Whispers of a Raven - What My Enemy Fears

Having received no news from the previous night’s excursion, it was an irritated Dark Lord that awaited the arrival of Bellatrix, and though the wards notified him of such only a moment later, his mood did not improve. He had expected her hours ago and he did not like to be kept waiting by his subordinates, even one as valued as Bella.

“You are late,” he said simply as she entered and fell to her knees before him.

“You have my apologies, my lord,” Bellatrix replied. “Peverell arrived and sent me away. I was unable to apparate until now.”

The Dark Lord nodded thoughtfully.

“He finds himself in a rather unenviable position where you are concerned,” he mused aloud. “You are undoubtedly enemies, but also family. I suppose he is conflicted on what he should do with you.”

Bellatrix grimaced at the thought, but Voldemort held up a hand to prevent the impending outburst of disgust.

“He is married to your sister, is he not?”

“Yes, my lord,” Bellatrix replied grumpily, pouting.

“Then he is family, something we can perhaps use to our advantage in the future, yes?”

“If you say so, my lord,” the woman sighed.

“I do say so,” the Dark Lord returned firmly. “Now, how did we fare last night?”

“Well, my lord,” Bellatrix answered excitedly. “Many muggles fell, and everyone was reminded just why they should fear us.”

“Good,” Voldemort declared contentedly. “Those beneath us need a reminder from time to time of just who their superiors are. You have done well.”

The woman almost glowed under his praise.

“We must, however, continue being cautious for now. Do not pout, Bellatrix, there is still one more task I would ask of you that I know you will relish in completing, but for now, we must discuss Peverell.”

The woman frowned at the mention of her brother-in-law, but the Dark Lord needed her to understand the severity of the situation.

“The cowards ran from him,” Bellatrix spat disgustedly.

“And rightly so,” Voldemort replied. “He is a dangerous man who is beyond them. Picking you battles is as important as emerging from them victorious. If you pick the wrong ones at the wrong time, then you could find yourself in a position like my own, or dead. That is why I am telling you once more to avoid a confrontation with him.”

“But, my lord, he…”

“Will kill you, Bella,” the Dark Lord cut her off firmly. “For all your talent, Peverell is not like most wizards. He is an enigma that wields magic most could never hope to understand. Worry not,” he soothed. “You will be given your chance of vengeance against him when the time is right. Remember, the right battle at the right time.”

Bellatrix scowled unhappily but nodded her understanding.

“Of course, my lord.”

Placing two fingers under her chin, he met her gaze with his own and offered her a smile.

“I say this only because I do not wish to lose you,” he murmured, eliciting a shiver from the woman. “I would not be without you, and for that, I cannot risk you. Peverell is out of your reach but there is no other that could hope to defeat you.”

Bellatrix nodded.

“I know, my lord. You have trained me yourself.”

“And you have exceeded my expectations,” he said sincerely. “Now, rest Bella. There is always much to be done and you will need your energy soon enough.”

She offered him a bow before all but skipping from the room and the Dark Lord sighed.

Bellatrix was unhinged, clung to him as though she could not continue without him. She was a beautiful woman, but Voldemort had no use for such frivolities. She would be nothing but a distraction to him, but that did not mean he could not give her just enough to ensure her loyalty.

She had become an invaluable asset and one he would keep for as long as he could contain one so detached from reality.

Eventually, she would defy him and likely end up dead, but until then, he would make use of her devotion to him to see to achieving his own goals.

What else could he do with one like Bellatrix Lestrange?

(Break)

Corvus could not be certain when life had become one failure after the other, but in recent months, it was undeniable that is what had happened. Not only had the Dark Lord been bested by Peverell, though the man claimed it to only be a setback, he had been unable to find a suitable bride for his younger son. Adding to this, the son he had married off to unquestionably the most unstable woman he had ever met, had thus far failed to announce a pregnancy of any kind.

They had been married for almost ten months with nothing to show for it other than her expensive taste in clothing and her moments of sheer lunacy.

The Lestrange lord’s patience had all but run out, and as he waited for his buffoon of an heir, he tapped his wand on the top of his desk, the angry purple sparks shooting from the end reflecting his mood.

“You asked to see me, father?” Rudolphus asked, not even showing the common decency of knocking before entering the study.

“Sit down, boy,” Corvus seethed.

“Has something happened?” the younger man asked with a frown.

“No, you bloody idiot, nothing has happened and that is the problem! Your brother loafs around here doing nothing but feeding his fat arse and proclaiming how great the Dark Lord is. No one with any self-respect will marry the lazy sod.”

Rudolphus nodded.

“And you,” Corvus spat. “Why is that wife of yours not waddling around with an heir swelling her belly? Are you lame down there, boy?”

