Whispers of a Raven - Daunting Prospects

He was running. It had been so long since he had been able to do so without wincing in pain and favouring his right leg. It may have only been a gentle, sedate pace he had set, but it was something, and it felt wonderful. The surgeon at St Mungo’s had done an incredible job, and for the first time in over a year, he felt strong.

He wasn’t, not really.

He was still malnourished, underweight and fatigued from his time on the run, but in this moment, he was happy with the simple exertion he was managing.

He continued until he felt his chest tighten from the effort it took to draw breath before slowing to a walk, enjoying the sea air and the wet sand beneath his feet.

It was a hot day, the July sun searing his skin, but it didn’t bother him much. He had grown used to it during his youth as he tended to Petunia’s garden, the woman uncaring towards the sunburn and bouts of heatstroke he had suffered as a result.

He pushed those thoughts aside. He did not want to dwell his relatives and his miserable years with them.

He was a man, and there was none that could subject him to such treatment now.

Releasing a deep breath, he looked out towards the horizon as he soothed his bare feet in the cool waters of the North Sea.

As much as he was caught up in this moment of jubilation, the darker thoughts he harboured remained on the edge of his conscience. He had made significant progress with the Bones family last night, but it would not be enough.

Voldemort was out there somewhere, gathering followers and already attacking, much of wizarding Britain unaware of what was coming. In truth, Harry was in no better position. With only a list of names and a vague understanding of what had happened here, he too was blind to much of it.

What he had endured after killing Avery did not fill him with confidence. The thought had crossed his mind that he could perhaps eliminate the Death Eaters one after the other to prevent what was coming, but it was not to be.

He would become the hunted once more and he was tired of being on the run. It was not as though he was a mastermind who could hope to get away with such tact indefinitely. No, he had learnt to survive day to day, not how to get away with murder, let alone what would likely be a dozen more times.

It was a frustrating realisation that his task would not be so simple, but life never had been for him.

The dilemma he faced now was what was he to do? Should he bide his time and wait for when he was needed?

He shook his head.

No, that would not do. He needed to prepare as best he could for what was to come. How he would do so, he knew not.

What he did know, however, was that he did have time and he had a new life to adjust to.

As such, he left the tranquillity of the ocean behind him and walked back towards his tent, the burning sand reminding him that this was not an elaborate dream he was experiencing. This was his life now and he intended on making something of it.

Entering the coolness of his home, he looked at what his life had been for the past few years; a portable shelter, questionable in comfort and sorely out of date, even for the time he found himself.

Perhaps he should think about finding a more permanent residence?

He shrugged as he opened the cupboard he kept his food in and grimaced. His diet had been poor. Dried foods that did not spoil had been his sustenance and having had a good meal the night before only turned his stomach at the prospect of eating the flavourless slop.

He needed fresh produce and clothes he decided as he opened his trunk and realised how few and threadbare his garments were.

With a sigh, he reached into the bag of gold that Dumbledore had given him and filled a smaller one that was easier to carry.

He had spent little of the gold, had been thrifty and purchased only cheap food and potion ingredients when he needed them. If his calculations were right, he had more than enough to last him a few years if needed.

He wold need to find a job eventually.

He frowned deeply at the thought, pondering what he would like to do and realising his options were limited. He had his OWLs, though they were rather poor but no NEWTs. He’d be lucky to get a job in The Three Broomsticks.

He sighed as he pulled on a navy robe that had seen better days. He had other things to consider before even broaching the subject of a job.

Turning his attention to what required his focus, he left the tent before packing it with a flick of his wand. He pocketed it with every intention of returning here. It was peaceful and he certainly needed that.

Apparating away, he arrived in Diagon Alley, immediately unnerved by how busy it was.

He had been alone for so long that he didn’t remember what a crowded street full of witches and wizards felt like. Other than his trial, the last time he had been around so many was Bill and Fleur’s wedding, and that had not ended favourably.

Taking a deep breath, he joined the bustling crowd as he tried to identify the plethora of shops that were around him. He would need to buy new clothes and food at the very least before he attended his final check-up at the hospital later in the evening.

It was oddly exhilarating doing something so mundane. Perhaps it was because he had been unable to for quite some time and not without being accosted by someone that recognised him, reminding him of just how he had gained his notoriety. Maybe it was merely the novelty of being out in the open without someone trying to kill him?

It mattered not. It was proving to be a rather pleasant change from the norm.

Without knowing where he was going, he emerged on the other side of the street a short distance away from Madame Malkins, the shop looking as it always had when he’d visited the alley in the past.

With a shrug, he approached and entered. He didn’t know of any other clothing establishments in the area and here was as good as any to purchase some robes.

For the most part he wore muggle clothing, but he had a vivid memory of the fashion of the 1970s.

He had been dusting Vernon’s record collection when he was around 8 years old and had giggled at a group of men dressed in tight white trousers that flared outwards at the bottom, each outfit complete with heeled boots and flowered shirts that were tucked in.

Vernon had beaten him for his apparent disrespect of ‘people more successful than he could ever hope to be’.

Even without the incident, Harry could not imagine himself in such an ensemble. He would rather stick to wearing robes.

“How can I help you, dear?” a voice greeted him at the jingling of the bell as the door opened.

“I just need some robes,” he answered, “and maybe some shirts and trousers,” he added seeing some rather reserved options on offer that were more to his taste than what he had expected.

“Of course,” the woman complied, a younger Madame Malkin if he presumed correctly. He had paid little attention to her during his previous visits here, but she appeared familiar. “Let’s get you measured up and then we will go from there.”

It was around an hour later that he left the shop with a shrunken package of clothes and a lighter bag of galleons. It was not an experience he had relished, but it was necessary. What he currently wore and owned was in rather poor condition and he would not wander around in such a deplorable state.

Having once more joined the seemingly endless stream of people, he managed to find a stall that was selling fresh fruit and vegetables that he stocked up on and even a wizarding butcher that was offering some rather exotic options.

Harry had never eaten dragon liver before and did not intend to add it to his diet anytime soon. Instead, he opted to keep it simple with chicken and beef.

With what he had come for obtained, he began making his way back towards the apparation point and paused as he passed a shop he had come to know rather well once upon a time.

