left first, giving Sirius a moment alone with Rose to collect himself. He forgot how much Sirius hated this house…and now… The twins were fourteen months old. Was Sirius that young when he grew into his sensitivity to magic? And without parents who would’ve paid attention to that sensitivity…without him, either, Arcturus thought. Without a poisoned father.

Arcturus took a deep breath, grateful that Lucius had not actually shown up yet.

Not that he actually had a moment or more to breathe because Lucius quickly followed him out of the floo. He stepped out of the way just in time.

Lucius quirked a brow. “And here I thought I was going to be late.”

Arcturus smiled wryly. “The twins had a bout of accidental magic.” Arcturus gestured to Lucius to follow him out to the…public floo room. Grimmauld Place had officially become their public meeting place a few nights ago, but that didn’t mean they were going to open the whole house for visitors. The upper floors, where the bedrooms, a small library, potions lab, another two offices, and this private floo room, were to be kept locked and warded.

Arcturus had adjusted the wards to accept visitors into the main floo room and limited them to the dining hall, library, and the larger office on the main floor. He set several passwords on the library, however, as he didn’t actually want anyone outside of the family to have access to it, but it was trickier to work the wards to lock certain rooms on a floor and not others. He also didn’t want anyone to know he had warded this house in this way.

Auror Shacklebolt was waiting in the public floo room with two other aurors and Kreacher, as an unintentional guard.

“Master Black,” Kreacher bowed as he entered the room. “Aurors be here.”

“Thank you Kreacher,” Arcturus nodded to him before nodding to his guests. “Please prepare a tea service in the office.” Kreacher popped away. “Gentlemen.”

“Lord Black, Lord Malfoy” Shacklebolt nodded to him, “This is Auror Dawlish and Walsh. They are working on this case with me.”

Arcturus and Lucius greeted the aurors.

“Is Heir Black joining us?” Shacklebolt asked as Arcturus led them to the office.

“Right behind you, Kingsley,” Sirius said, appearing at the top of the stairs from the private floo room.

Shacklebolt quirked a brow. “Not Auror Shacklebolt anymore?”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “You had just appeared after my grandfather was almost murdered, I’d’ve thought you’d excuse the formality.”

“And then Hogwarts,” Shacklebolt added.

Sirius frowned. “My future daughter-in-law was potioned. Any leads?”

Shacklebolt shook his head as they entered the office. The two other aurors stood silently near the back. Arcturus, however, went over to the cabinet in which they placed their pensieve. It felt wrong to have it out in the open — locked in a cabinet in a heavily warded room, but it was only for today. It would be safely stored back into its dimensional pocket as soon as the aurors left.

“Nothing,” Shacklebolt said, “Lady Ravenclaw sent over a list of every elf that entered the wards for the entire year…but there’s no way to tell which elf was ordered to put the potion in her drink. And there were over a hundred private elves at Hogwarts just in these past three weeks.”

Sirius shared a look with him and frowned. It did at least narrow the person down to only the hundred or so people who owned a house elf. Arcturus nodded minutely to Sirius — they would have to get that list from Hermione and eliminate from it as necessary.

Arcturus clapped his hands, calling everyone’s attention back to the matter at hand. “Memories, please?” He waved his wand and floated the pensieve to the desk.

Shacklebolt stepped forward. “We managed to get a collection of twenty memories. You and Lord Malfoy just need to add your own.”

Lucius stepped up immediately and poured his memory from a glass vial. Arcturus did the same, having already pulled the memory earlier that morning.

“After you gentlemen,” Arcturus gestured to the three aurors. Arcturus waited until everyone had entered before he entered himself, and started the collection of memories.

He felt his and Sirius’s magic flow within the pensieve, the Black family magic working with the magic of the memories to form a fairly cohesive picture. As he watched himself walk through the crowd, Arcturus could almost pretend to back in that moment, when the most frustrating part of his day was the bickering of the children who called themselves Wizengamot Lords and Ladies.

But he didn’t focus on himself this time. No, he scoured the other memories, forming faces and conversations he was not privy to the first time. He paid special attention to the conversations — a way of eavesdropping he had never thought of before — but could hardly resist the opportunity to do so now.

“Him!” He heard one of the aurors shout. He turned and saw the auror pointing to a cloaked figure. He rolled his eyes. How unhelpful.

“Let’s play it again,” Shacklebolt said.

Obligingly, Arcturus restarted the memory. This happened several times, as the aurors watched the movements of the cloaked figure. No memories showed a clear picture of their face. After they replayed the memory at least twenty times, the aurors gave up. Arcturus would’ve been frustrated if not for the fact that all of the replays of the memory gave him ample opportunity to memorize and magically reinforce his memory of the experience. He was confident he could give a startlingly good reenactment of the memories. Not as good as Hermione though, he thought wryly.

The aurors packed up the memories and left with little words of their continued effort to find the perpetrator. Arcturus saw them out to the public floo room. He accepted their words but felt confident that the House of Black would find the culprits before them.

He returned to the office to see Sirius pouring himself a drink.

“It’s not even noon,” he admonished.

Sirius growled, his hands shaking.

“What did you see?” Lucius asked quietly.

Arcturus blinked. He hadn’t realized until then that Sirius had been abnormally quiet during the last few repeats of the memory.

Sirius turned to him, his face contorted and Arcturus realized Sirius was brutally controlling his magic. He tossed back the too large glass of firewhisky and said between clenched teeth, “A fucking rat.”

Notes:

I'm sure a responsible author would not post chapters immediately after finishing them in order to keep a semi-regular schedule for readers.

I'm not responsible.

Enjoy!

P.S. Yes, Tonks is nonbinary. I have a headcanon that when they were 10 and more fully in control of their metamorphmagus abilities, they decided to go by they/them/their pronouns due to the fact that not only is gender a social construct but their body IS NOT EVEN confined to a single gender. So they identify as nonbinary.

Is this in response to JKR's terfness? No. (Although fuck her for that.) This has been my headcanon ever since I unlearned the gender binary. Because in my mind, most metamorphmagi (metamorphmaguses?) do not view gender as binary since they, themselves, are not confined to physically present as one gender but can choose based on their mood, or their preference, or any other determining factor they so choose. This is not to say that all metamorphmagi identify as nonbinary, as there are a plethora of other labels to choose from (such as genderfluid or pangender), but Tonk, here, does and has, since they were 10.

If you have a problem with that, stop reading my fics. This is an LGBTQIA+ safe place.

(While I'm on the subject since I don't know if this is ever gonna come up in this fic, Sirius is pansexual. In fact, he is always pansexual in any fic I will *ever* write. (This is a headcanon that will persist across everything since I cannot separate that from him. It'd be like trying to take away his leather jacket or something.) Also, in this fic, Cassie is asexual and aromantic - she could not be bothered to even pretend otherwise. (Her parents tried to arrange a marriage for her but she blackmailed them and they stopped.)

Um, yeah, I think that's it for now.

Chapter 10: Countermoves

Summary:

It's time.

Fate. Great Aunt Cassie’s words still rang in his ears, days later, “to make sure Fate isn’t cheated her due.” He shuddered.

Hermione nudged him gently having likely felt the shudder against her side. He nudged her back and shared a small smile with her. She returned to her book where she was taking diligent notes to the side.

The library was mostly empty this Sunday morning, but Harry knew it would fill up soon. It was part of the reason they were there so early. The other part was the research they had in front of them.

Everyone in the family, no less than three times each, warned them to keep their research a secret. He’d be frustrated with their paranoia if it hadn’t been proven necessary. Grandfather and Uncle Lucius had been attacked at the Ministry. Hermione had been attacked at Hogwarts. Harry didn’t feel safe for the first time since…well, first year.

Which was why he was up early on a Sunday morning, three stacks of books surrounding him, Hermione, and Neville as they worked through the books on prophecies they were given.

They’d been back to school for almost two weeks and Hermione had already gone through most of her books. He was struggling to read one…every time he started, every time he opened a book, he heard the prophecy repeating like a sadistic mantra in his head. And then, every time he read the word “fate,” he heard Great Aunt Cassie: “to make sure Fate isn’t cheated her due.”

Her due. Fate’s due. What the fuck was Fate due anyway? Why him? He glanced at Neville…if it even was him.

He took a deep breath and refocused on the book in front of him.

 

It has long been debated as to whether Fate is a god, goddess, deity, or force of magic. Unlike magic, which has been connected and infused into the world by Lady Hecate, Fate is elusive.

The famous wix Homer has called Fate Moira, a force personified by three goddesses, also known as the Spinners: Clotho (spinner), Lachesis (allotter), and Atropos (unturning). Their power supposedly runs parallel and independent from the gods.

However, other sources have connected the Moirai to not only different goddesses but different parentages as well. For some, the Moirai are three daughters of Nyx, Goddess of the Night: Keres (fate), Thanatos (death), and Nemesis (retribution). And still, others believe the Moirai to be daughters of Zeus and Themis: Eunomia (order), Dike (justice), and Eirene (peace).

As magi-philosophers study the matter, one thread of “Fate’s Force” becomes clear: prophecies. Prophecies have long been held as the only accountable and measurable force of fate.

At the inception of the International Confederation of Wix, every country became responsible for harvesting and hosting prophecies. Mila Santiago, the famous Spanish Seer of the early 1300s, invented the runic sequence still used today that taps into the Ley lines of the world to collect true prophecies as they are spoken. Since her ingenious sequence, magi-philosophers have had the opportunity to study the thousands of prophecies recorded each year. Unfortunately, Madam Santiago, a prestigious and accomplished Seer herself, created the runic sequence in such a way that no one but that whom the prophecy refers to could hear what Fate had dictated.

 

Harry jolted out of his chair. Hermione raised her eyebrows, silently asking what was wrong. He shoved the book at her and pointed to that last sentence.

No one but that whom the prophecy refers to. He shuddered.

“Hmm,” Hermione hummed as she thumbed through her notes. He was grateful and disturbed that she seemed so calm.

“Harry?” Nev whispered, gesturing to the book. Harry shoved it to him, still unable to find words for the disgust, relief, hatred that burned through his veins.

Him. It was him. It wasn’t Neville. Which was a good thing and awful thing and Harry felt disgusted with himself that, for even the barest moment, he had wished it on his dearest cousin and friend.

Neville sighed heavily — Harry knew it had to be at least partially relief. He pushed the book back to Harry. “Are we sure this Santiago got it right? Could there be something wrong with the rune sequence?”

“Mila Santiago was a renowned Seer,” Hermione muttered softly, her eyes still focused on her notes. “I’m sure there are several books on her runic sequence alone that we can look at but…” Hermione made a note of the book title and page in her notes but she looked up to Harry. She smiled slightly, holding his hand in hers for a brief moment. “Keep reading, Harry, I’m more interested to know what…or who…they decide Fate is.”

Harry frowned at her. “Why?”

“Motivations,” she said before turning back to her book. Harry caught Neville’s confused gaze. He shrugged and turned back to his own book.

Harry sighed quietly, readjusting the book in front of him.

 

There have been many debates as to whether this part of the sequence could be changed, or if indeed it could even be determined as to which part of the sequence it is written. Or, as this author and many other magi-philosophers believe, it is not a part of the sequence but rather Fate, the Moirai, guarding their sacred magic.

Today, prophecies are collected into orbs that emit light. The lights emitted from these orbs have been researched extensively across various countries. A soft blue light indicates a prophecy unfulfilled and an orb that does not emit light either indicates a completed prophecy or a prophecy that no longer can be fulfilled. The only other color to have been recorded is a dark red; this has indicated a prophecy cheated.

This has happened very rarely, with only a few recorded incidents since the collection of prophecies. However, in each case in which a prophetic orb has emitted a dark red light, the subjects of the prophecy had been made aware of the prophecy and each sought to either subvert or avoid it. The consequences of such, however, are unclear.

In one such incident, the wix, whose identity has been kept secret, was prophesied to be the father of the next Dark Lord. After having lived through Grindelwald’s rein, the man immediately sterilized himself to avoid fathering such a wix. The orb turned red at the moment of sterilization but the wix himself suffered no known consequences.

It is unclear as to how or why the orb turned red rather than faded. However, it does suggest a difference between a prophecy that cannot be fulfilled versus a prophecy that must be fulfilled.

The wix who cheated his prophecy was from England, a country which fought a vicious civil war in the seventies lead by their own Dark Lord. Was this Fate punishing the wix or Fate subverting their own prophecy to fulfill its needs?

This brings us back to who, exactly, is Fate. Is it Eunomia, who requires order above all else and fulfilled the prophecy subverted? Or is it Thanatos, who was denied her due and exacted death on those responsible?

As mere mortals, how are we to know?

 

Harry slammed the book closed. Hermione and Neville jumped.

“Stupid fucking—”

“Harry!” Hermione whisper-yelled.

Madam Pince glared at them from her desk but hadn’t yet moved to kick them out.

“Sorry,” Harry mumbled. But his hands still shook with anger. “I need a break.” He stood abruptly. Neville and Hermione made moves to join him but he shook his head. “No, I’ll be back. I’m just…going to take a walk.”

Hermione shared a glance with Neville. “Do you want one of us to join you?”

Harry shook his head again. He leaned down and kissed Hermione on her forehead. “No, you stay with Neville. I’ll be back soon.”

Harry didn’t wait for them to agree but turned and walked briskly out of the library. He needed space. He needed…

He needed this stupid prophecy to not exist. He hadn’t…He never really thought of Riddle. And it was clear that his family had never stopped thinking of Riddle and…

He felt like someone had hit a bludger to his face and he was still spinning to try to get away.

Harry twisted through the hallways, avoiding most students with secret passageways until he was at the Owlery. Hedwig hadn’t been in his room last night so he hoped she was here. As he looked up, he saw her immediately sweep down. She landed on his shoulder and nibbled on his ear affectionately.

“Hey, girl.” Harry rubbed her head gently.

He moved over to a secluded open window, hoping no one would be up here this early, but he still didn’t dare talk aloud. Secrets. Privacy. Ears everywhere. The words rang through his mind in the gentle exacting tones of Aunt Narcissa.

He felt prepared and at a loss all at once.

Every lesson with Grandpa, with Cousin Cygnus, with Uncle Lucius, with Great Aunt Cassie, and Great Uncle Alphard, and every other family member. It was an education to be envied. An education that prepared him for this…even when they didn’t know for sure that this was what he needed to be prepared for.

He couldn’t decide if that made it better or worse. If his family’s paranoia comforted or disgusted him.

He remembered the nightmares he had as a child — of the flashing green light he knew to have been the Killing Curse directed at his mom and then at him. He remembered moments of Dad’s arms around him before he was taken away by Hagrid and a flying motorbike to his Aunt Petunia’s house. He didn’t remember much there at all but he was grateful for that.

He remembered being scared of being taken away from his family and Grandpa showing him the intricate wards around Ravenswood. He remembered never feeling afraid again. Because he knew his family would take care of him.

And now…it was all on him.

He shook his head. It wasn’t just on him. He knew that. He knew it wasn’t just on him. He would help his family take care of it. His family would help him. Like they did with everything.

And even if they couldn’t find a way around the prophecy, even if Harry had to face Riddle on his own, he knew he wouldn’t actually be alone. It wouldn’t just be him. His family would be there too.

They would do this together.

Harry took a few slow, deep breaths. He nuzzled Hedwig briefly. “Do you want to fly this afternoon?”

She barked once, nibbled his ear again, and took off out the window. He watched her fly over to Ravenclaw tower and knew she’d wait for him there until he was ready to fly.

When he reached the library, he felt much better. Draco, Fay, Blaise, and Isobel were also at the table. Fay smiled hesitantly while Draco glared at him. He glared back.

“Sit,” Draco ordered.

Harry opened his mouth as he sat down but Hermione grabbed his hand and held it in two of hers on her lap. He frowned — she was shaking.

“What’s wrong?” He asked instead, turning to her.

Draco snapped his fingers near his face. “No more walking off on your own,” he growled. “Everyone travels in pairs.”

“Draco!” Harry whisper-yelled. His mouth nearly fell open in shock but as he glanced around, everyone else looked determined…and scared. “What happened?”

Draco rolled his eyes and pointed at Hermione. “We still don’t know who potioned Hermione. We don’t know what they wanted or if she was even their main target. We don’t—” Draco took a deep breath, his chest heaving as if he had run from the quidditch pitch.

“We stick together,” Neville said, his mouth pressed in a firm line, “That’s the bottom line. Okay?” He stared pointedly at Harry.

Harry nodded stiffly. “We stick together.”

 

///

 

The door to his office opened slowly and Arcturus jerked upright — he didn’t want to seem overwhelmed — he needed to be strong for the family.

Melania walked in, a sad, knowing smile on her face and Arcturus sighed. He couldn’t hide his emotions from his wife. She closed the door behind her and went to sit on his lap. He tucked her in close.

“Almost seventy-five years, love,” Melania said, her face tucked into his neck, “Do you really think you can hide anything from me?”

Arcturus chuckled. “Yule will be exceptionally bright this year.” He brought her hand to his lips. “And I haven’t been able to hide anything from you since our own betrothal.”

She laughed softly. “That’s true.” She looked up, cupping his face in one hand. “You’ve been head of this family for so long, my dear, that I think you’ve forgotten something rather important.”

He frowned. What did he forget?

“You are but one branch in this strong tree. The Black family roots are deep and enduring. We’ve cut the diseased branches — we will survive this fight.”

He sighed heavily. That was true. The House of Black would survive. They had survived the first war with some heavy losses but they were reborn from the ashes. If it came to a second war, their family was stronger than ever. In part thanks to Sirius and Rose, and the four children they were blessed with it. Four children whose oldest brother was the Head of the House of Gryffindor, who was marrying the Head of the House of Ravenclaw. Yes, the future of the House of Black was secure.

But he didn’t want to lose anyone else. He didn’t want to suffer any losses in this second war. And…was it still unrealistic? He didn’t know. And it scared him.

Riddle had yet to make a move beyond, possibly, attacking him and Lucius. And then they had, potentially, an unknown enemy.

He squeezed his wife a little tighter. “But will all of us survive this war?”

She cuddled back into him. “We must pray so, but also know that as long as the little ones live, all will be well.”

Arcturus nodded. “I’m going to call the goblins to make sure the house is secure.”

Melania chuckled. “Whatever makes you feel better.” She straightened up again. “Now, let’s get down to business. Because I want to see Harry married in two years without having to worry about Riddle. Don’t you?”

“Brilliant per usual, wife.”

They sat plotting well into the night. They knew many things depended on the moves of their enemies but their first objective, after finding the remaining horcrux of course, was to figure out who their other enemies were.

The answer, well to one of their questions, came the next morning.

Narcissa and Lucius sat at their breakfast table, faces void of any color. Lucius looked particularly ill.

Arcturus was the first to enter but they didn’t say anything until he sat down. He was grateful, for he was sure his knees would have buckled at the news.

“He’s back,” Lucius said through thin lips. He pulled back the sleeve of his left arm, where that mark still lay. It was no longer a faded gray but an ugly purple, inflamed, and…painful looking. Arcturus looked at Lucius alarmed. Lucius nodded. “He called for all his Death Eaters last night. I didn’t go, obviously — I don’t think even I could convince him of being a double agent at this point. And he’s—” Lucius’s lips twitched. “He’s been torturing me with it since.”

Narcissa and he hissed.

“Tilly,” Arcturus called. She popped next to him. “Please bring Cassiopeia and Alphard here immediately.” He turned back to Lucius. “We’re removing that. Today.”

Narcissa gasped. “Have we figured out how to safely do that?”

He stared at Lucius. The short answer was no, and they both knew that. But this was now a matter of urgency. Lucius would be tortured with the mark every day. That was a weak point, a chink in the armor they couldn’t afford. Lucius would have to be homebound, maybe bed bound if it got that bad, until they could kill the fucker. And Lucius was an excellent dueler — they couldn’t afford to lose a fighter like him in war.

“Let’s do it,” Lucius said by way of agreement. He knew what was at stake.

Narcissa frowned but refrained from glaring at them both. “The children?” She asked.

“We’ll tell Hermione to raise the war wards at Hogwarts and cancel Hogsmeade trips,” Arcturus said, “Otherwise, they are at the second safest place on the planet.”

Narcissa nodded but Arcturus knew that she would still prefer them to be at Ravenswood.

Sirius and Rose walked into the breakfast parlour at that point with Leo hitched onto Sirius’s back. Sirius took one look at Lucius’s arm before turning back around. Rose paled dramatically before following, calling their young ones for breakfast in bed.

Cassiopeia and Alphard had been studying Lucius’s mark for several minutes by the time Sirius returned alone.

“Grandmother and Rose are distracting the kids with breakfast in bed,” he said. He glared at Lucius’s arm.

“I think ritual cleansing is our best bet,” Cassiopeia announced, ignoring Sirius’s arrival.

Alphard nodded. “I think between the four of us, we should provide proper balance but…” Alphard glared at the ceiling before sighing heavily. “There’s someone I know, who could probably help better than any of us.”

“Who?” Narcissa asked.

“What can they do that we can’t?” Cassiopeia glared at Alphard.

“She’s an expert in magical ethics and a practicing Druid. She—she can confirm the magical ties that we can’t.” Alphard waved his wand and enlarged a series of diagnostic runes above Lucius’s arm. “Like that rune here, in connection with these runes. We haven’t been able to figure out if it’s a magical contract and…”

“And what type of magic powers it.” Cassiopeia finished, now glaring at the runes as if pure intimidation would convince them to make sense to her.

“Who is it?” Arcturus asked. And could they trust them with this information? Could they ask for an unbreakable vow?

“Aneira Morgan,” Alphard said finally, and Sirius fought back sniggers. Alphard and Arcturus glared at him. “She’s the magical ethics professor at Hogwarts.”

Sirius stifled a grin but didn’t say anything. That alone told Arcturus many things about Professor Morgan. He honestly wanted to meet the wix that turned Alphard inside-out but…

“Can you trust her? With this?” Narcissa said, shooting Sirius a glare.

“I…I can’t make that call,” Alphard’s face was turned to the ceiling but it only highlighted the flush creeping up his neck. 

Cassiopeia huffed. “Fine. Sirius, can you be an adult for a minute and join me at Hogwarts to meet this witch.” Cassiopeia waved her wand, copying sections of the diagnostic. “Let’s see what she makes of this and then we can make the call.

Sirius nodded. “Let me mirror call Remus—I’ll see if he knows her schedule.”

“Right,” Arcturus said, “In the meantime, I’ll call the Goblin Horde and update them that…”

“The war has begun,” Lucius said.

Arcturus nodded, frowning. The war never ended, in his opinion — they just had nearly sixteen years of a stalemate. But now, he supposed, the war had begun in earnest.

Notes:

I play fast and loose with mythology here (In fact, most of what I wrote would not be considered accurate so...let that go please.)

Chapter 11: Promises

Summary:

Broken promises and renewed promises.

Sirius sent Tilly ahead first, to find Headmistress McGonagall and open her floo for temporary access. Less than ten minutes later, Sirius and Cassiopeia flooed into the Headmistress’s office.

Sirius’s eyes automatically went to the still silent portrait of Albus Dumbledore. The portrait had fallen silent the moment it learned of his death and refused to speak a word since. Most of the time, according to Minerva, he badly feigned sleep.

He wasn’t faking now though — his eyes were narrowed and focused on Sirius as he walked through the office. Sirius offered him a truly arrogant smirk. Dumbledore glared back.

Cassiopeia sniffed, eyeing Dumbledore with equal disdain. “Perhaps we should take this meeting elsewhere?”

Minerva snorted. “Please, I warded the portraits the moment I had access to this office. They can’t share any information they hear with anyone.”

Cassie eyed Minerva with approval. “Good. We need to speak to Professor Morgan.”

Minerva studied Cassie before turning to Sirius. She raised a single eyebrow. The eyebrow of doom, as Sirius had known it from his school days.

“We also need to speak to Hermione,” Cassie continued as she settled into an armchair near the fire. She glared at Dumbledore’s portrait again. “We should just set it on fire.”

Sirius snorted. “Now where’s the punishment in that?” He settled next to her as Minerva sent off two elves to retrieve Professor Morgan and Hermione. “At least now he’s forced to watch us make our own paths, without a puppet master.”

He leaned back and continued to smirk at the portrait until Minerva rapped him sharply over the head.

“Well, if you’re quite finished having a staring contest with a portrait,” Minerva stated, her accent growing sharper, “Perhaps ye liked to tell me why the two of you are here this morning.”

Cassie sent one more glare to Dumbledore before focusing on Minerva, who had settled into the wingback chair opposite them. A tea set with scones and jam appeared on the table.

“We may need Professor Morgan’s help and…” Cassie pursed her lips before glancing at Sirius. He nodded quickly. “We have reason to believe—”

“He’s back,” Sirius said shortly.

Minerva’s cup rattled violently on her saucer.

“Him?” She asked archly.

Sirius nodded.

“How?” Minerva waved her hands wildly. “I thought…I thought you had taken care of that.”

Sirius frowned at her. “We were…we are…but you know, it’s not exactly easy to scry for pieces of one soul.”

Minerva grumbled under her breath. “Verra well. What are you planning? What’s next?”

“Right now?” Sirius leaned into the couch. “Securing the school and helping Lucius.”

Minerva’s eyebrows shot up her forehead. “What’s wrong with Lord Malfoy?”

A knock interrupted Sirius before he could answer.

“Come in,” Minerva called and Sirius got his first good look at the only woman that drove his cousin mad.

Aneira Morgan was gorgeous — something he had already known from his son and young cousins. She had swept her dark blonde hair into an untidy bun that probably put Minerva into fits but it softened her face and drew attention to her eyes. He had heard a lot — too much, really — about the passion his uncle saw in those dark green eyes. But Sirius only saw a shrewdness. Typical of his uncle to be obsessed with a woman who could see through his usual tricks.

She nodded shortly to him and Cassie before turning her attention to Minerva.

“How can I help you, Headmistress?” She didn’t sit down.

Minerva turned to them, a demanding look on her face.

Cassie smirked at her before swishing her wand and displaying a section of the ward scheme over the tea set.

“A recent project of great importance has stalled and my nephew, who had been helping me, suggested that Professor Morgan may be of some assistance.”

Professor Morgan glared, first at the schematic and then at Cassie and Sirius. Sirius fought the bemused smile itching across his cheeks. He knew that look from the many mistakes he had made with Rose. There was apparently something universal in the frustrated lovers of the Blacks. Or maybe Rose was right and the Blacks really did have a type — a little bit crazy.

He could tell he did not successfully hide his grin as the glare from Morgan intensified. She narrowed her eyes from him to the schematic and studied it carefully for a moment. A small smirk twisted her lips.

“May I, Headmistress?” She gestured to the tea. When Minerva nodded, she settled into another wingback, waved her wand, and used magic to pour her tea and carry it over to her. She took a delicate sip and said in a steely voice, “I’ll need to see the whole ward schematic but I have a good idea of what you need to do to undo it if that’s what you wish.”

Sirius nodded, standing up from his seat. “Great! Why—”

“But I won’t help until that piece of shit you call uncle gets his arse over here.”

Sirius fell back down. “Right.”

Cassie snorted. “May I call an elf, Headmistress?”

Minerva coughed back a laugh. “Of course.”

“Tilly!” Cassie called.

Tilly appeared next to her. “Yes?”

“Tell Alphard to get his arse through the floo.” She eyed Professor Morgan for a second before adding, “And Lucius if he can.” Tilly nodded before disappearing with a pop.

Professor Morgan raised a golden eyebrow. “Did someone curse Lord Malfoy? How? This—” She waved a hand to the luminescent schematic, “—there are elements of contractual obligation within this. How…who, who could have—”

“Tell me,” Cassie interrupted, “How long has it been since you’ve seen Alphard?”

Professor Morgan gulped. “Nearly a decade.”

“You didn’t tell me you had known him when I interviewed you for the position here,” Cassie said.

Professor Morgan frowned. “Was I supposed to?”

“He recommended you.”

“You never mentioned that,” Professor Morgan accused.

Cassie smirked. “Was I supposed to?”

The floo burst into bright green flames, saving Professor Morgan from having to answer. Alphard walked in, his face rather pale, but nothing in comparison to Lucius. Minerva gasped as Sirius jumped up and helped Alphard carry Lucius to a chair. Lucius grunted his thanks.