Rudolphus flushed embarrassedly as he shook his head.

“We haven’t shared a bed,” he mumbled.

“Come again?” Corvus asked dangerously.

“We haven’t shared a bed,” Rudolphus huffed. “She has her own room and does what she likes. I don’t see her much.”

Corvus laughed humourlessly.

“Well, that is just great. I’ve married my heir off to a frigid bint that won’t open her bloody legs.”

“I’ve tried,” Rudolphus defended.

“Try harder, you useless prat! Slip her a potion if you must. I want her with child within six months or I’ll put one in her myself,” he warned.

“You’re welcome to try,” Rudolphus offered. “Last time I did I got cursed for my trouble. She’s a bloody maniac.”

Corvus huffed irritably.

“I don’t care if she’s not right in the head, get it done and then do what you want with her. I’m sick of sight of her as it is. She’s costing me a damned fortune and I’m getting nothing in return.”

Rudolphus nodded.

“Fair enough,” he conceded as he stood. “I’ll give you your heir.”

“Thank you,” Corvus sighed, “and if you’re leaving, tell your brother to sort his life out or he can piss off too. He has to find something to do other than torturing muggles.”

“You’ve got more of a chance of Bella willingly sharing a bed with me,” Rudolphus snorted. “Rab has always been a lazy shit. That won’t ever change.”

Corvus hummed his agreement.

His youngest son was more of a disappointment than Rudolphus, and as the fruit of his loins left the room, he could only shake his head.

Merlin only knew what he’d done to deserve such useless children.

(Break)

Although she had not been due to work last night, the hospital had been short staffed, so Narcissa had opted to stay and help where she was needed. It served to occupy her mind whilst Harry was assisting Dumbledore, yet, also reminded her of what it was her husband was up against.

As had become a common sight not so long ago, the muggles had begun arriving in droves, carrying various injuries, and confused as to what had happened to them. As usual, they were given no explanation, and were patched up before being sent on their way with no memory of what had transpired.

Last night and leading up until she exited St Mungo’s, had perhaps been the worst she had seen yet. Some of the muggles had been missing limbs, appeared as though they had been used as target practice, and she had even treated a woman who had lost an eye who now believed she only ever had one.

Her stomach churned at the thought of the wounds she had seen. For the most part, Narcissa liked to think she had grown accustomed to the ins and outs of the human body, but there was always something that would leave a lasting impression, and last night had been full of those.

Breathing a sigh of relief and attempting to settle her stomach, she apparated home with the knowledge she would not have to return to work for a full day, unless she was needed.

“Harry are you here?” she called as she arrived in the entrance hall, wanting to see that her husband was okay.

 Frowning as she received no response, she headed towards the kitchen where he could always be found at this time, only to find it empty, but a plate of food on the table and a note written in his hand.

Sorry,

Dumbledore called and emergency meeting this morning, but I will be back after training. I made you some breakfast, and I miss you,

Harry x

She smiled at the gesture, saddened that this was the first breakfast they would not share since they had been married, but she understood. As much as she wished it could be a daily thing, there was bound to be times they could not eat the meal together.

Turning her attention back to her food, her appetite was non-existent, and her stomach gave another lurch. The jam Harry had put on the bread reminded her of only one thing and she fought the urge to vomit.

Perhaps she should go to bed and put the prior evening behind her?

She nodded at the thought and cast a preservation charm over the food. She would eat when she woke later.

(Break)

It was a rather grim and unhappy Harry, for various reasons, that was seated amongst his peers in the Wizengamot chambers. Dumbledore had called the emergency meeting, equally displeased by what had transpired last night and the response of the auror force. Not only had they been slow to arrive, the three that had attended had shown no empathy as to what had happened, had merely grunted and sent for the healers. They had left shortly after, though not before Harry had a heated exchange with the man in charge, one he had met previously, and who was still an intolerable berk.

It appeared that Dawlish had not been a product of his job when Harry had met him in Dumbledore’s office during his fifth year. He was simply an arrogant moron. How he had lived during the first war, Harry knew not, but judging by the speed of his arrival time, he doubted the decorated auror had fought a single battle.

Harry was pulled from his thoughts as Dumbledore rapt the top of his podium with his gavel.

“I have called this meeting today to discuss the events of last night,” he began darkly, his usual warm and friendly demeanour all but absent. “For months, we have had peace, had no attacks and it seems that most of us have forgotten that a threat against us remains at large. Last night, we were reminded of that threat. Forty-three muggles lost their lives, and dozens of others were left injured and in need of treatment.”

Some of the lords and ladies murmured amongst themselves and Dumbledore allowed them a moment to digest what he had divulged.

“This threat, as proven with heir actions in Hogsmeade and their many attacks on our muggle counterparts, is very real and it is time that we address it and set plans into motion with the aim of putting an end to it permanently.”

