Whispers of a Raven - In Good Faith

Chapter 8: In Good Faith

Much to her relief, this would be the final nightshift she would be working until the staff rotation came full circle once more. For the most part, she didn’t mind what had once been the quieter periods in the hospital. This was simply no longer the case anymore.

The attacks had been almost nightly over the past couple of weeks, having become more frequent and no less violent. She had lost count of how many muggles she had treated, how many all but dead pairs of eyes she had looked into and bodies she had seen be tagged before they would be disposed of.

She shook her head as she sat up in bed, the early afternoon sun pouring through her window.

Narcissa had never expected being a healer to be an easy job, but she had not been prepared for this. However, she took comfort in the fact that it would not be her dealing with the aftermath of these attacks once her next stint at St Mungo’s was complete.

Another trainee would take their turn on the frontline and maybe she could put it to the back of her mind for a while.

Not that she could forget what she had seen, nor the warring thoughts she had regarding her sister’s involvement in what was happening.

What Bella was thinking, she did not know. She would not pretend to understand the workings of her twisted logic.

Not wanting to induce a headache, she reluctantly left the comfort of her sheets and readied herself for the day.

Entering the kitchen when she was done, she was greeted by the sight of her father who appeared to be in a sourer mood than usual.

“Whatever plans you have tomorrow night, forget about them,” he grumbled. “We are all going for dinner at Walburga’s. Apparently, your grandfather has summoned the entire family.”

“I’m supposed to be having dinner with Lucius tomorrow,” She reminded him.

Cygnus shook his head.

“Then he can accompany you with us,” her father sighed. “It’s not as though he’s a stranger and Rudolphus will be there.”

Narcissa nodded.

“I will write to him and let him know.”

A part of her still didn’t understand why she had agreed to go out with him again. Perhaps it was because she knew it would be expected of her. If she declined an invitation without good reason, it would cause all manner of issues with her father.

It would not do well to be seen snubbing such a prominent heir.

He was charming in his own way and appeared to be genuinely remorseful for what happened during their first date. Both had found themselves on different sides of a disagreement, but Lucius had been the one to seek her out and apologise.

“You’d best do that now,” her father suggested.

Narcissa took her leave of the room and returned to her own.

She didn’t think her grandfather would mind. He knew Lucius’s father well enough and she doubted anyone else would object to his presence.

(Break)

For over a week, Millicent had been avoiding him, palming him off with excuse after excuse but he remained as polite as ever despite how urgent the matter was becoming. What was happening in the world had already required meaningful intervention and not the minimalist effort being given. Now, with the increase in attacks that Alastor was reporting, the were nearing a pivotal crossroads.

If the threat was not dealt with sooner rather than later, the damage would be irreparable.

Albus could not understand the Minister’s thought process. She was not an uncaring woman, if anything, she could lose herself in her compassion as she had with what transpired between Lord Peverell and Thomas Avery, so why she so content with ignoring the current plight?

He knew not but he fully intended to get to the bottom of it today.

She had finally consented to meet with him, though he suspected she was doing so reluctantly. To him, it didn’t matter. They both had a duty to wizarding Britain, and he hoped they would be able to find common ground.

Things certainly could not continue as they were.

“Come in, Albus,” Millicent sighed as he knocked on her door, the secretary stationed in front having waved him through to do so.

“Thank you for seeing me, Madame Minister,” Albus said politely, offering the woman a bow as he entered the room and closed the door behind him.

“I do wish it could have waited, Albus. As you can see, I am very busy at the moment,” she replied irritably, gesturing to the piles of parchment strewn across her desk.

“Then I will not keep you long,” Dumbledore assured her opting to stand rather than take the vacant seat opposite the Minister.

Millicent did appear to be more tired than usual, the dark circles under her eyes not well hidden and her workload seemingly never-ending if the stacks in front of her were anything to go by.

“I wished to discuss the recent spate of attacks and what is being done about them,” he explained.

Millicent narrowed her eyes at him and shook her head.

“I don’t know where you learn things that are supposed to be kept under wraps, but I will tell you the very same thing I have been telling Barty. Until there is conclusive evidence of who is behind this, then we are already doing all we can. Without proof, arrests, or clear motive, we must treat each one of these attacks as separate events. We have nothing but hearsay to go on and I will not discuss it further.”

Dumbledore shook his head disappointedly.

 “Is it not our duty to do all we can to ensure the Statute of Secrecy is upheld? Is it not our duty to protect our muggle counterparts to ensure they are not put in danger by the less desirable elements of our society? People are dying, Millicent, and it seems that little is being done to prevent it. The aurors are merely reacting to what is happening, and we are failing in our duty to those we are charged with protecting.”

“What would you have me do, Albus?” Bagnold bit back. “There is nothing for us to go on. You more than any should understand how delicate this situation is. I have heard the rumours that it is allegedly a movement that support pureblood superiority. That means that there may be members of the Wizengamot involved, even their sons, daughters or anyone else in their families.”

“You’re referring to Thomas Avery.”

Millicent nodded.

“If it is proven to be what Crouch and even I suspect, then what, Albus? What am I supposed to do?”

“You do what is right, Millicent,” Dumbledore urged. “It will not be easy, but you cannot continue to allow this to happen. The longer you wait, the worse it will be.”

“And if I act too soon it will be for nothing,” she replied defeatedly. “The purebloods are too protected by their own laws and cannot be brought in with out irrefutable proof. Look what happened with this Lord Peverell.”

Dumbledore nodded his understanding, and though he did not agree with her, he did not envy her position.

“Then you should make headway with those that you know are not involved,” he suggested.

“And how can we be certain of who is and who isn’t?”

“That is the difficulty we face,” Dumbledore conceded, “however, this movement cannot be allowed to continue as they are.”

“No, they cannot,” Millicent sighed before looking at the older man speculatively. “What would you do if you were in my position?”

“Your position is not a favourable one, but I would recommend having more sensors placed in muggle areas so that these attacks can be responded to quicker.”