A troubled frown played on Professor Morgan’s lips, clearly torn between scolding Alphard and haranguing him with questions.

Cassie saved her the trouble by waving her wand and calling the full diagnostic from Lucius’s arm. The Dark Mark had turned into a furious and ropey purple.

“Is that—” The question faded from Professor Morgan’s lips as Alphard nodded sharply.

“He’s back,” Alphard whispered firmly, glancing to Minerva before settling his gaze on Aneira. He gulped before gesturing to several runes in the luminescent schematic. “Riddle—Voldemort as you know him—he branded Lucius as a teenager. We’ve been trying to remove it but…”

“You’ve gotten stuck at those runes.” Aneira frowned, first at the mark and then Alphard. She moved to Lucius's other side, studying both his mark and then the diagnostic. “It…it bears resemblance to an ancient feudal contract, corrupted of course, but the same base warding scheme.” She jabbed the scheme with the tip of her wand. “There, and there. That’s the base wards for a relationship between a lord and…” She grimaced as she glanced to Lucius. “A, um, peasant.”

Lucius hissed in anger but otherwise did not say anything. Sirius was sure he was holding back a groan of pain instead.

“Can we break the contract?” Cassie asked impatiently.

Professor Morgan turned back to the diagnostic. She poked at several runes and enlarged various sections. After a minute of tense silence, she sighed. With her wand she pointed to two runes — unlike the others that were shining vividly, these were dull and jagged in comparison as if they were breaking apart from within. “There. He…he, well, booby-trapped several of the necessary runes for contract dissolution but these…well he clearly didn’t care about those consequences.”

“What are they for?” Sirius asked.

“Standard contract dissolution if the lord caused purposeful pain and harm to the servant.” She shrugged. “He put enough curses in this to cause pain that he’s wrongly assuming that he could kill through this mark before the contract would be broken.”

“He’s wrong?” Cassie asked.

“I mean…maybe? But there’s no need to find out.” She turned to Lucius. “Do you have your wand?”

Lucius glared at her — the light sheen of sweat across his brow greatly diminished its effect. He fumbled a bit, using one hand to draw his wand from his walking stick.

Professor Morgan frowned. “Are you skilled enough to use your wand with your non-dominant hand?”

“Of course,” Lucius bit out.

She pursed her lips but instead turned her attention back to the ward scheme. “Right. Well, with your wand directed at those two runes, push all your pain through.”

“What?” Lucius asked.

“Genius!” Cassie shouted instead. “Break the runes by demonstrating how the contract has been broken.” She shrugged. “With any luck, the bastard should feel the pain he’s put you through.”

Lucius dropped his hand suddenly and turned to Sirius, eyebrows raised.

Sirius gulped. “Right. Retribution.” Lucius nodded sharply. “Where’s Hermione?”

Minerva glanced at her watch. “Class has just finished so she should be here within the next five to ten minutes.”

He turned to Cassie. “Go back to Ravenswood and help Grandfather alert the family.”

Cassie glared at him. She caught Professor Morgan’s eye and said rather seriously, “I don’t care what happens between you and my nephew. You and I will be having a discussion on these runes.”

Professor Morgan nodded, a bewildered look in her eye. “Of—of course.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. Trust Cassie to care more about experimental wards than impending war.

“How long do you think it’ll take Hermione to fully lock down Hogwarts?” Alphard asked.

“It’s very nearly locked down tight to begin with,” Minerva said, “I doubt it’ll take more than a minute or two.”

“Do the wards cover the grounds too?” Professor Morgan asked. “Should we gather the children inside?”

Sirius shook his head. “The wards encompass most of the Forbidden Forest and the Great Lake, half of the mountainside and stops just shy of Hogsmeade. They’re honestly the most encompassing wards in all of Britain…maybe the world for all we know.”

“The Ravenclaws weren’t messing around,” Alphard muttered.

There was a firm knock on the door only minutes after Cassie left through the floo. Sirius sensed his son’s magic with a grimace — he should have known Harry would accompany Hermione. He held up his hand, stopping Minerva from allowing them entrance.

“Do you want them to see you like this?” Sirius asked softly to Lucius.

He grimaced. “No, but we can’t protect them from everything.”

Sirius frowned but nodded to Minerva.

“Enter!” She called.

Hermione and Harry entered smiling but their smiles quickly vanished when they saw Lucius.

“Uncle Lucius!” Harry rushed forward, mindless to all.

“I am fine,” Lucius said, the strain in his voice betraying his words. “As you will see soon enough.”

“Should I call Draco?”

“Let’s walk and talk,” Sirius said, turning Harry and Hermione around. “We need to go to the wardroom.” Sirius turned back to Lucius. “When Hermione’s done, we’ll contact Draco via the mirror.”

Alphard and Lucius nodded amongst the bewildered looks of Minerva and Professor Morgan.

“Mirrors?” Minerva muttered archly.

But Sirius was already herding Harry and Hermione out the door.

Harry pulled out his mirror and Sirius ignored the frantic conversation that ensued, knowing that Harry was doing his best to calm his cousin.

“He’s back, isn’t he?” Hermione whispered, her hand clenching into a fist.

Sirius nodded.

“We’re locking down the wards for no entry whatsoever.”

Sirius nodded again.

“You know that’s going to include the rest of the Black family. Anyone who is not currently on the grounds will need my permission via the wards to enter.”

“I know, Hermione.”

She frowned. “You should have brought Carina, Leo, and the twins then.”

Sirius laughed softly. “Ravenswood is under a similar lockdown Hermione, I assure you.”

She nodded, still frowning. “Right. What are we going to say to the students? Or the rest of the world? Everyone believes him dead…and it’s not like the family has been very open about…you know.”

Sirius grimaced. It was the downside of working behind the scenes. They couldn’t raise the alarm at the Ministry — no one would believe them. And the proof they had…or used to have…well they didn’t want that open for public consumption.

“We’re talking to the Horde about that,” Sirius said finally, “And you don’t need to tell the students anything…they won’t even know the difference.”

Hermione harrumphed. “Except no more Hogsmeade visits.”

“Minerva will handle that.” Although to be fair, Sirius had no idea how she was going to justify that. Maybe poor test scores? Whatever. It wasn’t his problem, not really. He needed to focus on his children…on Harry and that damn prophecy. On the missing horcrux.

On Riddle.

What would his next move be?

Sirius didn’t know and that scared him.

 

///

 

Arcturus called a Gathering.

His magic was anxious in a way it hadn’t been since the first war. He squeezed Melania’s hand as they settled into their seats.

Everyone gathered quickly even though it was their third Gathering in a week.

“Everyone still alive?” Cygnus asked roughly.

“Father!” Andromeda scolded but turned anxious eyes to him.

Arcturus nodded, his lips in a grim line. “Everyone’s alive but Lucius is hurt.”

“Hurt?” Andromeda looked around for Narcissa. “What happened? Is he going to be okay?”

“We’re working on—”

“He’ll be fine,” Cassie rolled into the room. “He’s getting rid of that bastard’s mark as we speak.”

Melania sighed in relief and Arcturus felt some of the tension leave his shoulders. Narcissa slumped in her chair and Andromeda wrapped a supporting arm around her shoulders.

“That bastard’s mark hurt Lucius?” Cygnus asked with a frown, his gaze flickered between Arcturus and Narcissa. “Does that mean…?”

Arcturus nodded as Callidora settled into her seat. “He’s back.” The entire room collectively hissed like the vicious and furious snakes they were. “Our enemy is on the move. It’s time to review lesson thirteen.” He paused, frowning. “Again.”

Notes:

Let's just say...so much has happened I don't even know where to start.

First, if you don't want to know anything about my personal life and/or don't want to read my personal fiction: that's okay, but you're going to want to skip to the bottom of this AN.

I'm 95% done with my book! And I've posted the first chapter of it to Vocal.media! I would really appreciate it if any of you read it and gave me the same supportive/inquisitive/critical comments that you give to my fanfiction. If you like Percy Jackson, Harry Potter, and a non-binary main character, I think you'll like this! (it's a bit more adult, like 7th book HP - i.e. people are killed but its not gory).

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UNRELATED TO PERSONAL THINGS: I've been asked for a complete set of rules/lessons of the House of Black.

These are the ones that have been mentioned so far in the story:

1: family first
2: no mercy to those who harm the house of black
3: patience—house of black stands forever
4: knowledge —house of black gathers all knowledge
6: skill— If you cannot, someone else can
13: destroy all black magic/threats to Hecate

I have more but to be honest, they might change as the story progresses, so I'm not going to post the whole list until I'm finished.

Thank you everyone for your patience and your love for this story ❤️

Chapter 12: Warnings and Friends

Summary:

He was dead and he will be dead again.

The bodies were — unsurprisingly — found in Albania. Thirteen wix were found by a muggle, drained of blood. The Magical Monarchy of Albania was quick to blame vampires but every conclave was accounted for. Preliminary reports by the ICW found the magical remnants of a high-level black magic ritual.

The Horde volunteered their services to fully dismantle and investigate the ritual to learn more. But they knew what they would find. Voldemort used one of his horcruxes and the sacrifice of thirteen wix to return to life.

Arcturus curled his lip in disgust. The fucking bastard.

He made a mental note to have Lucius search for Snape. If Hermione was correct, then Voldemort used his horcrux from Hogwarts, and Snape was the one to deliver it. Another fucking bastard.

Arcturus settled into his box with Sirius. Carina had been very upset not to have the opportunity to join them at the Wizengamot as she had been apt to do over the past year. But he knew what this emergency meeting was about. And the children were forbidden from leaving Ravenswood. He would not take any chances.

They had underestimated their enemy once. They were not going to do so again.

Chief Wix Fawley called the session into order. After silence descended, he said, “The International Confederation of Wix has declared, with the assistance of the Horde, that a Level Nine black magic event occurred last night in an Albanian forest.”

Arcturus felt the auras of half the wix in the room shift violently in their magic. All of whom had survived the first war with Voldemort and even some, like himself, who remembered the war against Grindelwald. He knew what they were all thinking: there hadn’t been a Level Nine since the height of Voldemort’s power.

The other half were either too young or too stupid to understand the depravity of such a level. So it was unsurprising when the twat Macmillian lit his seal.

Arcturus took a steadying breath. Now was not the time to lose his temper with the Light’s ignorance.

“Level Nine?” Macmillian scoffed, “Surely that’s an exaggeration.”

The Chief Wix frowned at him. “The Horde confirmed the status.”

Sirius snorted under his breath and Arcturus silently shared the sentiment. That piece of information should have eschewed any questions to the legitimacy of the claim but most wix were not well educated on the Horde, who were notoriously and utterly intolerant of all black magic. Although to be fair, that worked to their advantage as Riddle also did not know that which allowed them to retrieve another horcrux from the bastard.

“A level nine?” Madam Mariel Edgecombe, an elected member of the House of Commons within the Wizengamot, shifted nervously. “But…I…I haven’t heard of an event above a level five. What…”

The Chief Wix sighed. Loudly. “Per the ICW certifications, there are ten designations of black magic events. A level one event disrupts the magical core of an individual practitioner. A level ten event…fully corrupts the magic of a large area or highly connected Ley line.”

“What happened here?” Lord Tiberius Ogden demanded.

Fawley shuffled through the papers at his desk. “According to the ICW,” he cleared his throat, “the magical cores of the victims were destroyed, and then their blood was used in…in a resurrection ritual. There was additional evidence of necromancy and corrupted soul magic.”

An unnatural hush fell over the Wizengamot as scared whispers of soul magic and necromancy filtered through.

Tiberius lit his seal again. “Who was resurrected? Do we know?”

Fawley shook his head. “The ICW found the magical signatures of three wix, two of which were the guiding participants and the third…was the resurrected. But no information on who.”

Arcturus shared a look with Sirius. He nodded sharply, his face pale but set. Arcturus wasn’t as convinced that this was the right action but… Their family was protected above and beyond anyone. Everyone had officially moved into Ravenswood and the Hogwarts war wards were raised for all the children there. His family was safe. And he had a duty to at least inform others — even if they didn’t believe him. Even if they worked against him. Arcturus didn’t want to add another enemy to fight but he hoped to at least gain some allies.

He lit his seal.

Fawley turned and his eyes widened and aura flared. Maybe there was something in his face that gave away that he knew, he knew something more.

“Lord Black.”

He stood and took a moment to gaze around the Wizengamot. There would be enemies in this crowd. He was unsure if Theron Nott had answered the call of his Dark Lord. He wondered if Macmillian would be brave and fight, or undermine their efforts with denials and more ignorance.

“The Most Ancient and Noble House of Black has declared war on an enemy of their house.”

The Wizengamot collectively shuddered. The last time the House of Black declared war on an enemy was in the 1300s, against the House of Addington for attacking and killing Celeste, a daughter of a cadet branch. The Addington’s foolishly thought that the relation was too distant for the Patriarch Corvus Auriga II to care. They were wrong and the House of Addington fell to squibs after the House of Black decimated their house. At that time it had been financial ruin and sanctioned duels with only a little poison.

Not this time.

“Our enemy is Thomas Marvolo Riddle.”

There was a sigh of relief among some and looks of confusion for others. They didn’t know who Riddle was. Yet.

“He has attacked several members of our family. His followers tortured and killed many of our House. His followers are also enemies of our house.”

The confused glances grew. Tiberius sat up in his chair, his face reddening in slow anger. He figured it out.

“Our enemy is known by several other names,” Arcturus let his aura flow as he stared down several other members of the Wizengamot. “Most famously, our enemy goes by Lord Voldemort.”

Shrieks of shock and frightened screams sounded at the word. Tiberius glared and lit his seal immediately. Arcturus turned to Nott, though; a sheen of sweat had broken out over his brow but he met Arcturus's gaze with a strain of pain and desperation that was out of place for him. Arcturus quirked a brow and nodded to the man’s left arm. Friend or foe? Nott nodded.

Friend, he hoped.

“How long have you known the true name of You-Know-Who?” Tiberius demanded, not waiting for Fawley to call on him. “Is it him? Did some of that bastard’s followers resurrect him?”

“He was a dead wix,” Arcturus said flatly, “And he will be a dead wix again.”

Arcturus sat as the Wizengamot descended into chaos.

 

///

 

The cover of the Daily Prophet was…sensational.

The Great Hall was silent as the news spread. There was a huge influx of letters from children who had parents at the Wizengamot yesterday. But if the paper mimicked the reaction of the parents, Harry worried about his classmate’s reaction.

The House of Black declares You-Know-Who an enemy of their house…and ALIVE?

Hermione’s lips were pursed in an unhappy frown. “They don’t sound very convinced, do they?” She pulled a piece of parchment from her bag and scribbled down a note.

“Who are you writing to?” Harry leaned over to try to get a glimpse.

“Rugnut,” Hermione folded the note and sealed it with magic and wax. “I wonder how much it would cost to own the Daily Prophet.”

Isobel snorted before giggling helplessly behind her hand. “You should’ve bought it years ago.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “I suppose I foolishly thought the paper would report things with integrity.”

“They did,” Marietta Edgecombe said sharply. “The House of Black hasn’t offered any proof of You-Know-Who returning.”

Hermione frowned at her. “Besides the fact that the ICW confirmed a level nine resurrection ritual in Albania? A known place of interest for Voldemort since before his first demise.”

Several people shuddered and gasped at the word Voldemort. Harry resisted glaring them all down.

“That’s not proof,” she said, “It’s circumstantial. And it’s suspect but it’s not definitive evidence.”

Hermione shot her a glare and opened her mouth to speak but Harry squeezed her hand. She gave him a half-hearted glare but he strained a smile.

Harry nodded to Marietta. “You’re right. But for the House of Black and Gryffindor, and all the losses we suffered, it’s enough for us to not…underestimate him.”

She whitened in fear. “Right,” she squeaked, “but…I…”

“It’s up to you to believe, of course,” Harry continued, “But my family will not suffer any more losses at the ends of that madman.”

“What about Malfoy?” Anthony Goldstein fired from further down the table. “His family was all mixed up with You-Know-Who.”

Draco stood from the Slytherin table. “My grandfather bowed to that monster and used the Imperius curse to force my father to do the same. Thomas Marvolo Riddle — Lord Voldemort — is an enemy to the Noble and Ancient House of Malfoy.”

Neville stood at the Gryffindor table. “Thomas Marvolo Riddle is an enemy to the Noble and Ancient House of Longbottom.”

Sullivan Fawley stood at the Hufflepuff table. “Thomas Marvolo Riddle is an enemy to the Ancient House of Fawley.”

Harry’s heart swelled with pride at the sight of Fawley speaking out. He had hoped others would follow suit but instead there was a tense silence until McGonagall stood.

“Thomas Marvolo Riddle is an enemy to Clan McGonagall.” Dead silence met that proclamation.“As Headmistress I have worked with Lady Ravenclaw to ensure this castle will be protected from all threats and dangers. Riddle and his followers will not be able to enter these grounds and you will be safe here at school. On that note, all future Hogsmeade trips have been canceled.”

A murmur of discontent rippled through the tables. Harry glared at anyone who sent a disgruntled look to Hermione. She didn’t even acknowledge the looks.

And she didn’t for the rest of the day either. Harry was so exhausted by the end of the day that the very last thing he wanted to do was to go back to the library for their research project but now… He gulped. Now it was even more important to figure out the prophecy.

Fucking bastard.

Harry walked with Hermione to their table at the library. Nev, Isobel, Draco, Blaise, and Fay were already set up, each with a book in front of them. Books on fate. Books on prophecy. Books on how to get Harry out from facing Riddle in a one-on-one duel. Books on how to get around a prophecy that made a grown wix attack a baby.

Harry accidentally squeezed Hermione’s hand too tightly. She jumped slightly but squeezed back harder as she cast a curious and worried look in his direction.

He rubbed his thumb along her hand in apology before pulling out a chair for her to sit. She placed a quick kiss on his cheek before settling down at the table.

Isobel wordlessly pushed a book in Hermione’s direction, her eyes still focused on her own book as she worried her bottom lip between her teeth. Nev and Draco grunted their greetings. Neville cradled his head in his arm, laying on the table with his book propped up against other books. Draco had his book on a book stand, one hand turning the pages, while the other hand was taking diligent notes. Fay smiled tentatively at the two of them but Blaise didn’t even acknowledge them, frowning seriously at the book that was hovering before him, one hand turning the page and the other around the back of Fay’s chair, fingers playing gently with her hair.

Harry felt a surge of gratefulness rush him. He wasn’t alone. He wasn’t going to face Riddle alone.

That surge kept him going for another hour, as he poured through books that all warned him not to mess with fate. Which wasn’t exactly the message he wanted to hear.

Someone cleared their throat at the end of his table. He jumped at the sound, as it had been nearly silent for the last hour.

“Luna!” Hermione whisper-shouted, a blossoming smile on her lips. “Do you need help with something?”

Luna had her radish earrings in today with her long, shimmering blonde hair in a braided crown atop her head; her wand was slipped in-between the strands so that the base was above her right ear and the tip over her left. Harry knew that Hermione had been the one to teach her that spell as Hermione had suffered the most in this school in figuring out spells that worked with her hair.

“I realized you needed this,” she smiled serenely at him. Harry just noticed the book she had in her hands. “Papa used this to research Lady Hecate’s connection with fate, as part of his project on the intersection of divination, arithmancy, and Ley lines.”

Harry closed his gaping mouth with a sharp snap as Hermione snorted next to him. Yeah, trust Luna to see right through to their very secret research assignment.

“Th…thanks Luna,” he stuttered.

She smiled widely at him before shifting her gaze to Isobel. She grinned wider at her and Harry turned just in time to see Isobel hide a blush. When did that happen?

“See you later,” Luna waved as she walked away.

Hermione turned her steely gaze to Isobel. “Oh, we’re so talking about this later.”

Isobel hid her face in her book and Harry snorted. There was nowhere to hide when Hermione was on the hunt for information.

“You and lovely Luna,” Blaise smirked, eyes glinting in amusement. “How did we not see this?”

Nev snorted. “In our defense, it’s been a crazy few weeks.”

Harry huffed. Crazy was an understatement. He turned to the book Luna had left him. Life, Death, and Magic: The Balance of Fate by Hecate’s Descendants. Harry’s hands shook. Hecate’s Descendants. Did that mean all wix, as some choose to believe? All magical beings as her descendants. Or did that mean…

“I need to call home.”

 

///

 

Sirius stared at the letter. He wasn’t worried about curses or anything; if the wards didn’t handle it, the elves would have before it would even get to his pile of mail.

It was just in handwriting he had never seen before. With a magical presence that was…strange.

He wasn’t sure he had ever felt magic like this before, and after he fully embraced his gifts, he wasn’t about to ignore this strange feeling and open the letter without backup.

Sirius dropped a kiss to each of his children’s heads and one to Rose’s cheek. “I have to see Grandfather about something.” Grandfather had already finished breakfast and was in his study.

Rose caught his gaze with strained, worried eyes. He brushed another kiss to her cheek and whispered, “Nothing’s wrong, darling, I promise.”

“Besides everything that is wrong?” She whispered back.

He grimaced and nodded. “I’ll be back to help with the twins.” 

“I’ll help!” Callidora called as she settled at the table.

Cassiopeia and Cedrella followed and Sirius winced. He forgot that he had a full house of relatives. He nodded to Cygnus in the hall, who was escorting Augusta to the breakfast room. Sirius had been surprised that Cygnus had demanded that Augusta be allowed the option to join the family under Ravenswood but Rose merely pinched her lips to keep from laughing at him when he expressed his surprise to her. Apparently it was an unacknowledged thing that the ladies of House Black tactfully ignored.

Alphard appeared several feet behind the two, his face stuck in a letter, wincing and grimacing.

Sirius stopped him. “What’s that?” He gestured to the letter.

Alphard frowned and drew the letter to this chest. “It’s nothing.”

Sirius blocked Alphard’s path forward, concern and suspicion racketing up. “Uncle Alphard…” His tone was a warning. Suspicious actions were not to be ignored.

Alphard sighed dramatically and allowed Sirius to see the letter. “It’s not cursed or anything…it’s…it’s from Aneira.”

Sirius snorted, chuckling under his breath. That was even better than his own suspicious letter. He skimmed the letter over, filled mostly with berating comments on how he left things, how he was a fool, but… “Is she ordering you to date her?”

“Or give her up entirely.” Alphard ran a hand through his shoulder-length black hair; it was practically straight in comparison to the curly hair of everyone else with its slight wave.

“Take her out then.” Sirius handed back the letter, shrugging. “You know that’s what you actually want.”

Uncle Alphard glared at him. “During a war? War with Riddle? No thanks, she’s safer without me.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “She’s safe at Hogwarts. But where is she going to go for Yule? Or this summer? The last war lasted years.”

Alphard’s mouth opened wide but closed with a snap. “I haven’t thought of that.”

Sirius hummed before clapping Alphard on the shoulder as he walked past. He had his own mysterious letter to figure out.

Grandfather was alone in his study, sitting at an armchair near the fire. Sirius joined him at the opposite chair, dropping the letter at the table between the two.

“This arrived for me,” he said, “My magic is…it’s reacting weirdly to it.”

Grandfather glared at the letter for that offense alone. “I don’t recognize the handwriting.”

Sirius shrugged. “Me either. I…I didn’t want to open it alone.”

Grandfather nodded. “That was a smart decision.” Without warning, Grandfather picked up the letter and opened it. Sirius started in surprise and shifted anxiously as Grandfather read.

Sirius waited for the worst but it didn’t seem cursed. Instead, Grandfather smiled.

“Who’s it from?” Sirius asked.

Grandfather laughed. “An old, old friend.”

Notes:

hello all :) thank you for your patience and I hoped you enjoyed this update!

Stay safe and healthy! (And follow me on IG if you wanna chat! I revealed my secret identity in my last AN)

Chapter 13: The Chosen Ones

Summary:

The Chosen Ones must answer the Call.

Notes:

I don't think anyone guessed the old friend correctly, but in your defense, I realized I made a mistake at the end of the last chapter. So I've changed the last line of the last chapter from this:

"Grandfather laughed. “An old, old friend.”"

to this

"Grandfather sighed. “An old, old friend.”"

And yeah, that changes it a lot doesn't it?

It was unnerving to be in her presence even though she was quite beautiful. Her eyes were a depthless brown yet warmed with parselmagic. Her high cheekbones were sharp yet softened by the curve of her full lips. She was shorter than he imagined; when Grandfather told him of the Gorgons, he imagined them tall and intimidating. She was still plenty intimidating despite her short stature as she blinked slowly at him and all her snakes followed in succession.

But still, it was…unsettling…to be around her. And if Grandfather was to believed, he knew exactly why.

Immortal. Deathless.

As a harbinger for Death, it was…disturbing to be around someone whose very existence was…an affront…no…just…outside his domain. She was a being other than what all beings should be.

Grandfather and he followed her through her store to the back room and up a flight of stairs. She had already closed up the shop with a wave of warm magic that reminded him of Harry. Similar but different.

Her apartment above her shop had ceilings of normal height, making him wonder why she purposefully made people uncomfortable in her shop. She led them to a small kitchen with a round table tucked into the alcove created by a large bay window overlooking Knockturn Alley. With a wave of her hand, she filled the kettle with water from the air and placed it on the stovetop that lit a moment later. Teacups and saucers flew from the cupboard along with a teapot, ground coffee, and a French press. A sugar dish and milk jar promptly joined the freshly set table.

She settled herself in a chair near the window, facing in such a way that she could easily turn to look out the window as well as turn to walk back to the main room. Sirius followed Grandfather’s lead, sitting next to him, as he sat directly across from her.

Her letter requested a meeting with both of them. But had said nothing more.

She blinked her large eyes at him once more. “It has been a while since I’ve been in the presence of a Harbinger.”

Sirius swallowed thickly and nodded once. “I have never been in the presence of one such as yourself.”

She grinned and Sirius barely refrained from flinching. She had two long fangs where her incisors should be, reminding him briefly of the muggle’s idea of what vampires looked like.

“Death avoids those outside her domain,” Lady Echidna smirked, “We frustrate her.”

Sirius swallowed down his automatic response. She frustrated him too.

Grandfather straightened up with a little cough. “How may we be of service, Lady Echidna?”

She refocused her stare to Grandfather as the kettle started to whistle. With a flick of her fingers, she turned off the stove and brought the kettle to them. She poured first the water for her coffee before gesturing to the teapot on the table.

“Coffee, if you please,” Grandfather countered her offer for tea. Sirius nodded to the coffee as well.

She prepared three glasses of coffee. She took a sip of hers before leaning back in her chair. Her snakes lifted off her neck and rested themselves in a coil on top of her head.

“You are at war,” she started, tilting her head as she studied them. “You avoided war last time.”

Grandfather bristled at the subtle reprimand but Sirius knew only he had sensed the change.

“We were…complacent,” Grandfather conceded.

“You were blind and lazy,” she huffed. “And in the end, lucky.”

Sirius clenched his fist underneath the table. It was not luck, it was a tragedy. His friends lost their lives. Harry lost his parents. That wasn’t luck.

“Fate intervened when you did not,” she continued blithely.

Grandfather couldn’t contain his shudder and neither could he. Was it their fault then? That Harry had a prophecy thrust upon him?

“There must be balance, as you should well know,” she said with a piercing look, “And sometimes that requires action from Hecate’s children.”

"What is required of you?” The words tumbled out of his mouth on their own accord. Grandfather sent him a piercing look but Sirius couldn’t help himself.

She grinned again, a vicious, knowing smile. “That depends on who you ask.”

Sirius swallowed. “I asked you.” In for a penny, in for a pound, and all that rot.

She laughed sharply, a delighted and intimidating sound. “Your family should know better than others that myths can be…inaccurate.”

Sirius nodded.

“The myths say my sister was mortal, and slain by the Greek hero Perseus.” She scoffed. “But my sister lives, of course, and with the stone form of Perseus she defeated the sea monster Cetus from annihilating a small village that your ancient ancestors called home.”

Sirius choked on his coffee.

“Are you…are you saying Medusa saved our family line?” He could barely believe the words coming out of his mouth.

