Whispers of a Raven - Slippery Bastards

She was roughly shaken awake by her brother, his frantic demeanour and fearful eyes removing any vestiges of sleep deprivation she had been feeling over the past week or so. She could not be certain how much time had passed and had been living each day as it came.

“Millie, you need to get up, something’s happened.”

“What is it Ed?” she asked worriedly as she sat.

He shook his head, his expression just as lost, his shoulders still hunched from the burdens that now weighed him down since the death of their father.

“I don’t know, but Moody is here.”

“Alastor?” she questioned as she got out of bed and pulled her gown over her nightie. “What did he say?”

“Nothing, just that he needs to speak with us both.”

With a flick of her wand, the severity of the situation became clear. It was 3am and Alastor would not be here at this time without good cause.

Her heart pounded as she hurried from her room and down the stairs into the entrance hall of Bones’ Manor where she was met with the grim visage of her former mentor.

“Amelia,” he greeted her.

“What’s happened?” she demanded without preamble.

Moody sighed as he shook his head.

“You need to listen carefully to everything I am going to say, Bones,” he returned firmly. “Keep that bloody temper in check until I’m finished.”

She frowned but nodded as Edgar reached them, he too eager to hear what the auror had to say.

“There was an attempt on your mother’s life at St Mungo’s earlier. Someone murdered Chambers who was guarding her ward and tried to do the same to her. She is fine and has been moved. Someone found the attacker before he could harm her.”

Amelia’s mouth fell agape as the man spoke, but Edgar had begun to tremble from the rage coursing through him.

“I fucking knew it! I’ve been saying all along that father’s death was suspicious, and mother just happening to fall down the stairs the same night? I knew there was more to it!”

“I know,” Moody comforted. “I believe you, lad, but there was no evidence of foul play.”

“And what now, Moody?” Edgar bit back. “Is this enough evidence?”

The grizzled man nodded.

“Yes, but it is now much more complicated.”

“How?”

Moody rubbed his eyes tiredly and grumbled under his breath unhappily.

“The man who tried to kill your mother was Thomas Avery.”

“Avery?” Amelia whispered in disbelief.

“I’ll kill the bastard!” Edgar hissed.

“No, you won’t, he’s already dead,” Moody revealed, eliciting a look of confusion from the siblings.

“Dead?” Amelia pressed.

“Aye, he tried to kill the person that discovered him, and it did not exactly work in his favour. We found him with a scythe embedded in his chest.”

Edgar chuckled humourlessly as Amelia stared at her colleague in shock.

“Then I owe this person a great debt,” her brother declared. “Who was it?”

Moody released a deep breath.

“Listen to me, lad, this man could be in a lot of trouble. Who is Avery Senior friends with?”

“The Minister,” Amelia whispered.

“Aye, so close, that we were instructed to take him in within the hour of it being reported. Avery is going to kick up one hell of a mess and the Wizengamot won’t do much to stop him. He won’t care why his son was there or any proof we have against him. The fact is a pureblood heir was killed and the Wizengamot won’t like that. You’ve seen how it works,” he reminded them.

“Bollocks,” Edgar muttered. “So, what will happen to this man?”

“He will be thrown to the dementors,” Amelia answered. “If he’s lucky, they’ll sentence him to death.”

Edgar shook his head.

“He bloody saved our mother’s life!”

“Aye, and it won’t mean shit by the time Avery is finished,” Moody growled irritably. “Malfoy will back him and everyone else will follow. Albus and his lot won’t but it won’t be enough.”

Edgar dragged a hand through his mop of red hair and nodded his understanding. This would be one of the only times he would likely see the majority of the Wizengamot unite for a cause. The murder of an heir would not sit well with any of the Lords and Ladies.

“Who was it? Does he have any kids? The least we can do is make sure they’re taken care of,” he explained to his sister.

“Some lad named Peverell,” Moody answered.

Edgar frowned thoughtfully as Amelia gasped.

“Harry Peverell?” she asked.

“That’s him,” Moody confirmed confusedly. “You know him?”

“He was the coma victim I thought was behind the attack in London I’ve been looking into. There was no proof of his involvement.”

“Peverell, as in the Peverell family?” Edgar interjected.

“I thought it was a fake name,” Amelia defended. “The family has been gone for centuries.”

“But if he is a real Peverell…”

“Lord Peverell,” Amelia gasped, “his healer was adamant that he was Lord Peverell. He did have a ring.”

Edgar shook his head.

“He could have lied to her; a lot of men lie to women to impress them,” Edgar pointed out

“Yes, but his healer would know if he was lying,” Amelia whispered, “she wouldn’t be fooled by it.”

“His healer?”

“Is Narcissa Black,” Amelia informed them.

There was no love loss between the two women. Amelia had been a seventh year when Narcissa had arrived at Hogwarts and proved to be just as snooty as her two sisters, though Andromeda grew out of it somewhat. She had not been surprised to learn that the woman had fled her ghastly family.

“Are you sure about this?” Edgar asked urgently.

She nodded.

“I didn’t really think about it until now,” she sighed. “If Black believes he is the Lord Peverell, she must have a reason to.”

“Then we may be able to help him,” Edgar mused aloud. “There will be a lot of people that will want his favour…”

“And even more that would want him gone,” Amelia added. “You heard the same stories as I did when we were growing up. I bet there are lots of other families that told their children the same ones.”

Edgar nodded.

“I have to try, Millie. If he saved mother’s life, I owe him that.”