Florean’s had been somewhere he had spent much of his summer before third year, eating ice cream and completing his History of Magic homework, with help from none other than the man himself who had proven to be a font of knowledge on the subject.

When he was on the run, he had heard the shop had closed and Mr Fortescue had vanished almost overnight. Whether he was targeted by the Death Eaters or fled the country, Harry didn’t know. All he learned was that the premises had been boarded up having been abandoned.

With a sad smile, he made his way towards it and through the outdoor seating before entering the cool building. The sight he was greeted with was one of nostalgia; Florean Fortescue handing over a large cone stacked with one of his marvellous creations to an ecstatic child.

It reminded Harry of himself when he had been a boy, and the man had done the very same thing to him. He imagined that his eyes had lit up the same way the little girl’s he saw now were.

It was a bittersweet feeling, something so innocent and wholesome a prelude to all that had followed.

How did one go from eating ice cream as a thirteen-year-old boy to the most wanted man in wizarding Britain only a handful of years later?

Even though he had lived it, Harry was stumped. So much had happened in such a short space of time that it was difficult to make head or tail of it.

Regardless, all those occurrences had led him here and he now had the chance to relive one of the sweeter memories he had.

“What can I get for you, sir?” Florean asked as he reached the counter.

It was odd being greeted this way by Mr Fortescue. It had always been ‘young man’ before and it took Harry a moment to remember that he wasn’t a teenager anymore. He was a man grown, and this Florean had never helped him as he struggled through his homework.

“Strawberry-and-peanut-butter, please,” he answered.

The man gave him a smile and nod of approval as he set to work scooping the dessert into a cone before handing it to him.

“That will be three sickles, please.”

Harry handed him the money and took his leave from the shop, pausing briefly to take in the feeling of being back here.

Opting to sit in the very same seat he had all those years ago during his first visit, he watched as the people passed him by. There were many too. Even during the final rush of shopping before another year at Hogwarts, he had never seen so many people here.

Had the war truly been so devastating?

Again, he felt ill-prepared for what was to come, though if he could do anything about it, he would. He already had when he considered it. He saved Lady Bones from being murdered and he could not help but think what difference that would make in the future.

Maybe it would make none, but if he continued changing things then the world would not become the one that he had grown up in or the very same he had watched change to what he’d left behind.

He nodded thoughtfully as he continued his observations.

The alley was not so different, not really, just busier with more people, some that were staring at him as they went on their way.

Maybe it was strange to see a grown man eating ice cream alone. He paid them no mind as his eyes fell upon another building he remembered.

His first visit to Gringotts would not be something he would ever forget and as he gazed at the tall, marble construct, the words of one of the three brothers played over in his mind and he frowned.

“The vault…”

He shook his head.

Gringotts wasn’t founded until long after the Peverells had disappeared so the likelihood of them having one there was not very. No, they must be referring to a different vault though he could not even begin to fathom where it could be.

He would have to ask the cloaked figure if he knew.

Finishing his ice cream, he did make it to the apparation point this time and vanished from the alley. He had time to put his things away and maybe work on improving his tent before he had to attend his appointment at the hospital, a place he would be pleased to see the back of.

(Break)

Bella was not talking to her. She had made that abundantly clear by pointedly ignoring her when Narcissa had joined her family for their lunch and her breakfast. Not that she had expected any less. Her older sister was prone to holding grudges for the smallest of things.

The meal had been rather tense, though none wold broach the subject with the other, not with the warning glare sent their way by Druella.

“I do not see why you had to speak up for Peverell,” her father grumbled when Bellatrix had bid her parents farewell, not even deigning Narcissa with a look as she left the room. “The prat should be in Azkaban.”

“For saving someone’s life?” Narcissa snorted and received a look of disapproval from her mother for her unladylike behaviour.

“Marcus has been a good ally to our family and Peverell is a nobody,” Cygnus muttered.

“Well, grandfather doesn’t think so,” Narcissa sighed. “Harry saved Lady Bones. Thomas is the idiot that tried to kill her and died when he was found out.”

Her father said nothing as he returned to his meal.

Narcissa was stubborn and would not budge. Cygnus was too immature to concede to anyone. It was one of the many flaws that her grandfather often criticised him for.

“Speaking of Arcturus,” her mother interjected, “he wants to see you before you go to work tonight.”

Narcissa nodded. She had suspected he would want to speak with her after the trial the day before.

He had escorted her home and taken his leave immediately citing there were other things that required his attention. He had made no comment about what he intended to do next with regards to Harry, but Narcissa suspected she would find out soon enough.

“I will get ready and see him now,” she announced.

Not only would it get her away from the tense atmosphere of the house, it would also give her the opportunity to spend some time with her grandparents, something she seldom did now she had grown and worked the odd mix of hours she did.

Druella merely nodded as Narcissa exited and her father kept his eyes firmly on his plate. He was irritated with her and stay so until something else provoked his ire. That wouldn’t take long. He always had something to complain about, almost as though doing so was his hobby.

Having left the kitchen, she returned to her room and readied herself for the day, dressing and tying her hair in an appropriate bun before leaving the house and apparating to her grandparent’s home.

It was quiet here, peaceful, and Narcissa could understand why they had given up Grimmauld Place even before she had been born. Orion had married Walburga and her grandfather had allowed them to live there whilst he sought a home away from the frantic pace that London had adopted.

Arcturus Black was not a people person, and the more that London had grown, the more he began to despise it. As such, he had found a cottage in the countryside where, as difficult as it was to believe due to his demeanour, he was much happier.

“Cissy!” her grandmother greeted her as enthusiastically as she always did.

Evidently, she was tending to her garden if the soil caked gloves she wore were anything to go by.

“Hello, Grandmother,” she returned warmly, allowing herself to be pulled into an embrace from the woman.

Melania Black was the only member of the family that did such things, was the only one who showed any kind of affection. To Narcissa, it had been normal until she attended Hogwarts and saw how other siblings treated one another.

Neither Andromeda or Bellatrix had ever shown her the type of warmth that some of her classmates got from their brothers or sisters. Not that she craved it. It was merely the first memory she had of seeing how different her own family was from others. Of course, many more followed and she grew used to the reactions people would have to her when they learned her name.