Lady Echidna shrugged. “Your family line was important to Hecate and the rest of her magical children. She asked for help, and my sister answered.”

She looked at both of them, a searching gaze. “Hecate asked for help once more, a few decades past, before you—” she nodded to Sirius, “—were even born. She saw great evil in one of her children and feared that your family would not be able to survive it.”

Grandfather clenched his fist before forcibly relaxing it. “When was this? Do you—”

She waved her hand. “Around the 40s. Does it matter?” But she didn’t give them time to answer that yes, of course, it mattered before she said with a pointed look to Sirius, “Death answered her this time.”

Sirius swallowed thickly.

“Death made a child of Hecate’s house one of her Harbinger to answer Hecate’s call of danger.” She studied Sirius again with a penetrating look. “Death has never answered Hecate’s call before…” She turned to Grandfather. “But if Riddle has returned from Death as you have claimed, then it is clear that Death had need of assistance and Hecate had offered her family.”

There was nothing to say to that. Sirius wanted to argue that he did answer the call, that he did fight in the last war but…he was alone. The only Black who did. And that felt…empty somehow as if it didn’t count because it wasn’t the family.

Sirius forced himself to focus back on Lady Echidna. He…he would talk to Rose about this later.

Lady Echidna turned to Grandfather. “But you did not answer the call,” she frowned. “Sirius was but a child in the first war. He needed his Patriarch and you were not there.”

Grandfather clenched his fist again but said nothing.

“We are here now.” Sirius didn’t want to focus on the mistakes of the past; he didn’t want to blame his family for what was happening now.

“Fate intervened,” she repeated. “Hecate and Death called upon your family and you did not act so Fate was forced to intervene. And now you want to answer the call.”

“Is it too late?” Grandfather whispered.

Sirius rebelled against the notion. No. His son was not going to face that monster alone. Fate be damned.

She shrugged. “Fate is not to be denied.”

“Then why did you call us here? To scold us?”

She glared at him. “To remind you. You are Hecate’s children. Her chosen ones. Did Fate intervene on her own? Or on the behest of Hecate?”

Sirius opened and closed his mouth but had no answer.

She shrugged again. “I do not know. I do not meddle with the whims of the gods. But two of your line have been blessed with the gifts of Gorgons and I would be remiss in my duty to magic if I did not offer my services as a teacher.”

Sirius’s mouth dropped. “Gift of the Gorgons? I…who…what?”

She rolled her eyes and she and all her snakes hissed. “I believe the British call it parseltongue?”

 

///

 

Sirius’s mirror rang later that night. He was in their private family room with Rose and the children. He needed some space post-dinner — it would take some time to get used to the whole family being around. So he was sitting on the couch, bouncing Percy on his knee while Leo and Carina played Exploding Snap on the coffee table. Rose was walking with Cephée in front of them as he could not calm down.

Leo ran to it before he could even get up and yelled, “Harry!”

Harry’s face filled the mirror. Sirius felt confident he was the only one who saw Harry’s face shift from an anxious frown to a carefree smile. And he was grateful. Carina and Leo knew the family was at war, knew there were dangerous people out there who would hurt them, and that they were not allowed to leave Ravenswood but they didn’t know all the particulars. Just the safe places to go in case of an emergency and the absolute wherewithal to not do anything dangerous right now.

“Hey, Leo!” Harry grinned. “What’s up?”

Leo sighed dramatically and Sirius watched Rose smother a laugh. He rolled his eyes at her and she giggled behind her hand before walking over to the couch and tucking herself and Cephée under his arm.

“Great Uncle Cygnus was in charge of lessons today and they were boring. He always makes me read the most boring of books. Not like Cousin Cassie! She always lets me make new potions and have fun.”

Harry snorted. “Cousin Cygnus’s books may be boring but I bet if you read them, they would help you with your potion making.”

Leo frowned. “No, they wouldn’t. They’re too boring to help.”

“Right,” Harry laughed, “Where are you guys?”

Leo turned the mirror to show everyone gathered on the couch. “We’re in the family room because Daddy got tired of the family.”

Sirius coughed. “Hey, no, no I didn’t say that.”

Leo rolled his eyes and turned the mirror back to him. “Daddy didn’t need to say it.”

Carina started to laugh with Rose. “It’s true!” She jumped up and slid next to Leo. “But the whole family here is kind of a lot. Like a lot a lot.”

Rose shared a concerned look with him. He didn’t know that it was overwhelming for Carina. He wanted to reach out and snuggle her like he used to when she was his baby, his miracle baby.

“Where’s Clio? Won’t she just growl at people who get too close?” Harry’s voice was light and Carina laughed, some of the tension softening in her shoulders.

“She’s right here!” Carina bent and picked up the crup puppy Rose had bought her the last time they were in Diagon Alley a few months ago. “We’re already bonding,” Carina added proudly, “So she growls at Great Uncle Alphard when’s he’s being too loud already.” Clio licked Carina’s cheek and she cuddled her closer.

“Well, Clio is very intelligent,” Harry said, "and only the most intelligent animals bond with the House of Black.”

Leo glared, first at the mirror and then at Rose. “I want a familiar.”

“You’ll have one, sweetie,” Rose reached out to Leo but he stepped away and glared at the mirror. Sirius massaged Rose’s neck as she sighed. They never really had to deal with jealous younger siblings. Harry was too old and off at Hogwarts by the time Carina started to get jealous of things but Leo was four years younger than Carina and desperately wanted every single thing she got. A familiar was just the last of many things.

“Familiars come to you, Leo,” Hermione’s voice came through the mirror, “Did you know that I didn’t get a familiar until my third year?”

“Third year?” Leo groaned. “But that’s so far away.”

Hermione and Harry chuckled. “It was a long time,” Hermione agreed, “But definitely worth the wait, or else I wouldn’t have Crookshanks.”

Sirius snorted. That cat was a menace but even he loved it to bits. Probably the only cat he did actually like…but that cat was more lion than anything.

Leo nodded seriously. “Do you think Crookie can have kittens? So I can have one of them as a familiar?”

There was a loud yowl that could have only come from Crookshanks. Rose sat up and shot him an alarmed look.

“What?” Sirius asked.

She opened her mouth and closed it and then opened it again. “That sounded like an agreement.”

“Huh,” Hermione huffed, “Well, let’s find Crookie a lady cat then.”

Harry started to laugh and then Sirius couldn't help but join and he laughed himself to tears.

“‘Rina did you hear that!” Leo jumped up and down. “Now I need to find a lady cat for Crookie and then I’ll get a familiar!”

Carina sent a withering look to the mirror before smiling as graciously as a nine-year-old could at her annoying younger brother. “Sounds great.”

Sirius really tried to stop laughing but Carina’s tone said it was anything but.

Rose cuddled closer to his side, chuckling and adding lightly under her breath to him, “I’m going to hear all night how it’s so unfair that Leo gets to have a familiar at five when she had to wait until nine.”

Sirius pressed a kiss to her temple. “We still need to find a lady cat.”

They both started to laugh again. 

After a moment, when they all had calmed down, Harry said, “Hey Leo, can I talk to Dad for a moment?” His voice was light and airy. But Sirius could hear the thread of urgency under it all. He handed Percy over to Rose and stood up from the couch. With a deft hand, he snatched the mirror from Leo before he could resist and raised it out of his reach.

“Let me go to my office real quick, okay?”

He walked quickly to his office and locked the door with a magical snap before Leo could protest.

“What’s up kid?”

Harry sighed and ran his hand through his hair. Hermione was pressed next to him and Sirius could see they were sitting on a bed with a desk behind them. A clean, organized desk with organized quills and color-coded ink jars.

“How the hell are you in Hermione’s room?”

Harry rubbed the back of his neck before shrugging with a guilty grimace. Hermione just rolled her eyes. “It is my castle you know.”

Bloody hell, his son had easy access to his betrothed. That…nope. He shook his head; he wasn’t going to tell anyone that. He wasn’t even going to think about it anymore.

“Right, never mind.” The less he knew the better in this scenario. “What’s going on?”

Harry held up a book. “Hermione and I just finished reading this.”

Sirius squinted but couldn’t read the title. “And?”

Hermione sat up straighter. “Luna gave it to us. It…We think… It’s possible that Fate is acting on behalf of Hecate.”

Sirius fell in his chair. Didn’t he just have this conversation with Lady Echidna? Didn’t she just say the same thing? How the hell did… “I’m sorry. Can you say that again?”

Hermione flipped through the book. “It’s actually pretty fascinating, and explains a lot about the powerful and unique relationship the Black family magic has with Ley lines but basically…”

Sirius watched as Harry’s eyes got soft and gooey as Hermione geared herself up for a lecture. He swallowed back a relieved sigh. Harry had been tense and anxious ever since the prophecy — seeing him now, relaxed and calm beside Hermione only meant good things. Maybe not good news…because Sirius wasn’t that hopeful…but good progress.

“It talks a lot about how Hecate’s descendants are considered, for lack of a better term, chosen ones.”

Sirius shuddered. Yeah, that sounded familiar.

“And while obviously being a chosen one comes with a lot of responsibility to the magical world, it…well, from my reading of it, it sounds like the chosen ones are also favored. As if, as if magic will bend to their will.”

That was good news. “Send the book over, Harry, and I’ll have Cousin Cassie read it.”

“Wait,” Hermione bounced in her seat, “I haven’t even told you the most important part!”

“Yeah?” He said.

“So the book doesn’t actually say which ritual to do, or anything, but it talks about the arthimanic transfer of power and death and fate. We think…well, we think this is the piece we’ve been missing. The way for Harry to choose his champion. And I…” Here, Hermione glanced wearily at Harry. “I didn’t tell you this Harry, I’m sorry, but…but I think it has to be your dad.”

Sirius sat up straight as Harry yelled, “What?”

“Why do you say that Hermione?”

She threw back her shoulders and stared straight towards him. “Harry was chosen by Fate to stand against Riddle but your Death’s harbinger. You were chosen by Death to stand for Harry.”

Well, bloody fucking hell.

Notes:

Thank you for reading and I hope you are enjoying the journey!

Now, for a little rant about the Black family:

OMFG I FORGOT HOW TANGLED THIS FAMILY IS!

For background, Harry's paternal grandmother is Dorea Black Potter, who is siblings with Cassiopeia, Marius, and Pollux (Pollux died in book 1). Pollux had three children, Walburga (also dead), Alphard, and Cygnus. Walburga is obviously Sirius's mom. This means Alphard and Cygnus are Sirius's uncles (and cousins because of his father but I'm not going to get into that right now). This means Alphard and Cygnus are Carina's, Leo's, Cephée's, and Percy's *Great* Uncles.

But for Harry, Pollux would have been his Great Uncle (because he is the brother of his grandmother. (Which also means Sirius's maternal grandfather was James's maternal uncle)). This also means that Walburga, Alphard, and Cygnus are James's first cousins, which means for Harry, those three are first cousins once removed. This then means that Harry and Sirius are also actually second cousins. And Harry and Carina + siblings and Draco are actually second cousins once removed.

Honestly, it's just...it's just a fucking cluster. I think one day after the story is complete, I'm going to go back through Book 1 and 2 and make sure I got all the relations correct. I know it might seem dumb, but the founding concept of this story was how important family relations are, so...it would be uncharacteristic for them to get it wrong. (But yeah, I definitely got it wrong a few times.)

Anyways, thanks for reading my rant.

Chapter 14: Fear

Summary:

To give into fear is to lose the battle before it has begun.

He gripped Hermione’s hand as he led them to their Defense class. They had skipped breakfast in the Hall that morning, opting for a quiet tea in the tower. When they were younger, it was usually Hermione who asked for a quiet morning—sometimes she was stressed for a class and sometimes the Hall was just…overwhelming. Harry had never minded their simple morning dates. It was a preview, he knew, into what their life would be after Hogwarts.

But this morning, he had asked to skip the Hall.

The past few weeks had been quiet. Riddle hadn’t made a single move as far as they could tell. Nothing. And…and well, some people were beginning to hint strongly that the House of Black were liars. That they were purposefully stirring trouble for other reasons. What those reasons were? Well, the rumors were vast and wild and so wholly untrue that Harry had stopped paying attention. 

It was so unbelievably frustrating that Harry needed a break. He felt ready to snap and lash out at the next barely disguised whisper wondering why the House of Black would cause such fear mongering among the British wix? 

He knew they were wrong, but he couldn’t prove it. And until Riddle made a move, he could do nothing.

The family had decided fairly quickly that there would be no more extraneous trips for the…children. Harry’s lip curled at that. He wasn’t a child anymore. Legally he was Lord Hadrian Potter, Duke of Gryffindor. He had the right to take his seat in the House of Lords at the Wizengamot…not that he wanted to, he was pretty happy with his dad being his proxy. But it was the principle of the matter!

He wasn’t a child. He was Fate’s bloody chosen one. 

Sharp fingers poked his side and Harry yelped, looking down at Hermione in askance. 

“What was that for?”

She brought their tightly held hands to his face. “You’re cutting off circulation to my hand, thank you very much.”

Harry ducked his head as he loosened his unintentionally tight grip. “Sorry.”

Hermione lightly hip-checked him. “Where were you?” 

He grimaced as they entered the classroom. “The future, I think.”

Hermione squeezed his hand before settling in her seat. “We’ll be ready.” 

Harry grunted. He hoped she was right but…he wanted it to happen now. He wanted something to happen. To prove his family right. To prove him right.

“Good morning class,” Professor Lupin said as he walked through the doors as the bell rang. “Today is the day.” He waved the permission slips in his hand. “Nearly everyone has gotten their permission slip signed but remember—” He let his gaze glide over everyone in the class. “—that does not mean you have to be cursed.” He let the word hang in the air. “This is also a reminder that everyone who is cursed, everyone, will head to the infirmary straight after. No excuses.” 

“Now,” he shifted away from his desk at the front after putting down the permission slips. With a wave of his wand, his desk floated to the side of the room. “Books away, and wands away! No one else but myself will be using their wand today.” 

After everyone had put all their things away, Professor Lupin raised his wand towards them, and with a greater skill than imaginable, he safely and carefully levitated their chairs into a semi circle position around the center of the room, creating an impromptu stage. 

Harry swallowed. He knew what was happening today. He even knew what the Imperius curse felt like. But he forgot how vulnerable it was. He had always been with people he trusted. He didn’t know how he felt about the Hufflepuffs, or even some Ravenclaws, seeing him under the curse.

Professor Lupin walked to the center of the room. “This will be entirely voluntary. I will not call upon any of you to step forward.”

The room was silent for a few moments. No one was eager to be first. And then…

Hermione stood up next to him and he jerked in his seat. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. 

He felt his magic already respond to the threat to Hermione. And she did too, judging by her bemused smile. She patted his shoulder before moving to stand in front of Professor Lupin. 

Professor Lupin glanced from her to Harry, before nodding shallowly to him in understanding. Harry hoped he knew how hard it was to not rush over and stand between them. 

“Imperio.” 

She shuddered as the spell hit her and her bracelet lit up a brilliant and impossible to ignore hue. Her face twitched, between relaxed and agitated, relaxed and agitated. She was fighting it! Harry straightened in his seat, fighting his instinct to jump to her, fighting his instinct to yell encouragements at her. He felt his magic respond to the threat to Hermione.

“Tap your head with your left hand,” Professor Lupin ordered.

Her left hand twitched and rose to her side before stopping, then rising, then stopping. Her face scrunched in concentration.

“Tap your head with your left hand.”

Her hand jerked up several inches before stopping again. Sweat beaded along her forehead. Harry swallowed thickly, his magic still stirring in him to reach out to help her. The bond between them felt…needy. He felt her trouble, her distress and the bond was pushing for a response. 

“Tap your head with your left hand.”

Hermione made a soft noise of distress and his magic responded. Harry felt his magic flow through their betrothal bond, encapsulating Hermione in a protective shield. Her hand dropped to her side immediately as she turned to him in awe. 

“Harry.”

Professor Lupin lowered his wand, flicking his gaze between the two of them. “What…what happened?” 

Harry wiped his forehead, breathing shallowly. The rush of his magic was draining. He needed water. Hermione rushed over, conjuring a glass and water for him. He drank greedily as the class stared at the two of them.

“Miss Ravenclaw?” Professor Lupin conjured a wet towel for him and Harry took it gratefully, cooling his clammy skin. “What was that?”

Hermione beamed at him before turning to Professor Lupin. “Harry…well, sir as you know we completed our betrothal bond on Mabon, and, well, Harry’s magic reacted to…” She waved her hand as a blush brightened her cheeks. If Harry wasn’t so exhausted he would have laughed at seeing Hermione speechless. 

Professor Lupin raised his eyebrows, gaze flicking between the two of them in disbelief. “Right, then, um… Head to the infirmary then, both of you.”

“But I…” Harry stopped protesting at Professor Lupin’s severe look. “Right, okay.”

He made to grab his stuff when Hermione beat him to it. She smiled at him as she hooked his bag over her shoulder and her own bag on the other. He frowned at her but she just shrugged before flouncing out the class. 

“‘Mione,” he growled when he caught up with her down the hall. 

She laughed. “Technically you were the one who fought off the curse, so it’s only right that I hold your bag.”

“Give me the bags.”

She shook her head, leading them through the hallways with surprising deftness. It took him a moment, so focused was he on their bags, that he didn’t realize they weren’t heading towards the infirmary.

“Where are we going?” 

Hermione sniggered before leading them down the hallway towards their favorite broom closet. Harry barely had time to process a thought before Hermione pushed him inside and secured the door.

“Hermione—”

Whatever he was going to say was lost as she grabbed his face and kissed him fiercely. He lost himself for a moment as the bond between them flared with their magic. They had discovered after finalizing their bond, when they had stolen a quick moment alone, that…that kissing…that being together…it was addictive, the way their magic meshed together, flowing and swirling… It felt like Hermione was a part of him, that she was touching every inch of him. It was heady. But…

He pushed her back. “Hermione wait!” He took a deep breath as she winced. “Sorry I—”

“Sorry I—” She said at the same time, blushing bright.

Harry held her face in his hands. Her face was bright and flushed but he couldn’t tell if it was from the kissing or something else. “Are you feeling okay?” He asked. “What—what’s going on?”

Her blush flowed down to her neck and chest as she averted her eyes. “Well…” She nibbled on her bottom lip.

“Merlin, Hermione, you’re kind of freaking me out,” Harry said, “Do we need to go to the infirmary?” 

“No!” Her eyes widened and finally met his own. They were clear and full of an emotion Harry couldn’t identify. 

“Then what’s going on?”

Her blush returned. “Well, you, when…”

“Hermione!”

“It was hot!” She covered her face in her hands.

Harry blinked rapidly. “Um…what?”

She groaned, leaning against him and hiding her face in his chest. “When… Your magic…on me… it was…”

Everything clicked into place. When his magic rushed to protect her from the Imperius curse, it had felt to him like he was touching every part of her. He just didn’t realize it…it actually was touching her. Harry started chuckling. 

Hermione thumped her fist to his chest. “Don’t laugh at me.”

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tight to him. “Never. I just…” He chuckled again. “Sorry love, I didn’t think…”

He threaded his hand through her hair, tilting her face up to him. Harry nuzzled her cheek, before bumping their noses together. “I love you.” 

She sighed happily. “Will you kiss me now?” 

Chuckling, he nodded. “Always.” 

 

///

 

Sirius debated asking for whiskey instead of tea when a goblin came in with a second pot. Talnuk would probably glare at him though and there was nothing worse than a goblin's disappointment.

It had been an hour though and they were no closer to figuring out whose house elf was responsible for the attack on Hermione. 

One hundred elves had crossed over Hogwarts wards in the first three weeks of school. And they were only able to narrow it down to ninety-four by taking their own elves, and elves of House Longbottom and Malfoy, off the list. That left ninety-four elves whose families were unknown…mostly.

The goblins had their own list of elves who passed through Gringotts and their other territories. So now, they each had a copy and were matching family names to elf names. 

It was torturously boring and slow.

Ragnok walked into the meeting room from a back entrance. Every goblin, and Sirius, rose immediately. The goblins crossed their dominant arm over their chest while Sirius bowed his head. Ragnok nodded shallowly to him after acknowledging Talnuk and his son. 

“Any updates?” Ragnok settled his gaze Rugnut.

Rugnut’s lips twitched. “Nothing out of the ordinary so far.” 

Which just meant that every elf so far belonged to a family that had a child at Hogwarts. Sirius stifled a groan as he rubbed his face. He didn’t know how he felt at the thought that someone with a child near Hermione’s age was still willing to…control her, at the very least. 

“Who do we have so far?” Ragnok settled into a chair at the head of the table.

“Flint, Macmillan, Fawley, Doge, Bones, Boot, Goldstein…” 

“Pretty much everyone with a child at Hogwarts sent a house elf within the first three weeks of school,” Sirius added, barely restraining his bitter tone. What had been a good idea turned into another dead end.

Ragnok frowned at him and Sirius stopped himself from flinching; he knew better than to be anything less than the epitome of civility to Ragnok, Chieftain of the Goblin Horde. But with everything that had happened…everything that wasn’t happening…he was at the end of his rope. He needed a win. He needed to do something for his family.

“How many can we narrow down to that day? Or the few days prior?” Ragnok turned his attention back to his son.

Everyone straightened up in their chairs at his question. 

“We…” Rugnut glared at the papers in his hand, “We don’t have that information.” 

“She’s still a child,” Ragnok said softly, his tone gentler than anything Sirius had ever heard. “But the wards can give her that information. Send her a letter and request her to ask the wards for a detailed list of elves who entered Hogwarts on which day and time.” Ragnok read over the list. “I imagine we’ll find a lot of these elves entered Hogwarts near the beginning of school with forgotten items.”

Sirius sunk into his chair. That would change their search immensely—to know if an elf entered the wards right before she was attacked, or even just in the few days before.

Rugnut sighed quietly as he rose from his chair. “I’ll send the letter immediately.”

Ragnok nodded to his son as he left before turning his gaze to Sirius. Sirius straightened in his chair immediately. Swallowing thickly, Sirius asked, “How can I be of service Chieftain?”

Ragnok rolled his eyes before turning to Talnuk. “I heard there were difficulties with the Black accounts.”

Talnuk growled his displeasure. “Insolent and fearful wix create a turbulent market.”  

Sirius winced. That was technically their fault, for announcing a House war with Lord Voldemort. And then Riddle hasn’t made a public move…hasn’t done anything as far as they could tell. Sirius knew from Harry that his classmates were starting to doubt their family’s position. And Sirius knew that to be true from the parents—they were taking financial hits. Nothing debilitating…for now.

Ragnok smirked at Talnuk. “Create a shadow account.” 

Sirius perked up at that as Talnuk stuttered. “A…a…shadow…” Talnuk stood from his seat, a wicked smile full of sharp teeth spilt his face. “Under what name sir?” 

“Bianca Estelle,” Ragnok waved Talnuk off, “The alias paperwork is already on your desk.”

Talnuk laughed viciously as he took off out of the room. And then Sirius was alone with the Chieftain of the Goblin Horde.

“Thank you sir,” Sirius started slowly, still wrapping his mind around a myth come to life. Shadow accounts at the Horde were a superstition but never proven…until now he supposed. They were accounts under fake names for…well the reasons vary from immortal clients to persona non grata. Sirius fought back a wince—he had never thought his family would be considered persona non grata but recent events proved otherwise.

“The war has only begun, Heir Black, and money makes all the difference.”

Sirius nodded. He wasn’t wrong and they would need all the resources they could get to fight this war. He opened his mouth, to thank him again, to agree with him, to ask for more details, when a goblin in full armor ran at breakneck speed through the door. 

“Chieftain!” 

Ragnok stood swiftly and growled, “What happened?”

“De…de…dementors,” the guard gasped for air as he choked out words, “On the move.”

“What!” Ragnok shouted but it sounded far away.

Sirius focused on his hands, white-knuckled, gripping the back of a chair, as painful memories, brief and indistinct rattled through him. He had spent only a few days in Azkaban. A few days too long. A few days with no protection against the dementors except his animagus form.

He wished it on no one…except Bellatrix and Peter. 

“Heir Black?” 

Sirius took a deep breath and refocused on Ragnok. “Yes Chieftain?” 

“Go home,” he pointed to the floo at the other end of the room. “I’m sending a legion to Azkaban but…I believe Riddle’s made his first move.”

Sirius blinked slowly, the words not quite fitting into place. “Chieftain?”

Ragnok sighed. “Riddle needs an army, Heir Black, and loyal followers; he’ll have found that in Azkaban.”

“He broke into Azkaban,” Sirius said through bloodless lips. Bellatrix. The Lestrange Brothers. Who else was in Azkaban? Who else did Riddle free?

“Heir Black…Sirius, he didn’t break into Azkaban,” Ragnok said slowly, “He didn’t overpower the dementors. They joined him.”

Sirius swallowed thickly, and nodded once to Ragnok. “I’ll…I’ll inform my grandfather.” He walked stiffly to the floo, fighting to remain standing with every step, fighting the urge to sink to his knees, not in front of the Chieftain, not here. He stepped into the floo as Ragnok and the guard left the room. “Grimmauld Place.” 

He stumbled out of the public floo at Grimmauld Place and fell to his knees. 

Sirius stared at his hands on plush green carpet. He was panicking. He needed to move. He needed to go to Ravenswood. He couldn’t get up. He needed to get up. 

Sirius pushed himself to his feet, stumbling and nearly falling back down to his knees. He fought for every step, every stair, until he was on the upper floor, behind more secure wards. Nearly to the private floo. 

Ten more stairs. Past two doors. Almost there. Almost there.

He grabbed a thick handful of floo powder and dropped it at his feet. “Ravenswood.” 

He fell out into the main foyer and stared at his hands again. Hard marble this time. Safe. That meant he was safe now.

“Sirius!” Rose’s voice filtered through his head. 

Safe then. 

Nothing could get through Ravenswood’s wards. Nothing could hurt Rose.

“I can’t lose you,” Sirius choked. 

Soft hands cupped his face, tilting until he stared into dark blue eyes filled with tears. “Sirius,” she choked, “What’s wrong? Are you okay? Is Harry? Hermione? Are they…” Tears fell down her freckled cheeks. 

Sirius wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tight to his body as he buried his face into her neck. 

“Breathe, love,” he heard her say, “Breathe for me baby.”

He did. And his hands started to shake and then he started to cry…or maybe cry again. Sirius didn’t know how long he was there, fighting for air, clutching at Rose desperately, but eventually, he could breathe again. His hands stopped shaking. He stopped crying. Thoughts and words made sense in his head again. 

Sirius pulled away from Rose slowly, cupping her head then face as he did so. Her eyes were red rimmed and swollen. 

“Sirius,” she said softly, “Talk to me.”

He took a deep breath again. “He…he…he took over Azkaban.” 

Rose jerked in his hold, surprise losing to fear. “And…and the dementors?”

“Joined him,” Sirius choked on the words. They felt like ash in his mouth. 

“Fuck.”

Sirius jerked his head, noticing for the first time the audience that had gathered in the foyer. Most of the family was present and Sirius flushed in embarrassment. He hadn’t…he hadn’t had an anxiety attack over Azkaban in years. The memories were distant now and dementors had been banned from all places excepting Azkaban for several years now. His anxiety hadn’t been triggered in years…but now…

“Come on dear,” Grandmother offered a hand to help him to his feet. “I’ll have Tippy make some hot chocolate.” 

Sirius smiled wanly as he and Rose stood up. “Thank you Grandmother.” He turned his gaze to Grandfather. “A goblin guard told the Chieftain that the dementors were on the move. I…I don’t know how anything else except the Chieftain’s belief that…that the dementors joined Riddle.”

“Fuck,” Uncle Cygnus pinched his nose. “That’s just what we need.”

Aunt Lucretia slapped his arm. “Shut up, now’s not the time.” 

Rose wrapped an arm around his waist. “Come on, let’s go to our rooms.” 

Sirius rubbed his face as he nodded. “Right, yeah.” He looked to Grandfather. “The wards?” 

“I’ll double check them Sirius,” Grandfather nodded, “But no dementor has crossed our boundaries in centuries, and we won’t let that change.”