“I have been considering that very idea, but I am loath to do it,” she replied. “There are many purebloods working in the department that track the sensors. If they are involved in this, then they’re in a position to warn the attackers or not notify the aurors at the very least. The magic behind them is not flawless and can be compromised easily.”

Dumbledore nodded his understanding.

“Then perhaps I can offer my assistance. If I can find some trustworthy individuals to place and monitor them, would you be amenable?”

Millicent frowned thoughtfully before nodding after a moment.

“I don’t suppose that would hurt, but if I agree to this, then I give you permission to monitor only, Albus. I will not have members of the public acting as vigilantes.”

“Of course,” Dumbledore agreed with a bow.

“Then do so but keep me informed. I will explain to Barty, he is the only one who I believe to be beyond reproach, for now.”

Dumbledore nodded and took his leave from the office, pleased that progress had seemingly been made. Now, however, he needed to find people that he trusted to carry out the task, but where to begin?

(Break)

He looked on as the two large, cloaked figures squared off, one made from sand and the other from water. He had been experimenting with his magic a lot over the past week or so and the differences he felt could not be ignored.

Before, he had been very good with defensive spells, his shields and counters having been the things he had used most. Now, it was as though his instincts were changing, his magic no longer favouring defensive work but almost spurring him into action. It was quite the paradigm shift but one he found suited him and his magic was only happy to oblige.

Still, he did not understand what these changes were. The feel of the cold magic was something he was used to but what it was doing to him was something else entirely.

It had begun almost as soon as the wand had come into his possession, the incidents where it seemingly had a mind of its own and cast spells he did not know on his behalf. It was similar to that in some ways, but he now felt he had more control over the wand; the results, however, were what differed.

The first instance had been what happened with Avery in St Mungo’s. He had fought as he always did when he found himself against a death eater, had even defended himself against the killing curse as Dumbledore taught him. The sudden urge to attack was unexpected, and when he thought back to that moment, it was an alien feeling.

He had responded to that instinct and Avery was dead because of it. The scythe that had embedded itself in the man’s chest may or may not have been his intention; he could not be sure. What he did know, having spent many hours working on it, was that he had undoubtedly changed in many ways and was still doing so the more he practiced.

Thus far, it had been a positive thing and he found the elder wand worked better for him, though there was still the nagging feeling that something was missing.

The words of the brothers played over again in his mind and he couldn’t help but think they were more important than he first believed.

With a frustrated sigh, he ended his spells and re-entered his tent to ready himself for his dinner with Blacks, frowning at the reams of parchment covering his table.

Arcturus had proven to be correct in his prediction that there would be many that wished to curry his favour. Only a week ago, the messages began arriving, some as innocent as a brief introduction followed by well wishes with others angling to discuss the possibility of alliances. The least welcome ones, however, had been the offers of marriage, of which he had received no less than three.

He did not even know how to begin managing those.

He found himself needing help and the offer from the Black patriarch was the one he was considering. The man had been blunt with what he wanted and what Harry would get in return. It became more appealing the more he pondered it. If he was allied with the Blacks, there would be less people wanting to ingratiate themselves with him, or so he hoped.

He had hoped even more so that he would be able to avoid involving himself with the politics of wizarding Britain, but that notion had been all but destroyed. It seemed that the more he tried to ignore it, the more he was pulled in and he was in danger of being out of his depth.

Why could people just not leave him alone and let him prepare for what he needed to do?

A part of him knew that a reputation and alliances would be needed. There would be those firmly against him for what he intended to do, and if anything, the experience of his trial had taught him that alliances were what mattered.

He simply needed to accept that politics would become a part of his life and he would rather be at an advantage when he delved into it. For that, he needed those allies, and none would be any more beneficial to have than Arcturus Black.

He sighed as he picked out an olive-green robe to wear for the evening.

Already, he’d had to have those he brought only a fortnight ago adjusted, the regular meals and exercise seeing him gain weight.

He had even made time to fly his broom, his visit with the Potters reigniting the passion within him beyond the daring escapes from those pursuing him. He spent at least an hour a day whizzing around the coast under a disillusionment charm and even completed some of his old quidditch workouts to supplement the flying.

For the first week of doing so, he had been sore, his body unused to the rigorous training regime of Oliver Wood, especially away from the cold that plagued Hogwarts for most of the year.

During the summer months at the beach, it was much harder. His regimen coupled with his diet and magical training was serving to make him feel better than he ever had.

This evening, however, would not be spent flying, training or practicing magic. Tonight, he would be dining with the Blacks and would need to be sharp.

Showering, ensuring that he was presented as immaculately as possible and allowing Olin to take up his place on his ribs, he took his leave of the tent and activated the portkey that Arcturus had provided only the day before.

Arriving in the familiar square and standing before the house he had once hidden in, he had to push away the overwhelming number of memories that came to the front of his mind; his nights spent in the library with Hermione after Ron had been killed, sitting at the table in the kitchen as Moody delivered news about what was going on in the outside world. Even those memories he now recalled fondly of cleaning the house when he had first been brought here before his fifth year.

He loved and loathed Grimmauld Place in equal measures.

(Break)

Arcturus looked upon his gathered family members, his jaw tight and his eyes narrowed warningly. He had no doubt that one of the fools would speak out of turn, would somehow offend their guest. He had pre-warned Peverell of what it was he would likely face and he had seemingly taken it in his stride, the last missive from him assuring the Black patriarch that the conduct of the rest of the Blacks would not influence his decision on the proposed alliance between them.

He shook his head at the memory of the raven arriving at his home. The damn bird was eerie, the childhood stories his father had told him of the ominous family perhaps skewing his view of the creature. It seemed to have taken a liking to his wife, however, who had fed it raw meat whilst Arcturus had written his reply to the young Lord.

“Ah, that will be Dorea,” he announced as the wards notified him of an arrival via the fireplace in the adjoining room.

As expected, his sister entered the room only a moment later. Much to Arcturus’s surprise, she was joined by her husband and the atmosphere at the table shifted immediately.

His younger son stiffened in his seat and Walburga openly glared at the Potter lord. That was not a quarrel the woman would want and Charlus was already furious with the woman’s treatment of Sirius. It was in her best interest that she did not provoke him.