“Did we not discuss this previously?” Lord Longbottom questioned. “After the attack on Hogsmeade, I believe the Minister was going to be meeting with the Head of the Department of Magical Law enforcement.”

“That I did, Lord Longbottom,” Bagnold confirmed as she stood. “I discussed our previous suggestions with Barty and he, along with the Senior Aurors are in agreement; the force they face when dealing with these men and women should be the force they are allowed to use.”

Many nodded their agreement with the sentiment, whereas others did not appear to be happy.

“So, those of our own kind should be killed for attacking a bunch of filthy muggles?” Lord Selwyn questioned. “I would remind you that muggle hunting was once legal. Would it not be simpler for us to reinstate that law? They breed like rats, their numbers growing more so.”

“And that it is why the Statute of Secrecy is more important now than ever,” Bagnold returned. “Their numbers grow but our safety is not compromised. Many of the children attending Hogwarts are muggleborns. Whether you like it or not, there must be coexistence of sorts between us and muggles.”

“Then let us ban the filthy mudbloods!” Selwyn snapped.

The room fell quiet as Harry stood and glared at the man.

“You are a fool, Selwyn,” he said simply. “You believe the blood that flows through your veins make you superior, it does not. Muggleborns wield magic, just the same as you or I. To ban them does nothing but set us back a few centuries. It is no secret that I am a half-blood, do you believe you are superior to me?”

Selwyn clenched his jaw but said nothing.

“Those of you who share views with Selwyn, do you believe that you are superior to me?” he asked all within the room.

When he received no reply, Harry continued.

“It’s funny that those who are apart of this pureblood movement believe themselves superior, but when I arrived in Taunton last night, they fled like the cowards they are, but that is neither here nor there. For the time being, let us forget that Selwyn is a bigoted moron who offers nothing but asinine comments, and focus on the matter at hand. Something needs to be done, and I believe the Madame Minister was going to explain just what that is.”

The woman nodded and Harry retook his seat.

“As I was saying, Barty and the Senior Aurors are in agreement with what we discussed during the meeting after the events of Hogsmeade, and we have been working tirelessly to put this into a bill, something we finished a few weeks ago,” she announced. “The proposed bill will not give the aurors carte blanch to use lethal force as and when they please, but only when they are faced with situations such as these ongoing attacks.”

“And how can we be certain they will adhere to this?” Lord Nott questioned.

“They will be held accountable via the viewing of memories and statements from witnesses when available. To this end, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement will receive a much-needed bolstering to their budget to facilitate this and to continue adding to the number of recruits we have accepted over the past six months.”

“Where will this additional funding be coming from?” Lord Lestrange asked, frowning, seemingly unhappy with the development.

“Between Barty and I, we have reached an agreement to recruit already qualified aurors from France, Switzerland, Italy and Germany with those respective countries. They will continue to pay their salaries and we in turn have negotiated a mutually beneficial tax levy for trade between our nations. It is an extraordinary achievement.

The Lords that had vested interest in such a deal nodded their approval and Harry suspected this avenue was intentionally explored by the Minister. With such a move, she had likely secured a quarter of the required vote for the bill to pass.

“So, we will pay no taxes to import or export from any of those countries?” Lord Macmillan asked.

“That is the agreement in place,” Bagnold confirmed.

Whispers and comments of approval could be heard, and Harry could see the Minister was hard-pressed to not grin smugly at her stroke of genius.

“This of course is all subject to the bill being passed. Without it, there will be no need to for the aurors and we would financially be worse off with the tax levy in place. With the aurors and their salaries being paid, we would be better off by around 7% compared to our usual foreign spending.”

“Then let us put it to the vote,” Lord Goldstein suggested.

“No,” Lord Selwyn denied. “I request a period in which we are able to read the bill in full before such a vote take place.”

“I agree,” Lord Nott declared.

“As do I,” Lord Lestrange added. “This must be considered carefully and not decided on a whim because some of you will benefit from this.”

“Then we shall adjourn, you will each be provided with a copy of the bill as you take your leave and we will meet in a week’s time where the voting will take place,” Bagnold announced, seemingly having prepared for this eventuality.

Harry, for the first time since making her acquaintance, found himself impressed with the woman, and as he stood and accepted his thick wad of parchment, he nodded satisfactorily.

Bagnold had not been as idle as most would have believed.

“The peace was nice whilst it lasted,” Edgar sighed as he joined him. “Still, you have your first match on Saturday. Nervous?”

“I’m more nervous about the wedding on Sunday,” Harry replied. “People trying to knock me off a broom, I can deal with, but trying to make you look good, that’s a hell of a job, Bones.”

The redhead snorted as he punched Harry on the arm.