“Of course, of course, I…” Sirius shook his head and took another deep, slow breath. He knew that, he knew that anti-dementor wards were built into their scheme. He had checked it when he first moved into Ravenswood nearly fifteen years ago. He had known it when he was a child learning about Ravenswood’s wards for the first time. 

“I’ll check them, Sirius,” Grandfather said again, patting his shoulder. “Go rest now.”

Sirius nodded again and allowed Rose to lead him out of the foyer towards the stairs. 

He heard Grandmother mutter darkly, “I still think Crouch died too quickly.” 

Sirius turned his face to Rose and breathed in the scent of her hair. He was safe. He was in Ravenswood. No dementors were going to harm him or his family. He was safe.

For now.

Notes:

I have NOT and never will abandon this story. That being said, I've tried to stock pile chapters so I can give y'all a semblance of a schedule. (It has not worked) Thank you all for continuing to comment and enjoy this fic <3

For those of you who don't follow me on social media (IG + TT), I've started a Discord server all about writing and publishing a book in one year! (If that interests you, go to my website here: www. jesslauro .com /publish2022 --remove the spaces)

I've been hard at work on original fiction and I'm really excited to announce an end of March/April 2022 release date! I'm going to send the finished manuscript to an editor soon !!

Anyways, HAPPY NEW YEAR folks! May 2022 be kind to you <3

Chapter 15: The Calm

Summary:

The storm will come, no matter what.

It wasn’t often that Sirius was the little spoon; sometimes when his wife wrapped all her limbs around him, she felt more like a backpack than anything else. But this morning, it was the comfort he desperately needed, so he wallowed in the sensation of being held. 

“You know, if I transformed, you’d actually be bigger than me.”

She poked him in the ribs. “I don’t want to cuddle a dog; I want to hold my husband.”

He snuggled back into her chest. “Deal.” 

Rose pressed light kisses to his head, to the back of his neck, to the little bit of cheek she could reach. “I love you.” 

Sirius relaxed into her hold, feeling his body let go and just feel, deeply, happily, contently secure. “I love you too.”

He may have fallen back asleep, he wasn’t sure, but when he felt her arms and legs squeeze around him, he said, “I’m sorry I scared you.”

She kissed the back of his neck and squeezed him tighter to her. “I’m sorry you found out like that.” 

Sirius snorted. “It’s not like the Goblin Horde would know…know…”

Rose grumbled. “Anyone with sense should know better than to…than to think it’d be okay…that anyone would just be okay after…”

“It was a long time ago.” And it was. Fifteen years. He should be over it right? 

“It doesn’t matter how long ago. You’re allowed to still be hurt.” Rose rubbed her nose to the back of his neck. “I just wish I could protect you from that pain.”

Sirius pulled her hand to his lips and pressed gentle kisses to her knuckles. “You do,” he whispered. “You do protect me and heal me and remind me every day that…that I survived. That it’s okay that I survived when others didn’t. Because…”

“We wouldn’t have Carina, or Leo,” she whispered, “Or Cepheè or Percy without us.” 

Sirius smiled softly. “Exactly.” 

Rose clambered over him, shifting until she was smiling into his eyes. “The world is a better place because of the five children we are raising.” She held his face in her hands, rubbing her thumbs on his cheeks. “And you are an excellent father to them all.”

Sirius smiled crookedly. “You are an excellent mother as well, my love.”

She smirked as she tilted her nose up. “Of course I am,” she said in her snootiest voice before dissolving into giggles. Sirius rolled his eyes but chuckled with her. “Now,” she pushed herself up and stared down at him with a bright smile. “Breakfast in bed?” 

He smirked before he grabbed her and rolled them over until he was on top of her, nose to nose. “Only if you’re my breakfast.”

Rose grinned. “Excellent idea, per usual.”

 

/ / /

 

Arcturus struggled to control his rage during the Wizengamot meeting. They were two hours in and not a single word on Azkaban. Nothing.

He clenched his fist, held tight to his magic, and sat back. There were several different, horrifying reasons why this could be. He didn’t know which was the worst case scenario yet.

First, it could be that they didn’t even know. The DMLE got weekly reports from Azkaban. The last one would’ve been sent the day before the attack. They wouldn’t know something was amiss with the reports for another five days.

But then that meant that the guards at Azkaban couldn’t send out a distress signal. Or…they didn’t want to. So the options were either the guards were killed off immediately, suggesting a force larger than three wix, or the guards joined Riddle, adding to his army. 

Unless they were immediately killed off by dementors, which meant that the dementors were not in the guards’ control to begin with. And were easily swayed to Riddle. Arcturus shuddered at even the idea that the dementors were not under Ministry control…or were never under their control. They needed to be destroyed…somehow. 

But that didn’t help Arcturus now. Now he needed to know how the DMLE, how the Ministry for Magic, had apparently no clue that Azkaban was broken into…

But the Horde did. Via technically illegal proximity alerts. They knew that dementors were on the move in areas restricted from them. They sent guards to check Azkaban. They witnessed the destruction and mayhem and broken bodies and soulless wix. But the Horde couldn’t announce a break in at Azkaban without being accused of facilitating it. Their proximity alerts were secret to all but the Black Family.

So the choices were either this: the Ministry had lost control of the dementors long ago and all proximity alerts had failed, or the Ministry knew that Azkaban had been broken into and were hiding it from not only the general public but the Wizengamot as well.

Arcturus swallowed and considered his options. 

If it was the first, then the Ministry was even more useless and disorganized than he thought. 

If it was the second, then the Ministry was even more corrupt and incompetent than he thought.

He couldn’t decide which he preferred.

Arcturus steepled his fingers as he considered Chief Wix Fawley. He wasn’t a light pawn nor a firm member of the grey faction…somewhere in-between it all. But Arcturus didn’t believe him to incompetent. Nor could he say the same for Minister Doge—corrupt? Yes. Incompetent? No. But then corruption thwarted all meaningful attempts at competency within the government.

A mix of both then, Arcturus decided as the session was called to a close, all without a whisper of the fall of Azkaban. A corrupt government that turns even the most earnest, competent official useless. 

He stayed in his box for a moment, letting the other lords and ladies disperse. The session had ended early, so at least he wouldn’t have to deal with the crowds again but Lucius was not in his box either. Perhaps he had another meeting to go to?

Arcturus didn’t. But he wasn’t sure he could just leave the Ministry without…something.

Fawley was still at his desk and that made Arcturus’s move a little clearer. He would have to be careful not to hint at the Horde’s insider knowledge but he had an idea already…as it was one he was horribly curious about and fearful to know. 

“Chief Wix.”

Fawley jumped a little in his seat, his eyes flicking back and forth from the paper in his hands to Arcturus. 

Frowning, Arcturus gestured to the paper, “Is there a problem?”

Fawley slumped back in his seat and rubbed his face. “Yes and I think I know what now.” 

Arcturus raised his eyebrows. “What is it?”

Fawley grimaced. “Director Bones sent an owl to Azkaban and it hasn’t returned. She’s sending a team out today to see if there’s a problem and…” Fawley met his gaze and Arcturus saw the bone-deep exhaustion within them. 

But for a moment, Arcturus relaxed. He could see on Fawley’s face what he had hoped to see—Fawley knew what the team would find at Azkaban. Fawley believed him and his family. He knew that Riddle was alive and on the move.

Yet, for appearance’s sake, Arcturus drew in a ragged breath and pretended to be horrified at the “news.” He swallowed thickly.

“This,” he began slowly, “would perhaps explain the question I had for you.”

Fawley quirked a brow. “And that was?”

“Bellatrix.” Arcturus pursued his lips. “As you know, she was disowned more than a decade ago, but she survived the loss of Black Family magic.”

“Right,” Fawley nodded, “And I suppose you wanted an update on her status?”

“My owl to Azkaban returned unanswered.” Arcturus clasped his hands behind his back. “My thought, however, was that I was no longer privileged to know the information as we are not family anymore.”

Fawley grimaced and shook his head, glancing at the papers in front of him once more. “I’m afraid the answer is going to be more horrifying than we can even imagine.”

“We’ll need to reconvene the Wizengamot,” Arcturus pressed. And divert more money to the Auror Department and hire more Hit Wix. Arcturus ran through a list of plans as he thought more about preparing the Ministry for war. They were lax, as a country, unfortunately and the Hit Wix department was sorely understaffed. War was not what any wix wanted to prepare for…but war was coming.

No.

War was here.

“No one will believe it without proof.” Fawley gazed unseeing at the clear Wizengamot floor.

Arcturus glared at the man. “Then ask Director Bones to bring you proof.”

 

It was late in the evening now. All of the Ministry had gone home except the disgruntled members of the Wizengamot who had been called back.

Arcturus had never left. He sat with the Chief Wix in Director Bones’s office as they received frantic patronuses from the team sent to Azkaban. 

Destroyed. Abandoned. Dead wix. Nothing but death remained at Azkaban.

Fawley had the unenviable job of relaying that to the Wizengamot. And Arcturus sat back and made a note of every wix who protested this as truth, who shifted uneasily in their seats, and anyone who he suspected was unsurprised at the news.

The list was both light and dark wix. The list was too long.

 

/ / /

 

Bellatrix was not one of the dead. Grandfather had called Neville late in the night to inform him. And then Neville had called Harry and Draco immediately after.

Which was why they were in the Room of Requirement after midnight, watching Neville fire blasting curses at flying clay discs in the dueling platform the Room had transformed into. 

“We knew she was alive,” Neville grunted, “I just…” He fired three blasting curses in quick succession, destroying five discs as two rammed into the others. “I just thought she’d at least die in Azkaban. It’s the least she deserves.”

Draco grunted as he activated the disc generator with a wave of his wand. “She’s not getting into Ravenswood.”

“Or Hogwarts,” Harry added, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he resisted snuggling deeper into the couch. “I need tea.” A steaming pot appeared next to him on the side table. “Thank Merlin.” He poured himself and his cousins a cup each.

Neville waved his off, focused on blasting more discs, but Draco accepted his own gratefully, sharing a meaningful gaze with Harry. He nodded in return. They both knew they wouldn’t be sleeping tonight…not until Neville burned off his excess fear and anxiety. 

Maybe they could all three call out of classes sick. Sick with worry was a real ailment, wasn’t it?

Neville went at the discs for almost an hour more, until he had taken off his shirt and used it to mop up the sweat from his midnight workout. Draco had joined Harry on the bench as they alternated pinching each other to stay awake. They almost nodded off to sleep when Neville announced he was going to shower in the bathroom the Room created for him, but they were awake when Neville returned, drying his hair with a Gryffindor red towel.

He sat in a chair across from Harry, staring at the towel in his hands. 

It was quiet for a moment before Harry heard Neville’s quiet, resolute voice. “He’s gathering his forces, his most devoted followers.”

Harry swallowed thickly and nodded. 

“He’s got the dementors and his fanatic followers,” Neville continued.

“Snape too,” Draco added, “Probably at least, since no one has seen him since he was kicked out of Hogwarts.”

“If he joined Riddle,” Harry started, “Hermione thinks he might have taken the horcrux that was in Hogwarts.”

“So Snape, Bellatrix, the Lestrange brothers…who else?” Neville twisted the towel in his hands. “Who else was in Azkaban?”

“I don’t know,” Harry shared a look with Draco who shrugged.

“Me neither.” 

“We need to train more.” Neville finally looked up to them. “My mum was a Hit Wix and my dad was training to be one and they couldn’t…they couldn’t fight—” Neville’s breath hitched.

Harry nodded vigorously and rushed, “We’ll train Nev. I’ll—I’ll get Dad to send some books he used for Hit Wix training and we’ll train like Hit Wix. They won’t—”

“She won’t get to you, Nev,” Draco whispered, “She’ll have to get through your grandmother and my mother to try.”

“Cousin Cissy said Bellatrix was the only wix she was ever afraid of,” Nev said, eyes focused on his tea cup, “She said that only fools weren’t afraid of Bellatrix but…but she had been raised in the same household as she, so she knew all of Bellatrix’s tricks.”

“We’ll owl Cousin Cissy then too,” Harry said, “And learn how to beat all the tricks.”

Neville sighed before throwing his head back against the chair. “It doesn’t feel real, does it? That…that we’re at war. Again.” 

“We were babies the first time round,” Draco twirled his teacup in its saucer, “I just remember flashes, really, and…”

“Fear,” Harry added softly, “Even in the happy memories, I can remember the fear in my parents’ eyes.”

“I can hear my parents screaming,” Neville whispered, “They had tucked me into a closet with my nanny elf. Even she couldn’t apparate out so she used all her magic to make sure no one could see us or hear us, or even feel her magic. But she didn’t have any to spare to block the sounds of their screaming.”

Harry swallowed thickly. “I hear my mother bargaining with him…with Riddle. She asked him to kill her instead—that she’d let him kill her in exchange for my life. He laughed. He said she could stand aside and live or die in front of me.” Harry took a deep breath. “I never understood why he gave her a choice but not my father. But maybe because my father fought back and my mother…”

“She was powering the ritual circle,” Draco said, “She didn’t spare any of her magic on fighting him and used it all to protect you.”

Harry nodded but focused on his tea cup.

“I remember screaming too,” Draco said after a moment of silence, “I didn’t know… Father told me last summer what I was remembering.” He cleared his throat. “Riddle tortured him for some mistake. Bellatrix tortured Mother on Riddle’s orders. They’re monsters,” he said flatly. “Both of them. All of them. They don’t care about traditions or even pure blood bigotry. They only care about power and black magic has corrupted them.” He glanced to Harry. “It corrupted their very souls.” He glanced to Neville. “But we won’t let it corrupt ours.”

Neville took a deep breath and nodded stiffly. “We’ll be better than them. We’ll be smarter and faster and our souls will be pure and righteous.”

Draco smirked. “There’s our Gryffindor.” 

Harry snorted and then laughed as Nev threw a spoon at Draco. “Wanker.” Draco smacked the spoon out of the air, laughing. 

“Come on,” Harry stood after they all stopped laughing. “Let’s at least get a couple hours of sleep.”

“Before all hell breaks loose tomorrow,” Draco stood and wiped imaginary lint from his trousers.

With the help of his father’s cloak, a new Marauder’s Map, and the Grey Lady, they all returned to their common rooms unseen.

Harry sent a note in the shape of a bird up to the girl’s dormitory and it was only a few minutes later that Hermione appeared. She pressed a rune on the staircase and gestured for Harry to run up.

Quickly and quietly, they snuggled close in Hermione’s bed. Harry whispered to her the night’s events even though she had placed a silencing charm on her curtains. She wrapped her arms around him. She didn’t say anything for so long that Harry thought she was asleep. 

He, himself, was nearly asleep when she whispered, “Let’s start a dueling club.”

Notes:

I sent my manuscript off to an editor!!! (And I already got the edits back!) But I’m trying to write a few chapters of BB2 before diving back into original fiction.

This is a short chapter but don’t worry the next one is *extra* long.

Thanks again for everyone who comments and reads <3 Enjoy!

Chapter 16: Three Brothers

Summary:

A combative man, an arrogant man, and a suspicious man stalked by Death.

The Great Hall the next morning was lively in direct contrast to how the young Black cousins felt.

And then it quieted as Neville moved resolutely to the Hufflepuff table. Harry, Hermione, and Isobel followed behind him and were soon joined by Draco, Blaise, and Fay. 

Harry wondered if the Hufflepuffs would start to feel annoyed that their table was soon to become synonymous with ill news.

Fawley joined them. 

“Father owled me last night,” he said as he sat down roughly. “It’s about to hit the papers.”

The Great Hall was tense with anticipation as everyone collectively waited for the morning post.

And just like that fateful morning so many weeks ago, the Great Hall boomed with whispers and gasps and shrieks of gossip and despair. 

Harry felt a sliver of vindictive glee. His family was right and proven right. Riddle had made his public move and now no one could call his family lairs. 

Headmistress McGonagall stood up after the news had suitably spread and everyone focused their gaze on her in fearful silence. 

“Lady Ravenclaw and I have updated the wards to Hogwarts. Some of you will find you no longer have access to your elves at this time. Hogwarts is officially locked down from any and all visitors. No one and nothing will enter the grounds without my explicit permission.”

She paused and stared out at all the students with a heavy gaze. “No one may leave the grounds without my explicit permission either.” A buzz of worry and confusion rose from the crowd but McGonagall ignored it. “All students may rest assured that they are safe within these halls.”

McGonagall glanced over to their group and nodded her head almost imperceptibly. “On that note, I have been approached to start a dueling club so that all students may learn how to defend themselves if need be.”

A louder gasp and buzz of gossip followed this announcement. Harry felt eyes train on him but he simply sat up taller and focused on the Headmistress.

“Professor Lupin along with Professor Tonks have agreed to head the club. The first meeting is tomorrow.” She paused, taking a slow breath. “I encourage all students to attend the meeting as well as seriously consider the advantages of learning defensive spells in a dueling environment.” She paused again, this time with a careful tilt of her head as she decided on her next words. “Many of you do not know this, but I was once a Hit Wix for the Ministry of Magic.” A gasp of shock rose up. “And so I say this with the experience of my time in law enforcement, there is a difference, between a practiced spell in a classroom and a single moment in time in a duel. There is less time to think, less time to react, and only your wits to keep you safe. As your Headmistress, I will do everything in my power to keep you safe at Hogwarts. But I cannot guarantee your safety outside these walls.”

The Great Hall was quiet, still, and melancholy as she sat down. It stayed that way until the bell for the first class rang. 

 

/ / /

 

It was Samhain. 

Harry was still at school. It was the first time, ever, that he wasn’t going home. He hated it. But his father was very clear a few days earlier that it simply was not safe to come home.

Harry wanted to argue but he had stopped himself. The strain around his dad’s eyes was clear to see—he had never seen his dad look so serious, so…worried. Not even during first year, when they couldn’t communicate with each other, not even when his dad had felt the magic at his scar and hadn’t reacted well to it.

He knew now, why it made his dad so sad—even though it comforted him. His mum. His first mum would always be with him in some way and that was a relief. 

Harry swallowed back the lump in his throat and squeezed Hermione’s hand tighter as they walked through the castle.

He had never joined in on the school’s Samhain celebration. He much preferred going to Ravenswood with his family. But he was grateful, at least, that there was something going on. 

Professor Lupin and Professor Morgan had set up a bonfire earlier in the day. Headmistress McGonagall stood next to the tower of wood and splinters with a flaming torch in her hand.

“Today we honor our past,” she said to the small crowd of students. “We honor those who have come before us, the paths they made for themselves that allow us to walk a little easier. We honor who we were, and the decisions we have made, good and bad, that have led us to this day. Today we make connections and say blessings to all those who are gone. Today we let go of what no longer serves us. Today we honor the past so that tomorrow we can look to the future. Blessed Samhain, to you, yours, and your dead.”

“Blessed Samhain,” some of the students, including Harry, returned. 

The Headmistress thrust the torch into the bottom of the bonfire, into all the kindling, and the tower lit up in flames. Slowly, as each student approached and walked away, Harry inched closer to the bonfire. He had clutched in his hand a letter to each of his first parents, as well as a photograph of him and Hermione at their bonding.

Hermione had a small stack of letters as well. She had written to her great-grandfather all of her accomplishments, as well as a continued assurance that his house lived on. She wrote to Rowena Ravenclaw and even Helena, although she saw the Grey Lady every day. She also wrote to his parents, he knew, so that they would know her as well as he did. The first time she did that, back in their second year, Harry had cried. 

Somehow, in the procession to the bonfire, Ginny and Ron Weasley were behind him.

He nodded to Ron before smirking at Ginny. “Hey Weaslette, prepared to lose the Snitch again at next month’s match?”

She rolled her eyes. “In your dreams Potter. Charlie came back from Romania this summer and trained me.” 

Harry laughed. “I remember, he was at Litha.”

Harry saw Ron frown in the corner of his eye but said nothing. Their relationship had never fully recovered from the incident on the train but they were polite with each other now. Ron also did occasionally show up to Ravenswood with Ginny and the twins but he kept his distance most of the time. Except for the Quidditch matches. He never turned down an opportunity to practice, especially against opposing players. He also pestered Neville nearly every chance he got to join the Gryffindor team this year, especially after Ron witnessed him as a beater during last summer’s match.

“Where is Neville?” Ron asked.

Harry felt Hermione’s amusement in their bond and stifled a grin. “He’s with Isobel and Luna.” Harry nodded over to the groups mingling after having stopped by the bonfire. 

“Right,” Ron nodded and then pursed his lips. “Uh, congrats, by the way.” He jerked his head to him and Hermione.

Hermione smiled widely. “Thank you, Ron.” 

Ron had never made fun of her again after the train incident but he had never really apologized either. Harry felt strange waiting for the apology that would never come, knowing that Hermione had already let the whole incident go long ago.

Well, Yule 1991, exactly. The moment she knew that Harry would always be hers. Now whenever she reflected on the moment, all Hermione thought of was him, being her first friend, her soulmate, and knowing that he would always fight for her. 

Harry swallowed back a sigh. If Hermione could forgive Ron without an apology, then so could he. 

“Thanks, Ron.” He dipped his head in acknowledgment.

Ron snorted. “I should be thanking you; I won almost twenty galleons on you.”

“What?” Harry’s half-shout was only a second behind Hermione’s muted shriek. 

The tips of Ron’s ears turned red. “Right, did Neville not tell you?” 

Ginny threw back her head and laughed. “It was a Gryffindor secret Ronald, c’mon!”

Hermione frowned pointedly at her. “Well, now it’s not. What are you talking about?”

“The twins started it, mind you,” Ginny giggled, “But Gryffindor had a bet going on when y’all would get engaged.”

Harry’s mouth dropped open. “What…” He frowned, realizing that Ron somehow won that bet. “Wait what did you bet then?”

Ron shrugged gracelessly. “There were bets on timing and how it’d be done and whatnot. I bet that you’d do it close to Hermione’s 17th birthday and that y’all would do a pure-blood bonding ritual. Wasn’t too specific.”

Hermione’s mouth dropped open. “That’s…that’s incredibly specific actually.”

Ron grinned again, his ears still red. “Well, I still had to spilt the pot with Neville but I figured…” He trailed off and his cheeks started to turn red too.

“What?” Hermione pressed. “What were you thinking?” 

Ron rubbed his nose as he glanced off to the bonfire. Mumbling, he said, “Well the train of course.” 

Harry couldn’t help but laugh. Trust Ron to be such a git when they first met but still remember the pertinent details. “Well done, mate.” Hermione couldn’t stifle her giggles and eventually, Ron joined in.

Ginny frowned at the three of them. “What happened on the train?” 

Harry shook his head as Hermione giggled, “Nothing. It was a long time ago.”

Ginny poked Ron but Harry knew Ron wouldn’t speak a word of this to anyone.

Harry felt his magic loosen up in his chest and he realized that he was finally letting go of the residual anger he felt towards Ron. It wasn’t surprising—it was after all the first time Harry had to experience a familial relation being anything but supportive. He breathed a sigh of relief. They had just been children, scared little eleven-year-olds on the train experiencing the world without their parents for the first time. 

They finally made it up to the roaring bonfire. Hermione squeezed his hand before letting go and pulling out all of her letters. 

“In the time when the veil between worlds is thin, I beseech you, Hector Dagworth-Granger to hear my words and receive my blessings. May our Lady’s embrace be ever gentle.” Hermione tossed one of her letters into the fire and then began the prayer once more.

Harry shifted a little away to start his own prayers. He began the traditional one, as Hermione did, but added a few more words to his parents, as was his own tradition. “I can’t visit your gravesites today,” he said softly so no one could hear him over the roar of the fire, “It’s the first time I haven’t been there but Dad wouldn’t let me risk it...he’s not going either though, so I know he’s serious about it.” He chuckled wetly. “Yeah, yeah he’s always serious.” He tossed his mother’s letter into the fire. “Hermione and I are researching other forms of magical travel this year—she seems to think porkeys as the only reliable long-distance travel is ridiculous.” He tossed his father’s letter in and watched the parchment curl up in the flames. “I’m pretty sure it’s because she can’t seem to figure out how to land on her feet instead of her arse though.” 

Fingers poked him sharply in his ribs. Harry swore at the sharp pain. “Merlin, ‘Mione your fingers are as sharp as daggers.” 

She huffed. “Take that back.” 

He grabbed her hand before she could poke him again. “Can’t lie to my parents, love, they’re dead. That’s rude.”

She snorted and rolled her eyes but relented as he pulled her into his side, wrapping her arm around his waist. “All done?”

“Nearly,” he whispered, staring back into the fire. Clearing his throat, he murmured to the fire, “Hermione and I bonded at Mabon, but I’m sure you saw that. I’m, I’m really grateful, Dad, for the Potter gift. I’m really grateful to have Hermione at my side and to have known that she has been at my side before…” Harry swallowed back tears. He didn’t want to cry in front of his classmates. “But I’m scared too, after hearing the prophecy. I’m scared of Riddle attacking our family again. And sometimes, I’m angry and I’m angry that you were attacked, that you were—” Harry took a deep breath as Hermione snuggled tighter into his side. “But I’m glad you had Mum and I’m glad Mum had you. So, so even if I’ll never know you in this life, I’m glad you two will be together in your next.” 

Hermione wiped tears from her face as Harry tossed in the pictures of them from their bonding. 

“I promise Riddle won’t be around when you two are ready to come back to this world.” 

Harry took a deep, steadying breath as he led Hermione over to their friends. Samhain was always a tough holiday to celebrate, equal parts joy, grief, death, and rebirth. Sometimes it was hard for him to balance the grief he felt with the joy of beginning again. It was easier when he had the chance to focus (or be distracted) by his siblings. A reminder that it was good to be alive and it was good to have them as siblings.

He wandered over to his friends, tangling his fingers with Hermione’s. Ginny and Ron followed them over. Draco glared at Ginny and she laughed again; he had just lost the snitch to her only a few weeks ago and he still wasn’t over it.

“Blessed Samhain,” Luna grinned brightly at them. “I was just telling Neville and Isobel about the delightful conversation I had with my mum.”

Harry grinned back, ignoring Nev’s panicked expression and Ron’s utterly confused one. “That’s lovely Luna.” 

“Right, um,” Ron cleared his throat, “That’s…good?”

Hermione hid a snort behind her hand but didn’t come to Ron’s rescue as Luna focused her gaze on him.

“Hmmm, it’s good to see the nargles have left you alone Ronald.” 

Ron shot Ginny a wide-eyed glance but Ginny just smiled blithely, happy as Hermione was to watch him struggle with Luna’s, occasionally indecipherable, sayings.

Luna nodded to Ron sagely, as if he had said something wise in response. “It is sad though,” she said, “that we cannot go home this year. Father and I always share stories on Samhain.”

Hermione squeezed his hand. “What stories did you share?”

Luna’s eyes lit up. “Oh, Hermione, you haven’t heard this one.”

Harry choked back a snort. He didn’t know what story she was talking about, but Hermione knew just about every story ever written.

“Which one is that?” Hermione frowned and Harry could already see her brain filtering through all her memories and knowledge to find out if Luna was correct or not.

Actually, he felt it too. Harry’s grin widened. He always knew her memory was a magical gift, but he could actually feel her magic respond, build, and answer her call. It was extraordinary. She was extraordinary.

“The Tale of the Three Brothers.”

At Luna’s words, several groans echoed through the group, notably from Draco and Isobel. They shared a commiserating glance. 

“I think I heard that story a thousand times as a child,” Isobel sighed.

Draco nodded. “It was Harry’s favorite as a kid. I think Uncle Sirius had it memorized by the end.”

Harry blushed but added, “He still has it memorized because it’s Leo’s favorite story too.”

Draco and Nev laughed.

“I…I don’t think I have heard of it,” Hermione said slowly, her magic still rising within her. Harry was pretty sure she was going through her memories twice over just to make sure.

“It’s a children’s story,” Ginny added, “A nursery tale for bedtime so I’m not surprised you haven’t read it, Hermione.”

“What book was it in?” Ron turned to Ginny, scratching the back of his neck. “Wait, wait, I remember. The Tales of Beedle and the Bard. Right?”

Hermione glared at Ron and Harry fought back laughter. Not that it helped because Hermione could still feel his joy at her expense and turned her glare to him. 

“Not funny,” she muttered under her breath just to him.

He leaned down to her ear and whispered, “It is a little.” It was messing with her worldview that Ronald Weasley had read a book that she hadn’t.