Perhaps it was because she was the only blonde and did not resemble the rest of the Blacks that she was overlooked? Even her grandmother was dark of hair and she was not a Black by blood.

She remembered asking why she didn’t look like them when she had been around twelve and her grandfather had shown her a photo of his own grandmother.

Narcissa had been in awe at just how similar they looked as the man explained that a fair-skinned, blonde-haired and blue-eyed Black would emerge from time to time. It was an anomaly that he couldn’t explain beyond that, but it had cheered her up considerably.

“You’re here early,” her grandmother stated questioningly.

Narcissa sighed as she nodded. She did not like being at odds with her sister, but she knew she had done the right thing.

“Bellatrix…”

“Say no more,” her grandmother huffed. “Honestly, I do not know what has gotten into her lately.”

“Lately?” Narcissa returned with a raised eyebrow.

“She is trying to gain favour with your grandfather for something. She’s been here more often recently, trying the same tact she would use when she was a girl.”

“The sweet Bella thing?”

Melania nodded.

Bellatrix often reverted to acting innocent and coy when she wanted something. Narcissa believed that her grandfather found it amusing when she had been a little girl but Narcissa suspected that Bella had now adopted that persona as another part of herself. It was rather concerning.

“Not so sweet when she is a grown woman,” she chuckled. “Your grandfather isn’t falling for it and it will be only a matter of time before the next part comes.”

Narcissa nodded her understanding.

If ‘Sweet Bella’ didn’t get her way, she would throw a tantrum, and that never ended well. She had once tried to cast the Cruciatus Curse on Andromeda when she had been in her third year at Hogwarts because the eldest of the three refused to buy her some chocolate when visiting Hogsmeade.

Bellatrix had been fortunate that her grandfather had convinced Dumbledore that it was an isolated incident and she did not understand what she had done. Narcissa had not been convinced. Bella was not stupid, but she was certainly cruel at times.

Her sister truly was a rather worrying person. Narcissa had heard of the Black madness and if there was anyone that suffered from it, it was Bellatrix.

“Anyway, why don’t you go and find him, I expect he will be in his study,” her grandmother explained. “I won’t be long; I just have to finish planting the roses and I will be in.”

Narcissa offered her a smile before heading towards the house.

It was odd thinking of her grandparents and how different they were. Melania was such a warm woman, rather reserved and the opposite of her grandfather who was rather brash, quite rude and impatient.

Somehow, it worked. Over the years, her grandmother had tempered Arcturus when it had been needed. Had she not, she expected her father would no longer be here. He had a way of pushing the Head of the family to his limits and had his mother to thank for the fact he still lived the life he did.

She knew her father was a bitter man, but she did not understand why.

Her thoughts turned once more to Bellatrix. Narcissa didn’t know what she was planning, why she was trying to ingratiate herself with their grandfather, but she suspected it would not end the way Bella was hoping.

Her efforts certainly had nothing to do with her impending wedding to Rudolphus. Corvus had already agreed to pay for it. Why wouldn’t he when the dowry he would receive would be much more than the cost of the ceremony? No, Bella was up to something and it did not sit well with her.

“Grandfather?” she called as she knocked on the door to his study.

“Come in, Narcissa,” he replied.

She entered to find him poring over a stack of parchment on his desk, his brow creased in thought as he muttered under his breath.

“Is everything okay?” she asked.

He met her gaze with his own and offered her a rare smile.

“Of course, there are just these mundane things that require my attention from time to time,” he explained gesturing to the parchment. “Never let it be said that running this family is easy,” he added with a chuckle. “Come, sit, I will be finished in a moment.”

Narcissa did so and looked on interestedly as the man continued muttering and shaking his head.

“For such a sow, Walburga spends a lot on perfume and clothes. Talk about polishing a turd,” Arcturus grumbled.

A smirk of amusement tugged at the corner of Narcissa’s lips.

“Why did you let Uncle Orion marry her?” she asked curiously.

“Because the dopey idiot was in love with her,” Arcturus sighed. “I never thought she would become such a pain in the arse.”

Narcissa was surprised by that. She had assumed they had been married through a contract. She couldn’t imagine Orion and Walburga being affectionate, but then again, they did have two children together. The woman was just so unpleasant, even to her husband.

“What about my parents?”

“The same,” her grandfather confirmed. “I did not set up any contracts. I gave them the choice on who they wanted to marry; it was not as though any suitor I found them would better our position.”

Narcissa nodded her understanding.

“But you’re allowing one for Bellatrix?”

Arcturus released a deep breath and nodded.

“What happened with your other sister concerns me,” he admitted. “I will not have the family name sullied further. Bellatrix is unpredictable and I will not risk her doing something stupid. I’ve even considered setting one up for Sirius, but it would only push him further away from us. I need him on side, Narcissa. He’s the only one with the balls and brains to succeed me.”

“Do you think he will?”

“I can only hope that now he is away from Walburga he will come around.”

“He’s away from Walburga?”

Arcturus nodded.

“He’s run off,” he explained irritably, “but he’s with Charlus and Dorea. I suppose he finally had enough of the old cow.”

Narcissa couldn’t blame her cousin, not really. She couldn’t imagine how awful it must be living with her Aunt Walburga. The woman was rather deranged.

“Anyway, that is not why I wanted to speak with you,” her grandfather continued, changing the subject. “How are you feeling after yesterday?”

Narcissa frowned. She didn’t know how she felt. She had done what she felt was right and although her parents and Bella didn’t agree with her, she would do it again. It was not as though she had lied to protect Harry.

“I’m fine,” she sighed. “Bella’s sulking about it though.”

Arcturus nodded.

“I know,” he huffed. “She came here last night bemoaning the fact that you and I had helped Peverell. She seems to think we should have helped Avery. I explained there was nothing to gain from it, but she wouldn’t listen. She left here in a strop.”

Narcissa could only nod. She didn’t understand why Bella was taking this so hard. She had her suspicions, of course, but had little proof.

“Grandmother said she’s been here a lot lately.”