“Aye, he saved her,” Moody confirmed. “Taking him in was not right.”

“No,” Edgar agreed. “Can you make him as comfortable as you can for me, Moody?”

The auror shook his head.

“He’s being transferred in the morning. We can’t keep him in Ministry holding and Avery will delay as long as he can. He will want him weak when he is brought before the Wizengamot.”

“They’re taking him to Azkaban?” Amelia questioned disbelievingly.

“Aye, Avery’s friendship with the Minister has seen to that,” Moody grumbled. “He will be charged before being taken and then will be kept there for the full two weeks I imagine.”

That was the longest a person could be kept in Azkaban before being brought to trial. Any longer could have severe long-term effects on their health.

Edgar nodded severely.

“Then he had better hope he can handle it,” he sighed. “There’s nothing we can do until he is brought in front of the Wizengamot. I will fight for him, for all the good that will do.”

(Break)

With her shift at an end, the last thing on her mind was sleeping. Four different aurors had taken a statement from her about what had happened on the secure ward, each trying to poke holes in her version of events in their different ways.

What she ascertained quickly was that they were trying to discredit her, to shed doubt on what she had told them and what she had seen. Her grandfather would be furious when he learned of how they had treated her.

The hospital had remained locked down and it was with reluctance that she had been allowed to leave. Only with a veiled threat and a muttering of her name did the auror guarding the door allow her to pass, his intelligence evidently broad enough to not provoke the ire of her family.

She had endured much already, and she could not help but feel the day had only just begun.

Peverell was being treated unfairly. He had done what was right in the moment and she would not sit by whilst underhand tactics were being implemented against him, and nor would her grandfather, she hoped.

Harry did not deserve it regardless of who he had killed.

Knowing that time could well be of the essence, she apparated to the cottage her grandfather and grandmother had moved to some years ago and felt the magic of the wards here wash over her.

Even before she could knock, the door was opened by an immaculately presented elf who greeted her with a bow.

“Lady Cissy,” the creature croaked, “the Lord Black will be pleased to see you.”

He would be initially but would likely be unhappy by the end of their conversation. Or perhaps he would revel in the chaos. One could never be sure where her grandfather was concerned.

“Narcissa,” her grandmother said warmly as she entered the kitchen. “What brings you here so early?”

Her grandparents had settled down for breakfast, though they would have been up for hours already. Arcturus Black was not one to waste a minute of the day ‘needlessly sleeping’ when he would do enough of it when he was dead, as he had rather morbidly explained to her.

“Something happened at the hospital and I need your help,” she said to the man who frowned deeply.

“Did someone hurt you?” he demanded immediately as he stood.

She shook her head and explained what had transpired, sighing deeply as she finished.

“It’s not fair,” she declared. “He saved Lady Bones’ life and he’s the one being treated like a criminal.”

Arcturus hummed irritably before banging his fist on the table.

“What a fucking mess,” he groaned. “Bastards, the lot of them. I want the names of the aurors that interviewed you and your memory of what happened.”

Narcissa nodded as she removed her wand and withdrew the memory before placing it in a vial her grandmother conjured.

“Arcturus, what are you thinking?” Melania asked worriedly. “I know that face.”

The old man nodded before turning to her.

“Why do you want to help him?”

“Because it’s not fair,” Narcissa repeated.

“My sweet girl, the world we live in isn’t fair,” her grandmother broke in.

“It’s not,” Arcturus agreed, staring at Narcissa speculatively, “it would be better if I let the little shit hang,” he added thoughtfully.

“NO!” Narcissa protested, “please grandfather, he doesn’t deserve that.”

“Why do you care so much? That man could be a threat to us.”

“He’s not, grandfather. I spoke to him and he’s not like that. He doesn’t even know much about his family. His parents were murdered when he was a baby!”

“Murdered? By whom?”

“He didn’t say, but he’s had a horrible life, grandfather. He doesn’t deserve to die for what he did. If you help him then he could be a strong ally, couldn’t he?”

Arcturus pondered her words for a few moments, and she watched with bated breath as he paced back and forth.

“He could be,” he conceded. “If this can be done right, he could be a very good ally. What are you getting out of this?”

Narcissa shrugged.

“Nothing.”

Arcturus once again stared at her speculatively, seemingly searching for something.

“Do you have feelings for this man?”

Narcissa balked at the question.

“What? No, it’s not like that,” she denied firmly.

Without all the hair, he was handsome, she wouldn’t deny that, but it had nothing to do with why she was doing this.

“Hmm,” Arcturus grunted as he took his seat once more. “Alright, I will do what I can. Speak to no one about our conversation and tell any other auror that tries to piss off and deal with me. That will keep them away from you.”

“Thank you,” Narcissa replied, relieved.

“Don’t thank me yet,” Arcturus grumbled, “I don’t know if there’s anything I can do but I have a few ideas. Avery’s a shit anyway, it will do him well to remember his place. Now, go home and get some rest.”

“I will,” Narcissa sighed, “I have to write to Lucius first though.”

“The Malfoy boy?”

Narcissa nodded.

“He wrote to me asking if I would have dinner with him.”

Arcturus became pensive, his eyes narrowed before he shook his head.

“And do you wish to?”

“I don’t really know him,” she admitted. “I don’t see the harm in it.”

“No, but be careful around the Malfoys, Narcissa,” Arcturus warned. “They are as slippery as they come.”

“I will,” Narcissa assured him as she took her leave, missing the look of suspicion her grandparents shared.