Luna smiled serenely at Hermione though. “I’ll tell Father to owl you a copy of the book, Hermione.” 

“Thanks, Luna,” she said, her brows still furrowed. “So what is this story that you always share?”

Luna grinned brightly, swinging her joined hand with Isobel with excitement. “Oh, I think you’ll like it a lot.”

Harry frowned as he thought of the story. It wasn’t exactly Hermione’s genre of choice and Harry couldn’t really think of why Hermione would like a children’s story. He had heard some of the muggle nursery stories when he was growing up too; when he had shared that with Hermione, she just scrunched her nose in distaste—“Those stories are actually quite gruesome when you hear the originals; I never understood why they were told to children.”

He figured she’d have the same reaction to The Tale of the Three Brothers.

Luna, however, cleared her throat expectantly and moved to the center of the group alone. Harry watched Neville start in surprise and wondered what he saw that Harry didn’t.

“Once there were three brothers,” Luna began, and her voice had taken on a rather unnatural tone as her hair glowed in the moonlight. An audience gathered around them almost immediately, as if drawn to Luna’s magic.

“They traveled along a lonely, winding road at twilight and reached a deep treacherous river where anyone who attempted to swim or wade would drown.”

“Midnight,” Ron muttered softly to Ginny, “Mum always said midnight.” Ginny elbowed him in his side and Ron stifled a yelp.

“Shut up,” she hissed.

Harry glanced at Hermione, to see if she noticed the disruption, but she was watching Luna very closely, with a peculiar look in her eye.

Luna, however, didn’t notice at all and continued her story, her hands weaving through the air, gathering magic. She continued, “Learned in the magical arts, the brothers conjured a bridge with their wands and proceed to cross. Halfway across the bridge, a hooded figure stood before them. The figure was Death, cheated of her due.”

A murmur swept through the crowd and Harry resisted a shudder. Death was always male when Dad had told the story.

“But Death was cunning and pretended to congratulate the three brothers.” The magic Luna had been weaving through her fingers began to glow silver like her hair and shapes began to emerge, four figures and a bridge. “She rewarded the brothers for their skill and offered them a gift of their own choosing.”

“The eldest brother, a combative man who often feared his own incompetence, asked for a wand more powerful than any in existence.” And from the tip of Luna’s finger a silvery, wispy tree emerged. “Death granted his wish by fashioning the Elder Wand from a branch of a nearby elder tree standing on the banks of the river.” The tree began to twist and turn until it became a wand. Harry frowned—it looked vaguely familiar to him. After a moment, Luna released the wand and it rose above her head.

“The second brother, an arrogant man who often feared to be alone, asked for the power to recall the deceased from the grave. Death granted his wish by crafting the Resurrection Stone from a stone picked from the riverbank.” The magic in Luna’s hand transformed into a stone that, with each turn in her hand, sharpened and cut into a diamond shape. It joined the Elder Wand above her.

“And then the third brother,” Luna turned to Harry and smiled. Harry fought back shivers as she looked other-worldly in the glow of her own magic. “A suspicious man who often feared the future did not trust Death and asked for something to enable him to go forth without Death being able to follow. And so a reluctant Death, most unwillingly, handed over her own cloak of invisibility.” And from Luna’s hand, a cloak appeared, wispy and silvery, reminding Harry too much of his own invisibility cloak. It rose above her head and joined the others.

“The three brothers,” Luna crafted the figures once more, “took their prizes and soon went on their separate ways.” She created a little silver village with her hands and gasps of shock rose from the crowd surrounding her. “The eldest brother traveled to a village where a wizard who had threatened the brother’s family lived.” Luna’s magic shifted with her words, illustrating the story as she spoke. “He sought out a duel and fought the wizard using the wand, instantly killing the latter. He felt relieved to eliminate the threat to his family and walked to an inn close by to spend the night there. Once there, he warned anyone who would listen of the Elder Wand’s power and his own dedication to family.”

“But even powerful wix must sleep. And that very night, a murderous wix crept to the inn and killed the eldest brother as he slept. The wix stole the wand and was never seen again.” 

A silver figure took the elder wand above Luna’s head and transformed into a hooded figure that swept through the small town to the eldest brother’s prone form.

“And so Death took the first brother.”

A hush fell as Death’s cloak swept through the town, dissolving it into mist.

Luna twisted her hands in the air again and created a beautiful house with her magic. 

“The second brother returned to his home where he lived alone. Turning the stone thrice in his hand the figure of the girl he had once hoped to marry, before her untimely death, appeared at once before him, much to his delight.” Two figures danced around the house for a moment, but they turned away from each other. “But she was neither here nor there, as she was dead but unable to move to her next life. So she suffered, not belonging in the mortal realm. Finally, the second brother, driven mad with hopeless longing, committed suicide so as truly to join her.”

Harry was grateful that Luna only alluded to the hanging rather than depict it in her magic; some of the younger students had gathered in front to watch her tell the tale.

“And thus Death took the second brother for his own.”

Luna weaved her magic through her fingers, creating the hooded figure of Death along with a smaller hooded figure of the third brother. Harry frowned as she created the image—it looked like Death was following the youngest brother but that wasn’t how the tale went.

“For many years, Death watched the third brother under her cloak of invisibility, for he never took it off, fearful always that Death would take him. He never rested easy when he returned to his family and feared greatly when news of his brothers’ deaths reached him.”

Murmurs rose in the crowd, for this was not the tale that was in the Beedle and the Bard and not what Harry grew up hearing.

“Eventually, when the third brother reached a great age, and his wife had passed, and many of his children had passed, he took off the Cloak of Invisibility and gave it to his grandson. When Death came to him, he said, ‘I no longer fear you so I have let you find me.’”

Death, in Luna’s magic, took off her hood and a beautiful witch was revealed. She tilted her head to the side as she gazed at the old wix the youngest brother had become.

“Death reached out her hand to the youngest brother,” Luna continued, “And she said to him, ‘I never lost you, Ignotus, for you were mine the moment you were born.’ And so Death took the third brother.” The silver figure rose high in the air with the third bother before disappearing in the moonlight. Harry looked back down at Luna; she smiled serenely as she met his gaze.

Murmurs of discontent swelled in the crowd. Harry heard Ron mutter to Ginny, “That’s definitely not the way Mum told it.” But he was distracted by the story—or at least Luna’s telling of it. 

Headmistress McGonagall began to clap and suddenly all the students jumped at once, so enthralled were they in the story. “Excellent story weaving, Miss Lovegood. Twenty points to Ravenclaw.”

“Story weaving,” Hermione murmured under her breath. Harry felt her hand squeeze his but when he looked at her, she was very clearly lost in thought. 

The students scattered after that, many heading up their dormitories as it was very late in the night.

Harry stayed where he was, hand in Hermione’s hand, waiting for her mind to slow and share the thousands of thoughts swirling in her head. It was nice that the bond at least helped him feel her magic so he knew rather than guessed that that was what was happening. 

Draco slid up next to him with Blaise and Fay. “That was definitely not Uncle Sirius’s version,” he muttered under his breath, a careful eye on Luna and Isobel who were talking with Ron and Ginny. 

“We should’ve known it’d be different with Luna telling the story,” Blaise said.

Harry hummed in agreement. “Where’s Nev?” 

“Here,” Nev grumbled from behind them. Harry turned slightly to give him room to join the circle. “You notice anything in particular about her re-telling?” He gave Draco and Harry a meaningful nod, as he tapped his forehead.

Harry frowned, thinking of the various changes Luna made. The one that stood out to him most was that Death was a woman in her story—how could Luna know that when Dad only discovered that tidbit in his first year? Harry frowned at that thought though.

Before Neville could say anything, Hermione gasped. “Peverell!

All heads swiveled to her. 

Draco sighed heavily but Fay smiled. “Care to share, Hermione?”

Harry snorted. Six years of friendship later and everyone was quite used to Hermione forgetting to explain how she got from point A to point G. 

But instead of answering, Hermione flushed. Harry focused in on their bond, alarmed by her sense of anxiety and nervousness—that was not how this exchange usually went.

“Let’s go to the Come and Go Room,” Harry said softly. He glanced over to Luna and Isobel and added, “Someone tell them without alerting you-know-who.” 

Blaise snorted. “Wrong you-know-who and you know it.”

Notes:

It's almost my birthday! So birthday present for you and me!

Chapter 17: Crossroads

Summary:

When the veil is thinnest, the road between life and death is clear.

Sirius sat back, watching various family members approach the large bonfire. There were so many more people staying in Ravenswood than before and yet, this Samhain celebration was small in comparison to years past.

Remus and Tonks had stayed at Hogwarts for one. There were no close friends of various other family members who attained the coveted invitation to the infamous House of Black Samhain celebration. There weren’t even members of the extended family. The Weasleys were politely told that Ravenswood was locked down to all visitors and if they wanted assistance in their own wards, the House of Black would be happy to hire the Horde to adjust them.

And then, of course, no Harry.

They had talked via mirror earlier that day but it wasn’t the same. It was his first Samhain without Harry since…since that day.

A shudder of fear swept through him and his magic and Cephee shifted where he was resting on his chest, a soft hitching cry growing under his throat. 

Sirius winced, leashing his magic under his skin until only smooth waves emerged. Mimicking his magic, he rubbed soft circles on Cephee’s back while crooning to him. He hummed, “Shh it’s okay little one. All is well.”

“Here,” Rose held out her arms and Sirius carefully transferred the sleeping child. She dropped a kiss to his cheek before sitting down in the chair next to him. “I’ve finished paying my respects, love. It’s your turn.”

Sirius grimaced but duly made his way over to the bonfire. He pulled his usual letters from his pocket, starting with his father. It had taken a few years for him to feel comfortable reaching out to him especially now that he did not known his father as he should have. Every memory of his father was tainted with the knowledge that his father had been potioned. 

He relayed the past year. The hunt for horcruxes. Harry taking upon the mantle and title of Lord Gryffindor. Harry’s betrothal ceremony with Hermione. The attack at the Ministry. The ritual murder Riddle committed to resurrect himself. And then…Death.

He couldn’t avoid talking about her…to her on her sacred day. Samhain represented the inevitable cycle of existence—birth, death, and rebirth. Except it wasn’t as soothing as it had once been. There was no peace to be found in death today; no joy to be found in life. Riddle had disrupted the cycle. He had taken that which did not belong to him. And the rhythm of death magic was jarringly off.

Sirius grimaced, shaking off the discordant magic he picked up from his errant thoughts. Death was in high, agitated form tonight, and Sirius was not ready to confront more of his duties as a harbinger. He had been avoiding meditating since that fateful morning. It was obviously a mistake he couldn’t continue to repeat—not if he wanted to control his magic to prevent disrupting the twin’s peace.

Taking a deep breath, Sirius called out to James and Lily and began to update them on the past year. He knew they had peace in the afterlife but he hoped they didn’t move onto their next life before he got to see them. It was a selfish desire and one completely out of his control, so he didn’t hold out much hope.

He regaled them with excessive details about Harry’s betrothal ceremony before reluctantly turning to less fortunate news: the prophecy. Had they known? Did Dumbledore tell them or did they go into hiding for a different reason? He cursed the distrust that had been sown during the war and was left to wonder if Dumbledore had done that on purpose—had purposefully isolated James and Lily to get close to Harry.

Sirius took a moment to curse Dumbledore’s existence before the fire shifted in front of him. A twist of the flame that flared out to him before turning back into the air, reaching high into the sky as smoke bloomed into the air. Sirius’s breath caught as the magic of fire flared within the bonfire. If he had the attention to spare, Sirius would’ve noticed the unsettling quiet that fell upon the family. As it was, Sirius was focused so intently on the fire that he was able to see a flash of…

“James!”

 

/ / /

 

“Peverell,” Hermione muttered under breath for what had to be the twentieth time as she paced in the middle of house-neutral common room the Room of the Requirement created for them.

Fay smiled bemusedly at her from her place on Draco’s lap where they were both sitting on the chair closest to the fireplace the Room created for them. She caught Harry’s gaze with a shrug. “Should we interrupt her thoughts soon?”

Harry watched his betrothed circle the collection of couches and tables that their friends were currently strewn across, watching her just the same with curious and bemused expressions.

Luna and Isobel haven’t shown up yet and Harry had a feeling that was what Hermione was waiting for. 

“Five more minutes?” Harry turned to Nev and Blaise who were playing a game of exploding snap to pass the time.

Fay nodded before biting her lip, shooting Draco a questioning look.

Draco raised an blonde eyebrow in response. “Yes love?”

“Aren’t…well,” Fay spoke hesitantly, softly, “Ginny and Ron are cousins of yours as well?” 

Draco, Nev, and Harry grimaced, an automatic reaction to the reminder. But Harry forced a more neutral expression on his face quicker than the other two. Had he not just forgiven Ron for his childish behavior on the train, when they were nothing more than children? Had they not grown up knowing that it wasn’t the children’s fault that their mother was overbearing and disrespectful of the Black family? 

“It’s complicated,” Nev muttered under his breath with a pointed look to Harry.

Harry shrugged. “Their mother is very anti-family…or at least anti-our family.” Fay grimaced at those words and Harry shot her a wry grin. “Exactly. So the twins and Ginny are closer to our family with their grandmother’s influence but…”

“Let’s just say we’re cautious,” Draco finished flatly. “And it’d be best for us all if we were cordial but…”

“They aren’t involved in this,” Harry said.

“For better or for worse.”

Before anyone could comment on that, the door to the ROR finally opened. Luna waltzed in with a wide smile and Isobel walked in with a glance over her shoulder, careful and cautious of being followed.

“Ginny was curious about the story and Ron get interrupting,” Isobel explained before anyone could ask what took them so long.

Luna bounced in front of Mione, her silver blond hair rippled down her back with a vibrant, magical energy Harry only typically saw on Mione. 

“What did you think?” Luna asked Mione.

Hermione frowned at her. “Why Peverell?”

“Because it’s his story.”

“Does that matter?”

Luna hummed but didn’t immediately answer. Draco took the moment of silence to interrupt. 

“Care to explain why you care at all about a name in a story?” His imperious blond eyebrow was raised in his usual haughty fashion.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “It’s not a name in a story, Draco,” she threw her hands in the air. “Am I the only one who remembers family history?”

Draco straightened in his chair, shifting Fay with careful purpose. “Excuse me, I can trace my family history to the Merovingian dynasty, thank you very much.”

Nev raised both hands in the air, one directed to Draco and another to Harry who had already stood, ready defend Hermione from what he felt like was untoward aggression. Hermione, on the other hand, just sighed loudly. 

“Wait, wait,” Nev said, stopping Hermione from launching into one of her very typical, very aggressive, professorial rants. “I think what Hermione meant to say, and which I might add,” he turned to her with a small smile, “is unrealistic for us common wix—but have we memorized all the names within our family tree?”

Draco huffed. “Bloody hell ‘Mione, do you really expect that out of us? Even after all these years?”

Hermione twisted her hands in front of her. Harry inched closer, offering his hand and his protection all at once. “I forget sometimes.”

“Clearly,” Draco huffed again before settling down in his seat. “So who has a family member named Peverell in their line?”

“Harry, of course,” Luna said airily with a guileless smile that only she could genuinely have. 

“Bloody hell.” Nev pinched the bridge of his nose after Hermione gave a sharp confirming nod.

“What…” Harry swallowed thickly. “What does that mean?”

“It could mean nothing, right?” Fay said, offering Harry a hesitant smile. “It could be that the Peverell brothers were linked to the creation of the Hallows, or maybe they created the myth itself or…”

“Or the story has more than a kernel of truth and Harry descends from the only surviving brother.” Hermione said with more than a hint that this was what she believed to be true.

“But that…” Blaise swallowed his words as the three cousins stared at each other incredulously.

“The bloody cloak,” Neville whispered. “It’s been in your family for generations.”

“Invisibility cloaks have a typical shelf life of only four to five years,” Hermione said softly, squeezing Harry’s hand once and offering a reassuring smile. “But if it’s not a typical cloak…”

Harry took a shuddering breath. “But then…”

He turned from his friends and stalked towards the false window the ROR had created. Outside, instead of the late Scottish night, he saw the rolling fields of Ravenswood, in the corner Ara’s circle was glittering with magic and he knew that nearby his family had set up their typical bonfire for Samhain. He hoped their night was going better than his.

“Is my family being punished then?” He whispered, but his voice carried to all, “For defying Death?”

Hermione made a noise of disagreement. “Of all three brothers, the third was the most respectful.”

“The most fearful,” Harry corrected with a moue of distaste. He may not be a Gryffindor but the he still was the Gryffindor of the wixen world.

“The most humble,” Nev offered, “at least when Cousin Sirius tells the story.”

“The most suspicious,” Draco drawled, “when Luna tells the story.” He sent her a scathing look and she merely widened her eyes in surprise.

Hermione cleared her throat. "But those three traits all lead to one thing..." She paused and Harry turned to meet her eyes. With a subdued smile she said, "Deferential."

The room let out a collective breath. and Hermione continued, "I don’t think you're family is being punished Harry. I think... I think the Potters, descendants of the only living surviving Peverell line are connected to Death."

Harry grimaced at the association but then thought again at what that truly meant for him. For his family. He survived a curse that no other had survived. His mother created a protection against the killing curse that all thought would be impossible. He swallowed, thoughts tumbling back to the damaged rune sequence Great Uncle Alphard had showed him hesitantly, the only surviving remnants of his mother’s brilliant magic. he wondered if they ever considered this—this Death magic that had been traced down the Potter line.

And then, on the other side, was Riddle. He wasn't using Death magic but rather avoiding Death at all costs. What had Death said to Dad, words that had clearly haunted his father when he repeated them haltingly when all was explained at Mabon. "I'm collecting that which is already mine?"

“It's not punishment,” Harry whispered, the weight of family magic gathering around his shoulders, "It's..." Harry swallowed again, emotions clogging his throat. He had grown up a Black, unintentionally, but there all the same. He was the last of his line and there was no one but ancient grimoires to teach ancient secrets. But the Potter family was embarrassingly young in comparison to the Blacks, who publicly traced their family back to the fall of Rome and secretly claimed to be descendants of Hecate herself. 

The Potters traced their line through Peverell up to Gryffindor, a proud English tradition but nothing more, nothing deeper nor farther. Why should they when Lord Gryffindor was Lord Godric Gryffindor, co-founder to one of the greatest schools of witchcraft, wizardry, and wixen magic alike. Malfoy can claim his distant relation to the Royal family of magical France; the Blacks can claim the last Royal Magician of Rome and the Potters would carry out the legacy of Gryffindor, younger, sure than the others but still as influential on British soil. 

Harry would have never guessed that their greatest family secret would come almost a half a century later, with the three young sons of Peverell, infusing a powerful, ancient, and heavy magical burden on their line for the rest of eternity. 

Harry cleared his throat, looked up to his friends and said softly, "It's not punishment. It's duty...it's the duty of family magic."

Draco hissed a low breath through clenched teeth. "Not like..." he didn't need to finish his thoughts when Harry had nodded his head sharply.

"I think it is exactly like that," he whispered through bloodless lips, "I think...I think this is the reason I was chosen." he grimaced, apologetic at Neville. "He may have thought he chose between the two of us but I think..."

"We're at a crossroads," Luna said cheerfully, "Which Hecate loves best."

Isobel glanced between all her friends, before ending with an exasperated smile for Luna. "A crossroads between--"

"Fate," Neville said.

“Hecate," Draco said.

“And Death," Harry said.

Notes:

I gave up social media this month and wrote two chapters for this story.

This is also an Evil Author Day treat. I'm not going to post again until I'm at least a chapter or two ahead as I would like to finish this story in the next few months. But also, to be honest, we're only about halfway through my outline. So...wish me luck.

Chapter 18: The Pieces

Summary:

Even snakes can't hear all the whispers; even gods miss some of the pieces.

The next few weeks passed in uneasy silence. Harry couldn't bring himself to tell his dad that Death magic was Potter Family magic. He knew it wasn’t a secret he could keep for long. But the pieces… They still didn't fit as cleanly as he wanted them to. Why would Death make Sirius her harbinger when his father, James Potter, was right there? Why would Fate create a prophecy when it was his family's duty to seek out and destroy Riddle and his horcruxes? Why was Hecate involved at all?

The pieces were there, he knew, but some were missing. Some felt incomplete. And he didn't know how they all connected, just that they did. Somehow.

The only thing that made it marginally better was that he knew Hermione was equally struggling with all the pieces as well. He snorted ruefully, glancing at Hermione, whose nose was in another book on Fate and religion. Right, equally struggling was a stretch, but she couldn't come up with a clear explanation either.

They were in the library again; their massive study group working on homework and more inconspicuously, the will of Fate.

Draco shut his book a tad too loudly for the library and everyone anxiously glanced at Madam Pince. She eyed them a gimlet stare before sniffing righteously and turning away.

Neville sent Draco an incredulous look. "What was that for?"

"I think we're being stupid," he muttered under his breath, warily glancing at Hermione, who had already puffed up with indignant pride.

Harry placed his hand over hers. "What do you mean?" He said, more calmly than he realized he was. He had an idea where this was going.

Draco waved a hand at all the books on fate, Hecate, divination, and arithmancy. "We're trying to figure out the will of the gods. We're trying to piece together three pieces into a complete picture when the puzzle is probably a million pieces big. We're being stupid."

"Then what do you suggest? We give up?" Hermione measured her voice low but the venom was still there.

Draco glared at her and Harry leaned into her shoulder, trying to redirect the glare his way. But Draco didn't fall for it. "I'm saying, we should accept the pieces we have, rather than look for more. I'm saying, instead of figuring out why Harry was chosen or Cousin Sirius, that we accept the fact that they were. And instead, figured out a way to help them."

"We are," Hermione snapped back, " we are figuring out the why so we can figure out the how."

"And that's all well and good when the why isn't the fucking will of the gods, Hermione!"  Draco's voice got lower and colder, but his yell was inherent in how he clenched his teeth. "Hermione there are just some things we will never know. no matter how clever, or smart, or how many books you can read." Draco stood. "I'm going to figure out how to help. I"m not going to waste my time anymore figuring out why it has fallen to us."

Hermione opened her mouth, a retort ready on her lips, but Harry squeezed her hand, silently asking her to stop. She sent him an incredulous and hurt look that made Harry wince with guilt.

He squeezed her hand again but she didn't return the pressure. Sighing, Harry turned back to Draco. "Where do you suggest we start with...with the how.”

Draco eyed Hermione wearily but he sat back down. Wordlessly, he slid a book across the table. It was the same book Luna had given him weeks earlier. "I think we figure out how to make Hermione's plan work."

Harry wanted to protest. He didn't want his dad to be his hand. He didn't want his dad to have to fight Riddle. He didn't want to fight Riddle either. Did that make him a coward or...

Hermione swallowed thickly and squeezed his hand. "Fine. We focus on arithmancy rituals then."

Draco bowed his head slowly, reserved yet referential and Harry appreciated the silent apology in the action. Even if he hated the outcome.

/ / /

It had been almost two months since the Azkaban breakout. Arcturus resisted the urge to tap his fingers impatiently on his chair. Madam Bones just finished letting the Wizengamot that they were out of leads.

Out of leads. An entire fucking prison was decimated. Hundreds of dead wix and they were out of leads.

Arcturus sent a glare to the back of the Chief Wix's head. He knew it wasn't Fawley’s fault but the corruption and incompetence of this government had gone too far. How was Riddle able to break out all his most loyal and fanatic followers from a high-security prison without leaving a SINGLE trace of evidence?

Corruption and incompetence. The bane of bureaucracy.

Sirius shifted in his chair for a third time since Madam Bones began her report. Arcturus settled his hand on his arm with a quelling glance. Sirius's lips flattened but he nodded shallowly at the silent reprimand. There was no reason to show his fear to the entire Wizengamot, justified or not.

Sirius leaned back in his chair, settling his hands in his lap, but out of sight from the rest of the Wizengamot so he could clench them tightly into fists, knuckles white with the strain to keep his face clear.

Madam Bones sat down to quiet grumblings of discontented rabble-rousers, or at least, that was what Arcturus thought as he gazed around the room and saw both light and dark wix mutter to each other. He noted that Theron Nott was silent, eyes focused on the now empty floor and ignoring the boxes to either side of them that held the remains of the Ancient Houses of Yaxley and of Sewlyn. 

The Chief Wix banged his gavel twice on the cluttered desk laid out in front of him. It silenced the room by half. The other half, conspicuously in the audience itself, refused to quieten.

"Silence!" Fawley roared, hitting the gavel twice more.

With mutters and glares, the audience fell silent.

Nearly on cue, Macmillan lit his seal. Without an order of business to attend to, Fawley furrowed his brows but gestured to Macmillan.

"Lord Macmillan has the floor."

He stood, pompous gut hanging over ill-fitting trousers and slightly too short-sleeved robes exposing veiny hands and wrists. Arcturus frowned as Macmillan scanned the entire Wizengamot, dark, light, and gray houses all, before settling on the audience.

Arcturus shifted in his chair, leaning forward.

"Lords of the Wizengamot, and gentlewix of England," he began, attempting a regal air that fell flat with the slight quiver of his hand, "For weeks, Madam Bones and the tireless wix of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement have been working around the clock to prove a conspiracy theory of..." He stuttered, eyes darting to Arcturus, who raised a single eye brow in response and dared. Dared him to say what he was too afraid to say. Macmillan cleared his throat, straightened his spine, and Arcturus began to wonder if Melania would be upset if he started a blood feud with the house of her birth when he said "Chief Fawley" and all of Arcturus's plans fled his mind in dumbfounded shock.

A clatter of a pen fell to the Chief Wix's table like a thunderbolt of damnation.

Arcturus felt frozen in place as he could only watch Macmillan continue in silence.

"Chief Fawley has refused to see what others of us have seen from the start.” He gestured widely to all the houses. "Dead wix and no dementors. Is it not obvious that the dementors were the ones who attacked the prison? They have revolted and instead of sending out aurors to re-capture these rebellious dementors, the Chief Wix has led the DMLE on a wild goose chase for evil wix long since dead. Our countrymen are living in irrational fear of a wizard defeated fifteen years ago. Our leader should not encourage this so. Not when they are san wix who see the problem for what it really is and not the boggart under the bed. Our children are currently locked up tight behind impenetrable war wards controlled by a seventeen-year-old girl who is afraid of a dead wix! And the Chief Wix has encouraged this, has lauded the goblin-lover's efforts!"

Arcturus reached out blindly, holding Sirius to his chair while he quietly seethed. It wasn't the insult he was expecting but he still felt confident enough that Melania would approve of a blood feud for those words. "Goblin-lover" to some was as bad as blood traitor, perhaps worst for the innuendo behind it.

But Macmillan wasn't done. "The DMLE needs to refocus its efforts on corralling the dementors back to Azkaban. And the Wizengamot needs to focus on what really matters to their citizenry—proper education for their children!" The audience burst into applause and several boxes of the Wizengamot followed, albeit more sedately.

Arcturus sat back in his chair with a vicious scowl. The words were all bluster and inciting but Macmillan still had only a minority leadership of the light faction—how did he expect to move forward?

"I call for a vote of no confidence in Chief Wix Fawley,” he finished to breathless silence.

Arcturus scanned the light boxes, wondering which lord would second a vote that would come out to nothing. Even if a small majority could come together to organize a vote for no confidence, even if Macmillan managed to convince some grey or dark wix to side with him, who would he nominate that could unite those houses as well? If the vote failed in the week, Chief Fawley would remain, a little worse for wear but in his position none the less.

"I second Lord Macmillan's motion." The words were silk, delivered with poise and a fierce gleam and if Arcturus was twenty years younger he might've been tempted to slouch in defeat. Lord Yaxley seconded the motion. 

As it was, Sirius blew out a nearly audible breath and whispered without moving his mouth, "Assholes."

Indeed.

Arcturus caught Chief Fawley's eye and they both knew what was going to happen, a train wreck that neither of them saw coming. The only surprise left was who had the light and dark houses agreed to mutually back, who in this alliance of opposites did they think would unite them?