“I’m sure you’ll do a fine job. If anything, I’ve made it easy for you. Anyway, I must be off, Ellie was having a lastminute meltdown about something or other before I was called here. I’ll see you Saturday, Peverell.”

Harry waved the man off and jogged to catch up with Arcturus who was making his way from the room, scowling at the other lords that happened to be in his way.

“You know, you must be the most cantankerous, old git I’ve ever met,” Harry muttered as he fell into step beside him. “No one said a word to you and you looked as though you wanted to throttle them.”

Arcturus snorted.

“When you put up with them for as long as I have, you’ll feel the same.”

“Maybe,” Harry conceded. “Forgetting about them, we need to have a conversation about your granddaughter.”

“Narcissa?” Arcturus questioned with a frown.

Harry shook his head.

“No, Bellatrix.”

(Break)

Having returned home with Lord Peverell in tow, Arcturus offered the man a seat in his study and took his own on the opposite side of the desk. Bellatrix had become a rather sore point for the family recently with none having seen her since her wedding day. She had even stopped visiting Arcturus and Melania, the announcement of Narcissa’s marriage to the man before him having dissuaded her in continuing to court him on the Dark Lord’s behalf.

“From your mood, I can only assume that she was there last night,” Arcturus commented.

Harry nodded.

“She was, and attempted to harm me once more,” he explained. “For the sake of my wife, I sent her away, but it cannot continue. I would like to know what you are going to do about her.”

Arcturus released a breath and shook his head.

“What would you have me do, Harry?” he asked. “She is no longer a Black.”

“But she is still Narcissa’s sister,” Harry pointed out. “It puts me in a very difficult position when my life is in danger and I feel obligated to spare someone who has no qualms in killing me.”

“Have you spoken to Narcissa about this?”

“No,” Harry sighed. “We were at St Mungo’s last night when I heard about the attack and she stayed to help out.”

“Why were you at St Mungo’s?”

Harry snorted.

“Lucius made an enemy of Olin and is suffering the consequences. I had to warn Abraxas about attempting to hold me responsible. I think he saw things my way.”

Arcturus chuckled, not doubting the younger man.

He knew of very few that would wish to be on the wrong side of Peverell.

“Then you should speak with Narcissa about Bellatrix,” Arcturus suggested. “I would rather she was not killed but she has made her choices, Harry. I cannot speak for Narcissa on the matter, but I can only assume she would wish for you to avoid her as best you can.”

Harry nodded his understanding as he stood.

“I will speak with her,” he assured the man. “Will you be there on Saturday?”

Arcturus nodded enthusiastically.

“Of course, I wouldn’t miss it,” he replied.

“I will see you then,” Harry offered before taking his leave, no happier than when he had arrived with the Black patriarch.

Arcturus watched him leave, not envying the younger lord’s position.

Bellatrix was no longer a child and excuses could not be made for the way she acted. Over the years, there had been many incidents that had given him pause where his granddaughter had been concerned.

She had always exhibited bouts of cruelty, petulance when she did not get what she wanted or her way and worrying tendencies towards those weaker than herself.

A part of him, admittedly, had ignored it and he had hoped that they would pass. It was not to be, and these incidents continued. Even for a Black, she had been exceptionally inclined towards violence than was the norm.

Whatever happened to her was no longer his responsibility. She no longer carried his name and had made her decision to distance herself from them. Should she come to her senses, he would of course do all he could to help her, but that was down to her, and there was no scenario he could envision the woman doing such.

She was too stubborn, too set in her ways, and the truth was, she enjoyed what she did. Arcturus could only imagine her life ending in two ways.

The first would see Bellatrix behind bars in a cold, lonely cell being held by the Ministry for her crimes.

The other, would be dying prematurely, cut down out of necessity when she refused to accept defeat.

It saddened the old man, and he could only lament on the life of his granddaughter, a sense of regret filling him that he had not dealt with her much more harshly when she was growing up.

(Break)

It was late afternoon that Harry returned home, the Wizengamot meeting and Quidditch training having taken up much of his day. He didn’t mind the latter; it was his job now and it served to help calm the thoughts that were plaguing him. Bellatrix had become an issue, and were it not for his wife, the woman would already be dead, unable to harm others any longer.

He felt guilty for his predicament. The blood of her victims would be on his hands, and perhaps it was selfish, but he would not act without discussing it with Narcissa.

His conversation with Arcturus had been all but fruitless and what happened next hinged on what the woman he had married would say. Harry had no qualms with killing Bellatrix if that was what it came to, he just did not want such an action to impact his life beyond the task of doing so.

He entered the kitchen to find Narcissa seated at the table, nursing a cup of tea as she stared out of the window, her attention seemingly far away.