She had secured her grandfather’s help and now felt more hopeful that something could be done for Harry. She had meant what she said; he didn’t deserve to be punished for what he did. He had saved an innocent woman’s life, though it did beg the question as to why Avery had wanted her dead in the first place?

(Break)

Sleep had not come, and he found himself regretting his intervention. Now, he was at the mercy of the Ministry of Magic, whom, throughout his life, had neither proven to be fair nor favourable to him. His experience of their proceedings had not been good, and he could only hope that the current administration proved themselves to be less corrupt than Fudge and Umbridge.

He snorted derisively. He certainly had his doubts.

The cell he had been placed in was sparse, uncomfortable but his gut told him that he was not for long for this place. No, if those in the right position wanted it, he would be leaving here soon enough. He knew how this worked and had no faith in a system that had always been broken.

“Bollocks,” he muttered as he sat on the bench that also served as a bed. He didn’t have time for this, though it had served to show him just how the death of a prominent pureblood here would be taken.

The outlook of what lie ahead of him was rather grim.

A part of him had hoped that his task would be made simpler if he was able to steadily remove Voldemort’s most stalwart followers. Such a tact would only result is what he was facing now; the inside of a prison cell.

No, he would need to rethink his strategy. He would have to play the games that he despised, rely on his cunning and wit just as much as his wand.

The task had always been daunting, and with this new dimension, it only became more so. He would have to tread very carefully from now on, if he managed to emerge from this on the other side with his freedom intact.

He tensed as the locks to his door clicked and a group of six aurors entered, each with their wand drawn.

“Come on, Peverell,” an older man garbed in red robes instructed, his scruffy salt and pepper beard doing nothing to hide the disdain he felt for him.

“I don’t suppose you’re letting me go?” Harry asked as he stood.

The man shook his head grimly.

“You’re off to Azkaban until you can be brought to trial,” he explained. “Harry Peverell, you are under arrest for the murder of Thomas Avery. You will be held under the authority of the Ministry of Magic until such a time you are brought before the Wizengamot to be tried by your peers. I would advise you to come quietly.”

He eyed the half dozen aurors who waited nervously for his response to the charges before offering them an easy smile. Some of these men and women may be good people who were merely doing their job. As much as he despised the Ministry, these had not proven themselves to be enemies, yet.

“Then I surrender myself to you,” he replied as he held his hands out.

Besides, he knew that it was possible to break out of Azkaban if needed. It would be much easier than attempting to fight off six aurors in the Ministry itself.

As the magic-supressing cuffs were placed on his wrist and he was led through a long corridor, he could not help but think the cloaked figure was either enjoying this or was furious that he had found himself in this position.

To Harry, it mattered not. He was going to be subjected to the dementors for some time at least and he needed to prepare himself for such.

He allowed his escort to guide him as he worked on his occlumency. It would not keep the effects at of the creatures at bay indefinitely, but it would ease them considerably.

He needed to maintain his clarity for what was to come. It would not do well for the lingering effects of the prison guards to compromise his ability to handle the Wizengamot when he faced them.

When that would be, he didn’t know, but once again he found himself biding his time.

Patience was something he had learned during his years on the run and he would need that and his resilience to see him through the impending ordeal.

(Break)

Arcturus Black released a deep breath as he emerged from his pensieve, the warning words of his father playing over in his mind. He had seen it for himself, the stories of his youth playing out before him in the memory provided to him by his granddaughter.

“Eyes of white,” he muttered.

He did not miss the change in demeanour of the young man, the green shifting to the deathly white as he dispatched of Avery and had done so without hesitation.

Were it such a simple thing, he would hazard a guess that not even Merlin himself could help Peverell with the predicament he found himself in, but there was hope.

The fact that Avery was masked and did not identify himself could work in Peverell’s favour. It was a flimsy defence at best but could be enough to tip the balance in his favour, though he would need help.

He shook his head frustratedly.

If his father was still alive, he would do all he could to ensure Peverell was convicted. He certainly would not be going out of his way to achieve the opposite, but Arcturus was not his father.

If the situation could be turned in favour of the newly discovered lord, it could benefit his own family.

The old man was no fool and saw what was happening around him. Despite his best efforts, his family was declining and would find themselves even more at odds in the future.

His own heir was not fit to run the family, his deference to his wife having removed what little spine he’d had growing up. He should not have allowed the marriage between Orion and Walburga.

Worse yet, Sirius had not come around to the idea of succeeding him and had done all he could to distance himself from the family. He could see no way of winning the boy over and instilling the family values within him, as much as he wished he could.

That left him with only two direct male relatives.

Cygnus had been coddled as a boy and cossetted in laziness throughout his life. He was hot-headed and lacked the temperament to lead. He was too easily led astray by his illusions of grandeur and status to stand strong when needed. No, just the thought of the man leading them did not sit well with Arcturus.

His final option was no better. Regulus was weak and too eager to please his mother. He would be at her behest and that thought frightened Arcturus. Walburga was a vile woman and he dared not ponder what havoc she would wreak with the resources of the family at her disposal.

She would likely throw their support behind the damned pureblood movement that was currently plaguing Britain. She had voiced her support for such on numerous occasions.

“Bloody fools,” he grumbled.

Did they not understand just how far above the rest of the magical community they stood simply because of the name they were born with?

That would end badly for many. With the violence increasing and the latest development that he was now trying to mitigate, the violence would only escalate.

He shook his head of those thoughts, turning his attention back to his own problems.