“She has but she’s not yet made her intentions clear,” Arcturus sighed. “She thinks me an old fool who does not see through her. She is becoming quite worrisome. I don’t know whether to thank Corvus for taking her off my hands or feel sorry for his boy. He will not have it easy with her.”

No, he would not but Narcissa found it difficult to have any sympathy for Rudolphus. He was as equally unpleasant as her sister could be, but he did not have the intelligence nor wit to match.

She remembered how he had been at school. At least now he had learned to curb his more outspoken views.

“They’re a good match,” Narcissa commented.

Her grandfather eyed her questioningly for a moment before nodding his understanding.

“Then may they find happiness together,” he snorted. “And what about you? Just how did lunch with the Malfoy boy go other than what I know?”

“There was nothing else other than what I told you when he left. He used it as an opportunity to convince me not to speak up for Harry.”

Arcturus hummed disapprovingly.

“It’s always politics with them,” he grumbled. “I do not know what Abraxus expected to gain from siding with Avery, but it’s only made me certain that it is him that has spurred Lucius towards courting you. Has the boy shown any interest in you other than the lunch with the Lestranges?”

Narcissa shook her head.

“No, we barely even spoke at school and certainly not since he left.”

“Then they will need to be watched,” Arcturus mused aloud. “Albeit for me to interfere in your life, Narcissa, but be careful with them. I wouldn’t trust the Malfoys as far as I could throw them.”

“I will,” Narcissa assured him.

She didn’t know what to make of the situation, but she would heed her grandfather’s advice. He was perhaps the most astute man she knew and would not give out such a warning lightly.

“Peverell will be at the hospital tonight for his check-up?”

“He’d better be,” Narcissa huffed.

“Good, then I want you to give him this,” Arcturus replied as he reached into his top drawer and removed a sealed letter.

Narcissa accepted the missive, shrank it and placed it in the pocket of her robes.

“I’m only inviting him for a meeting. I want to get more of a measure of what type of man he is,” her grandfather explained. “What do you think of him so far? You’ve spent more time with him than most.”

Narcissa didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t given much away about himself when she thought about it. He was an orphan and was alone. That was all she knew for certain.

“I think him saving Lady Bones the way he did says more about him than anything else,” she answered thoughtfully. “He can look after himself and is sharp.”

“He is,” Arcturus agreed. “He is very observant. I saw him watching and taking note of all those that did not side with him during his trial. Abraxus and Corvus did not make a good impression.”

“He’s still risky,” Narcissa pointed out.

“He is,” Arcturus agreed, “but I would rather risk having him on side than what I suspect we are facing. I will need a strong ally, one that has nothing to gain from us or at least one who is both a strong and good man.”

“What about Charlus?”

“I can count on him, always,” Arcturus assured her, “but he may not be enough to deal with the Malfoys, the Lestranges and any other vermin that come creeping.”

“So, Harry…”

“Has not been turned by the Malfoys or any other. I would prefer to get to him first.”

Narcissa nodded uncertainly. It seemed that her grandfather was putting a lot of faith in someone he did not know.

Seemingly seeing her thoughts for himself, he spoke once more.

“You can learn a lot from looking into a man’s eyes, Narcissa. From what I saw of Peverell, he is wary, distrusting and uncompromisable. I have a good feeling about him. I know it may seem strange to you, but it would be foolish to not try to forge an alliance with him. He has more power and influence than he knows, and I can help him just as much as he can help me. As much as it pains me to say, we may need him one day.”

There was more to it than that, Narcissa could feel it. However, she would not press the issue with him. She respected her grandfather and his methods. He had not steered the family wrong thus far.

“I will make sure he gets the letter,” she assured him.

“Good, now enough of that. Whilst you are here, it would be nice to spend some time with you without all the politicking and the other crap I must deal with. When was the last time we just sat and had a game of chess?”

Narcissa smiled.

It had been longer than she cared for that the two had shared a game. He had taught her to play when she was a child and though she had yet to ever beat him, she relished the challenge.

(Break)

He nodded satisfactorily at the fruits of his labour having spent the afternoon and early evening working on fixing up his tent. It was in no way perfect and would never compare to a real house, but it was better than it had been previously. It was more homely at the very least and no longer felt as though it was merely a place for him to hide.

Using some charms and transfiguration spells from a book Dumbledore had helpfully provided him, he had repaired and improved the things that required his attention.

His living area now had a clean and polished wooden floor rather than the worn, thin carpet that had previously been there.

He had changed the colours of the walls from the duck egg blue to a mixture of forest green and cream and it now felt more homely. Until now, it had been nothing more than a space he had hidden in. He’d never considered decorating before but there was something satisfying about doing so.

He was somewhat starting afresh so it made sense to him that his home would follow suit.

He had even fixed his shower so it now produced a steady stream of hot water and not a tepid trickle. He had even gone as far as decorating the bedroom to match the living area and even transfigured a much more suitable bed and comfortable mattress.

For the first time in as long as he could remember, he felt accomplished, that he wasn’t merely living day to day, perhaps expecting to not see the next.

Checking his watch, he realised he only had around an hour before he needed to be at St Mungo’s and opted to take a shower.

“You might want to come out of there, Olin,” he commented, unsure if the raven would be happy hidden within his skin whilst he cleaned himself.

After a moment, the bird emerged and unleashed a squawk of displeasure before settling on the perch Harry had made for him.

“Death!”

Harry chuckled as he shook his head.

“Not today, my friend.”

Olin ruffled his feathers irritably and turned away from him and Harry left the raven to occupy himself.

When he re-entered the room around twenty minutes later dressed in a new, dark green robe, Olin was sleeping, his head tucked beneath his wing, as was his way.

“Are you coming?”

The raven stretched and yawned whilst eying him speculatively. After a moment, he took flight and Harry shuddered as the cold magic settled over him when Olin resumed occupying the left side of his ribs. It was a strange feeling but not one of discomfort. Perhaps he was getting used to it now.

With a shrug, he left the tent an apparated away, keen to have his final visit at the hospital over with. He had spent too many days of his life under medical care and likely would again in the future, a thought that made him girmace.

He appeared only a short walk away from St Mungo’s and when he entered, he found the waiting room empty. A bored-looking woman was seated behind the front desk inspecting her nails. Evidently, it was a quiet night, and Harry cleared his throat to get her attention.