Arcturus, though taken aback, was pleased to see his friend. It had been too long since they had dined together.

“Charlus,” he greeted the man warmly as he stood and took the man’s hand in his own. “What brings you here?”

“I thought I’d better show my face, it’s been a while,” Charlus replied easily, “and to let you know that Sirius is doing well. He has asked me to collect his belongings whilst I’m here. Sorry, old friend, but I don’t think he will be coming back.”

Arcturus deflated and nodded his understanding. He would rather his heir remained within the family, but he could not blame him.

“Ha, there is nothing of his left. I burned it,” Walburga cackled.

Arcturus felt his anger immediately begin bubbling under the surface but was cut off from speaking by the man in front of him.

“I should have expected nothing less,” Charlus replied. “I can only hope that Sirius is as forgiving as you when he takes his place as head of your family. Don’t worry, Walburga, I will make sure he has everything he needs, and you can one day reap what you sow.”

Walburga sneered but Arcturus held up a hand to prevent her from speaking.

“You will hold your tongue and we will be discussing this later,” he warned.

The woman said nothing but turned her nose up at him and Arcturus gestured for his sister and brother-in-law to take a seat.

The table was now almost full with only one space remaining.

Cygnus and Druella were here along with Bellatrix, Rudolphus, Narcissa and Lucius, the presence of the latter being a surprise, but it mattered not. If anything, it would show both Corvus and Abraxus that he was not as weak as they believed. They would be more reticent if they knew he had a strong ally on his side other than Charlus; if Peverell accepted his offer.

With how he expected the young Lord’s influence to grow, he hoped so. He would feel much more secure with another ally of equal standing to himself.

“And I believe that our guest has arrived,” he announced as he stood, ignoring the look of excitement that adorned Bellatrix’s face.

Had she convinced herself that she had won him over and he had invited the pureblood group leader here?

If so, she was more foolish than he believed. If he was to meet with the man, it would not be with his entire family present.

No, he had proven to be a danger already and Arcturus wanted no part of what he was up to.

Dark Lord’s came and went, and with them, the demise of families. What did happen, without fail, was they never won. Never in history had a Dark Lord emerged victorious in conflict, not on British soil anyway and this one would be no different.

“I will fetch him, and you will all be on your best behaviour,” he warned for a final time knowing his words would fall on deaf ears with many that had gathered.

(Break)

The door to number twelve opened and Lord Black emerged from within, gesturing for him to stay where he was. Harry understood why, the wards here were perhaps the most unforgiving he had come across and he would likely need to be given permission to enter.

“You have my apologies, Lord Peverell but I must escort you into the property,” the older man explained as he reached him.

Harry nodded and followed.

“I should also apologise for what you will face,” Arcturus added irritably. “We have more guests than I expected but I’m sure you will handle them admirably. Just remember, you are a Lord. Don’t be afraid to put the likes of Malfoy and Lestrange in their places.”

Harry felt his hand flex instinctively towards is wand. He could think of very few worse dinner guests than Voldemort. Sharing a table with Lestrange, Malfoy, and Bellatrix would be the next three least desirable people.

Nevertheless, it was none of those he had come to see. Perhaps he may even learn something about the trio. Not that he cared either way. Chances were, he would find himself at odds with them in the future. He didn’t believe anything he did would change that outcome.

“Harry!” Dorea greeted him enthusiastically, even standing and wrapping her arms around him in a tight embrace.

At first, he thought she was being a little too familiar but what she had done was a statement to those gathered round the table. Taking in the odd looks that adorned the rest of the gathering, he was grateful for it.

“Lady Potter,” he greeted her just as warmly. “It’s good to see you again, and yourself of course, Lord Potter,” he added to Charlus who stood and shook his hand firmly.

“I’ve already told you, Harry, you may call me Charlus,” the man replied with faux irritation.

He had not said as much. In fact, Harry had written only twice to each of them since they had met, but again, it was said as a statement and he could not help but think the two Potters had planned this before they arrived. He was grateful for it, and it may even serve to deter the Blacks from attempting to intimidate or insult him.

“You know each other already?” Arcturus questioned, a confused frown wrinkling his brow.

“I reached out to Lo-Charlus after my trial,” Harry explained. “He was one of the very few who helped, and I wanted to show my gratitude.”

“He joined us for dinner almost a fortnight ago,” Dorea added.

Arcturus nodded his approval as he turned towards the other guests.

“For those of you that do not know, this is Lord Harry Peverell,” he introduced Harry to those seated around the table. “This is my oldest son, Orion, his wife Walburga and their youngest son, Regulus.”

Harry offered each a nod.

“Would Sirius be their eldest?” he asked.

“He is,” Arcturus confirmed. “I can only assume that you met him whilst visiting Charlus and Dorea.”

“I did. He was a very sharp boy and a credit to you,” Harry replied.

Arcturus almost smirked as he turned towards the second group, ignoring a seething Walburga.

“This is my youngest son, Cygnus, his wife, Druella, their daughter Bellatrix, and her fiancé, Rudolphus Lestrange. You already know Narcissa, and her escort for this evening is Lucius Malfoy.”

The urge to kill three of them where they were seated was difficult to ignore, but he managed to offer each a polite, albeit stiff nod of acknowledgement. Both Lucius and Rudolphus looked at him curiously and Bellatrix with utter contempt.

Narcissa appeared to be surprised by his arrival and stared at him longer than what would be deemed polite.

“Come, take a seat, Lord Peverell,” Arcturus broke into his thoughts, gesturing to a seat next to his own. “I must say, you’re looking much healthier than the last time we met. I don’t suppose an injury such as yours or spending time in Azkaban was kind to you.”

“No,” Harry agreed as he made himself comfortable. “I’ve managed to exercise, eat properly and even found time for flying since I was freed.”

“Are you a quidditch player, Lord Peverell?” Malfoy questioned politely.

Harry fought the urge to kick the blonde under the table.

“Not for a while,” he answered. “I’m thinking about getting back into it.”