His legacy was at stake and the vultures were already gathering. Corvus had been first and now Abraxus had followed suit. They were sly bastards, but he saw through them. They could not hide their intentions from him.

They saw what was unfolding with the Blacks and hoped they would capitalise on it in the future. If Arcturus did not secure his line of succession, his house would one day be in the hands of a Lestrange or Malfoy. That, he could not allow.

How an alliance with Peverell could help, he did not know yet, but having him on side could prove to be a boon. From what he had seen, he was an able wizard. At worst, he would be a wand to call upon if needed and a name to put the families who knew of them on notice.

He would not have everything he had worked so hard for snatched from his grasp by the chancers and scum of the wizarding world. He would not leave the skeleton of his family to be picked clean by the scavengers that were circling.

He would one day need someone he could rely on. Too many would relish in the downfall of his family with none willing to lift a finger to help them when they were in need.

He had a chance to secure that needed help and he would take it. If he could help Peverell, the man would be inclined to return the favour in the future.

Firstly, however, he needed assistance. With the latest development, Corvus would be obligated to help if he wished his son to be married to Bellatrix. If he refused, then Arcturus would ensure that the man knew the wedding would not go ahead. He was still the Lord Black after all and would have the final say on the matter.

Abraxus was not in the same position and would likely oppose him, something that could be changed depending on how determined he was to get his hands on the Black wealth and influence. That would serve to test the man at the very least.

If he was willing to side with him, it would all but confirm his suspicions.

Still, the support of both could sway the outcome in his favour, but he would take no chances. He needed a contingency plan, and currently, he had only one idea on where he could get the needed support.

(Break)

Being head of a prominent family meant that he was often invited to attend dinners with other prominent members of society but being asked to dinner personally by the Minister of Magic could only mean one of two things.

The first being that she was trying to garner his favour for an upcoming bill that would divide the Wizengamot. He had considerable influence over many of his peers and his support had proven to be pivotal in the past.

The second, and more likely option, was that something of a personal interest had occurred and she again required his support. What that could be, he did not know but there was always risk to such undertakings. She would not have invited him to dinner if it was a trivial matter that would not cause either controversy or uproar.

He preferred the former of a strictly political nature. He could vote for or against any bill he wished and be scrutinised no differently than any other Lord or Lady of the Wizengamot. When it came to issues of personal interest, he was open to scrutiny from all sides and he was expected to weather the storm that followed. Still, those that supported his actions continued to do so, knowing that they made up a significant block of the Wizengamot and may one day need the security of the votes he could provide to their causes.

The Minister, however, was different. Depending on what she put forward, all political affiliations were open to her and she played both sides expertly. Because of this, he could confidently assume that the opposing block consisting of Dumbledore and his ilk could take exception to any proposal she would make or action of a personal nature she intended to proceed with this time.

Either way, it would be a messy affair. It always had been when she sought his support before publicising her intent or motions.

“Abraxus,” she greeted him warmly as he was shown into a familiar dining room by her personal elf.

“Minister,” he replied cordially, noting the presence of another.

He would not consider Marcus Avery a close friend, but they were often allies on the political field. The man was tense, appeared more tired than usual and impatient.

“Please, take a seat, Abraxus,” Bagnold offered.

He did so, his gaze flitting between the two expectantly.

Politics was a game of patience, but he already felt his own wearing thin. Something had happened and he did not appreciate the ruse playing out before him, especially because it was being done so poorly.

“What is it you need of me?” he asked candidly.

“Whatever do you…”

“Do not think me a fool, Minister,” Abraxus interrupted.

The woman nodded stiffly, her veil of warmth slipping into a visage of anger.

“Marcus’s son was murdered. We have the killer stewing in Azkaban, and I wish to count on your support to ensure he is convicted.”

Abraxus frowned thoughtfully, immediately suspecting that all was not as it appeared.

“If it is as straightforward as that, then why is my support required?” he pressed. “If his son was simply murdered then why the need of support at all? Surely the Wizengamot would not need convincing. The murder of an heir is something they will all sympathise with.”

The Minister and grief-stricken father shared a look and Abraxus held up a hand before any could speak. He had no time for their convolutions or withholding information.

“Thomas was caught in a rather compromising position, though only my first aurors on the scene are aware of it. I immediately took the lead on the investigation. Barty is too much of a stickler for the rules.”

Pushing her brazen approach by all but blocking a real investigation being allowed to take place to one side, Abraxus proceeded.

“Compromising position?”

Bagnold nodded.

“According to the aurors, he had killed one of their own and was trying to kill another patient when he was caught. The person that caught him is the killer.”

Abraxus shook his head.

“And what is the truth of the matter?” he demanded.

“His wand shows that Thomas cast the killing curse, likely in defence when he was caught in the room,” Bagnold conceded.

Abraxus snorted, abundantly aware that he was not being told everything.

“Why was he there and why is there a dead auror in the equation?”

“We do not know,” Millicent sighed, though Abraxus did not miss the tension in Avery’s shoulders.

“No, it is not as simple as you are making it.”

“It is complicated, Abraxus,” the Minister bit back. “It does not look good, but I know Thomas. He was a good boy.”

The woman was being sentimental, and it had no place in this. He had a feeling that this would not end the way she wanted but he found himself curious as to what had truly transpired. He suspected that Marcus knew more that would paint a very different picture.

“So, what complications are you facing?” he questioned as he leaned back in his chair.

“There was a witness who is defending the killer.”

“And what is this witness saying?”