“Yes, what do you need?” she huffed as though he was imposing on her.

“I have an appointment with Trainee-Healer Black,” he answered politely.

“Oh, it’s you, the coma one,” she acknowledged. “Everyone’s talking about you.”

Harry frowned.

“Talking about me?”

She nodded and grinned smugly as she pushed a copy of the days’ Daily Prophet towards him.

Harry grimaced as he took in the headline.

Lord Peverell Acquitted of Murder!

He hadn’t heard anyone discussing it whilst he was in the alley, but then again, he was not paying much attention to the conversations taking place around him. Much to his relief, the article was bereft of any photos of him. Had it not been, he would undoubtedly have become aware of this sooner.

“Fantastic,” he muttered unhappily.

“For what it is worth, the staff here are grateful. The press would have been much worse had a patient died on our watch. I will notify Black you’ve arrived,” she added seeing that Harry was not placated by her words.

When she left the desk to carry out her duties, Harry took a seat and waited.

He should have expected it really. He knew how the media worked in the wizarding world, and though he despised it, it would never change. Still, it could certainly be worse, they could have taken Avery’s side and painted him as a monster of sorts.

That was not a reputation he needed. In truth, he did not want a reputation at all, but he had adopted the Peverell name and that lone already had one with some of the older families here.

Perhaps he should have chosen a more obscure name, one that did not come with the connotations Peverell did.

He released a deep breath and shook his head

It was too late for that now and besides; he had been gifted the Lord’s ring for a reason. It was likely the cloaked figure expected him to use it in some way for the task ahead. He would need to ask when they next convened.

“Harry?” a familiar voice pulled him from his thoughts.

He looked up to see Narcissa Black standing in the doorway that led to the main part of the hospital and he stood, following her when she gestured for him to do so.

“Well, your leg certainly looks better,” she commented.

He nodded, finding the situation he found himself in even more surreal than he had thus far.

This woman who had been nothing but kind to him would one day be the mother of his former childhood foe; one who had grown to be a hated enemy. If he didn’t know already what was yet to come, he would find it hard to believe. However, she was a Black and Sirius said that none had any redeeming qualities about them. Had he been wrong?

Harry had his doubts. Although Narcissa and her grandfather had helped him, that alone did not tell him much. Arcturus Black would want something in return, of that, he had no doubt.

“I even managed to go for a run on it this morning,” he explained.

She offered him a guarded smile as she opened a door to an examination room and allowed him to enter first. She followed and pulled the door shut behind her, locking it for good measure.

“Take a seat,” she instructed. “I will just run a few tests and scans. Hopefully, you will have no need of further treatment.”

Harry nodded and did as he was bid.

He watched curiously as she cast the scanning spells and took notes on her clipboard before moving his leg in various directions.

When she was done, she nodded.

“You’ve recovered much faster than I thought you would,” she said as she scratched another note into the parchment. “I think you are all done here.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” he sighed. “No offense but I don’t like hospitals.”

“None taken,” she replied quietly as she held out an envelope she removed from within her robes. “This is from my grandfather. I don’t know what it says but he wants to meet with you.”

Harry nodded grimly as he took the missive.

“I suppose this is where I find out the price for his help.”

“I don’t think it is like that,” Narcissa returned uncertainly. “I think he wants an alliance of sorts with you.”

“Why would he want an alliance with me?” Harry asked confusedly.

“I don’t know the details, but something is worrying him. I’ve never seen him like this,” Narcissa explained.

Harry frowned as he pondered what could be bothering the Lord Black. Thinking back, he probably had reason to be concerned. Where he came from, the family no longer existed. He did not know the ins and outs of what had happened, but it seemed that Arcturus Black could sense something on the horizon. If nothing else, he was curious to learn just what that was. He did owe the man and Narcissa, after all.

“I will meet with him, but I don’t know what good it will do,” he replied. “I can’t think of any common ground we would have or how I can help him.”

“Neither do I but thank you. He will appreciate it.”

Harry nodded as he stood.

“And what about you, what price will you demand for your assistance?”

Narcissa shook her head.

“Nothing, I just did what I thought was right.”

“That’s very atypical of a Slytherin,” he returned without thought.

“And how do you know that I was a Slytherin?” She asked curiously.

Harry cursed internally at his slip.

“Aren’t all the Blacks?” he asked.

“No,” Narcissa denied as she folder her arms, “my cousin Sirius is in Gryffindor.”

Harry stilled at the mention of his godfather. He had given little thought to the knowledge that Sirius could well be here, not to mention his parents. That was something he was not ready to think about.

“Well, I suppose one of you had to be different.”

Narcissa eyed him suspiciously for a moment.

“And what do you know of the Hogwarts houses? It’s not as though you went.”

“True,” he answered, not even contemplating telling her the whirlwind of events that led to him being here.

“What school did you go to?” she asked.

“I didn’t,” he replied quickly. “I’m self-taught.”

It was true for the most part. He had picked up some basic skill with magic during his years at school, but it wasn’t until Dumbledore had tutored him that he had begun developing his skill to where it was it now, the rest having been picked up whilst on the run. There wasn’t much else for him to do other than prepare for a fight he didn’t believe he would win. At the very best, he could hope to make Voldemort’s wish of killing him that little bit more difficult.

“You taught yourself defence against the killing curse?” Narcissa asked disbelievingly.

“It came in handy when I needed it,” he answered with a shrug.

Once more, she eyed him suspiciously but did not press the matter.

“Well, for someone who didn’t go to school, you seem to know how to handle yourself.”

“As I said, I’m self-taught and have picked some things up over the years.”

Narcissa hummed. What that meant, he knew not but it stopped her asking anymore questions.

“Anyway, I will meet with your grandfather. It is the least I can do after what he did for me. You too,” he added.

She gave him a grateful smile as she unlocked the door and led him towards the reception area.

“Thank you, and good luck with whatever you end up doing,” she offered.

He gave her a nod before taking his leave of the hospital for what he hoped yet doubted would be the last time. Somehow, he always ended up needing medical attention and he couldn’t see that changing, not with what his future held.