“Have you only just got home?” Harry asked, pulling her from whatever thoughts she was having, noticing the untouched pate of food still in front of her.

Narcissa shook her head.

“No, I’ve already slept, I just haven’t had much of an appetite,” she explained.

“Rough night?” he questioned as he took a seat opposite her.

“Something like that,” Narcissa replied cryptically, almost as though she was confused by something.

“I know what you mean,” Harry sighed. “Your sister was there.”

“Bella?”

Harry nodded and released a deep breath.

“I don’t know what to do about her, Cissy. I get that she is your sister, but…”

“She’s a monster,” Narcissa finished.

“She is,” Harry agreed. “She’s murdering people; men, women and children all because she thinks she’s better than them, for a man who is not what he claims to be.”

“That doesn’t matter to her, Harry,” Narcissa sighed. “It won’t matter to anyone. They are drawn to him because he is powerful. The purebloods will overlook the fact that he is not one of them. They have with you and with Dumbledore.”

“I know,” Harry muttered irritably. “But your sister is dangerous. Last night, she tried to kill me, and the only thing that stopped me from putting an end to her was because of you.”

“That’s not fair,” Narcissa bit back. “You cannot put this on me.”

“I’m not trying to,” Harry assured her. “I just need to know what you want me to do with her. It is inevitable that what happened last night will again.”

Narcissa nodded her understanding.

“I don’t know, Harry, but whatever happens, you can’t leave me.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he replied with a chuckle, frowning at her uncharacteristically insecure demeanour as she stared into her cup as though attempting to read the tealeaves within.

“I don’t mean just for me,” Narcissa mumbled. “I knew what I was getting into when I married you, but our child doesn’t. I won’t have them born into a world without their father here,” she added, meeting his gaze with her own tearful one.

Harry could only stare at his wife open-mouthed as he processed just what she had said, and Narcissa laughed and nodded at his dumbstruck look.

“You’re…?”

“I am,” she confirmed.

“But… Are you sure?”

“I am training to be a healer, Harry,” she reminded him.

He nodded dumbly, still in awe at the revelation.

“How long have you known?”

“Since about ten minutes before you got home,” Narcissa huffed. “I felt unwell after my shift and thought it was because of everything that happened last night, but when I woke up this afternoon, I was sick and decided I should check just to make sure.”

“So, you’re…”

“Pregnant,” Narcissa confirmed, gently placing a hand on her stomach.

“Bloody hell,” Harry snorted, “well, I didn’t expect that today.”

Narcissa raised an eyebrow at him.

“Are you not happy having a pregnant wife, Harry?” she asked, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

“I’m just taking a minute to let it sink in,” he replied, grinning as he stood and made his way towards the kitchen door.

“Where are you going?” Narcissa asked.

“I’ll be back,” Harry answered as he disappeared into the grounds.

Narcissa waited, her patience slowly wearing thin until she was startled, and almost jumped out of her skin as a loud bang echoed from outside the home, and a stream of colours illuminated the window.

Readying herself to give her husband a piece of her mind, she stormed outside to be greeted by the sight of Harry jumping up and down, whooping jubilantly as he sent another series of fireworks into the sky.

“A BLOODY BABY!” he shouted excitedly as an enormous dragon formed amongst the colourful sparks and unleashed an enormous roar.

“YOU STUPID PRAT!” Narcissa chastised. “YOU ALMOST GAVE ME A HEART ATTACK!”

At her words, he turned and rushed towards her, sweeping the woman in his arms and eliciting a yelp of surprise from her.

“We’re having a baby,” he said simply.

“Yes, Harry, we’re having a baby,” she giggled. “Now put me down.”

“No,” he refused flatly. “I’m going to be a…”

“Father?” Narcissa finished.

“I’m going to be a dad.”

Not once in his life had he experienced such joy. Not when Sirius had asked him to move in at the end of third year nor when he finally cast a patronus strong enough to keep the dementors away from him. Learning that he was going to have a child was the best thing that had happened to him, and though it was not often he was overwhelmed with emotion, this did it and he too shed tears of happiness with the woman he’d married.

“So, this is good news?” Narcissa asked.

Harry nodded, unashamedly beaming.

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

Narcissa shrugged uncertainly.

“I’m scared,” she admitted. “I’ve never had a baby or even looked after one.”

“Neither have I,” Harry pointed out, “but we can learn together.”

Narcissa smiled.

“That could work,” she mused aloud. “When will we tell people?”

“I guess soon?” Harry returned uncertainly. “You’ll have to tell the hospital. There must be things you won’t be able to do there now?”

Narcissa nodded.

“I’ll have to tell them Monday,” she sighed. “We should probably tell everyone we want to know at the match tomorrow.”

“Then that it was we will do,” Harry agreed, kissing her on the cheek. “Girl or boy?”