The Chief Wix, his own executioner, allowed the vote to proceed and with both dark and light houses united, it easily passed. Knowing this, Arcturus kept a closer eye on those who voted against the motion—his usual allies—and those who refrained—most curiously, Theron Nott. He caught Narcissa's eye, who was handling the Malfoy box as Lucius recovered and hid from an easy assassination attempt. She quirked a brow, catching what he saw just as easily. They could possibly make an overture to Nott soon, to see if it was a ploy or a man in earnest need of support from a change of heart.

Macmillan stood with a little smile after Fawley declared the vote had passed.

"Lord Macmillan has the floor," the Chief said, gracious in a defeat that was absolutely uncalled for.

"I nominate Albert Runcorn for the position of Chief Wix."

And from the center of the noisiest group of the audience, Albert Runcorn stood with a smile.

Arcturus sat back as the Wizengamot broke into applause and silently rearranged nearly all his plans.

For the next thirty minutes, Arcturus watched as the light and dark coalition of the Wizengamot agreed to ascend a ruthless blood purist and ex-auror as Chief Wix.

Only his gray block voted against but it wasn't enough.

And in the madness of debates, the fevered speeches for and against the man as Sirius regaled the crowd with stories of Runcorn’s cowardice and blood purist ideals only to be shut down by both light and dark houses arguing Runcorn’s neutrality and traditionalist record, Arcturus didn't notice a slip of paper fly his way until it landed on top of his journal.

No magic clung to note except the little needed to make it fly. As Arcturus scanned the room no one attempted to make eye contact with him either, all too focused on the impromptu speech newly elected Chief Wix Runcorn was giving.

Pinching his lips, Arcturus ignored the jabs Runcorn made at the management of Hogwarts and instead opened the note with a flick of his fingers and a tendril of magic.

Owls are being watched. I have the information you want. Send a porkey.

It was unsigned except for a little illustration of a bow, tied in a knot.

Arcturus pressed his lips tightly together, and only his experience stopped him from glancing immediately to Theron Nott.

It was a risk. And Lucius knew Nott to be branded. But if he wanted out...if he wanted a new path…then they had a way to offer it…for a price.

/ / /

Sirius fell into the couch with a relieved groan, uncaring of Cissy's disapproving sniff. He wasn't made for the Wizengamot; he could do it—even excel at it if he wanted to but he didn't love it, a part of him actually hated it.

Sirius listened half-heartedly as Grandfather asked for the evening edition of the Daily Prophet from Tippy. Cissy sat next to Lucius and updated him, Uncle Alphard, and Uncle Cygnus on the recent session.

Sirius tried to rack his brains for any more information he had on Albert Runcorn but it all felt twenty years out of date. Runcorn had been a junior auror when he and James were in boot camp. By the time they had become junior aurors, Runcorn had transitioned into a detective role, bypassing the more rigorous route of becoming a Hit Wix, as James and Sirius had planned all those years ago. It had been an interesting turn of career during the middle of a war but not exactly out of the ordinary. Detectives were extremely necessary for crimes—but Hit Wix were needed to protect the wixen world. James had called him a coward in private but Sirius hadn't paid attention—it only meant more room for him at the Academy, more chance for glory. Like the idiot he was, focused on the wrong things—always.

Grumbling, Sirius sat up on the couch, catching the end of Cissy's update as Grandfather threw the paper to the ground with a disgusted snarl.

"The spin these reporters have put on Runcorn will drive the masses straight into slaughter."

Cissy summoned the paper with a twitch of her fingers and read with Lucius peering over her shoulder.

"What are they saying?" Sirius asked. He had no patience for analyzing a reporter's slant on the truth today.

"Runcorn united the Wizengamot," Cissy said with a curl in her lips, "And apparently, it was only the out-of-touch gray faction led by the House of Black who are refusing to get with the people."

"Emphasis on Black," Grandfather snarled, "They are trying to paint us as the villains, as the ones  who are using forbidden magic to control the populace."

Sirius let his head fall back against the couch. How did this all get out of control so fast? Were they supposed to keep it hidden? Supposed to lie about their knowledge of Riddle and let the Wixen world live in ignorant bliss? Was this the punishment for telling the truth—that no one believed them?

"What's our next step?" Sirius asked instead. "Do we send out a full-page ad about how we practice both light and dark magic? Maybe attached a list of books to read so people understand the difference?"

Uncle Alphard snorted. "Gryffindor," he muttered with an indulgent smile.

Sirius flashed him a grin with too much teeth. "Sometimes being the loudest in the room works."

Lucius snorted. "Sometimes being the snake in the grass allows you to hear the whispers."

Sirius waved a hand. "We've been snakes. We've heard whispers but did anyone hear about this?" He glanced around the room. Cissy and Lucius looked rather disgruntled to have to admit they didn't hear about the upcoming vote of no confidence. Grandfather had his fingers steepled together under his chin. "Maybe we should be a bit more Gryffindorish about this. Maybe we should start roaring to the crowd to sit up and pay attention. What do we have to lose at this point? We're already shunned for announcing Riddle's return by the light crowd; enemies to the dark for acknowledging their newly risen leader. We're not going to win by playing politics with this new Chief wix." Sirius huffed, a fist clenching as he recognized what he was feeling with a rush of fear and exhilaration. "It's just like before," he said softer, glancing cautiously at Grandfather. "It's going to be open warfare soon. Only this time…there's no clear leader of the light for the masses to follow." 

Grandfather curled his lip in disgust. "A leader of minions perhaps but he was no light wix."

Sirius nodded his head shallowly; Dumbledore set up pawns just as much as Riddle did. But he also held the masses’ support as their unelected moral leader of what was supposed to be good and fair.

"Sirius is right," Uncle Cyngus muttered under his breath. "Dumbledore was as much a dark lord as Riddle in his own way, but he held the support of the people. If anything, it limited the recruitment of the Death Eaters—and that's something we should be concerned about, especially considering the troubling turn of the Ministry."

"If the ministry falls to Riddle," Cissy said slowly, "Then our allies will be too few."

"So we cultivate allies," Lucius said slowly, rhythmically tapping his fingers along the brocade armrest at his left. "Like Slytherins, we form our own coalition of friends, secretly yet firm."

Sirius twisted his lips into a wry smirk. "Our version of the Order of the Phoenix?"

Lucius scowled a the reminder of the little vigilante group of Dumbledore's but nodded. "Perhaps we'll be less ostentatious than that."

Sirius let out a bark of laughter. "And then we become Gryffindors in public. Raising awareness and support against Riddle and the dark factions of the Wizengamot. Pretending to be concerned about the light."

“Well, hardly pretending because I am fucking concerned," Uncle Alphard muttered.

Sirius turned to Grandfather, who was nodding his head. "The louder we appear in public, the easier it will be to cultivate behind closed doors."

"A distraction with a purpose." Cissy grinned, flashing Sirius a predatory smile that made him anxious. "And we have the perfect Gryffindor to be the face for our public move."

He grimaced. "I walked right into that, didn't I?"

Grandfather smiled before pulling a note from his pocket. He turned to Cissy. "And I have the next ally for you to cultivate."

Notes:

Today was a very long day, so I'm rewarding myself by posting a chapter a day before I had planned.

Is Wednesday the new update day? Don't hold your breath but all my fingers are crossed in hope.

P.S. When I write chapters that require me to look back at previous chapters for information, in the flow of writing sometimes I write *insert house elf name here* or *insert dark house in Wizengamot here* instead of breaking the flow of writing. If I have missed that in my editing and posting, please point out these LARGE errors in a comment; I won't be offended and would appreciate the editorial assistance. Please do NOT point out when I misspell something or forget to capitalize a word. These large errors will be very obvious but you never know what falls through the cracks.

Chapter 19: Pack

Summary:

The moment before a snake strikes.

"Order of the Phoenix part two?" Remus snorted, his eye roll clear in the mirror.

Sirius grumbled, shutting his private office door securely behind him lest Carina practice her sneaky ways to spy on him. Unfortunately, that was a new skill Great Aunt Cassie was encouraging her to cultivate, with mixed success for the rest of them. Only his attunement to his own child's magic has protected him from her successfully spying on conversations much too serious for her young ears. Grandmother had scolded Great Aunt Cassie for encouraging and teaching her spy techniques at this time but Great Aunt Cassie was unrepentant, shrugging off the rebuke with an arched brow and sharp whisper, "Should I teach her skills of survival when I'm dead then?"

Grandmother had winced but no one could refute her. In fact, he was pretty sure, Grandmother had begun to teach his children how to hide in plain sight and how to change or mask their magical signatures. which only meant that one day, he too would be a victim of Carina's spying.

Shaking off that terrifying thought, he turned back to his mirror and rolled his eyes back at Remus. "Worse, it'll probably be called the Snake's Den or something—”

Remus threw back his head and laughed, a charming sight for his werewolf friend, considering that the full moon was just around the corner. Sirius, in a gracious moment and only because the full moon was soon, decided not to comment on how Remus's transformations were easier with a mate at his side. The only thing left was to convince the man to make him a part of his pack, magically, not just emotionally.

"Dens are for the badgers," Remus said between his remaining chortles, "The Order of the Snakes?"

Sirius waved a hand. "Doesn't have the same gravitas as before."

Remus only hummed. "We'll think of something." He shifted in the mirror, settling into the large couch in his quarters at Hogwarts. "Now, why are you telling me about the Lions in the Grass part two?"

Sirius snorted. "That's the worst one yet." Then he winced, sucking on his bottom lip before sighing. “And because I wanted to run something by you before I brought it up to the family."

He met Remus's eyes reluctantly. For a moment, they stared into each other's eyes and Sirius watched the light fall out of Remus’s as he realized what Sirius wanted to ask.

"Before you say no—” Sirius started before Remus could get a word out.

Well, two, as Remus sighed heavily. “Sirius."

"I'm not asking you," Sirius rushed, "I'm not ordering you either. I’m just..." Sirius ran his hands through his hair. "I'm just wondering why Dumbledore made you go to the packs in the first place...if..."

"If he had a reason?" Remus slumped and Sirius caught the curious hum from Tonks. Remus waved them off with a strained smile before focusing on Sirius. "Yes, but also..." Remus grimaced. "Yes," he said again, slowly, "The werewolf packs aligned with Riddle and they are powerful in their own right—you know this."

Sirius pressed his lips together and nodded silently. He did know this—Remus was a powerhouse magically but he was also impervious to most magical spells. A stunning spell, even done by a little first, would set him on his ass. But Remus? Sirius hit him with three Hit-wix powered stunners before he went down. Not to mention that he was all but immune to the Imperius curse.

Remus sighed. "Yeah there was a good reason for Dumbledore to send me to the packs...but..." He shook his head and shivered. "I was fucking useless Pads, I was there for months, for so long that even you and James started to doubt me—"

Sirius winced before pinching his eyes shut. "I"m so—"

"It's not your fault."

Silent, between them, they both blamed Dumbledore.

"Do you think..." Sirius didn't want to voice the question aloud.

"That it was a side benefit?" Remus whispered, "That he sent away a close friend of James's so James had fewer friends to turn to; that maybe if I had been there it would've been me, and..."

Sirius held up a hand. "We can't," he muttered roughly. Too many times Sirius had gone down the road of what if and if he could and why. Why did Dmbledore set James and Lily up to die? Why was Dumbledore obsessed with his godson so much so that he thought he was the only one capable of killing Riddle? Why was the prophecy so important to Dumbledore that he didn’t care who died in his pursuit to fulfill it?

"I can't go back," Remus said quietly instead. "I wasn't trusted there and Dumbledore knew it…I told him more than enough times how they didn't trust me for going to Hogwarts, for being raised away from the packs."

Sirius nodded numbly before cursing Dumbledore twice more in his mind. A new thought entered his mind. "Would it have been...better I mean, to be raised among the packs?"

Remus snorted. "As with all things, yes and no." Sirius heard Tonks laugh in the background. "I have a wand, which most wolves don't, and I can use it better than any wolf I know. But they have rituals I was never invited to." He paused and Sirius saw the thoughts rolling through his mind. "Their transformations were always easy and they pitied me at the same time as I disgusted them for the pain I suffered. Pack magic is...still new to me." Remus ended with a wry grin to Tonks.

Suddenly Remus had a lap full of his cousin and Sirius groaned. "Please, I"m happy for you but please no."

Tonks laughed, tossing their head back as their hair changed from long black braids to a spiky blue mohawk. "Please, we all had to deal with your doe eyes at Rose."

Remus snorted softly, pressing his nose into Tonk's neck.

"My eyes!" Sirius cried out, dramatically flopping the back of his hand to his eyes.

Tonks laughed before jumping up, giving Remus a quick kiss on his cheek. "See you at Yule Siri!"

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Can't wait Dori,” he said with a snigger, turnabout being fair play and all. Tonks grumbled but said nothing, meaning they probably flipped him the finger off the mirror view.

Remus chuckled under his breath. "Anything else Sirius? Or was this just about the packs?"

Sirius opened his mouth to sign off and let Remus enjoy the evening with his mate but the flash of James's face in the fire gave him pause. He hasn't spoken the event aloud to anyone, not even Rose. Everyone had heard him cry out James's name, and everyone saw the flames of the bonfire flicker strangely, but Sirius couldn't bear to speak. What if it was a trick of the flame as he had played off to his family at the time? A delusion, and his heart’s desire for some guidance from his dearest friend to help him save their shared son?

Worse, what if it was real? And James was trying to reach out on Samhain and warn him of something, tell him something, and he missed it.? He was going to have to wait a whole year to speak with James again...if it was real.

Smiling thinly, Sirius shook his head, before a different thought pushed forward. "Wait, yes." He met Remus's gaze. "We should start animagus training for the kids."

/ / /

Arcturus had his ritual afternoon tea with his wife in the yellow parlour every day. Seventeen years ago, it was quiet as they grieved the early death of their son. Fifteen years ago, Harry's happy baby shrieks could be heard from upstairs as Sirius enjoyed his own individual time with his son. As the years passed, and Rose moved in, and then Carina was born, then Leo, then the twins, this daily ritual continued, if albeit shorter or louder when occasionally Carina attempted to be a big girl and join them.

Today, however, Arcturus relished in the quiet company of his wife without another soul to interrupt their time together. The house was full in a way it had never been before but Rose had skillfully navigated everyone away from the yellow parlour today in a quiet show of affection, allowing him and Melania a moment of peace and solitude.

Melania poured him a cup of tea, doctoring it just the way he liked it with a little sugar and a dash of milk. He accepted his cup with a murmur and sipped slowly. She said nothing as she made her own cup of tea and leaned back into her favorite lilac wingback chair.

"Do you have everything you need for Yule, love?" He said after a moment.

She hummed. "More than with all the helping hands around the house."

He sipped his tea. "Do you need my help?"

She snorted softly, eyes crinkled in silent laughter. "Would you like to trade darling? You'll handle the household and Yule and I'll take on Wizengamot and Riddle?"

He felt his magic rise in him, ready to defend his wife at the brief thought of her facing Riddle alone before he caught himself on her ringing laughter and chuckled heartily.

"If Tippy knows what to do, then maybe I can handle the household for a few days,” he said with a smile instead, “I’m sure you'll have Riddle all tied up by then?"

She laughed with him, reaching out her hand to allow him to hold it within his own. "If I could have handled Riddle by now, nothing on this mortal realm could have stopped me."

He raised her hand to his lips and pressed a tender kiss to her knuckles. "I would've held your cloak darling."

She grinned, flashing white teeth, before softening and squeezing his hand. "My talents lie in crafting cursed jewelry and running households, not politics and dark lords. But—" She squeezed his hand again. "I have been told that I’m an excellent listener and an exceptional wife."

He chuckled under his breath, squeezing her hand in return and sipping his tea with his free hand. Tippy had lit a fire in the parlour so the room was warm, the scent of Earl Gray wafting from his wife's cup, while the subtle scents of rooibos filled his with every sip.

He looked into her gentle eyes. ”You are indeed the most exceptional wife," he said with feeling.

She hummed. "Then tell me, husband, that which you don't want to burden on others."

He would have laughed if the overwhelming need to cry wouldn't follow immediately after. Instead, he took in a shuddering breath and said his greatest fear to the one person whom he knew within his very soul would never betray him.

"The prophecy says..." He weighed each word carefully on his lips. "Neither can live while the other survives." He breathed out and whispered, even though he knew they were alone and none could overhear them, "What if that means that if one dies, so must the other?"

His sweet wife said nothing in the face of his fear but he knew she was with him, processing, as she squeezed his hand even tighter.

"I cannot say that Fate would not be so cruel," she started slowly, and Arcturus choked on a laugh that turned into an aborted sob. “But,” she stressed, squeezing his hand so he would meet her eyes; her brilliant shade of deep sea blue met his own steely grey. "But I have faith in our Lady Hecate, and that she will watch over her devoted." She brought his hand to her lips and pressed her lips to his knuckles. "We cannot fight Fate my love, but we can have faith that Hecate will not lead us to ruin."

Arcturus closed his eyes, pushing back the tears that threatened to rise. He opened his mouth to speak, to whisper the same encouraging words back to him when his wife's lips curled into a mischievous smirk.

"And for all that we can control, the wixen world will rue the day they set themselves against the House of Black."

His lips curled to match his wife's, a wicked smirk turning into a joyful laugh. "Right, as usual, my exceptional wife."

They let the rest of their quiet tea time pass with banal issues, enjoying a moment of bliss without worry, a moment to ignore the machinations of the outside world and enjoy the presence of each other without care.

Arcturus emerged from the yellow parlour, his wife's hand tucked into his arm, and reentered the fray of a very chaotic home.

Leo bounced up to them, mirror in his hand as he chatted with Harry, presumably. "And then, and then, Cousin Callidora showed me new hiding places so the next time I played Hide and Seek with Great Uncle Alphard, he couldn't even find me! For like an hour! He had to send his fox patronus to me and then he followed it and then he found me but I think that's cheating. Don't you?"

Arcturus heard Harry laugh and say, “It’s definitely cheating. Unless…”

"Unless what?” Leo stomped his foot. “It’s definitely cheating!”

An exaggerated hum filled the air. ”Unless you can find a way to hide from a patronus?"

Leo skidded to a stop in front of him, eyes wide. "Can you do that?"

"Hmmm, I don't know," Harry said lightly, "You should ask Great Aunt Cassie."

Leo nodded seriously. "She would know." Then he looked up to him and Melania with a bright grin. "Hi Grandpa! Hi Grandma!" He flipped the mirror so they could see Harry's face. "Say hi Harry."

Harry's bright smiling face filled the mirror. He hoped only he noticed the bags under Harry's eyes but by the way he felt Melania squeeze his arm, he knew she noticed as well. Their poor great-grandchild; the only thing that should stress him out should be exams, not Riddle, not Dark Lords and prophecies.

"Hello my little lamb," Melania said warmly, tilting the mirror so Harry could see their faces, not half the ceiling.

Harry smiled widely and said with the deepest affection, "Hello my dearest great-grandmother."

Melania's laughter tinkled light as charms before she moved to angle the mirror to capture his face.

Arcturus smiled at his great-grandson and young cousin, he moved to say hello when a loud commotion on Harry's end interrupted him.

"Harry!" Hermione’s voice filtered through the mirror. "Oh, sorry I didn't realize you were talking to..." Hermione's face peeked over Harry's shoulder and she smiled widely. "Hello, great-grandfather."

Arcturus chuckled. "Hello Harry, Hermione, do you need to leave?"

"Wait no!" Leo jumped, climbing up Arcturus' leg nimble as a monkey. Leo reached out for the mirror and Arcturus angled it so Harry and Hermione could see both of them.

"Sorry Leo," Harry said, "I have to go study now."

Leo groaned loudly. "Okay, I guess." Then he perked up. "Mione! Do you think you can hide from a patronus?"

Hermione pursed her lips in thought. "A messenger patronus can only find someone if they can find the recipient's magical signature. If you can hide your magical signature, then you can hide from a patronus. But you can’t hide forever.”

"Wicked!" Leo jumped from his human ladder. "Bye Harry! Bye Mione! I have to find Great Uncle Cygnus!"

Harry and Hermione said their goodbyes but Leo was already rounding the corner in a run. Melania sighed. "One day we really won't be able to find that boy."

Harry laughed. “Don’t worry, Mum has a tracker on him, something she adapted from zoology.”

Arcturus stared at Harry, stunned for a moment before he threw back his head and laughed.

Notes:

You know when you read a story and the characters are all having fun but you know, as a reader, that shit is about to hit the fan? Yeah. That was this moment. So let's all enjoy it while it lasts.

Also, I'm plotting BB3 now...

Chapter 20: Foxes

Summary:

Sly as a fox, quick as a snake, an enemy hides, make no mistake.

Hermione led him through Hogwarts by the hand. He trusted her so much, he didn't even realize they weren't headed to the library until they were standing in front of the Room of Requirement. He made a noise of surprise but let Hermione stride across the dancing trolls three times without a word of protest.

When the door opened, and he slid inside, a hitch in his breath betrayed his thoughts. They were on the back patio of Ravenswood. Cobblestone paths led them away from the glass awning with wicker chairs covered in thick pillows and towards the meandering gardens Grandma devoted her Saturday mornings too. There were lavender stalks and frankincense trees with rosemary bushes and sturdy little wildflowers that Grandma didn't have the heart to pluck away. Rose bushes tangled with tulips and the heady scent of jasmine floated through it all. On the east side and west side of the home, there were greenhouses with carefully cultivated plants and herbs, magical and mundane, for brewing and spellcrafting. But here, the back patio was for the wild spirit and nature to run its course with devotion and only a touch of guiding influence. Grandma only plucked a weed if it was endangering a plant around it but never for beauty. The beauty of the garden was in its wildness.

Harry spent so many hours as a child running through these gardens. He could practically hear Draco and Neville's shrieks of laughter as he walked through.

He squeezed Hermione's hand as she began to lead him to a picnic spot Grandmother had created with a patch of sweet grass and a tall willow tree. 

"Have I ever told you about the time I found a snake in this tree?" Harry asked as they wound through cobblestone path. He pointed to a tree a little off to the left, bright green with long narrow leaves puffed around long soaring branches, an ash tree with three narrow trunks joined at the base. 

Hermione shook her head so he shared the story of one of the many adventures he went on as a child with Draco and Neville by his side. He told how he climbed a tree in a game of chase and found a snake on the branch, hissing at having its sleep disturbed. Harry hadn’t thought twice to apologize, childlike innocence countering natural fear until Neville had screamed in fright below—manfully yelped, as Neville would now say. Adults came running of course and his mum was delighted with his parseltongue gift but Dad had looked a little frightened. As a child, he hadn't quite picked up on his dad's fear as Mum's and Grandpa's excitement had overshadowed it, but now, looking back and knowing the prejudice against snake-speakers, he understood his dad's trepidation. It was one of the reasons Iris, his familiar, stayed hidden when he was at Hogwarts—he had enough on his plate without others accusing him of being a "dark" wizard.

When he reached the part of the story when Mum insisted he get a magical snake, Iris popped her head out from his collar and hissed nonsense while rubbing her head at his pulse point. Hermione reached out and Iris allowed her to pet her gently.

"It was the first, biggest gift Mum ever gave me," Harry said as they settled onto the picnic blankety the Room gave them. Hermione pulled out a shrunken picnic basket that grew once she set it between them. "Dad was going to go with us to the emporium, but..." Harry shrugged. "I think he wasn't really comfortable with it yet, so Mum insisted on it just being the two of us." 

"Was it the first time that just you and your mum did something together?” Hermione smiled lightly, pulling out plates and a pitcher of butterbeer. “Without your dad?"

Harry paused, hands hovering over the sandwiches he pulled out of the basket as Hermione poured them two butterbeers. 

"It was," he said slowly, thoughts turned inward as he tried to remember the details of their trip together. In the end, he had flashes and feelings; the glitter of Iris's scales, the connection he felt with her, turning to look up to his mum, her genuine happiness shining in her magic, the feeling of pride and excitement and love. He smiled. "It was a good day."

Hermione grinned, handing him a glass of butterbeer as she held up her own. “Cheers, to a good day." He laughed as they clinked glasses.

"I that what this is then?” Harry teased, leaning towards her rather than taking a sip of butterbeer, “Another good day?"

Hermione took a sip of her drink before shrugging. "Do you remember when you brought me here last year?"

He snorted. "Dragged you here, yes." When the pressure of exams had been high and Harry was half-convinced his girlfriend was sleeping in the library.

Hermione glared before she coughed. She took another sip of her drink to clear her throat. "Yes well—" She coughed again, sputtering on air.

“‘Mione—" Harry straightened up, leaning over to pat her back. "You alright?" 

"Wrong pipe," she spluttered, siting up on her knees as she continued to cough into her hand. Harry set their glasses to the side, as Hermione continued to cough.

"Do you have any water in this basket?" He asked as he rummaged through cucumber sandwiches, cheeses, fruits and meats. 

Great, deep hacking coughs answered him. The hairs on the back of his neck rose.

"Harry!" His magic rose, burning and brimming with the need to do something as he heard the alarm in her voice.

He turned back to her, heaving on all fours, a hand to her mouth as she coughed and coughed and coughed until blood seeped through her lips, her fingers, and tear filled eyes met his.

"Hermione!"

But she didn't answer, her coughs growing weaker. Harry cradled her in his arms, chest and magic heaving, as he lifted her up. He wished he was at Ravenswood, that one frightened call would summon Cousin Meda and she would know what to do as a Healer. But he was on the 7th floor of a very large castle and Madam Pomfrey, if she was in the Hospital Wing was seven floors and half a castle away. 

"Hang on Hermione!" Merlin why couldn't he apparate in Hogwarts? Or at least had a broom or something. At his thought, a broom appeared next to the door. It stopped him in his tracks. 

The Room of Requirement! No, he wasn't in Ravenswood but he was in the next best thing. 

Now what did Cousin Cassie always have in her emergency kit? A bemor? A bezom? "I need a bezoar!"

A small stone like lump fell in front of him. He snatched it out of the air, shifting his weight and Hermione's weight so as to gently guide her feet to the floor. 

"Hermione, swallow this, now." Harry put the bezoar to her mouth, feeble, wet gasps for air offered no protest. She choked as she swallowed the bezoar and for a moment, Harry feared it wasn't enough. She coughed again, and Harry lifted her back into his arms, tucking the broom under his shoulder as he used a push of magic to open the door.

Hogwarts felt different, outside of the bubble of the Room of Requirement. The wards were heavy and blaring and angry and Harry knew they were reacting to whatever had harmed Hermione.

He mounted the broom, settled Hermione tight in front of him, and flew faster than he typically would have dared through the still, echoing halls of Hogwarts. The stairs were unmoving, the portraits subdued, and Harry was grateful, as it allowed him to hear the rattling, wet breath of Hermione in his ear. The only sign he had that she was alive, that whatever had happened had been abated, at least a little, by the bezoar. 

As he flew through corridors, the pale spectral blue of Helena Ravenclaw appeared shrieking beside him.

"What happened?" She screamed. "Who attacked her? Who would dare?" 

Harry tightened his arm around Hermione, tucking her further into his chest. "I don't know." He gritted. "One minute we were having a picnic, the next she couldn't stop coughing."

"This is not a normal ailment!" Her voice echoed through the hallway, reaching spectral decibels that made his ears ring in pain. 

He didn't bother to answer and soon his entourage grew by every ghost still inhabiting the castle. He didn't spare a thought as to why or why he hadn't yet passed a single living soul—it didn't matter. Students in the hallway would've impeded his flight—this was better, quicker to get Hermione to Madam Pomfrey.

What must have been seconds that felt like hours, Harry pushed the Hospital Wing's doors open with a blast of magic and flew straight in. It was strangely empty and Harry feared the worst, sparing just a second thought as to where everyone could be, when the thought fled as Madam Pompry ran out of her office.

"Oh Merlin! What happened?"

Harry was as succinct with her as he had been with Helena, explaining as he laid Hermione down onto a hospital bed. He tacked on, "I gave her a bezoar...just in case."

Madam Pomfrey's wand, which had been casting diagnostic spells, twitched, ever so slightly, as the woman herself gave a quiet little gasp. And then her wand was moving again, more furiously, as she muttered healing and diagnostic spells, lightly shoving Harry away so she could work. Harry allowed the shove, stepping back so he was a few feet away from the end of the bed. 