He snorted before apparating back to his tent and entering. Life only always seemed to get more complicated.

Not wanting to delay the inevitable any longer, he removed and opened the note addressed to him from Lord Black.

To Lord Peverell,

I would be much be obliged if you could meet with me at my home tomorrow evening at 8pm. This letter will act as a portkey and can be activated by saying the words ‘Toujours Pur’.

I look forward to speaking with you,

Lord Arcturus Orion Black

Harry shook his head, wondering what would come of meeting with the man. Sirius had never mentioned him, and he knew not what to expect. Would Arcturus try to bully him, intimidate him into helping him with whatever he needed?

Somehow, he did not think so but that did not stop him from feeling nervous about the impending conversation.

What could a man such as Lord Black want from him?

He would find out soon enough.

(Break)

Lucius knew that voice. He had recognised it the very first time he had donned the black cloak and white mask provided for him. If the man did not wish to be known, he should have made the effort to disguise it. An error on his part.

Not that he would profess as much. His father had taught him that when one learned a secret, it should be kept until it proved to be advantageous. For now, it was not but it could soon serve him well someday.

Once again, he found himself seated amongst those that had also been brought in to serve their lord, all robed and masked as he was.

Lucius had been dubious at first when he had been approached during the summer before his seventh year of school; an odd and unexpected owl, but one he hoped would bear fruit in the future.

The more their numbers grew, the more he believed but it was not those he would consider his comrades that impressed him so. No, that honour fell to the lord they served.

Such power and skill, he had never seen. Lucius had believed his father was perhaps the most gifted wizard he would ever lay eyes upon, but the Dark Lord was something else. It was as though magic worked at his whim and he could achieve anything he wished with but a thought.

It was as frightening and equally humbling as it was eye-opening. When his lord decided to unleash himself on wizarding Britain, things would undoubtedly change. He could think of none other than perhaps his former headmaster that could hope to stand against the might of this man, and Lucius doubted that even Albus Dumbledore could.

“Our Lord insists that we do nothing,” the masked man that led their gatherings sighed for what seemed to be the fifth or sixth time. “Thomas’s death is unfortunate, but he died at the hands of a pureblood protecting another.”

“So, Peverell is allowed to get away with?”

Lucius smirked as he recognised the angry female voice that spoke. These meetings were becoming very interesting indeed and evermore fruitful.

“Yes,” the man said firmly after pausing a moment, evidently taken aback. “Our Lord is impressed with Peverell who comes from a much older family than any of you. He has seen what happened at St Mungo’s and I expect he will one day bring him into the fold, when the time is right.”

“Bring him into the fold? Didn’t he kill one of us?” the same female questioned.

“But did he do so knowing the act he carried out?” the man questioned. “He did not and may yet sympathise with our cause. Our aim is to bring together all pureblood families,” he reminded them.

The woman said nothing, but her posture was defiant as though she wished to argue. It would not be wise to do so.

“There is nothing else that must be discussed tonight. As always, I thank you for joining me and you will be contacted for a training mission in the coming days. Continue as you have by spreading word of us to those that could be allies but do so carefully.”

With his dismissal given, the man left, and the others began chatting amongst themselves. Lucius, however, followed the woman as she approached one of the apparation points and caught up to her.

“Why am I not surprised to see you here, Bellatrix?” he whispered. “I can’t imagine many would be pleased by your presence considering it was your sister that helped Peverell escape justice.”

The woman stiffened and she turned slowly to face him, her face still concealed by her mask.

“I don’t suppose my sister would be pleased to know that you’re here,” she returned. “You are trying to get in her knickers, aren’t you?”

Lucius chuckled.

If it were not for the insistence of his father, he would not bother with the younger Black. She was beautiful, but was more trouble than she was worth. He, however, had little choice. The head of his family had spoken, and he would continue to court her until he was told otherwise.

Besides, he could do much worse for himself than Narcissa Black. She merely needed to be moulded into what would be expected of a Malfoy bride.

“Dear Bellatrix, it is not a case of wanting to, as you say, get into her knickers,” he denied. “Your sister is a proper pureblood and will be treated with all the respect she deserves. Now, if you will excuse me, I have other things that require my attention, but I will see you again soon, yes?”

She said nothing and he walked past before apparating away.

He didn’t dislike Bellatrix as such, but she was more than a little unhinged, as demonstrated by her behaviour this evening. He only hoped that her sister proved to be saner.

It was bad enough that he had to marry one of them let alone one that did not have all her faculties intact.

He certainly did not envy Rudolphus.

(Break)

Nothing in his life had prepared him for what he was about to face. He had killed a basilisk, fought off dementors and even a dragon, none of which gave him the skill required to navigate a formal pureblood meeting such as this.

If he wasn’t so apprehensive, he would perhaps find the situation amusing, but there was little currently humorous about this. For all his wisdom, Dumbledore had not prepared him for moments such as these. Why would he? It’s not as though the old man could have anticipated the circumstances that led to where he found himself.

Yes, he had managed to fumble his way through the protocols whilst meeting with the Bones family, the customs he knew somehow enough to see him through a less formal experience with them.

Arcturus Black was different. In a way, Edgar Bones owed Harry for what he had done, but the Black patriarch did not. At best, they would be meeting as equals though Harry was under no illusion that the man would see it that way. He unwillingly found himself in the older man’s debt and the reputation of the family only made him more nervous as to what the price to pay would be.

It almost reminded him of a gangster movie he had heard Vernon watch from his cupboard under the stairs. He remembered little of it other than that the one who found himself owing a favour had ended up dead.

He shook his head. This was no movie, and yet, there was every chance it would play out like one.

For the life of him, Harry couldn’t understand what the man could possibly want from him. He had been pondering it all day and had drawn a blank. All that was left to do was meet with the Lord Black and hope that too much wasn’t asked of him.

Not that he would compromise his own scruples. If Arcturus overstepped, Harry would not bend to his will. He had spent his life surviving Voldemort and he was not about to be wrested under the control of the Blacks, even if that meant being at odds with them.

He was no one’s pawn, no longer a naïve boy that knew nothing of the world. The problem he did face, however was that he knew little of this one, but how different could things truly be?