“It doesn’t matter to me,” Narcissa said dismissively.

“Me either, now, I have some more fireworks to let off, you’ll have to excuse me for a minute,” he replied, placing her back on the floor before lighting another and taking a step back.

“Where did you even get those, you idiot?” Narcissa asked as a chimera lit up the sky with a loud bang.

“Some old friends of mine made them,” Harry answered, his eyes fixed firmly on the last of his Weasley creation.

If ever there was a time to use them, it was now, and he could not help but wonder what had become of where he came from. Were Fred and George still alive? Was Hermione and everyone else he’d left behind?

None would believe him if he was able to share this news with them, would even believe whom it was he had married, but he would not change a thing.

He missed his friends, he missed his godfather, but the only time life had treated him with anything resembling kindness was when he came here, and it had all begun with his wife.

He had woken in a new world and it had been her to greet him, to heal him, and not just his body. With Narcissa, everything was simply better, and he would not be without her; And now, they would have a baby, adding to what they already had.

Harry was no seer and would never profess to be such, but he knew that whatever the future held, it would only be brighter with them in it.

(Break)

“And finally for the Falcons we have their new seeker, HARRY PEVERELL!”

A polite round of applause sounded throughout the stadium, though both Sirius and Remus were cheering loudly in the box Harry had secured for them as part of his contract negotiations.

Narcissa certainly didn’t mind.

Much of the Quidditch season was played during the colder months of the year and being in the warmth was not something she was going to complain about.

“All eyes will be on him today,” the commentator continued. “The Quidditch community is eager to see how the young man will fare at this level.”

Only a moment later, the match started, and immediately, it was clear that Harry’s opponent, garbed in the orange robes of the Chudley Cannons, was outmatched.

To keep up with the younger player, he followed Harry into a dive and found himself needing to be helped up from the ground by the medical team in attendance, his broom in two pieces from the impact.

“Now that was an impressive move!” the commentator declared as the Falcon’s fans cheered their approval loudly. “If Wilkins does not recover, this could be bad for the Canoons.”

The opposing seeker, however, took to the air shortly after, much more cautiously pursuing Harry after being led by the nose into a trap that could have cost his team the match.

“I didn’t think he could get any better,” Cygnus snorted. “Wilkins isn’t a bad player, but he can’t hold a wand to Harry.”

Arcturus and Charlus nodded their agreement as the commentator continued with his rundown of the match.

“And that is ten points to the Falcons who are dominating play,” he announced. “It doesn’t appear that this will be the season the Cannons make their promised comeback.”

The fans sporting orange jerseys booed the man who took it in his stride with a chuckle.

“I say what I see folks,” he defended, “Oh, and that’s another ten points to the Falcons as Bode’s shot is perfectly placed to the left of the keeper.”

“There he goes,” Charlus pointed out before the commentator took note of Harry’s sudden burst.

“And Peverell has seen the Sni- has caught the Snitch,” the man corrected. “Wow! The Falcon’s win 170-0. That was an impressive performance, and the glory goes to their newest signing. What a catch by the young man. The rest of the teams in the league will need to watch him closely.”

The cheering from the Falcon’s fans came, delayed as most had missed Harry’s catch. It had happened so fast that even Narcissa had not seen it but when the whistle to bring the game to an end sounded, the applause was deafening.

In the space of only ten minutes, Harry had silenced any of those doubting him.

“Bloody hell,” Cygnus chuckled, “the rest of the games won’t be so easy, but he made Wilkins look like the amateurs Harry was playing against last season.”

“Harry has been working very hard,” Narcissa explained. “Even when he is at home, I can barely get him off the pitch.”

“It’s showing,” Charlus broke in. “He was more focused today than I have seen him.”

“He has to be,” Cygnus mused aloud. “He’s playing against the best now.”

Charlus nodded his agreement.

“So, how do we celebrate?” Arcturus asked.

“You’re all coming to ours,” Narcissa announced quickly before anyone else could suggest something. “None of you have been to ours yet.”

“That works,” Arcturus agreed, eying his granddaughter questioningly.

“Not us, I’m afraid,” Edgar interjected, gesturing towards himself and Ellie. “Last minute wedding things.”

“Of course, Lord Bones,” Arcturus acknowledged. “We will see you and your lovely lady tomorrow.”

Edgar offered the man a smile and bid his farewells before they took their leave, intercepted briefly by Harry who shared a few words with the two.

“Are we ready?” he asked as he reached them, taking Narcissa’s hand in his own and giving it a squeeze.

Those within the box clapped and cheered loudly at his appearance, something Harry ignored. He was not one for adulation, though he could certainly expect more of it soon enough when they broke their news.

Narcissa smiled at the thought.