Hermione was curled on her side, looking ever so small and pale and Harry's hands clenched into fists at his side.

Again. Someone attacked her again. Why? Who? Were they trying to kill her or... Harry thought back, flinching at the memory as Hermione gave a feeble cough in the present. What could've caused this?

"Lord Gryffindor."

Harry flinched. Headmistress McGonagall only ever used his title towards him once before, when he was Heir Gryffindor and little firstie. 

He turned to her, almost fearful of what she would say next. "Headmistress?"

"The wards have confined everyone to the room they were in when..." She clasped her hands in front of her, fingers twisted and knuckles white. "What exactly happened?"

Harry's lips flattened. "I'd also like to know that."

Headmistress McGonagall raised her eyebrows and inclined her head towards him. "Start at the beginning."

Harry repeated the events in rote; his mind's eye lingering over details he might have forgotten.

"Did you drink the butterbeer?"

Harry opened his mouth to say, Yes, of course. They clinked glasses, he brought it to his lips...wait, no, he was speaking. Did he...?

Harry cursed and his magic responded in kind, building like an inferno under his skin. "Someone spiked the butterbeer! But how?" Why?

“Likely the same way they did the first time," the Headmistress murmured, placing a hand on his shoulder and pressing against his magic with the cool reassurance of a teacher calming an anxious child.

Harry took a deep breath, then another, accepting the gentle magical touch as the reminder to breathe. "But why?" He said aloud this time.

Before she could answer, the droll beat of goblin boots echoed through the halls. They both turned as the Hospital Wing's doors opened and a legion of goblins marched in. At the front, Prince and Centurion Rugnut led, fully armoured with a sword strapped across his back. He took off his plumed iron helmet and glared, first at the Headmistress then at him. 

"Who attacked the Lady Ravenclaw?"

Merlin, Harry wished he knew. 

 

/ / /

 

Sirius arrived in the crowded Headmistresses's office with his heart in his throat and Cousin Meda's fingers digging into his arm as he escorted her through the floo. 

"Heir Black, what are you doing here?" 

Sirius barely refrained from grimacing at the new elected Chief Wix and Minister Doge. He nodded to Kingsley who stiffly nodded back. 

"Is the ministry finally taking seriously the attack of Ancient and Noble house?" Meda answered instead, brow arched.

Minister Doge spluttered but Chief Wix Runcorn straightened. "Indeed," he replied, voice low and coarse. "Although that still doesn't explain why you are here."

Andromeda curled her lips in a devastating smirk that Sirius used to fear as a child. "Then you have forgotten the alliance between our houses and that Lady Ravenclaw is my magical goddaughter." 

Minister Doge puckered her lips as if he swallowed a lemon but Runcorn was more subdued, lips flattening but he acquiesced with a shallow nod. 

Not to be outdone, Sirius added, "And I'm sure you saw the announcement of her betrothal to my son.” 

Minister Doge's eye twitched and Sirius's smile widened into something a touch more mean.

He continued, “With her parents’ permission, we are here to oversee the care of their daughter."

And with that, Runcorn's brittle smile transformed into a disgusted grimace but he said nothing. Smart of him, to avoid a blood feud, but Sirius was a little disappointed. It would have been easier to pick an open fight with the blood-supremacist than sneaking in the shadows. 

At that the Headmistress swept into the room. Only after seven devoted years of study did he notice the slightest changes of mood in his Head of House, which allowed him to see now how frazzled she was. He doubted anyone else noticed that her bun was slightly looser than normal or the way her fingers twitched at her side when they were usually clasped calmly in front of her. 

"How is she?" Sirius asked, an edge to voice that hadn’t been there before. He had thought....he had assumed that she was fine. Injured yes, but healed and fine now. But the air of McGonagall did not calm him but rather alarmed him. This was not the walk of a woman who had already handled the worst and was about to dole out punishments and reprimands—which is what he fully expected her to do as this was the second attack and Kingsley had no leads.

Or at least no leads that Kingsley shared with them. 

She said nothing until she stood behind her desk and gestured for everyone to sit in the few chairs around her. Doge and Runcorn sat immediately in two of the biggest chairs McGonagall had gestured to. It left one smaller, plush chair and another wooden chair attached to a desk that was clearly for when students served detention with the Headmistress. Sirius led Andromeda to the smaller chair and stood behind her as she sat down. He wasn't a child and he didn't need to sit for this. Kingsley also remained standing, between the Chief Wix and Minister.

McGonagall pulled out her wand, to transfigure the chair into something more suitable, but Sirius waved her off. "How is she?"

She nodded, folding her hands in front of her. She breathed a slow long exhale as she examined the people in front of her with a steely, calculating look that Sirius remembered from all the moments before she assigned detention. This was more like her.

"She is recovering from being poisoned,” She paused, laying a heavy look on Kingsley before turning to Sirius and Meda. "It was heavily diluted, with hints of foxglove and henbane, but extremely corrosive and she'll have to spend the night in the hospital wing as her throat and stomach heal from the damage."

"She drank it?" Doge asked. "Willingly?"

Meda hissed. "If she did not know it was there, she didn't drink it willingly, you fool."

McGonagall straightened her spine. "The goblins are investigating now—" 

Doge huffed and shared a...look with Runcorn. Sirius felt a shiver of unease at whatever that look meant between the two of them. "Of course the goblins are investigating, apparently our aurors aren't good enough."

Meda rippled with palpable anger. "Excuse me Minister but an attack of Miss Ravenclaw is an attack on the Goblin Horde." She leaned forward and gabbed a finger towards him. "Whoever is attacking Lady Ravenclaw is courting a blood feud with three ancient and noble houses and the Goblin Horde itself. This should be taken seriously."

"Not courting—" Sirius said flatly, his aura dropping the temperature of the room by several degrees. For a moment, everyone could see their breath. "As soon as we have a name, the House of Black will be declaring a blood feud."

"Now really!" Doge squeaked.  "Over what might just be a  prank?"

"A prank—" Several voices shouted before McGonagall stood up and yelled in a thick brogue, "ENOUGH!"

Everyone quieted.

"If you wanted to bicker like the school children yer supposed to protect, I’ll find ye an empty classroom and serve ye all detention."

No one dared answer her. 

"Now," she inclined her head to Kingsley, "The Goblin Horde is willing to share their findings with the aurors to aid in your investigation." 

"Of course," Kingsley said, "Shall I join them now?"

McGonagall nodded as Runcorn cleared his throat. “And how do we know the goblins haven't already tampered with the evidence. Our aurors weren't even allowed to investigate freely the last time a similar event occurred!”

"Are you accusing the Goblin Horde of lying?" Meda said softly, the disbelief and threat layered in her tone. 

Sirius clenched the back of the chair lest he be tempted to punch the Chief Wix in the face. The Goblin Horde wouldn't risk a treaty with the British—he swallowed and a new potential conspiracy clicked into view.

"Do you doubt that Auror Shacklebolt can’t tell if a scene has been tampered with?" Sirius quickly shot back before Runcorn could lay a foundation that would doom the British world. "I'm sure the aurors can independently work with or without the goblins to achieve the same result. It'd be quicker, no doubt, if they worked together of course."

Sirius turned to Kingsley, curious to see if he caught on to the damaging accusation the Chief Wix of the Wizengamot was about to make against the Goblin Horde or not. 

But Kingsley merely frowned at him before turning to Runcorn. "Don't worry Chief Wix, we'll be diligent."

Sirius swallowed his disappointment before turning back to the Headmistress. "Can I see my daughter-in-law now?"

 

///

 

Hermione was never this still in sleep. Harry clutched her hand, numb to the movements of Madam Pomfrey and the goblins around him. 

Her face was smooth, placid, in the dreamless sleep comatose state Madam Pomfrey had put her in to ease her pain and help her work. 

But when Hermione slept she shuffled her in sleep, mumbling nonsense under her breath, a little furrow in her brows as her mind never rested.

"She will recover fully, Lord Potter," a gravely voice of a goblin healer spoke from the other side of her bed.

Harry jolted, first from the sudden statement directed at him, when all had been content to work around him in silence, and second from "Lord Potter." That was the first. 

He nodded stiffly in reply. "My thanks, Healer," he spoke low, throat tight with fear and hope, "for your diligent care."

The goblin grinned, sharp little teeth sending a shiver down his spine. "And we'll find out who did this and they'll face goblin justice."

Harry's lips firmed and he jerked his head in a rough nod. Perhaps if he was someone else, or wasn't raised by the Blacks, or if it hadn't been Hermione who had been poisoned he would've been horrified at the thought but... public beheading and spiking in front of the bank was almost too kind.

He wanted whoever did this to choke on their own blood as they almost made Hermione do.

Notes:

I will finish this. Someday. I swear.

Chapter 21: Ripples

Summary:

Every stone thrown creates a ripple unknown.

Arcturus steepled his fingers together as the family gathered around him in silence. Sirius and Meda has just finished reporting what had happened to their dear Hermione. What had almost happened. And what the goblins and aurors still couldn't discover.

"Same method," Alphard muttered.

"Same bastard," Cassiopeia snarled. 

Indeed. A poison delivered by elf magic. Untraceable until they could trace the elf. 

Luckily the wards were locked down, which meant this elf had been in the castle since Riddle rose from the dead on Mabon. Unluckily, Hermione was still recovering and couldn't access the wards for several more days yet.

Lucius cleared his throat. "This is an escalation."

Several wix lifted their heads or eyebrows in a silent gesture to elaborate. 

"We've been operating under the assumption that this was a Death Eater attack no?" He murmured softly. "A way to access Harry or a way to access Hogwarts through Hermione.”

Arcturus hummed. Several theories had been floated around when she had first been potioned. An attack on a Black family ally. An attack on a “muggle-born” witch who claimed a prestigious title. And then after her realization that a horcrux could have been in Hogwarts certainly made it seem that someone might have tried to potion her for access to the horcrux or wards or...something else to do with Riddle.

Arcturus pinched his lips as he met Lucius’s gaze. “You don't think these attacks are related to Riddle at all?"

He shook his head. "The first attack was meant to isolate her, to bring her to the library alone, but the second attack would've killed her."

Narcissa squeezed her hand into a fist. "If not Riddle or a death eater then who? Why?" 

"What would someone have to gain from her death?" Meda poised the question but she had been ready to answer it when Lucius cleared his throat again.

"That's not the right question," he said, meeting Arcturus's gaze again. "What would someone have to gain by getting her out of the way?"

"By separating her from Harry," Sirius added, straightening up. "By preventing her betrothal to our family. That was the goal the first time around. It was well known around the school they were going to be betrothed that day."

Melania gasped and all eyes turned to her. "Oh dear."

Arcturus grabbed her hand, the one that hadn’t flown to her mouth in silent horror. "My love?"

"We've been going about this the wrong way,” she whispered, turning to him with wide eyes.

He pursued his lips. "How so?"

She squeezed his hand and said, “Do you remember what happened after we were betrothed?"

Arcturus frowned deeply. That was nearly 70 years ago now. They were going into their seventh year and on Litha, performed their betrothal bond. There had been a huge party, a celebration to almost rival their actual wedding ceremony. 

"I don't..." And then he slumped in his chair. "Dear Merlin, really?"

"What?" Sirius snapped impatiently. "What happened?"

Melania squeezed his hand again before turning to the rest of the room. "A few weeks after we were betrothed, we had a courting date in Hogsmeade. And Maximillian Dune, a half-blood in our year, attempted to curse your grandfather."

"What?" Sirius and others turned. “With what?"

Cassie snorted. "I forgot about that."

Arcturus frowned. He had as well. "It was a dark curse," he said slowly, pondering over the events that were nearly a lifetime ago...and what Melania believed was repeating in front of them. His magic nearly shook with rage at the thought and the air was chilled.

"Grandfather?" Sirius said softly, filling his magic with warmth and strength to counteract the chill he was spreading.

He took a deep breath, regained control over his rage and magic, and said, "It was a curse that would've left me sterile. He had used most of his magic to cast it and I had no trouble cutting him to pieces for the attempt. If Melania hadn't seen it coming..." he shuddered.

His wife may have been a badger at school but her wand work was as quick as a snake back then. A high powered shield and a quick shove and both of them had been saved from disaster. 

"By the gods that's awful," Meda said, subdued as everyone in the room thought through the various consequences of such an action. 

"That terrible wix had been in love with me,” Melania said in the silence, "And when I had betrothed another man..."

The silence became oppressive. 

The actions against Hermione became clearer, and uglier in a way they hadn't thought of before.

"What terrible student is so dark that they would kill a witch for being in their way to marrying Harry?"

Alphard cleared his throat. "And how are they getting around the wards to do so?"

“You mean beyond the elves?"

Meda jerked in her seat at the same time Sirius did, eyes locking on each other. They had been there, after all, when Hermione adjusted the wards of Hogwarts to prevent any wicked magic from entering her citadel. But who else, beyond the Black Family would even know that? And how could a wix circumvent the wards meant to protect Hermione, meant to protect all students?

Meda drummed her fingers on the table. “We need a warding expert."

"We need a list of all the elves who were present at Hogwarts today and compare it to the list present the first time around," Sirius added.

"We need to kill this wix before they succeed in killing Hermione,” Cassie said. Sirius shot her a glare but she only shrugged. "Every attempt is another chance at success."

"That will not happen,” he growled.

 

/ / /

 

Harry clutched Hermione's hand as he escorted her to the Headmistress's office. They had received special permission to floo home for Yule. While they enjoyed traveling by train with the rest of his cousins and friends, Harry felt only bone deep relief at quickly going home. He couldn't stand the thought of being anywhere but Ravenswood with Hermione. He couldn’t stand the thought of being at Hogwarts for a moment longer. Which made him feel guilty of course, as it was his betrothed’s home. But...

He squeezed her hand a bit too tightly and she yelped in protest. 

“Sorry," he muttered. 

She squeezed his hand back. “I know."

And he knew she did. There was an anxious air around her that wasn’t even present in fifth year. She was worried too. He hoped she would feel relief at going home, home to Ravenswood, as he was feeling. 

They entered the room with a smart little knock and the door opened silently. Instead of the tight, tidy bun, and stern look of one of their favorite professors, however, they were met with the slight and short stature of professor Flitwick. He smile sharply at him—his goblin heritage clear even though his teeth were blunted and not sharp. 

"Good morning ravens,” he said with a smile, "Let's get you through the floo.”

Hermione made a questioning noise and the professor merely smiled again, lips curved into a secret. 

"I've made oaths the Goblin Horde can trust, unlike the rest of the professors." he said in answer to her silent query.

"Oh," Hermione said, soft and breathless and relieved. Her shoulders sagged a little. "That is comforting to hear," she said with a smile, "Thank you professor."

Harry parroted her thank you, understanding enough that the Goblin Horde was not taking any chances with their travel today. He was appreciative.

Professor Flitwick lit up the floo, guided them both inside and handed Harry some powder. "Very clearly my boy," he said sternly, the seriousness of his brow undermined by his slightly high pitched voice. 

But Harry nodded and with a flick of his wrist he dropped the powder as he said “Ravenswood.” 

In moments, he felt the warmth and security of the Ravenswood's wards, with Ara's magic pulsing a vindictive march. And Harry sighed, shoulders relaxing.

Hermione sighed as well. "Thank Merlin."

Harry squeezed her hand, pulling her towards him into a tight and fierce hug, she tucked her face into his neck and shuddered.

Harry had seen a side of Hermione he hadn’t recognize these last few weeks. She was nervous and quiet. She didn't raise her hand in class, didn’t draw attention to herself. She was distantly polite to everyone except their closest friends. She was...scared. Scared in a way so similar and dissimilar to the troll incident their first year that Harry almost didn't know what to do with himself, almost didn't know how to help her, be there for her. 

Except. He also knew what to do, what to say, and how she felt in a way no one else could. Riddle wanted him dead. When he was just a toddler. It was irrational. Nonsensical. And all he could do was focus on what mattered.

“You're not alone," he whispered in her ear, tucking her face to his chest, shielding her from the outside world. "I will always be with you." He breathed in the soft rose scent of her hair. "I love you."

Hermione squeezed him tighter to her. For a moment her response was only silence. Then he felt her lips press softly to the edge of his collar bone. "In this life and the next."

 

/ / /

 

Sirius took a deep breath, finally, after months, resuming his meditation morning ritual. He needed to be better. He needed to have control over his own magic, his own feelings, his own energy, if not for him but for the twins who grew more sensitive to magic each day. His family did their best to control their ripples into the family magic but it was up to him and Rose to truly shield the twins. Their job. 

Sirius breathed in before slowing releasing the breath. He shifted over the comfort charm and settled into his meditative pose. He breathed in again and with the next slow exhale, began his journey inward. Letting thoughts and emotions wash over him like gentle breezes, letting himself follow a semi-familiar path without fear—he wanted to make this journey to the underworld this time. He had told Rose he was meditating—her eyes had tightened but she accepted the necessity. She meditated every day too, but there was no fear for her that she would accidentally travel to the underworld for several hours.

Sirius hoped he wouldn’t be gone for hours. But he did wish to go to the underworld again. He...he needed to know if what he saw on Samhain was a fluke. He needed to know if he was missing something, something important, something...something only James could tell him.

So he followed the winding path down the bare rocky mountain, crevices cut haphazardly, until the river Styx and its banks were suddenly before him. The ferryman lifted his hooded head but dismissed him without question. Perhaps he knew that Sirius was merely visiting, that he couldn't go further without Death. Sirius didn't want to go further anyways.

He walked slowly, carefully, along the river's edge, eyes scanning the other side. Spirits roamed, indistinct figures, hazy, incorporeal, and unconcerned. There was a peace in death, Sirius knew, that was utterly foreign to the living. 

But he didn't need to communicate with just anyone. He didn't need secrets of death. He needed...he just needed to see, to see if James was there, to see if James had a message for him or if he had been imagining—

A ripple in the air caught his eye. It was so familiar to him and yet somehow didn't belong in the air across the river Styx. He tried to catch that familiar ripple, the moment between a disillusionment charm ending and the grand reveal or…

Sirius felt tears prick his eyes as he viciously drank in the sign of his best friend, of an invisibility cloak rippling off someone's shoulders.

How many times had he seen his friend's face emerge, eyes bright and victorious after a successful prank, air rippling as the invisibility cloak settled into view.

But now, James's face was passive in death. There was no cloak in his hand but somehow he had still been walking invisible through the underworld. Sirius blinked back tears as Lily came into view, holding James hand. 

The colorlessness of death had never seen so obvious then it was on Lily—her hair as a vibrant autumn flame in life and in death a grayed maroon. Their battle robes, what they were buried in, had been vibrant reds and maroons and golds of house Gryffindor, and were now shades of gray and dark unsaturated mahogany.

Sirius let his tears fall. Death was cleansing, death was peaceful. But death never seemed kind to the living. These were shadows of his friends—not the vibrant beautiful people he loved with brash words and tawdry jokes. 

Lily smiled softly, as if she knew his thoughts and agreed, for the smile was so small and unlike her in life. A concession of humanity rather than an outpouring.

James inclined his head and opened his mouth to speak, but Sirius could hear no words.

Sirius shook his head. "I can't hear you." he managed to yell, choking on tears as he gestured to his ears and shook his head again. Just in case they couldn't hear him either.

James frowned. Before he did something Sirius thought he would never see again. A little gesture or two, unique to them, and perfectly clear in meaning. 

We need to talk, he signed.

Sirius nodded and signed back, When?

James paused, thinking, before signing back, two unique signs. Sirius blinked. 

Not Moony.

Sirius almost questioned him, almost asked why Remus wasn’t allowed before it hit him.

The new moon. A time for Hecate and crossroads and the best next thing to Samhain. Sirius grinned and nodded. 

He signed back, See you then.

James nodded. Lily smiled passively. And Sirius headed back to the world of the living with a unique sense of hope. He would get answers.

 

/ / /

 

Arcturus flicked the note through his fingers. He got glimpses of the knot as he waited for Cissa and Alphard to arrive. Theron Nott was only a generation younger than him, closer to Orion's age than Sirius's but Cissa and Lucius would've known him better than Sirius. Alphard, he believed, was at school at the same time as him. 

And he wanted out. Supposedly. Unless it was a trick—a way to spy on the family for Riddle.

Lucius opened the door for Cissa and followed her in with a nod in his direction. Alphard rushed in moments later, adjusting his slightly misaligned robes.

Cissa snorted as Lucius raised any eyebrow. Arcturus sighed. Alphard looked mussed in just the right way to mean only one thing.

"I suppose Morgan Aneira has arrived then?"

Alphard did not blush, but he did smile, a bit too dopey for his usual smirk. And that was all the answer he needed. 

Arcturus flicked the note in his hand once more, drawing everyone's attention. "Theron Nott," he said without preamble, turning slightly towards Cissa, who he had previously asked to evaluate his value as an ally.

She straightened in her chair. "He graduated a year behind Orion, Uncle, and two years behind Riddle," she hissed his name in disdain. "From what I gathered," she glanced quickly to both Lucius and Alphard, "He was part of the inner circle—"

"Similar to my father," Lucius added smoothly.

"But not as close, due to the age difference or..."

"He was madly in love with a half-blood," Alphard added softly, "It was neither here nor there for the rest of us, but Riddle..."

Lucius nodded his head. "My father was barely tolerant of half-bloods—I imagine Riddle was worse."

Arcturus frowned, trying to think of Theron's late wife. "I thought Maria was from an ancient family in Northern Italy?"

Cissa nodded. "You're thinking of his second wife—she's Theodore's mother, who goes to school with the boys."

Arcturus blinked, shocked. "So young."

Lucius nodded, his smile a touch wry. "Draco and Blaise have both said fairly neutral things about Theo. A Ravenclaw in snake's clothing. He stays out of Hogwarts politics without neglecting his station. From all accounts he and his father are fairly close and travel to his late mother's family for most holidays."

Arcturus nodded. "The Nott family is small then?"

“Not small,” Alphard snorted. “Minuscule. A House of two."

Arcturus’s jaw dropped. And he had been worried about his house's future. “Two?!” He exclaimed, “Two? Just father and son? What on the great goddess's earth was this man thinking? Why hasn't he had more children?"

Lucius glared as Cissa's face was stricken with shame. 

Arcturus winced, eyes pinched as he cursed his thoughtlessness. "I'm sorry dear one."

She nodded stiffly but said no more. Arcturus was not looking forward to his wife berating him for his quick yet cruel words. 

"To answer your question," Lucius said, a mild glare still in his eyes, "He loved his second wife as much as his first and couldn't bear to..." He waved his hand rather than continue. 

Arcturus nodded. "Well." He cleared his throat. "Right." He turned, slightly helplessly to Alphard who was smirking at him—no doubt amused that for once he had put his foot in his mouth and not him. "Is he worth the risk?"

"Yes," Cissa said softly. He turned back to her. Her eyes were red rimmed but clear. "He was in the inner circle—he knew Riddle better than any of us. He could know where the last horcrux is."

Arcturus pinched his lips. There was something special, he knew, about this last horcrux. Something about its protections evaded the goblins’ methods of scrying. For all the success of finding one at the bank, this final one was elusive. Nothing they were doing was revealing its location. And if Riddle was on the move...then Riddle could've easily retrieved it, hid it anew, or worse. 

They needed to find it soon or the war with Riddle would be infinitely harder with a foe that would happily resurrect himself for a second time. 

"Then let's arrange a meeting."

Notes:

Happy birthday to me means a present for you!

I've been dealing with a wee bit of depression but I'm hoping spring will thaw me out and inspire more writing!

Chapter 22: Obstructions

Summary:

To the heart of matter...

“Denied!” Sirius stormed into the room, shaking his proposed ad above his head as ice formed on his hair. He was so furious he could barely breathe.

The first afternoon tea of Yule Break stuttered to a stop in his furious wake. 

“Uncle Arcturus and Aunt Melaina are in the yellow parlour,” Uncle Alphard said, picking himself up from his languid perch across Aneira's lap. “Shall I fetch them?”

Sirius shook his head, grumbling nonsense. There was no need to interfere with their only private moment of the day for news they would hear eventually. It wasn't time pressing…just annoying.

He slumped through the green parlour and threw himself down on the love seat Rose had claimed for herself as the rest of the family entertained the twins. Chepeé was bouncing in Aunt Cedrella's arms and Percy was snuffling in his sleep, face tucked into Hermione's shoulder. Harry had his hand on her other shoulder, tucking the two of them into his side while he balanced his tea on his knee with the liberal use of a sticking charm. It was too easy to see those two, slightly older, with a different black haired baby in their arms. The thought derailed him a little, a different sort of heart skip, an excited yet apprehnseive one, and Sirius took in a shuddering breath to calm his nerves (and magic) down.

With a flick of his wand, Uncle Alphard poured Sirius a cup of tea and leviated cup and saucer over to him. Sirius plucked the set from the air with one hand and tossed his ad on the table with the other.

“The Daily Prophet won't print my ad,” he grumbled, “Too imflammatory they said.” He twirled his free hand in the air, sparking imaginary flames.

Callidora grimaced, sharing a knowing glance with her sister, Cedrella. “We should have expected that.”

Sirius glared at her but she shrugged, unperturbed. 

“What's this about?” Harry asked, glancing from the ad to him.

He pinched his lips, wondering where to start in the explanation. The kids—teens—young adults—his baby—they knew the general plan: cultivate allies (secretly) and inform the public loudly. 

“Knowledge is power,” Uncle Alphard said, answering for him in his round about way—Slytherins, honestly. “And right now, we need to find a way to educate the public on the truth and not the carefully cultivated smoke screen the ministray is deploying.”

Cedrella waved a hand to the table. “Hence the obnoxious ads that we thought would at least get the public’s attention and hopefully lead to some asking some questions—”

“And to some joining the cause,” Callidora finished.

“Except we underestimated how much the Daily Prophet is in the Ministry’s back pocket,” Sirius added. He tried to drink his tea but found his hand was shaking in restrained anger. Rose squeezed his thigh with her free hand, shifting closer and offering her strength and comfort. He slumped against her.

“Or we overestimated their greed,” Uncle Alphard muttered to the humming approval of the room. No one expected the Daily Prophet to turn down money.

Aneira, who in some ways was the first ally outside of the family culivated—and in other ways was not, considering her sleeping arrangements for the winter—knew of the plan, of Riddle’s return, and frowned. “The Daily Prophet is the most read paper in London but not the rest of the world. Not even the rest of the British Isles.”

Sirius pursed his lips before glancing about at the rest of the room. He hadn’t really thought about other newspapers and from the look of everyone else’s face…neither did they. 

"What about the Quibbler?" Harry asked.

Sirius turned to Harry. “The Quibbler?” He said rather slowly, as if testing out the syllables. Sirius didn't know a single persion who read about horn snackle tooth crumpets or whatever the Quibbler raved about. 

But Harry was nodding seriously. “It's run by Luna's father, so we know they will run the ad but...but what if we do more than that?”

“Like what?” Uncle Alphard leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees.

“Well we would need to get everyone’s attention on the Quibbler to begin with so a head line story or...or..." Harry paused and Sirius could almost see his mind land on a thought he had for a while now. “I could do an interview,” Harry said, his voice pitched low but firm. “About that night. About Voldemort and Dumbledore.”

“Harry,” Sirius breathed. 

But he shook his head. “It would get everyone's attention. It would boost Quibbler sales and then we can just continue with interviews or articles or…”

Hermione grinned up at him. “That's brilliant!”

Callidora nodded. “I agree. Instead of ads, we can tell stories. Our stories. So we can show the public why Riddle is to be feared, and why the Ministry is lying to them.”

“Then we can run ads in other papers,” Rose continued, “Around the globe, drawing attention to everything printed in the Quibbler and…” Rose grinned, a slow, sly smile. “And everything not being printed in the Prophet.”

Cedrella smiled wickedly. “Yes,” she breathed, “nothing like media warfare to highlight the corruption.”

 

/ / /

 

Harry panted in frustration, his breath blooming white in front of him as he leand down, hands on his knees, and staring at the snow dusted ground. It was a chilly winter day but they were forced to go without any warming charms. Dad had snorted when Draco had casually thrown a few charms around them. Draco had done the same in the garden where Hermione and Fay were sat mediating but Uncle Remus flicked his wand and counteracted the charm with a smirk.