“DEATH!” Olin shrieked.

“Not today, old friend, not if I can help it,” Harry chuckled, scratching the black feathers under the bird’s chin.

Despite all his worries, he would not be hostile and would afford the man the respect of his title. He had helped him after all.

The young man released a deep breath as he took in his appearance. He was wearing black formal robes for the meeting, oddly poetic in a way.

Checking his watch, he noticed that he only had two minutes until he needed to activate the portkey and he pulled his invisibility cloak he was wearing beneath his clothes tight before fastening it.

It was a precautionary measure more than anything else but one that could prove necessary if Arcturus attempted to harm him.

The wards the Blacks used were almost something of legend in wizarding Britain and Harry had experienced them first-hand thanks to his godfather and did not want to do so again.

He remembered questioning Sirius about the protections around Grimmauld Place, concerned about what would happen if they were found whilst he had hidden there.

Any fears he had were put to rest when he was shown to the main study of the house. Sirius had activated ‘The Lord’s Protections’ as he named them, and the results were far greater than he expected.

Immediately, he had felt sick, dizzy and disorientated, so much so that even reaching for his wand had made him vomit uncontrollably and fall to his knees, unable to fight off the effects.

What he did learn, however, was that when he wore his invisibility cloak, this was nullified. He felt slightly sick still, but not unbearably so. He did not understand what the cloak did to prevent it but both he and Sirius were surprised.

Even now, he would not pretend to understand it, but it could prove to save his life if Arcturus attempted such tactic.

Harry did not know the man well enough to be certain he would not.

“Come, Olin, I would prefer to have you with me,” he muttered.

The raven nodded and took up his place inside Harry’s skin, and when he was settled, the portkey was activated.

When the feeling of being hooked through the navel and nauseating spinning had passed, he found himself stood in front of a somewhat modest cottage. Though not small, it was not as grand as one would expect from a family known for their wealth and influence.

Perhaps the Lord Black was not as gaudy as the family reputation would lead one to believe.

He was soon to find out as only a moment after he arrived, the front door opened, and two figures exited and began approaching him.

As they neared, he recognised the taller, his grim visage not likely one he would soon forget. The woman that accompanied the Lord Black, however, gave him a welcoming smile; her blue eyes warm and sincere.

“Lord Peverell,” the man greeted him with a slight incline of the head. “May I introduce my wife, the Lady Melania Black?”

“It is a pleasure to meet you, my lady,” Harry acknowledged, accepting the proffered hand and brushing his lips against her knuckles. “And you also, Lord Black,” he added, extending his hand which was shaken with no hesitation.

“Of course, please, come inside,” the older man said cordially. “As a gesture of trust, I won’t request that you hand over your wands.”

“And because your ward scheme here is very impressive and would likely kill me if I tried anything,” Harry pointed out.

Arcturus Black nodded.

“If you intended to harm either my wife or myself, you would already be dead, Lord Peverell,” he returned.

Harry did not know whether to be amused or intimidated by the words but the slight grin the man wore set him at ease. Lady Black rolled her eyes and linked her arm through his whilst they approached the house.

“Caution is always admirable,” Harry commented. “You never know when a friend could become an enemy.”

“Indeed,” Arcturus replied quietly. “It is the world we live in.”

They fell into silence until they crossed the threshold of the house and the Lady Black released her grip on him and took her leave.

“This way, Lord Peverell,” Arcturus informed him, gesturing to a thick, oak door a short distance down the corridor of the entrance hall.

When they were within the room, the Black Patriarch closed and locked the door before taking a seat behind a large desk.

It was a tastefully decorated room, not one where the wealth of the family was rubbed in someone’s face but one that was neutrally coloured with the Black family crest depicted above the fireplace.

“Please, take a seat,” Arcturus offered.

Harry did so and waited for the man to speak.

“I suppose you would like to know why I helped you,” Arcturus stated.

Harry nodded.

“No offense, Lord Black, but I know enough about how this works to know you did not do it out of the goodness of your heart. There is something you want from me and I would much rather you were frank with what that is.”

Arcturus scrutinised him for a moment and nodded.

“You’re right. I did not help you out of a sense of justice,” he confirmed. “I have watched many men over the years be brought in under dubious circumstances and have not lifted a finger to help any of them. So, why would I help you? The truth is, I did very little. Just who you are would have been enough to have you acquitted. I merely helped the process along with my intervention. Your name is one older than any that occupy seats on the Wizengamot, forgotten by many but those that remember do so for a reason. Your family once held great power and influence and it could once more.”

“But that doesn’t explain why you are showing an interest in me,” Harry pointed out. “If I was able to become so powerful, would it not be in your best interest to have seen me imprisoned?”

“It would,” Arcturus agreed, “and I am taking a risk, one that I hope will benefit us both. It will not be only me that will be showing an interest in you. At this very moment, almost every Lord and Lady in this land will be trying to learn about your family and will try to gain favour. I expect they will soon be in touch, wanting to meet, offering their daughters up for marriage and seeking an alliance.”

“Because of my name?” Harry questioned disbelievingly.

“A name is everything, Peverell,” Arcturus returned. “Even if I was to become destitute, my name would command the same respect. Not even close to a millennium passing will mean much when they learn of your line. They will flock to you because of the name you carry and seize what advantage they can from an association with you.”

“Is that not what you are doing?”

“Partly,” Arcturus conceded, “but it is more than that. I would like a beneficial alliance between us, one where I will help you as much as you will help me.”

Harry released a deep breath, his thoughts a myriad of confusion and unanswered questions.

“How would I be able to help you, Lord Black?” he asked. “I won’t pretend that I have much experience with politics or anything that I think will be useful to you.”

“It is not a political alliance I am seeking, Lord Peverell. The alliance I want will see my family continue when I am gone. Already, the buzzards are circling, anticipating the day they can pick clean our remains.”

“You’re concerned about the future of your family,” Harry stated.

And it was with good reason. As far as Harry knew, the only Black that would remain in the next twenty years was Sirius.

“I would not be so if my heir was willing to take up his position, when the time is right. Only recently, he has left to live with another family. I hope that he will return, that he will change his mind, but Sirius is stubborn and strong-minded.”