“That she and the killer came upon Thomas in a room on the secure ward. They found the auror dead and saw Thomas about to do the same to the patient.”

“Which patient?” Abraxus asked irritably, tiring of the run-around.

“Lady Bones,” Bagnold revealed reluctantly.

Abraxus narrowed his eyes at the pair. There was indeed much more to this than was being let on.

“And why would your son be trying to kill Lady Bones?” he asked the man.

“My son is not a killer!” Marcus hissed as he shot forward in his chair, his eyes bulging.

“Then explain to me why he was there,” Abraxus urged calmly.

“I do not know,” the man growled.

Abraxus shook his head.

He already disbelieved the version of events he was being told but the Wizengamot might swallow it if it was twisted in the right way. That, however, depended on many things.

“Who is the accused?”

“A man named Peverell,” Bagnold answered with a frown.

A ghost of a smirk tugged at Abraxus’ lips. Having seen Arcturus Black’s reaction to the name, he had investigated it. If half of what had been written about the family held any truth, making an enemy of Peverell would not be wise.

“Is something amusing, Abraxus?” Bagnold questioned. “What is it you know?”

“Quite, but I am not inclined to share my thoughts with you yet,” he returned. “What do you know? he pressed interestedly.

Bagnold huffed irritably.

“We tried to remove what he says is his Lordship ring and two aurors are now in hospital and unresponsive. Even the dementors avoid his cell despite us putting extra guards around it.”

That unsettled the Malfoy lord. The Peverells grew only more mysterious the more he investigated them. Perhaps there was much more truth to what had been written.

“The witness?” he questioned, not mentioning the imprisoned lord. Bagnold would already know she was a fool for attempting to touch the ring.

The Minister shot him a look of frustration.

“Narcissa Black.”

Abraxus shook his head once more. The complexity grew still, though perhaps he could salvage something from this. If the worst were to happen, he could always preserve his reputation at least.

“Well, I know for a fact that Lord Black was concerned by the emergence of Peverell. He expressed as much during a recent meal we shared when the man was first brought to his attention. With that being said, I’m sure he can convince his granddaughter to cease any assistance she is giving. It just so happens that my son has also begun courting the girl, so with a few words from both, she will not be a problem.”

Bagnold breathed a sigh of relief and Abraxus was sickened by the sight of it. There was still much he was not being told and he would have the truth.

“Come, Marcus,” he encouraged. “You need your rest if you are to have justice for your son. Allow me to escort you home.”

The man frowned and nodded reluctantly knowing better than to delay the conversation Abraxus sought.

“Thank you, Minister but Abraxus is right. I should try to get some rest.”

“Of course, Marcus. Do let me know if there is anything you need,” the woman offered as she escorted them to the front door and closed it behind them when they had left.

“Now, why was your son trying to murder Lady Bones? Do not lie to me or I will retract any assistance,” Abraxus warned.

Avery deflated and did not meet his eyes.

“Thomas had gotten himself caught up in the pureblood movement,” he revealed.

“The very same group that is trying to preserve the pureblood status?”

Marcus nodded.

“Then how does murdering purebloods tie in with that?”

“I don’t know, but he would have been doing it under orders. He became quite fanatical about it this past year and he would not listen to me. He even had me convinced it was a good idea and now he is dead.”

“Because he was caught murdering a Lady of a better house than your own,” Abraxus hissed, “and now you are trying to blame an even older one.”

Marcus frowned confusedly and Abraxus grabbed him by the back of his robes and dragged him off the Minister’ property before apparating them away.

“The Peverells are a family from the time of the founders and were amongst the elite. This Lord Peverell could prove to be a very dangerous enemy, but you may well have done us all a favour. If we can secure a conviction against him, he will spend the rest of his days rotting in Azkaban and think yourself fortunate that Black will be on board. I’ve never seen him worried as I did when he heard the name Peverell. He will want to eliminate the threat just as much as us. So, for now, keep your mouth shut until we get Peverell in front of the Wizengamot. Lucius will handle the Black girl and the rest will fall into place.”

“What about Bones?”

Abraxus snorted.

“The boy is wet behind the ears and can rant and rave as much as he wants. If he doesn’t have the support, it doesn’t matter what he says, and he is not his father. He has earned no favours from anyone so can be silenced quickly.”

Marcus nodded his understanding.

“This is a dangerous game you have chosen to play,” Abraxus warned. “If by some chance Peverell gains some support, I would not wish to be in your shoes or any that opposes him. They were feared for a reason, Avery.”

The man snorted.

“I hope he tries! He killed my boy and I won’t let him get away with it,” he declared as he vanished with a gentle pop.

Abraxus could only shake his head.

The man was deluded, under the impression that just because Bagnold had sided with him and was using dubious tactics that their success was all but assured.

It was not, not until Peverell was escorted out of the chambers by the aurors. Between now and then, a plethora of things could go wrong.

He sighed as he tapped his family ring with the tip of his wand, summoning his heir to the Lord’s study. He would assist them as much as he could without putting himself at risk. There were too many elements to their ploy that did not sit well with him and he still felt there was much he was not being told.

Still, having Lucius attempt to talk the girl out of supporting Peverell would go a long way in seeing the plan come to fruition. If his son was to fail, Arcturus would not. He would be just as keen to see the back of Peverell and would tell the girl to not involve herself.

Perhaps a letter to the other Lord would help nudge him in the right direction?