“James will be furious if you don’t,” Charlus interjected with a chuckle. “He is adamant that he will beat you next time.”

Harry grinned but his attention was drawn to the youngest member at the table.

“You beat James Potter at quidditch?” Regulus demanded.

It was strange seeing the boy having heard Sirius speak of him. One of his godfather’s biggest regrets was what happened to his younger brother/

“Not at quidditch but flying an obstacle course,” Harry explained.

Regulus nodded appreciatively.

“What position do you play?”

“I played seeker.”

“Maybe I can convince Slughorn to let you come and train us. We might stand a chance at winning the cup next year,” the boy mused aloud.

“I’m sure Lord Peverell has much more important things to concern himself with other than Hogwarts quidditch,” Cygnus sighed. “He’s barely out of the hospital and Azkaban.”

Regulus scowled at his uncle but said nothing.

“And how has your freedom been, Lord Peverell?” Arcturus asked, seemingly to head off any unpleasantness that his younger son may instigate.

Harry snorted and shook his head.

“I can only wish that you’d been wrong with your prediction of how many people would write to me,” Harry answered honestly.

Arcturus smirked as he leaned forward.

“How many?”

“Eleven Lords and four Ladies so far,” Harry mumbled.

Arcturus chuckled.

“How many of those discussed the possibility of a marriage contract?” Lady Black pressed, her eyes alight with amusement.

“Discussed?” Harry returned. “Three of them were outright offers and four others hinted at it.”

This time, Arcturus laughed heartily whilst the other guests muttered amongst themselves.

“I expected such,” the Black Lord said smugly. “Who are the lucky prospects?”

Harry frowned as he tried to remember the names of the daughters that had been offered to him as though they were a prized goat.

“Floella Parkinson, Maria Ogden and Cara Rosier,” he reeled off.

“You were offered Cara Rosier?” Rudolphus choked. “Lucky git.”

Bellatrix shot him a look of disgust, as did her mother, though Lucius nodded his agreement with the boy.

“I would remind you, Rudolphus, that your fiancée is sat next to you and Cara is my niece,” Druella chided.

Rudolphus had the decency to look abashed and mumbled an apology.

“They just offered them up for marriage without meeting you?” Narcissa asked disgustedly.

Harry could only shrug, taken aback slightly by her reaction.

“Of course, they did,” Arcturus chuckled, “Peverell will have half the Lords with daughters young enough thrown at him. They only give a shit about his name and the influence that it will bring them.”

“That’s why I will tell them to bugger off,” Harry replied. “I won’t be marrying anyone for political reasons.”

“So, you think you’re better than everyone else?” Walburga snarked.

Harry turned towards her and shook his head. She truly was an unpleasant woman.

“No,” he denied, “but I don’t want to end up stuck with someone I can’t stand just because it might make people think better of me. I couldn’t give a toss what any Lord or Lady think.”

Arcturus snorted.

“That’s why I like you, Peverell. You say it how it is.”

“Not that you will not decline the offers politely,” Dorea said pointedly. “I’m sure you will handle it with respect and in a way that will not cause offence.”

“I will,” Harry conceded.

Dorea offered him a smile as the first course was placed on the table by a very familiar house-elf.

(Break)

She had been blindsided by his appearance. She had thought this dinner to be another one of many expected gatherings to celebrate Bella’s engagement to Rudolphus. With her sister still not talking to her, she had not thought to question the reason for being here. Harry appearing had been a surprise and she felt very conscious that Lucius was here with her. Would Harry question it?

Not that he had paid much attention to her other than acknowledging her with a nod as he did everyone else.

It irritated her slightly. After everything they had been through over the course of his recovery, she thought she deserved at least a hello and him asking how she had been.

Evidently, he was doing well. He looked healthy, had gained weight and even caught the sun doing whatever he had been up to. He looked almost like a completely different person to the unkempt, underweight and injured man she had met the night he had woken up in St Mungo’s.

She had snorted at the mention of the marriage contracts, quietly enough that it had gone unnoticed by most, but Lucius had shot her a questioning look that she ignored.

When she learned who had offered up their daughters, it had irritated her. These Lords were trying to take advantage of Harry’s naivety by having him marry into their families. She had balked at the audacity of Parkinson and Ogden. She knew Maria and Floella. They certainly didn’t deserve such an advantageous match, the Lord’s of their families reaching far above their station.

Her cousin Cara, on the other hand, would be a good match for him. She was beautiful, intelligent and perhaps the most talented witch Narcissa had met. Many Lords had tried to match their sons and heirs with her and had been rebuffed at every turn by Uncle Evan.

Rumour had it, he even turned Abraxus away when he had broached the subject. For him to offer her to Harry only spoke of either his ambition to better the Rosier standing or he felt that someone was finally worthy of his daughter.

Narcissa felt uneasy about the prospect of that match coming to fruition. Cara had always managed to make her feel inferior without even trying. She was simply that girl, someone who caught the attention of the opposite sex effortlessly. Even the Gryffindors boys at school had tried, despite Cara being a Slytherin.

No, that match did not sit right with her and she didn’t even know why. If she was thinking about it from an unbiased perspective, it would be a good match for them both. What was worse was that she did not know who she was trying to protect with her protest. Harry and his naivety or Cara from the unknown.

The latter made no sense to her, but she dismissed it without further thought, silently thanking her mother for breaking the silence that had fallen.

“I do hope my brother was courteous when he wrote,” she said to Harry. “Evan can be a little eager at times.”

“He was,” Harry replied. “Honestly, his was one of the less pushy letters I received, as was the one from Lord Malfoy.”

“My father wrote to you?” Lucius questioned with a frown.

“He did, but I wouldn’t worry, he didn’t offer me your hand in marriage.”

Most around the table laughed at the quip as Lucius flushed, and although Harry was smiling easily enough, there was a hint of something beneath it. Narcissa got the impression he did not like Lucius much, even having only been in the same room for less than an hour.

“You’d look ugly in a dress, Lucius,” Rudolphus guffawed, eliciting a glare from the blonde.

“Whereas you would be the picture of feminine beauty,” the blonde retorted.