“I think we are,” she replied, withdrawing the portkey that would take them home. “Everybody take hold.”

They did so and the group soon found themselves in the entrance hall of the Peverell home, each looking around curiously.

“You know, I imagined you would live in a castle surrounded by gravestones,” Sirius commented.

Harry raised an eyebrow at the boy he smiled innocently.

“I’m not your professor anymore, Black, but I can always have a word with the twins to make your life miserable on my behalf.”

“That is true,” Sirius conceded thoughtfully. “I like your house,” he added. “It is great.”

Harry shook his head amusedly as he led them into the kitchen where Narcissa had resized the table to accommodate the large group consisting of her grandparents, the three Potters, Sirius and her own mother and father.

“Have you given much more though to getting an elf?” Arcturus questioned as he took a seat.

“We have and will be going to pick one next week,” Narcissa explained.

Arcturus nodded his approval.

Although their home was smaller than most f the prominent families, Harry and Narcissa both worked full time alongside fulfilling their obligations as the Lord and Lady Peverell. An elf would be a boon to them.

“You have done a remarkable job making this feel like a home,” Druella praised. “The last time we were here was when you were fourteen and it was quite neglected by then.”

Narcissa nodded.

“It was a lot of work but worth it. We love it here.”

Druella smiled warmly, pleased with the life her daughter was creating for herself.

“And what about you, Harry? Do you like it?”

“I do,” Harry replied. “It’s quiet and we don’t have any neighbours. Probably a good thing after last night.”

“Yeah, we don’t want to hear what kind of noises you two make,” James muttered.

“James!” Dorea chastised.

“Ah, I wouldn’t worry too much about him,” Harry chuckled. “It’s not as though I caught him in any broom cupboards last year. He has no idea what he’s talking about.”

Sirius guffawed as James blushed, but his eyes widened when Harry’s attention shifted to him.

“You know too much, Black. Heard from Miss Fawcett recently?”

Sirius shook his head frantically as Melania tutted disapprovingly.

“I do hope you have not been dishonouring young women, Sirius,” she said warningly.

Harry laughed and held up a hand.

“He hasn’t, though not through a lack of trying. Minerva is watching him like a hawk.”

“I didn’t know you were so keen to marry already,” Charlus broke in. “I’m sure between us, we can find a suitable bride for when you finish school.”

Arcturus nodded his agreement and Sirius balked.

“No thank you,” he replied, “I have been behaving.”

Arcturus hummed and eyed his grandson, though the old man was evidently amused by his antics.

“If you get anyone pregnant, you’ll be marrying them,” he warned. “Ask yourself, is that thirty seconds of fun worth a lifetime of commitment?”

“He’d be lucky to last thirty seconds,” James snorted.

“James!” Dorea chastised once more, ignoring the laughter of her husband and nephew.

“I think that is enough talk of Sirius impregnating young women,” Druella huffed.

“It is,” Narcissa agreed. “Sirius should wait until he is married to a worthy woman, like Harry did.”

The silence that followed was tense as those gathered around the table took varying times to digest what she had said.

Druella was the first to react, choking on whatever words she wanted to say as only a muffled sob escaped her.

Whilst Druella was attempting to compose herself, Melania and Dorea all but smothered Narcissa until the former joined them a moment later, the four of them chattering away about baby names and what Narcissa could expect during her pregnancy.

“Well, we won’t get any sense out of them for a while,” Cygnus commented as he stood and slapped Harry smartly on the shoulder. “Congratulations, son, I couldn’t be prouder of you both.”

Harry nodded gratefully at the rare display of pleasantness from his father-in-law with Arcturus following suit and offering his own words.

“Well done, Peverell,” he said sincerely. “Being a parent is the best thing you will do with your life, even if your children turn out to be a shower of gits.”

Cygnus looked affronted by his father’s words but laughed heartily as he shook his head, having grown with the man’s odd sense of humour.

Before Charlus could say anything, however, Harry’s attention was caught by the conversation of the women.

“What about Draco for a boy?” Druella suggested.

Harry felt his chest tighten at the thought.

“We haven’t discussed names,” he interjected, horrified. “I don’t think I’m keen on the name Dragon.”

“That’s a stupid name, even if it is tradition,” Sirius agreed. “Anyway, the baby will be a Peverell,” he added. “It won’t be a Black.”

“That is true,” Arcturus conceded. “Harry’s first-born should have a suitable name for his family, and besides, there hasn’t been a Draco in the Black family for generations, not since Draco the Cruel who had his name cursed by a sorcerer in Crete. It’s probably not a good name at all.”

Harry breathed a sigh of relief.

He would not have a son named Draco. He would much rather name it after Neville’s frog Trevor.