(Break)

It had only been a matter of weeks since the death of his father and the unexpected elevation to his position of Lord Bones. His grieving had to curbed whilst he assumed his duties and ensured his mother was receiving the best treatment possible. Despite how heartbroken and furious he was, he knew his father would have urged him to do so until all had settled.

He had immediately suspected that all was not as it seemed. The family elf, Clara, had served them for decades, and had shown nothing but loyalty and dedication. He did not believe she would poison her master and he certainly did not believe his mother had fallen down the stairs at the same time.

Clara had admitted her deed when questioned and the aurors had lost interest. Even Amelia had been unable to dig further into it. Clara had been executed swiftly by the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures and the matter dropped.

Edgar knew better but none would hear him out. Why would they? He may be the Lord Bones now but that meant little in a world where reputation and influence was everything. He had neither, but despite this, a Lord he had not expected to ever associate with had sent him a missive, requesting a meeting with him.

Edgar had been taken aback and was nervous at the thought. As such, he had spoken to the only person he knew that might be able to give him some insight.

Flashback

“Auror Moody, what can you tell me about Arcturus Black?”

The grizzled man eyed him questioningly, having only visited to inform him and Amelia that the trial would be held in the coming days for Peverell.

“That depends, lad. Why are you asking?”

“He’s asked to see me,” Edgar explained as he handed the note that had been delivered to him.

“Hmm, well, if he wanted you dead, he wouldn’t have written to you,” the auror comforted. “Other than that, I don’t know what to say. The Blacks have their reputation for a reason, but it wouldn’t be good to slight him, lad. He’s an old bastard that will hold a grudge.”

End Flashback

Edgar had been at a loss. As far as he was aware, his father hadn’t even met with the Black patriarch throughout his tenure as the Lord Bones, but he had accepted the meeting regardless of how nervous the thought of being stuck in a room with the man made him.

What he did know of the Blacks was not good and he couldn’t help but wonder why he had drawn the attention of Arcturus. Had he somehow offended the man?

That thought made him shuffle uncomfortably in his seat though he stilled when a knock at the door sounded.

“Come in,” he instructed, sounding much more confident than he felt.

Amelia entered first with an older man in her wake.

“Lord Black,” she announced, shooting her brother a look of concern.

“Thank you, Millie,” he said, offering her smile.

She looked between the two for a brief second and took her leave, closing the door behind her.

“Please, take a seat, Lord Black.”

The first thing Edgar noticed about the man was his piercing, grey eyes. They were sharp and did not assuage already nervous disposition.

“Thank you, Lord Bones,” Arcturus replied. “For what it is worth, you have my condolences for the death of your father. I will not pretend we were on good terms, but I respected him.”

Edgar nodded gratefully but the older lord continued before he could reply.

“I am here because I believe we have a mutual interest.”

Edgar frowned. He could think of nothing that the two houses could have a shared interest in.

“Peverell,” Arcturus confirmed. “If you are anything like your father, I would assume that you would see him free for his part in the death of Avery?”

“I would,” Edgar confirmed. “He saved my mother’s life and all but confirmed my suspicions. My father was murdered, Lord Black and they tried to do the same to my mother. Twice,” he added.

“Indeed. From what I have learned, I am inclined to believe you. I can think of no other reason she would have been targeted whilst in St Mungo’s.”

“I can’t think of any reason they would have been targeted at all,” Edgar sighed.

“No, but your investigation will continue?”

“Until I find the truth,” Edgar said firmly.

Arcturus offered him a respectful nod.

“I have my reasons for wanting to see the man free. They are different to yours, and I will not share them, but I am willing to work with you to see it done.”

“You are?” Edgar asked, surprised by the offer.

“Yes, but this in no way denotes an alliance between our families. For now, this is a one-time occurrence. Think of it as a favour to the memory of your father if you wish, but I am willing to help you.”

Edgar stared at the older lord speculatively, unable to fathom why he wanted Peverell free so badly and shrugged it off a moment later. Peverell had earned his help with his selfless act and he was not going to turn down the assistance offered.

“I accept.”

Arcturus Black grinned, not a gesture of warmth but one that somehow promised misery for someone.

“Excellent, then you had best tell me everything you know, and I will reciprocate. We must be on the same page to pull this off.”

Edgar nodded, though he could not help but believe he had made a deal with the devil himself to see a man he did not even know free. However, his family had a debt to pay and they would do so, even if it meant temporarily working with perhaps the most terrifying man in wizarding Britain.

(Break)

“I’m pleased you could join me, Miss Black,” Lucius said as he raised his glass to her.

Narcissa offered him a smile as she returned the gesture.

She had questioned if she would come having received a reply to her responding letter only a day later. He was keen, she would give him that and he had been the perfect gentleman thus far.

Her reluctance came from everything else that was happening around her. What had befallen Harry had only just been the beginning and had only worsened when she had returned to the hospital the following day.

Flashback

“What’s this?” she asked Camden pointing to the sheet of parchment that had been pinned to every noticeboard she had passed so far.

Her colleague shrugged.

“I was hoping you could tell me.”

Narcissa frowned at the short note and shook her head.

By order of the Minister of Magic, the events surrounding the incident that took place on the secure ward last night are NOT to be discussed by any member of staff to assist with the Ministry investigation.

We thank you for your cooperation,

Millicent Bagnold

Minister of Magic

Whatever was happening, it did not sit well with Narcissa and she was pleased that she had already spoken to her grandfather. Lord Peverell would get no help if she hadn’t.