Rudolphus grinned as he nodded his agreement with the sarcastic rebuttal.

“Touché,” he replied. “I imagine we would both look ridiculous.”

That was an odd display of diplomacy from the Lestrange heir, something that did not suit what Narcissa knew of the man. Usually, he was quick to anger, belligerent and rather unpleasant. Maybe he had grown up since leaving Hogwarts.

“Parkinson and Ogden overstep but the Rosiers are an old family. A match with Druella’s niece would be mutually beneficial,” her grandfather spoke to Harry. “Evan has cultivated some excellent relationships and is politically neutral for the most part.”

Narcissa frowned as even her Aunt Dorea nodded her agreement.

Why were they so keen to see Harry married off so quickly? She felt an odd sense of protectiveness over him. Perhaps it was that she had nursed him back to health or that she knew how inexperienced he was with political matters?

“I will take that under advisement,” Harry answered. “I will not dismiss the idea out of hand but will err on the side of caution.”

Narcissa could not believe he was considering the idea. She would have thought he would be firmly against it. Just how much had he spoken to her grandfather over the past two weeks?

The Harry she had spoken to in the hospital would not be so accommodating. Was he merely placating her grandfather?

Being unable to figure him out left her frustrated and with many questions she would not ask in current company.

Any thought she did have of speaking up died on her tongue as Bellatrix spoke, her eyes wide and innocent as she asked a question that left the table in an uncomfortable silence.

(Break)

“What do you think of the new pureblood movement, Lord Peverell? Have you been approached about it yet?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry could see Lucius glaring at Bellatrix and Rudolphus busied himself by staring at his plate with sudden interest. Everyone else, however, was staring at him, he could feel it, though his eyes were firmly on the violet ones of the eldest Black daughter.

“That is not a question to be asked at the dinner table, Bellatrix,” Arcturus snapped.

“No, it’s quite alright,” Harry replied as he leaned forward in his chair. “I’ve not been approached and it’s not likely I would be welcomed as a member after killing Avery.”

Bellatrix nodded, her lips parted slightly in an almost sultry smile.

“But you didn’t answer my first question,” she pointed out. “What do you think of the pureblood movement?”

“Bellatrix! That is enough,” Druella warned.

Harry met her challenging gaze with one of his and smirked.

“Personally, I think a group of privileged purebloods running around in masks attacking muggles who cannot defend themselves and already injured women in their beds is the most cowardly thing I’ve ever seen,” he declared, eliciting a look of fury from the woman. “If you truly believe in a cause, you would not hide behind a mask. Put your face to it and stand up for what you believe in.”

“You’re a muggle lover,” Bellatrix sighed disappointedly, the atmosphere having grown tense at their back and forth.

Harry shook his head.

“No,” he denied, “some of the scars I carry came from muggles who called me a freak and made my life miserable. My experience with them has not been good I just see no value in attacking them needlessly. What even is this pureblood movement all about?”

“It is about retaining our rights,” Bellatrix answered passionately.

“And what rights are being threatened?” Harry fired back. “Your name alone affords you privilege that others do not have. You will be given priority for any job or opportunities that arise in our world and other, maybe more suitable and talented will be pushed aside because they do not have a name like yours or mine. So, tell me, what is it really about?”

Bellatrix glared at him, and Harry cut her off before she could give him an asinine answer.

“This is about nothing but power, something purebloods have more of than anyone,” he continued. “If this were about preserving tradition and not diluting blood, why would the Bones family have been targeted? Surely, whomever is behind this ridiculousness knows they are a family older than most? What reason would they have to attack them? None, so let’s not pretend this is about anything more than some fool grasping for more than they have under the guise of something else. Anyone supporting this person is either a moron for believing the crap they’re being fed or are using it as an opportunity to exert their cruelty on those weaker than them.”

Those around the table looked on in varying states of shock at his outburst. Bellatrix and Rudolphus, however were personally affronted by his words with no rebuttal to offer.

“You seem to have thought deeply about this, Lord Peverell,” Lucius broke in.

“When I face an inordinate amount of time with the Dementors for killing a snivelling coward who is trying to murder a woman in her hospital bed, it tends to get my attention, Malfoy,” Harry retorted. “By the way the three of you have reacted, I can only assume you have been approached at the very least. Tell me, who is leading this movement? I don’t suppose you know. He’s a mysterious figure of great power who promises change in the world and has you hanging on to his every word?”

Lucius said nothing as Rudolphus stared dumbly at him as though Harry had performed an incredible mindreading trick. Bellatrix reacted differently, trembling in rage as she clenched her jaw.

She was likely infuriated by what he said, and ever more likely infuriated that she did not have a counter to anything he had said.

“So, to answer your question, I think the pureblood movement is made up of cowards and idiots who have no understanding of the privilege they have in life and are being led by a fool with delusions of grandeur.”

“What kind of pureblood are you?” Bellatrix seethed.

“Whoever said I was a pureblood?” Harry returned darkly, his irritation slowly getting the better of him.

Several people around the table gasped and Bellatrix’s eyes widened.

“You dare?” she whispered dangerously. “You dare lay your filthy hands on a pureblood? You dare kill one of your betters?”

Harry chuckled.

“I didn’t lay a hand on him, I killed him with my wand. There goes any argument you have that purebloods are superior in magic.”

The irate woman shot to her feet but was immediately propelled backwards and stuck to the wall as she drew her wand.

“That is enough, Bellatrix!” Arcturus growled. “You will apologise to Lord Peverell.”

“I will not!” Bellatrix refused heatedly, fighting against the magic that held her. “I’m going to kill him!”

“Bella, control yourself!” Druella pleaded.

Harry stood, his eyes firmly on the bound woman, the cold magic he had become accustomed to filling his veins and slowly clouding his mind.

“Repeat what you just said,” he demanded in just above a whisper.

“I’M GOING TO KILL YOU!” Bellatrix shrieked, her eyes bulging in their sockets.

Even Rudolphus looked at her in concern as she continued to struggle, the maniacal countenance of his fiancé evidently taking him by surprise.