Harry couldn’t agree more with the summary of his godfather.

“Without a male heir, your family would fall to another and there are those that have figured it out,” Harry replied.

Arcturus nodded severely.

“Both Corvus Lestrange and Abraxus Malfoy have already played their hands,” he sighed. “They can see what is happening, see the vulnerability and wish to be the ones to take control of the Black estate. They will not do so openly but instead make it appear as if they’re carrying out a duty to the family they have married into.”

“Married?” Harry questioned.

“With no other suitable heir, the line would fall into the hands of my son, Cygnus. He would either be killed or somehow tricked into handing it all over. Of course, it would then fall to his children, both girls who would be forced to give it up to their husbands. That is why Corvus is insisting Bellatrix marries Rudolphus and Abraxus wishes Narcissa for his own son.”

Harry stiffened as Bellatrix was mentioned. She was perhaps the most dangerous person he had ever encountered, other than Voldemort. Completely insane, deadly with a wand and armed with a short temper. It was a disastrous combination.

“A lot has to happen before that would come to pass,” Harry pointed out.

“It does,” Arcturus acknowledged, “but I can see it unfolding before my eyes. Without me, the family will be weak, my own children cosseted, spoilt and lacking the savviness needed to survive the political workings of those vultures. Sirius will do nothing to prevent it and my family legacy will be gone.”

Harry felt for the man who only a day ago had stood proudly before him, unwaveringly so. Now, he appeared old and tired, almost defeated by what he suspected was coming.

“Could you not take steps to prevent it? You could forbid the marriages taking place…”

“And alienate the rest of the family against me? Our downfall would only come quicker. I have already lost two grandchildren to their own wishes.”

“So, what would you have me do?”

“Nothing yet, but a day will come when I will call upon you for help, when the time is right. The truth is, Peverell, I need someone who cannot be swayed by others, someone who has not been soiled by politics and someone of equal standing to ensure my family legacy continues. If you can be that person, then I will help you in any way I can with your own endeavours, as two men working together in good faith.”

By the time he had finished speaking, the man had stood and offered his hand.

Harry was hesitant but could sense no subterfuge from the Black patriarch.

Would an alliance with Arcturus Black be of use to him? The man carried considerable clout and he could well use it in the future. However, he still had his reservations.

“I do not wish to slight you, Lord Black, but I think this is something I will need to consider. For us both, it is a big decision and I have not had the benefit to think on it as you have.”

The older man’s hand dropped but he offered Harry an approving grin.

“You are much sharper than I thought, Peverell,” he said. “Had you have accepted immediately, I would have questioned my own decision and perhaps lost some respect for you. I agree, you should think about it, but for the time being, I would like to invite you to a family dinner so you can see for yourself the problems I face. I would like to foster an alliance between us, one that is on equal footing. You have approached that in the right way.”

“You set this up to get more of a measure of me.”

Arcturus nodded unashamedly.

“I did but I spoke only the truth, Peverell,” he assured Harry. “I believe an alliance between us will be mutually beneficial. I can assist you with navigating the political field and you can assist me by deterring any who would wish to slight my family.”

“Strangely, that makes sense,” Harry replied after pondering it for a moment. “But does it not rely on your prediction that people will want to cosy up to me.”

“Prediction?” Arcturus chuckled. “They will be sniffing around you like so many flies on shit. Mark my words, within weeks, you will be inundated by people puckering up to kiss your arse in any way they can and you may well have me there to show you how to get the most out of it.”

Harry nodded thoughtfully. If what the Lord Black said was true, he would be out of his depth.

“That would be useful,” he mused aloud.

“Do not worry, Peverell,” Arcturus comforted as he led him from the room and out of the house. “Take some time to think about what we have discussed, and I will arrange the family dinner. I’m sure you will love my daughter-in-law, Walburga. She is such a charmer.”

Harry grimaced as the memories of the screeching portrait were pushed to the forefront of his mind.

“I look forward to it,” he returned as sincerely as he could.

“As do I,” Arcturus replied, the smirk he wore almost one of warning. “I will be in touch in the coming days.”

With his parting words given, the man returned to his home and Harry found himself where he had arrived what could only have been a little over an hour ago.

The thought of having dinner with the Blacks was not one he was relishing. He could think of nothing worse than sharing a table with Walburga and Bellatrix if they even somewhat resembled what he had encountered previously.

With a shake of his head, he apparated back to his tent but was prevented from entering by a brown owl that was standing in front of it, staring at him expectantly.

“Bloody hell,” he groaned as he noticed the piece of parchment attached to its leg.

It appeared as though Lord Black’s assessment of the situation he faced was coming true already.

With a sigh, he relieved the creature of its burden and it took flight immediately. He watched it disappear into the trees around him before entering his home and turning on the light with a flick of his wand.

The writing on the sealed envelope was not familiar to him and he wondered who would be so keen to write to him so soon.

The answer to such a question sent his heart plunging into the pit of his stomach and he found himself reading the letter several times over in disbelief.

To Lord Harry Peverell,

I do not wish to intrude upon you so soon after what you endured before and during your trial at the Ministry, but I wished to contact you before you my own offer was lost amongst the many you will undoubtedly receive.

I would like to invite you to share dinner with myself and my family this coming Friday evening as a Lord of high standing.

I know that we do not know each other, and this may seem odd, but I hope that can be remedied by meeting and talking away from the prying ears of other Lords and Ladies.

It is not your favour I seek nor am I asking for anything more than a chance to sit and converse with you as one Lord to another. I give you my word on that.

I look forward to your response and hope that you are well.

Best wishes,

Lord Charlus Potter,

Head of the Potter Family

The idea of sharing a meal with the Blacks had not filled him with excitement, and this invitation did so even less. How could he sit before a family he’d never had and not acknowledge them for what they were?

Not only would he have to do so with what he quickly understood to be his grandparents, but his father would be there, as would Sirius.

He allowed the note to fall to the floor as he swallowed the lump that formed in his throat and placed his head in his hands. He thought that the meeting with Lord Black would be the most daunting thing he would have faced in the near future. It turned out he could not have been more wrong.

This was much more terrifying.