End Flashback

Things had only gotten worse when the same aurors accosted her throughout the following days, doublechecking the statement she had given and doing all they could to deter her from supporting Harry.

It wasn’t until she had threatened them with her grandfather that they had relented and had been absent since.

In truth, she was nervous about tomorrow but had accepted Lucius’s invitation for lunch. Both her mother and father had insisted it would take her mind off things and she needed the reprieve.

“It has been nice to get away from everything,” she replied.

“Ah, I assume you mean the trial for Peverell tomorrow,” Lucius sighed. “An unpleasant business.”

“What do you know about it?” Narcissa questioned.

“Only what my father has told me,” he answered quickly. “It truly is a shame what happened to Thomas. I heard he’d been having a difficult time recently.”

“Difficult enough for him to murder an auror and try to do the same to Lady Bones, and then Harry when he was caught?” she bit back. “I saw what happened.”

Lucius held up a placating hand.

“I apologise if I spoke out of turn, I did not mean to upset you,” he responded comfortingly. “I did not know you were there.”

Narcissa deflated and shook her head dismissively.

“It’s fine, I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

He smiled as he stood and offered his hand.

“Maybe a walk would help clear your head?”

She accepted the proffered limb and nodded. Some fresh air would be welcome, and she allowed herself to be led from the restaurant and into Diagon Alley where the afternoon sun still baked the cobbled street.

“Better?” he asked.

She nodded and slid her arm into the crook of his. He steered them away from the crowds and into Knockturn Alley where it was shadier, the buildings taller and blocking out much of the sun.

“I do not like seeing you upset,” he murmured. “What is bothering you so much?”

Narcissa shrugged. In truth, she did not know. Wat is it merely the fact that she knew what she had seen? That Harry had done nothing wrong? Had he not acted, Lady Bones would be dead, and Thomas Avery would have gotten away with it.

“It will be over soon,” she replied.

Lucius released a dramatic sigh as he shook his head.

“For your sake, I wish it would be, but I fear it will only be the beginning,” he said, shooting a look of sympathy her way. “If Peverell gets off then it will divide the Wizengamot even more and the pureblood movement will have more of a reason to keep doing what they are. This will just prove that they are right and the Wizengamot have become too lenient.”

Narcissa frowned lightly.

“What does that have to do with anything? Harry is a pureblood too.”

“Perhaps,” Lucius conceded, “but that will not matter. He is irrelevant, his family has been gone for centuries. The Avery line is a prominent one and if Peverell gets away with murdering Thomas, it will only incite more violence.”

“You seem to know a lot about it,” Narcissa replied.

“I am a Malfoy,” Lucius answered simply. “We keep abreast of anything that could prove to be a threat to our ways and Peverell is undoubtedly that. I just hope the right thing is done. I do not wish to see things deteriorate more than they already are because of something so trivial.”

“Would that really happen?” Narcissa asked, worrying her lower lip, her thoughts drifting to Bellatrix and her involvement with the pureblood movement.

“I’m afraid so,” Lucius confirmed looking at her worriedly.

Narcissa released a deep breath and nodded her understanding.

“I don’t want things to get worse,” she mumbled.

“And they won’t as long as Peverell is found guilty,” he assured her, “but of course, it is not in our hands. That will be for the Wizengamot to decide. They will consider all the evidence gathered by the Minister herself and her team. Then a decision will be made.”

“What do you think will happen?”

Lucius shrugged.

“If there is nothing to the contrary then Peverell will be found guilty, without question.”

“Thank you, Lucius,” she said sincerely before placing a kiss on his cheek. “You’ve given me much to think about.”

“It has been my pleasure, Narcissa, and hope that we can see each other again when this has all settled down. I have enjoyed your company.”

Narcissa grinned as she shook her head.

“No, you haven’t,” she countered. “I have spent the day being distracted.”

“True,” Lucius conceded, “but I enjoyed it, nonetheless, and have no doubt I will enjoy it more so, next time.”

“I look forward to it.”

He offered her a final smirk before apparating away, leaving her alone in Knockturn Alley.

“You were right,” she sighed.

“I know and I take no joy in it,” her grandfather answered as he removed his invisibility cloak. “Abraxus hopes that he can benefit from any potential downfall of our family. I will not allow that to happen. Using Lucius to get to you could have been a stroke of genius.”

“I almost fell for it,” Narcissa admitted.

“As slippery as they come,” Arcturus growled. “The bastard could sell sand to a camel.”

“What about Lestrange?”

“Oh, he will get his, my dear,” Arcturus assured her, “but not until I have gotten all the use out of him I can.”

Narcissa nodded.

“Are you sure about all of this? Is Harry really that important?”

“He could be an even bigger threat than both Abraxus and Corvus, but I feel we may need him. I’m putting a lot of faith in your assumption of the kind of person he is. If you prove to be correct, he will be a strong ally.”

“And if I’m wrong?”

Arcturus frowned thoughtfully.

“That will be a problem for another day.”

Narcissa nodded her understanding, suddenly more nervous about the outcome of the impending trial.

(Break)

The screams did not bother him and only served to remind him that he was not alone in this place. He had grown used to screaming, had heard Hermione scream when Ron had been killed and even Fleur when Bill bled out from the curse that hit him. Still, none bothered him more than the one that had plagued him since he had been a babe. The scream of Lily Potter when her pleading had fallen on deaf ears was the one that haunted him.

The screams of prisoners meant nothing to him.

Even the cold was something he had adapted to during his thirteen days here. He felt it, but it did not chill him to the bone as Sirius had said it would. If anything, the coldness of his own magic pushed it away.