“Then who am I to deny you the opportunity,” Harry replied coldly.

He did not know what had come over him. He was not one to walk so easily into a fight like this, but he could not ignore the urge of the magic that was spurring him on.

Everyone at the table had turned towards Arcturus who shook his head and sighed defeatedly.

“You must allow it,” Walburga hissed. “Let the filthy mudblood be put in his place.”

“Be quiet, Walburga,” Arcturus spat.

“You cannot let him get away with it, he must be punished!”

“I told you to be quiet,” Arcturus warned.

“I WILL N…”

“Crucio!”

Walburga screamed as she fell from her chair, the Black patriarch unable to exercise anymore patience with the woman. He ended the curse a moment later and stared almost indifferently at her trembling form.

“I told you to shut up,” he muttered before turning his attention back to Bellatrix. “You speak out of turn, girl. I have tolerated your incessant pleas and mad ramblings about this movement for too long. You have jeopardised a potential alliance, have insulted and threatened a guest. For that, you will apologise.”

“I will not apologise,” Bellatrix growled. “You’re siding with a mudblood who has killed one of our own.”

“Then you will get no assistance from me,” Arcturus returned. “You will face the consequences of your actions. If you wish to attempt to harm Lord Peverell, then you and you alone will face him. As the head of this family, there will be none that intervene.”

He then turned towards Harry who nodded.

“I do not take threats against my life lightly. She drew her wand on me and will do so again if given the chance. If she wishes to try to kill me, then I’m happy to oblige.”

“Harry, no…” Dorea tried, silenced by Charlus who shook his head severely.

“You do not draw a wand on a Lord nor guests when they have been welcomed into a home,” he reminded her.

“Then it’s settled,” Arcturus murmured grimly. “This can be done now or arranged for a later date.”

“Perhaps both should sleep on it and allow a cooler mind to prevail,” Druella suggested. “This does not have to be resolved with violence.”

She was concerned for her daughter and Harry could understand that, but he would not waver.

“I see no reason to delay the inevitable.”

It was almost as though it was not him speaking, but a side to him that had never surfaced before. It was odd but satisfying to stand up for himself like this.

“I’ll kill him now,” Bellatrix agreed, visibly excited by the prospect.

“Very well. If this is going to happen now, then you can use the duelling area in the basement,” Arcturus announced.

“No,” Charlus disagreed. “It will be done on neutral grounds. We can go to Potter Manor where I control the wards.”

Arcturus reluctantly nodded his agreement.

“Then we will meet you there. Dorea will stay to allow us entry.”

“Come, Harry,” Charlus instructed.

Harry followed the man from the room and into the adjoining one. He watched as a silent Charlus threw a handful of floo powder into the fireplace, bringing it to life.

“Just call for Potter Manor and I will let you in,” he said before disappearing into the flames.

Harry took a deep breath and followed suit.

Only a moment later, he found himself in the entrance way of the Potter home.

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Charlus questioned. “Bellatrix is a Black in every sense of the word. She should not be taken lightly.”

“I know, but it is her that is taking me lightly.”

Charlus offered him a nod of understanding and led him through to the kitchen and onto the grounds where James and Sirius were evidently putting in some practice on the Quidditch pitch.

“Come back for a rematch, Peverell?” James called when he spotted him.

“Not tonight, James,” Charlus answered. “Something…unpleasant happened during dinner and Harry and Bellatrix need to settle their differences.”

“You’re going to fight Bellatrix?” Sirius questioned disbelievingly. “She’s coming here?”

“You do not have to see them, Sirius, you can make yourself scarce,” Charlus offered.

“Too late,” James sighed, pointing towards the group of people exiting the house and coming their way. Even Walburga had managed to attend, though she looked rather worse for wear.

“Don’t worry, Sirius, none would dare harm you here. You are under my protection,” Charlus assured the shaken teen who nodded gratefully.

“Are you really going to fight her, Peverell?” James whispered as the group neared.

“I am,” Harry muttered.

“Terms need to be discussed,” Cygnus declared. “There will be no fight without terms.”

“What are your terms?” Harry questioned.

“There will be no seconds. The fight is between you and Bella only. Potter will not involve himself.”

Harry frowned, unsure whether the man believed Charlus would involve himself or he merely wanted to take a dig at the Potter lord.

“Anything else?”

“When this is over, this madness ends here,” Arcturus broke in. “There will be no grudge held on either side, regardless of the outcome.”

“Agreed,” Harry replied easily.

He didn’t have anything against anyone else in the family, yet. Walburga was a sorry excuse for a human but Arcturus had to deal with her.

“Then I wish you both luck,” Arcturus said unhappily, displeased by the turn of events.

Harry nodded as Bellatrix all but skipped to take up her position.

“Olin,” he called, remembering his companion was with him.

The raven appeared in a burst of smoke and sat upon Harry’s shoulders, his white eyes glowing ominously.

“DEATH!” he shrieked, startling the group and eliciting murmurs amongst them.

“Yes, old friend,” Harry soothed as he stroked the bird’s feathers. “Someone may meet him tonight.”

With a squawk, Olin took to the sky and Harry took his place opposite Bellatrix, sliding the elder wand into his hand.

“When you’re ready,” he said, offering the woman a slight bow.

Without preamble, Bellatrix fired a string of hexes towards him.

Harry sidestepped them with ease and frowned.

This was certainly not the Bellatrix of his time, the one who most dreaded encountering. She had not yet experienced what she perhaps one day would, but was a woman young, deranged undoubtedly, but not the witch of nightmares.

Harry, however, was experienced. At his young age, he had endured much of the worst the world had to offer and Bellatrix Black could not compare to Bellatrix Lestrange. She had not suffered; she had not watched her friends die and she had not had to learn to survive as Harry had.

She was good, fast and precise with her spell work but she was making mistakes. He could see what she was going to do even before the magic left her wand.

During his many months living in the Black home, he had digested all that would be useful from the Black library. He recognised the gouging curse, the one that would pull your guts out through your navel and even the obscure mist that would burst your eyeballs in their sockets. To him, these were old friends; the magic the Blacks wielded as familiar to him as any.