“No magic,” Dad had said, “and no wands.” He had held his hand out for their wands—Draco, Neville, Blaise, and himself—which they all handed over a tad reluctantly. “Animagus magic is soul magic,” Dad added with a smile. He gestured to Harry’s heart after taking Harry’s wand from his hand. “There’s no need for any wands—no matter what the Ministry tells you.” That last bit was mumbled bitterly towards Remus but Harry heard it regardless.

After an hour, Harry was wondering if it was possible that the Ministry was right about one thing. Maybe he did need his wand. Because for the life of him, he could not get the transformation down.

“Again,” Dad said and Harry thought his father's casual demand for more was almost cruel.

Harry growled, an animalistic sound that any other day would've thrilled him but not today, not three days into Yule break, two hours into daylight and one hour into an animagus training session that left him breathless and frustrated.

He was so close. He could feel his animagus spirit under the surface of his skin, could feel the desire to hunt, to run, to laze about in the sun. He could see yellow cat eyes, close together and forward. Predator eyes. A jungle cat of some kind. But he couldn’t get any further. Any closer. The indistinct figure of a cat running through the jungle like a shadow, evading his every attempt to get close, to connect, to transform.

Draco, on the other hand, was an insufferable, arrogant git, curled into a ball and feigning sleep as he peeked through fox eyes to watch him fail again and again. 

Dad frowned at him. “You're close, Harry, but something is blocking you.” Harry didn’t deign that with an answer. “You need to meditate.”

Harry growled again before the animalistic sound faded into a groan and he stood up straight…and defeated. He didn't want to meditate—he wanted to run—he want to do something. Anything but meditate. 

But his dad crossed his arms over his chest, wand lazily flicking out to the side as he smirked at him. “Go,” he flicked his hand towards the gardens where Hermione and Fay were mediating comfortably under some warming charms. “Mediate.”

Hary slumped his shoulders and moved to retreat as Blaise yelped and tripped over himself, scrambling backwards from… Harry turned and yelped himself, his hand automatically rising, wand holster activating…and no wand snapping to his hand. “Fuck!” He squawked, scared, embarrassed, and furious for being defenseless against an giant brown bear towering over him on his forelegs. And yet as he turned to his dad, expecting some type of protective action because surely he didn’t forget that he had everyone’s wands—except he and Uncle Remus were laughing themselves silly. 

The bear was easily eight feet tall but wobbling on his legs like a newborn. He fell to his forepaws with a giant thump where Harry had been not even twenty seconds earlier and shook his head, as if to clear it. Suddenly a black dog—Padfoot—was running and jumping around the bear with glee and Harry realized belatedly that Neville was nowhere to be seen.

“Merlin!” Harry shouted breathlessly, adrenaline transforming into excitement. “Neville that's wicked!”

“Merlin's beard,” Blaise said roughly, running a hand over his face, “I was not expecting that.”

Uncle Remus snorted. “No I imagine not.”

Draco, rather carefully, transformed back in a whirl of smoke, patting down his body, assuring himself that his clothes made the transformation back. (They did, of course—the twat was a natural at this.) And then he smiled up at the bear. “Congratulations Nev.”

The bear rumbled in reply and everyone chuckled.

“Alright,” Uncle Remus stood in front of Neville and said, “Now here comes the fun part—transforming back.” As if to emphasize the next part of the process, Padfoot became Sirius again in a flush of smoke.

“And with all your clothes!” Blaise added gleefully, wrapping an arm around Draco’s waist. Sirius, who had been focused on Neville, snorted and glanced back with a boyish smile before it twisted into a knowing smirk.

“An audience isn’t required here, lads,” he said, and flicked his wand once more towards the garden, with a streak of warm twinkling lights like a brief, subtle firework burst. “Go mediate with the lovely ladies.”

Harry grumbled but obediently turned tail and walked towards the garden with Draco and Blaise.

The garden was just one of many around the house, and probably the least impressive of them all. If the back patio garden was his favorite, than the front porch—if it could be called such a simple term as “porch”—was his least favorite. But it wasn’t meant to be impressive or homely or creative or lively, the front of the house was a facade, with clean cut grass in the summer and neatly, orderly paths leading to the front door and the perfectly manicured garden framing the front of the house on either side of the direct path. 

It was an ideal space for animagus training as no one sat in the front of the house and very minimal magic was ever conducted there. Excepting a few warming charms that Draco had placed in a circle around a few stone benches, an ever-green rose bush, and some low standing bushes that created a natural, simple labyrinth for the garden. It was a quiet, perfectly normal, if boring, little spot. 

Harry had been following Draco and Blaise to the corner Hermione and Fay had tucked themselves into when he heard Draco ask, “Where’s Hermione?”

Harry looked around Blaise’s shoulder with a frown, his heart racing before he could remind himself they were safe, she was safe, they were in Ravenswood.

Fay jerked roughly from her position, glancing back to them with wide, confused eyes, before she looked around at the empty space around her. “I…I don’t know…” Her wide-eyed gaze jumped from Draco, to Blaise, to Harry. “I swear we were here, meditating…I didn’t even hear her move…I don’t…”

“It’s fine love,” Blaise rushed over and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “I’m sure she just went back into the house.”

“Right, right, I just—” Fay tripped over her words as her hands fluttered around her.

Harry pressed his lips together so he didn’t say what everyone was thinking. What he had been thinking for half a minute before sense returned to him.

He was safe in Ravenswood. Hermione was safe in Ravenswood.

“Doxy?” He called, confident the elf would answer him.

She appeared next to him with a soft pop and wide eyes. “My Lady’s Gryffindor never calls for Doxy.”

Draco snorted but Harry ignored him, even as he struggled not to smile. “I was just wondering if you could tell me where Hermione is?”

Doxy frowned at him. “My Lady is in the library of course.”

Harry huffed, a soft puff of laughter, while everyone else laughed short and loud. 

“Of course she is,” Draco drawled.

/ / /

The library of Ravenswood was not world renowned. Occasionally, there was a wix or two who suspected that the Ravenswood library was exceptional but too many more suspected that if it was truly exceptional then the Blacks would have boasted far and wide about it. Because, of course, no one would ever call the House of Black humble. No. Arrogant, loud, conceited and vain were the first adjectives to come to mind…but humble? Never. 

And so when the common wix thought of Ravenswood, they often only shuddered at the thought of its infamous self-sacrifical blood wards and spared no remaining thought to its library. No one, except perhaps the very few truly brilliant and discerning wix suspected something more under the pretentious pretense of the House of Black. Those wix, though, were so few, far between, and often second-guessed themselves when confronted with the proud House of Black (when the ads started to roll out in newspapers around the world even these few wix couldn’t believe what they had secretly suspected). If only they knew, they were right. 

The House of Black were neither flashy pretentious peacocks, showing their hand for all to see, nor snakes, who hid in the grass and struck before being seen. The House of Black were foxes, distracting you with their flashy red coat and beguiling smile as they gathered information and power behind carefully hidden razor-sharp teeth.

And so no one knew…nor suspected…that the library of Ravenswood held one of the most impressive collections of rare books in the world.

The first time Hermione visited the Ravenswood library she, a Ravenclaw through and through, was torn between marveling at the breadth and depth of the books and lamenting that no one else would have access to some of the rarest volumes known to wix. Harry, still more a lion than an eagle, shrugged. Arcturus smiled gently at the young witch but could not find the words to explain the principle he knew down to his bones. But Cassiopeia laughed sharply when Hermione approached her later that day. 

“Don’t underestimate your enemies little witch,” she had said, snapping a book about ancient Moroccan potion craft shut. “The easiest way to be smarter than your enemies is to hoard the path of knowledge to yourself. But never forget that others do the same—and they will have a book with the answer that you will never see.”

It still never sat right with Hermione. But she could not deny the truth of it either. Not as she sat there now, flipping once again through the book Luna had given Harry that was nowhere to be found in the Black library. Because for every rare and only edition book to be found in the Black library…there were ten more missing. Such was the way of knowledge.

And so Hermione knew there was something missing here.

Fate. Death. Hecate. Hermione still didn’t understand how the three intersected, how it was important to the prophecy, or Harry, or even Tom Riddle. 

There was Death and Tom Riddle and the horcruxes. And at times she thought that perhaps Death was furious at Tom Riddle, for trying to escape her. But then Hermione thought of Luna’s story—how Death had told the youngest brother that he had been hers the moment he was born. It made sense, in the story, Hermione thought, as a children’s tale to make the concept of Death easier to understand—that it was inevitable and nothing to fear if you lived a life full of love and peace. 

It was not fury then, that motivated Death. So why was Death involved now? 

Why was Fate involved? What was the purpose of a prophecy? Of leading Harry to fight Riddle? Was it family duty, as Harry suggested? But then why would Fate need to get involved?

Hermione slumped over the table with a groan. She was going in circles again, trying vainly to understand immortal, primordial beings and things beyond her understanding and she could hear Draco’s voice, high-handed and gloating over her. But the why was just as important as the how. She just knew it. 

Her face was still hidden in her arms as she remained slumped over the table, so she didn’t see Harry approaching but rather felt his magic reach out to hers, a little brush of affection caressing her curls. After the Imperius incident, Harry had been gleeful and very dedicated in learning the different ways their magic interacted with each other and the various different uses…for good and for…very good…that they could use it.

Soon, Harry’s hand drifted through her hair as well. “Alright my love?”

She harrumped as she twisted her head around to gaze up to him.

He snorted. “What happened to animagus training?”

She grunted, not wanting to admit defeat. She couldn’t concentrate on her inner spirit animal when there was a mystery still to be solved. She pursed her lips as she tried to think of an answer as she finally sat back up. 

Harry sat down in the chair next to hers but turned his body so he leaned against the table and faced her. He was so close that both his body heat and magic warmed her, a balmy wild warmth that she associated only with him. Harry reached out and twisted a tendril of hair that had escaped her bun.

“What are you thinking about, love?” He asked softly, eyes intent on the hair twining through his fingers. 

Hermione sighed, tempted to mumble indistinct words of neither truth nor lies but the truth was on her lips and begging to be heard. “I’m still bothered by it,” she finally whispered. Harry finally met her worried gaze with his brilliant green eyes. Hermione felt comforted immediately and the words tumbled from her lips. “I know we decided to focus more on the ‘how’ as Draco put it and I know that in so many ways he is right—how are we ever going to figure out the will of the gods? Is it even possible? And I know Draco thinks it’s pointless, and that we shouldn’t waste our time figuring out why, when we should just figure out how, and I get it, I do. Because in some ways it doesn’t matter why you were chosen and why it involves Riddle and why there’s a prophecy—it just matters that there is one. And because it exists we should figure out how to fulfill it without…without…”

“Without me dying,” Harry said.

And Hermione burst into tears. Harry gathered her in his arms, pulling her onto his lap as he leaned back into the chair. She wound her arms around his neck, clinging to him and Harry felt terrible for his callous words.

It was the one thing Hermione refused to acknowledge, refused to think about, and, unwittingly, the one thing holding them both back.

Notes:

I live??????

I have girl-bossed too close to the sun and now have a lot of responsibilities at work. RIP.

Unfortunately for us all, there will definitely be a Black Book 3. Unfortunately, because I'm still trying to finish this one. And write orginial fiction. And publish another poetry book. And work full time as an attorney??? I cannot guarantee any sort of schedule or expected finish time because attorney work means I have like three trials this summer?? (double RIP (insert crying emoji here; insert skull emoji))

For anyone still in school...please enjoy this time. I'd go back in a heartbeat if I could.

Alright, woe is me time is over. I hope you enjoyed this chapter <3 I still read every comment and enjoy them immensely. Y'all keep me going. Have a great rest of your Sunday and happy spring!

Chapter 23: Revealed

Summary:

The pieces were always there...but the initial picture was an illusion.

Harry hesitantly entered the library. Hermione had three books on wards and house elves and wicked magic and intent sprawled across what was her table in the Ravenswood library. 

It had been her table since their first year, when she and her family visited for Yule break and Dad had found her, asleep, the morning of the third day of her visit, because she couldn’t bear to put down the book she had been reading to walk to her bed and sleep. Dad had laughed loudly, drawing everyone who was up to the library to see Hermione blush profusely with her hair in wild disarray.

Now, several years later, Harry didn’t called Doxy this time, when he wondered where Hermione had disappeared to halfway through the day. Loathe as he was to ask, considering the pick up quidditch game he and Draco had organized to start in the next hour, he knew his priorities would be more than a little off if he didn't. So, swallowing the selfish impulse down, he leaned against the table and asked, "Do you need any help love?"

Hermione flicked her eyes up to him, took in his quidditch clothes, and snorted. He smiled winningly in response and she outright laughed. It was a welcome sound after her tears only a few days earlier.

“Thank you but no, you'd just be distracted...and a distraction.”

His smile turned sly and he leaned down to her. “Oh?” 

Hermione blushed. A vibrant hue so very different than the same blush at this table several years ago. 

“Why would I be a distraction, love?” He lowered his voice, bringing his face down to hers across the table. “You know much I love to help you…”

Hermione started to stammer an answer but Harry reached out to her first, with his magic, caressing her cheek down to her neck and all that escaped her lips was a little gasp before Harry closed the inches between their lips. She reached for him immediately, clutching the lapels of his quidditch robes and drawing him closer. Harry went eagerly and had half a mind of how he was going to climb across the table when a loud laugh barked behind him.

Harry pulled away, only just, to groan as he rested his forehead to Hermione’s. That particular laugh meant only one person…

“Hmm, this is quite a different scene than I stumbled on before,” Dad said laughing slightly quieter this time. 

Harry retreated from his position, half sprawled on the table, and turned to his dad, leaning against a bookshelf close to the door.

“Hi Dad,” he smiled winningly.

Dad snorted. “Draco is looking for you. Something about—”

“HARRY!” If it weren't for the tone, one might have thought Carina was screaming in fear. Except it was rather clearly with only the frustration an older brother can inspire. 

Everyone winced for their poor ear drums. Dad winced again when he heard twin cries of Cepheé and Percy, who were likely unceremoniously awoken from their delightful nap. 

“Carina Lyra Black!” Mum’s voice rose above the general din Carina’s initial shout generated. “There is no reason to scream!”

“YOU’RE SCREAMING TOO!” Came the immediate reply, this time even closer to the library door.

Cephée’s and Percy’s baby yells joined the chorus, even louder than before.

Dad pinched his nose and Hermione whispered, “What’s going on?”

Harry winced. “Right, uh, I think I’ll just…” Harry moved to leave the library through a window, hitching his broom over his shoulder.

“Harry James Potter.” Dad pointed a single finger at him and Harry froze. “What did you do to your sister?”

“Nothing!” Harry yelped. Even he knew it sounded rather unconvincing.

“HARRY I’M GOING TO KILL YOU!” This scream was even louder, as the origin of it was standing at the door. The reason for said death threat was immediately apparent. Carina was similarly dressed in quidditch gear. Her uniform had been a Yule gift from Draco, with the green and silver of Slytherin, as a sly reminder of what her future would been in just a few years time. Except now, the green and silver had been replaced with the bright red and gold of Gryffindor. Which would have been a prank enough, of course, but not one that likely inspired the screaming. No. Because Carina’s lovely curly black hair was colored, equally down the middle, one side red and the other gold. 

Dad snorted, a laugh beginning to emerge before it was viciously cut off with Carina’s venomous stare. “I think those colors suit you, little star,” he said instead, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth.

“I think so too!” Harry said cheerfully, still edging closer to the window. “Neville will be so pleased.”

Hermione stifled a giggle. At all the things she thought had happened, this was not it. 

Carina screamed in frustration. “Change it back! Change it all back!”

As Dad murmured nonsense in his most placating tone, Harry noticed Hermione flicking her wand under the table and opening the window behind him. Harry shot her the most grateful look before he turned back to Carina. 

“I might change it back,” Harry said slowly, a wicked grin on his lips, “if you can catch me.”

He dove for the window, his broom at his side, and fell briefly down, before spinning and catching himself on this broom. Carina screamed again. He rose and hovered back up to the window. 

“See you on the pitch!” Harry laughed and sped away. A brilliant prank gone rather well even if Harry had hoped Carina would’ve blamed Neville first. Oh well.

 

/ / /

 

Sirius winced as Carina screamed at Harry as he flew away. She charged the window and on instinct, Sirius scooped her in his arms and turned her around, ignoring another ear piercing screech of frustration.

“Oh no you don’t, little star,” he said over her protests, “Go out the front door like a sane little witch.”

“Dad!” She yelled again, but wiggled quickly from his arms and sprinted for the exit, “I’m going to kill him!” 

Sirius sighed, shoulders slumping, as one crisis was averted. He turned to Hermione who was stifling a laugh under her hand. When she met his eyes, the laugh burst free and Sirius joined her.

“Was there something you needed?” Hermione asked they both calmed down. 

Sirius smiled wanly. He had, indeed, come to the library looking for Hermione. And, after a quick glance at the books on her table, realized she was already looking into the information he needed to discuss with her.

He pulled out a chair opposite of her and sat down. “Rugnut finished reviewing the updated list you sent earlier this week.” Sirius pulled out the letter he had just received from Rugnut from his back pocket.

Hermione had visited the wards one more time before the start of Yule break, to narrow down the list of house elves who had moved through the wards at the time of her first poisoning. Sirius had been surprised to hear from Harry that she hadn’t looked at the list, and neither had Harry. He would’ve thought their curiosity would overpower their fear—he knew his would have. He wondered even now if he really understood the depth of her fear.

Sirius swallowed thickly as some of the color drained from her face. He didn’t, he resolved. He didn’t understand her fear. Something about this scared her more than he realized.

“Would you like me to call Harry back, kitten?” He asked softly.

Hermione’s hands fluttered for a moment before she grasped them tightly together. She shook her head. “No, no, he’s flying and…let him…” She stumbled over her words. “It’s not definitive, is it?” 

Sirius shook his head. “No but we’ve narrowed down the list to only a few families. I wanted your input as to possibilities.” Sirius had a few ideas himself as he slid the list of four family names over to her. Of the hundred of house elves who entered into the castle over three weeks, only four popped into the castle the day before Mabon. It was lower than they expected it but it made sense in a way—why would anyone call a house elf for something on the day they would be returning home?

The Greengrass’s were viciously neutral but their eldest daughter was his son’s age. Sirius hadn’t heard much of anything about Daphne, or her younger sister Astoria. But maybe no one knew the depth of Daphne’s regard towards Harry, or worse, perhaps her father knew the political and magical advantage of marrying into the House of Gryffindor and didn’t care one way or the other…but to end his house’s historic neutrality like this was…unheard of.

Then there was Susan Bones. Every Bones born in last half century was a Hufflepuff through and through. And with her aunt as the current Director of Magical Law Enforcement, Sirius was hard pressed to believe the Bones’s were trying to kill Hermione as an avenue to Harry. But then…the other two houses seemed like dead ends to him as well.

He seriously doubted the Flint’s of all families wanted to marry into the House of Gryffindor. If anything, their blood purist views probably meant they were trying to kill Hermione for being “muggle-born” rather than to get to Harry. He considered it a possibility more than Marcus Flint trying to angle in a romantic relationship with his son. (Of everything he had heard about the boy, Marcus Flint cared more about pummeling chasers to the ground than romance or politics.)

As for the last possibility…well, the Doge family was rather notoriously pro-egalitarian and had worked steadily with Dumbledore, that bastard, to erode the power of ancient and noble houses through the years. He couldn’t see Elias force his daughter to pursue Harry with that in mind. And he never heard Harry mention her either…no he spent most of his time complaining about…

Hermione’s sharp gasp triggered his own as all the puzzle pieces finally fell into place.

“Oh Merlin,” he whispered as tears welled in Hermione’s eyes.

They had gone about this all wrong. The first potioning had done exactly what was intended…to lure Hermione away from Harry before she was betrothed. But the second…the second wasn’t meant for Hermione at all… No. It was for Harry. Hermione wasn’t in the way for some star crossed girl or power hungry family…Harry was in the way for the Doge boy. What was his name?

Hermione started to cry in earnest and Sirius rounded the table and tucked her into his arms. “It’s okay, little one,” he said soothingly, “You are safe and so is Harry.”

Sirius glanced towards the window, then the door, wondering how he could call Harry back when he saw a streak of blue and bronze quidditch robes blur towards him. A blast of wind through the still open window and the tail end of a broom crashing into a stack of books loudly falling to the floor announced Harry’s entrance.

“Hermione!” Harry yelled, tumbling from his broom as he ran over with windswept hair and a wild look in his eyes. “What happened? I felt…” But whatever he was going to say never fell from his lips as Hermione tore herself from Sirius’s hold and flung herself at Harry. They almost tumbled to the ground before Harry steadied them to a more graceful descent.

Sirius followed more sedately, standing from his seat, heart thundering, and rounding the table, as Harry looked up at him from his knees with naked fear.

Hermione clutched desperately at his robes and, through hiccuped sobs, asked, “Why is everyone trying to take you away from me?”

Sirius squeezed and rubbed his eyes with his hands. “Merlin,” he whispered hoarsely. He did not like that reminder. 

“Dad?” Harry’s voice was anguished confusion and it punched another hole in his chest.

Sirius took a deep breath and met Harry’s worried gaze. “We narrowed it down to four families who had house elves enter the castle before Mabon.”

Harry’s hands clenched around Hermione before relaxing and rubbing soothing circles up and down her back. “And?”

Sirius opened his mouth to answer but then Draco and Neville flew into the window. They both landed far more calmly next to the window.

“What’s goin—” Neville started to ask but Draco placed a hand on his arm and he stuttered to a stop. Draco’s gaze flicked from Harry to Hermione to Sirius before a serious frown marred his crystalline features.  

“Dad?” Harry prompted.

Sirius breathed out slowly. “The Greengrass’s, the Bones’s, the Flint’s, and…”

“Elijah,” Hermione choked on a sob. “I’ve always just ignored him. I knew—I knew he…he…liked me but I thought it was just best to ignore it.” Hermione buried her face into Harry’s chest. “He was going to…he’s trying to… He gave me an obedience potion.”

The air around Harry grew thick, warm, and humid. It was nearly suffocating as his emerald green eyes took an unnatural hue, becoming nearly reflective, cat like, and focused, like a predator who had finally caught the scent of its prey. 

Harry’s voice took a magical edge that Sirius had never heard from James and, for the first time, made Sirius realize how much his family had influenced the House of Gryffindor.

Sirius suppressed a shudder as Harry growled, “He’s a dead wix.”

 

/ / /

 

Arcturus watched his grandson pour himself another finger of whisky. Any more and Sirius would well and truly be drunk. Narcissa tutted and Sirius nearly growled at her. Lucius puffed up with a scowl and Arcturus sighed.

“Children,” he muttered, pinching his nose. It had been a whirlwind of an afternoon, corralling the emotional wix he called family into a semblance of order rather than a maelstrom of chaos and revenge. He wanted to join his wife in sleep but felt responsible to stay up with Sirius until he properly calmed down…or fell asleep half drunk. Either option was agreeable at this point.

Tonks snickered from their lazy perch on an armchair between a love seat and a slightly longer settee, their legs draped over an arm rest. Remus sat near them but on the settee with Sirius, propping his friend up emotionally…and perhaps a bit physically.

Narcissa pursed her lips but said nothing. Lucius relaxed back in his seat on the love seat he shared with his wife, letting his fingers gently tangle in the loose hairs at the nape of Narcissa’s neck in a move reminiscent of Draco with the young Fay Dunbar. Or perhaps it would be more fair to say Draco copied such behavior from his father. Arcturus suppressed a smirk at the thought.

The less oft used blue lounge was filled with this slightly odd assortment of the family. Lucius and Narcissa were here much later than normal, following the revelation of the afternoon. The young adults were cuddled together in the yellow parlour room, enjoying the coddling of the house elves with hot chocolate and sugar cookies as they comforted each other. The older adults in need of coddling were here, enjoying several fingers of Scotch whisky.

Sirius frowned morosely into his drink. “Do you think it’s wrong how much we influenced Harry?” He waved a hand wildly in the air. “James would’ve never been so…so…”

“Controlled?” Lucius drawled. “Smart? Calculating?”

“Cunning,” Sirius countered flatly. “James…”

“Would’ve flown off the handle,” Remus said gently, carefully taking the tumbler from Sirius’s hand. Sirius turned to his only friend still alive and honorable and Arcturus felt a surprising ache in his heart for the two boys. They both shared a sad smile over a shared loss that felt…intimate. Arcturus wondered, for not the first time, if the boys had ever sworn a sibling bond to each other. He dismissed the thought as quickly as it had come though…if they had, it would have been in their reckless youth and Pettigrew would’ve certainly been a part of it. And would have lost his magic as an oath breaker. It was unfortunate that had not come to pass.

“James would’ve spent the day and night flying straight to the Doge residence to punch the boy in the face,” Remus said with a wistful smile, “Then he would’ve stood there, surprised that he had done such a reckless thing, and would’ve had no plan after the fact.”

Sirius chuckled, a soft sad sound. “And Lily would’ve been screaming out the window and probably would’ve hit him when he came back.”

“If,” Narcissa cleared her throat delicately. “If he came back.” Sirius and Remus flinched in unison and Narcissa continued in gentle tones, “The Doge boy already proved he had no qualms with killing—if Harry was anything like his father, then he would’ve found himself in a duel with a seventh year who wanted to kill him and who now had the legal position of self-defense to do so.”

Sirius reached for the tumbler still in Remus’s hand and Remus, very clearly out of habit, pulled it away. “Fuck,” Remus muttered. “That would’ve been…”

“Disastrous,” Lucius drawled. “So I think you should be grateful that the House of Black has taught the House of Gryffindor how to make a plan.” 

Sirius winced. “James never made plans…he struck hard and fast and…” Sirius stuttered to stop and sat up abruptly. He had a wide eyed, panicked look as he turned to Remus. When their eyes met, Remus’s eyes widened in panic, matching Sirius’s sudden shift of energy. 

Arcturus sat up in surprise as well, wondering what Sirius had just thought of that Remus seemed to understand.

Then they both, simultaneously, said, “Fuck.” 

Arcturus jerked in his seat as if he’d been hit with a stinging hex. Tonks immediately flipped their legs around and leaned forward. “What?” They asked, sharply, eyes narrowed and focused.

Remus looked at the tumbler of whisky in his hand and drained it in one gulp.

Arcturus gaped. 

Narcissa repeated Tonk’s question, “What?” 

“Merlin,” Remus groaned, rubbing a hand over his face, “This might have been a mistake.”

“What?” Lucius snapped, his patience wearing thin. 

Sirius rubbed his forehead. “Great goddess, what have we done?”

“If you two are going to blather along like this for one more minute, I swear,” Tonks shoved Remus’s leg with their hand.

Sirius slumped forward, elbows to his knees. “James was brutal when crossed,” he started to explain, finally, “Brutal, but quick and…”

“Forgiving,” Remus stared morosely at his empty glass, “Tick for tack and it was over. But…”

Not the Blacks. There was no eye for an eye for the Blacks. Arcturus never understood that. Why give an enemy the chance to attack again? 

“Merlin,” Sirius moaned again and reached for his glass in Remus’s hand. Remus mindlessly handed it over. 

“Morgana’s tits!” Tonks exclaimed sharply. “What the bloody hell are you two thinking about?”

Sirius poured himself two more fingers of whisky before conjuring another glass for Remus and pouring him the same.

“How vicious the House of Gryffindor is going to be with the cunningness of a snake…” Sirius said glumly.

“…the intelligence of the House of Ravenclaw…” Remus added.

“And the patience of a Black.” Arcturus finished, a little smugly. He smiled slowly, lips pressed together in satisfaction.

That Doge boy doesn’t stand a chance.

Notes:

Honestly, I thought I was going to hold out on this reveal for longer but I realized I couldn't pretend that they wouldn't figure it out eventually. Quite a few of you guessed the culprit early on! A part of me wants to go back and make it seem more like a death eater/voldemort plot but revisions (if they ever come) will happen once the whole series is finished.

I think maybe 5-10 more chapters of book 2!

thank you, again, for all the comments and encouragement <3 I'm so glad y'all are enjoying this.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 3 of The Black Book