It wasn’t until he arrived here that he noticed this difference. His magic has once felt warm and comforting, protective even. Now, it was cold and felt indifferent. He felt as he always had, emotionally at least, but his magic was not the same and nor was he, not truly.

There was something different within him, something more.

What he had not expected from his stint on the island was the absence of dementors. He could feel them all around, their desire to feast on his happiness but they did not come. A few had tried but had fled, screeching unhappily when they ventured too close. This, he did not understand and even the cloaked figures explanation had made little sense.

Flashback

“Unite us…”

“The book…”

“Become one with us…”

The same words spoken that became no clearer the more he heard them. Whenever he fell asleep, he found himself here though this time, it was exactly where he wanted to be.

“I don’t suppose this was your intention?” he asked the cloaked figure as it emerged from the veil.

“I have no intentions,” it replied almost carelessly. “You have changed something that could prove to be significant. What happens now is your choice.”

“If they don’t lock me up here forever,” he snorted.

“And you would allow that?”

Harry shook his head.

“No, but I don’t want to have to go on the run again unless I have to. I’ve not even enjoyed the small amount of freedom I have.”

“True,” the figure conceded. “What will you do?”

“Hope that the justice system here isn’t shit,” he replied sarcastically. “I don’t know,” he added. “I did the right thing and won’t be made to feel any differently.”

Harry could feel the grin of approval the figure wore though it did not respond.

“Why aren’t the dementors coming near me?”

He had been here a few days, had been unable to sleep since his arrival and had noted the absence of the creatures.

“I don’t suppose they are interested in broken souls or they do not feel your magic until they come closer.”

“Broken souls?” Harry asked.

“Listen to the whispers, Peverell,” the figure responded, pointing to the veil.

“Unite us…”

He nodded thoughtfully, promising to ponder the ominous words when he woke.

“And what about my magic?”

Once again, he felt the smirk of the creature.

“The magic of your line, Peverell, was gifted to my chosen by me. There is much magic in a soul and death is not something that can be consumed. They fear me as do most fools. Why fear what you cannot escape?”

“True,” Harry mused aloud. “Is there anything else you can say that may help me?”

“Listen to the whispers, Peverell.”

End Flashback

The advice since had been the same with no indication of how he may just secure his freedom when he was undoubtedly brought before the Wizengamot. As such, he had decided to make use of the time in the cramped cell.

He had just enough room to exercise his leg and complete his push-ups. He made sure he did this several times throughout the day and his leg was certainly benefitting from it. It was no longer stiff and immovable. He could put weight on it without inducing the horrific cramping he had dealt with and could even balance on it alone now.

He was pleased with this progress.

When he wasn’t occupying his time with physical workouts, he would work on his occlumency; an escape from the monotony of the passing hours and the irregular food arrivals that would appear in his cell, though certainly not enough to sustain him in the long term.

He suspected that they were trying to weaken him with the constant presence of dementors on the edge of his periphery and the meagre portions of food.

Little did they know, he had endured much worse. He had almost been starved to death by the Dursleys. If they wanted him weakened, they would have to halve his portions of food at least.

Whatever their plan was, it wouldn’t work. The dementors could not get close enough to be too bothersome, he was being fed enough, for now, and he’d even managed to hospitalise two guards that had tried to beat him in his cell. Well, unintentionally.

One had tried to remove his ring and had collapsed, shrieking in agony before falling still.

The other had thrown a clumsy punch his way. Harry had caught the fist and the guard had reacted the same way as his colleague when his skin made contact with the Peverell ring.

He had been left alone since, and the guards that delivered him food did so warily, never approaching his cell closer than necessary.

Harry preferred it this way. He didn’t want to have daily altercations with the guards here if it could be avoided. He just wished to know what was happening.

No one had said a word to him since he had been deposited into the cell.

His thoughts were intruded upon by the sound of approaching footsteps and he knew they were coming for him. He counted twelve people heading in his direction and he readied himself.

When the door opened, he was not faced with the wizards that guarded the prison but by a contingency of aurors led by Alastor Moody.

“It’s time, Peverell,” he growled. “Best come along without a struggle lad,” he added with a wink.

Harry narrowed his eyes suspiciously as the cuffs were placed on his wrist and he was led from the cell.

“Your leg’s looking better,” Moody commented, noticing the absence of the limp, “and you look healthier than most. We usually have to drag them out of here.”

“You can’t run on one leg,” Harry returned with a smirk.

“Don’t,” Moody muttered. “You have more help than you think. The Lord Bones is on your side. It was his mother you saved that night.”

Harry frowned as he nodded.

At least that was one less person he would have to convince.

“And what of my wands?”

“The Minister has them,” Moody sighed. “She tried to have them checked and one of them did not cooperate. Two aurors were taken to St Mungo’s with what seemed to be severe frostbite, same as the two guards here.”

“I thought it was common knowledge not to touch a Lord’s ring.”

“It is, but people are reluctant to believe you are who you claim to be.”

“Well, then more fool them,” Harry mumbled as he was led into a small circular room.

“We will take a portkey from here and you will be placed in a Ministry cell until it is time for you to be brought before the Wizengamot. Understood?”

Harry only nodded in response.

He couldn’t be certain what awaited him, but he would face it down as he always had. It seemed that many things had indeed changed for him, but there were those that would always remain the same.

Somehow, no matter where he went, he always found trouble, or it found him.

He could no longer be sure which was more apt.