“FIGHT BACK!” Bellatrix screeched as he nullified her latest offering with a wave of his wand, the spells sent his way engulfed by a black fog of his own that dissipated into nothingness, vanishing her magic with it.

With a nod, he complied. Taking a deep breath, he allowed his magic to wash over him and sent his rebuttal.

(Break)

Narcissa looked on fearfully as Harry and Bella squared off, unsure of what would transpire. She had seen that Harry could defend himself, but Avery was not her older sister. Bellatrix had been trained in the family magic since the day she received her wand, was without doubt the best duellist at Hogwarts during her time there and terrifyingly gifted.

She could not help but think that Harry had bitten off more than he could chew.

She watched in disbelief as Bella’s efforts were rebuffed with what appeared to be little effort, the magic of her family - so feared by much of wizarding Britain - not fazing the Peverell lord. In fact, he was almost unmoved and unconcerned by the spells being used against him, as though they were little more than a tickling jinx.

“Impossible,” her grandfather mumbled from next to her as he too took in the spectacle.

She had never seen the man so shocked but had little time to consider it much as Bellatrix screamed furiously.

“FIGHT BACK!”

Almost immediately, she felt a wave of coldness wash over her as Harry obliged and Bella could only throw herself to the ground to avoid the four spells that seemingly materialised from nowhere. Her sister, however, was not granted a respite.

A Second wall of coldness slammed into Narcissa and those around her as a bright, white light erupted from Harry’s wand, though it did not head towards the downed Bellatrix. Instead, it exploded in a shower of what she thought was giant sparks until wings emerged from the dozens of glimmering balls and they formed into ethereal ravens.

 As one, they cawed loudly and set upon Bella, seizing her by her robes. She screamed in surprise and struggled, but they lifted her in the air until her voice could only be heard distantly, the ravens having carried her beyond where the group could see.

An anticipatory silence fell over them, each wondering just what had happened. Before any could speak, the screaming drew nearer once more and the unkindness of ravens deposited the woman, sending her skidding across the ground.

Even as she slid, the ravens coalesced in her path into a large, cloaked figure that seized her firmly by the throat and lifted her from the ground. From where she stood, Narcissa could hear her sister gasping for air as she was dragged carried towards Harry.

“Arcturus put an end to this madness. He has proven his point,” Druella choked.

Her grandfather looked on wide-eyed at what was unfolding before him but shook his head.

“I’ll do it,” Rudolphus declared.

Before any could intervene, he fired a spell towards Harry only to balk as it was stilled in mid-air a few feet away from its target. It wasn’t the display of defensive magic that took them all aback, but the white eyes that had turned towards them for a moment and then returned to gazing at Bellatrix who dangled helplessly in front of the man.

Narcissa felt sick seeing Bella’s eyes bulging and her pale skin turning blue as the air was squeezed from her. She knew that she had brought this on herself, but she was still her sister.

Without further thought, she walked towards the two of them, ignoring the voice of her grandfather as she approached.

“Harry, please!” she said more calmly than she felt.

(Break)

He looked at Narcissa and then Bella, deciding what he would do and sighed as he vanished the cloaked figure with a wave of his wand.

He hadn’t asked for this and it had been her that threatened him. For too long, he had been on the receiving end of threats. From the Dursley’s to Voldemort and even the other death eaters and snatchers. They had all threatened to end his life at some time in his life.

He was tired of it, but he owed Narcissa and even Arcturus for what they had done for him and he had already drawn more attention to himself than he cared for.

Bellatrix gasped for air as she was dropped to the floor, terrified by what had happened to her and she looked up at him almost pleadingly.

“You owe your sister your life,” Harry muttered. “Your brought this on yourself and I would think very carefully about approaching me again. Next time, I will kill you.”

With his parting words given, he turned and headed towards a pale and unmoving Arcturus Black.

“We are even. I spared her life and any debt that existed between us is paid in full. I hold no grudge against you, Lord Black, but I will not be threatened by any. I came to you in good faith and this happens? I think it is best that any alliance between us is postponed for the time being.”

With an almost sad and apologetic nod towards the Potters, he whistled for his companion who landed on his shoulder.

“DEATH!” Olin screeched.

“Not today, old friend,” Harry murmured and the two of them vanished in a plume of black smoke, leaving behind a very dumbfounded group of pureblood wizards and witches.

(Break)

What he had witnessed was nothing short of his childhood fears brought to life in front of his eyes and Arcturus Black could only stare at the space that Peverell had occupied. Perhaps the stories his father told him influenced how he felt, but he had never seen anything like it. Bellatrix was very well-versed in their family magic, had brought him much pride with how she had dedicated herself to it over the years and it seemed to be for nothing.

Peverell had neutralised it as though it was little more than a bothersome insect to swat away.

“Home, now,” he whispered as Narcissa helped her stumbling sister towards where he stood. “All of you!” he added sternly. “Not you, Rudolphus, this is family business.”

“I will ensure him and Lucius get home,” Charlus offered.

Arcturus nodded gratefully and followed his own family members as they trailed towards the Potter home, each of them remaining silent as they passed through the fireplace back to Grimmauld Place. He was the last one through and joined them in the dining room they had left what felt like hours ago.

“Don’t say a fucking word,” he spat as they took their seats, Arcturus choosing to remain standing at the head of the table. “What a bloody mess.”

“You can’t let him get away with this,” Walburga growled.

“Let him get away with it?” Arcturus returned. “Did you just see what happened? Were you paying attention to anything that happened tonight, you stupid woman?”

“He almost killed Bella,” Walburga seethed pointing to her still shaken niece.

“Who provoked the entire situation with her stupidity,” Arcturus bit back. “I invited him here as a guest and she drew her fucking wand on him. He was well within his rights to kill her. What do you think the other lords will say when they find out that a guest was treated that way? They will be questioning why Peverell did not kill her.”

“I’ll get him next time,” Bellatrix wheezed, and Arcturus shook his head in disbelief.

“Next time? So long as you carry the name Black, there will be no next time. If you wish to shame yourself further, you will do it with the lesser name you will soon have. Until then, you will do as you’re told, girl, and be grateful that you are breathing.”

“You’re overreacting father,” Cygnus sighed.

“You only think that because you have shit between your ears, boy,” Arcturus fired back. “Think about the consequences of this evening, you buffoon, really think about them.”

Cygnus scowled at him and Arcturus cut him off, not in the mood for whatever insolent comeback was on the tip of his son’s tongue.

“Already, people are swarming around Peverell as though he shits gold, throwing their daughters at him left, right, and centre without even meeting the bloody man. When they learn of what happened tonight, and believe me, they will, what do you think is going to happen? What kind of price do you think the Lords and Ladies of wizarding Britain will be willing to pay to have an alliance with the man that pissed all over the Blacks? The bastards will empty half the damned wealth in their vaults for that alliance.”

“Then we should be thankful that Peverell will not hold a grudge against us,” Orion offered. “Unless anyone here thinks they can hope to stand against him? No, I didn’t think so,” he concluded when none disagreed.

Arcturus nodded, appreciating the rare bout of wisdom from his eldest son.

“We had better hope that he proves to be a man of his word and that I can somehow salvage something from this,” he muttered. “I did not fight to see him free only to have him as an enemy.”

For once, most of the Blacks were thoughtful, humbled by what they had witnessed this evening. Although Bellatrix had vowed her revenge, she would be foolish to do so whilst she still called herself Black.

Narcissa was shaken by what she had seen, but more than anything, she thought about the look of sadness that Harry had worn after he spared Bella’s life. He felt betrayed and, in that moment, she remembered that he didn’t have anyone else, that he would be just as lonely as he had been before she met him.

He didn’t deserve what happened this evening, Bellatrix had been out of line. Narcissa loved her sister very much but she had shown her true self, shown where her loyalties lie, and it was not with her family. She had made her intentions known, had given herself to the pureblood movement.

There had been times when the blonde couldn’t quite believe the things that her sister had done, but she had never been more disappointed in her than she was now.

A part of her wanted to be angry with Harry, to blame him for what had occurred, but she couldn’t. He did the only thing he could in that moment and stood strong. Bella acted as she always did when she could no longer argue, and it had backfired spectacularly. Usually, these things tended to end in her favour, but she had met her match this time. As much as she felt obliged to side with her sister, this was all Bella’s fault.

(Break)

“What happened, Lucius?” Abraxus asked his unusually quiet son.

The younger man shook his head, seemingly trying to find the words to explain exactly what he had seen.

“I had dinner with the Blacks and Lord Peverell was there.”

Abraxus frowned unhappily. He expected Arcturus to begin cultivating a relationship with the wayward lord but inviting the man to dine with his family meant that he was closer to cementing an alliance with him than expected.

“What is he like, this Peverell?” he questioned curiously.

Lucius shook his head.

“He said that he’s already had offers of marriage and several Lords have written to him.”

Abraxus nodded. He had been one of the lords to do so and had yet to receive a reply.

“That’s not it though,” Lucius sighed.

“What do you mean?”

Lucius shrugged uncertainly almost as though he was trying to come to terms with something.

“I think it’s better if you see everything for yourself.”

Abraxus fetched his pensieve whilst Lucius removed a memory, his demeanour beginning to concern the Malfoy lord. Just what had happened to leave his son so visibly shaken?

As he exited the stone basin sometime later, he understood and poured himself and heir a generous measure of firewhiskey.

“This changes things,” he mused aloud. “If Lestrange was not there, perhaps it could have been kept under wraps, but the boy cannot keep his mouth shut. How good is Cygnus’ daughter?”

“She is a very formidable opponent,” Lucius answered honestly.

Abraxus nodded.

“I take comfort in knowing that Black has not secured his alliance with Peverell, however, it means that everyone will be vying for it. I have never seen anything like what he did.”

“What will we do, father?” Lucius asked.

Abraxus frowned thoughtfully as he nodded.

“We find a way to turn this into an advantage for ourselves,” he replied. “I do not know how, but I will think of something.”

“Of course,” Lucius agreed, still oddly subdued. “And what about the Blacks? Do you still wish for me to continue courting Narcissa?”

“For now, yes, but do not ingratiate yourselves too much with them. If I am successful, it may be best that we are distanced from them. With everything that is happening around us, a powerful ally like Peverell is worth his weight in gold and everyone else will know it.”

“Father, shouldn’t we be siding with the purebloods? You heard Peverell…”

“No,” Abraxus interrupted. “I would have thought that by now you would understand that blood means little when it comes to ability. It gives us influence and reputation, but as you saw, it means nothing when people like this Peverell emerge. People will be drawn to him because of it and conveniently forget that he is not one of us. Mark my words, Lucius, what happened tonight will only make any association with him more desirable.”

Lucius nodded, seemingly pondering something as he left the study.

Abraxus returned once more to the memory. He needed to revisit it to see just how he could gain an advantage from what happened, and he did not want to think about what had been plaguing his thoughts recently.

He knew why Lucius was concerned. He had thrown his lot in with the other young fools who had been duped into believing this Dark Lord would be different from any other.

If Peverell opposed him, things could become both very dangerous and very interesting. Either way, Abraxus had work to do, though he could not even fathom how to begin navigating this latest development.

(Break)

Harry gazed across the sea towards the horizon, wondering what had come over him tonight. He had never been so confrontational, so willing to fight as he had. Of course, he had defended himself when needed but he had never sought out the conflict. It had always come to him.

“Death!” Olin cawed gently and Harry stroked the raven’s feathers absentmindedly.

Was this one of the changes that had happened with what the cloaked figure had done to him?

It was the only thing that made sense to him, and he would ask of it when he got the chance.

The evening had been a disaster, overall, but the thing that occupied his mind more than what had happened was just what other changes would become apparent?

He knew not, and once more, he had more questions than he had answers.

It was not the wand now that acted on his behalf, but the magic he displayed was unfamiliar despite feeling like it belonged to him. It had come from him, or part of him at the very least.

That was the only thing he was certain of.