“Besides, there are other things to think about before names,” Cygnus broke in. “They have to prepare for the little bugger’s arrival and buy another creepy raven for it.”

“DEATH!” Olin squawked warningly.

“Alright, I was joking,” Cygnus defended. “Bloody sensitive that one.”

Harry chuckled as he approached the raven and stroked his feathers.

“I didn’t buy Olin,” he reminded the man. “Olin found me.”

“Still bloody creepy,” Cygnus murmured, eying Olin warily.

“Although my husband has his priorities all wrong,” Druella sighed, “there is much more important things than names. We don’t even know if it will be a girl or boy yet.”

“You have to buy a cot, a Moses basket and all the other things first.”

Narcissa nodded excitedly.

“And decorate a room for them,” she added.

“And buy them a broom,” James suggested.

Narcissa tutted disapprovingly as Sirius nodded.

“It will be a few years before the baby will be going anywhere near a broom.”

“I flew my first at one-years-old, almost killed the cat,” Harry informed them, much to the amusement of the men.

Druella and Dorea shook their heads in tandem.

“Now, who allowed you to have a broom so young?” the former asked.

Harry wanted to answer with ‘your son’ but thought better of it. Instead, he merely shrugged, not focusing on the fact that his child’s grandparents would barely be seventeen years older than them, and their great-grandparents would never know of their relationship.

Still, they would be a part of their life and that was a consolation he was willing to live with when he considered the alternative his own life had once been.

His own existence bothered him to this day and would continue to do so, but there was no fathomable way that he could tell the people around him who he was. Narcissa would perhaps one day understand, though he could not picture within his mind any scenario that would lead to her learning about certain parts of him. As much as it irked him so, how could he expect her to understand?

His life before he had arrived here had been so very different, his world shaped in ways to help him survive what it had become. Narcissa knew nothing of that, and as things were, the past was left better where it was.

He was here now, and this was his life. Voldemort was still a problem to overcome but one Harry was determined to do, and with the prospect of fatherhood and a life he wished to live on the horizon, his determination to see an end to the man only grew.

For his wife, for his child, and for those not yet here, he would prevail.

(Break)

“Your task today, Lord Selwyn is a simple one,” the Dark Lord informed the eager man. “You need only observe what happens and ensure you are ready to transport our comrades back when it is over.”

Selwyn nodded his understanding.

“Are you expecting casualties, my lord?”

“Many,” Voldemort replied easily.

Selwyn smirked and offered a bow before leaving the room and the Dark Lord shook his head. His subordinate was evidently under the impression that the losses suffered would be on the opposing side.

That was unlikely, but he could hope a few burdens would be lifted with the efforts of his companions. Who was he to deny those so keen for the opportunity?

(Break)

“I didn’t think I’d be this nervous,” Edgar sighed as he paced back and forth, waiting for the allotted time to arrive. “If we would have had a ceremony during the day, we would be married by now.”

Harry watched his friend amusedly.

Edgar was not often a nervous man, but he empathised with the redhead. Harry had felt the same way before his own wedding.

“Well, the fact that she is here and just as anxious as you should count for something,” he pointed out.

Edgar nodded.

“How does she look?”

“Like she’s too good for you,” Harry replied with a smirk causing Edgar to chuckle.

“I already know that,” he muttered. “Bloody hell, Peverell, you’re supposed to be helping me. Distract me, you smug git.”

Harry nodded thoughtfully.

“I’m going to be a father,” he revealed.

Edgar’s pacing ceased and he turned to stare at the other man with a look of disbelief marring his features.

“Narcissa’s…?”

“She is,” Harry confirmed.

Edgar positively beamed and pulled Harry into a tight embrace.

“That’s some damned good news,” he offered sincerely. “Mate, I’m so happy for you.”

Harry smiled.

“It’s terrifying, Ed,” he admitted. “I hadn’t really thought much about it until she told me, and now I’m bricking it.”

Edgar snorted.

“You will be fine, both of you,” he assured the younger man. “If anyone is going to understand the value of having a family, it’s you. That alone will make sure you do a good job. Besides, I’m sure Narcissa won’t let it be any other way.”

“No, she wouldn’t,” Harry agreed. “Anyway, it’s time,” he announced.

Edgar turned towards the clock and nodded severely.

“Thank Merlin,” he huffed. “I’m sure that clock doesn’t move if you look at it.”

Harry shook his head and shoved his friend through the door and escorted him to the room the ceremony would take place in, the soon-to-be Lord and Lady Bones having opted for a service like Harry and Narcissa’s; a simple, traditional affair, only with a larger gathering.

(Break)

“We don’t get much time for this,” Narcissa sighed from her place within Harry’s arms.

“Dancing?” he asked.

“No, just to be together,” she replied.

Harry nodded thoughtfully.

Both were busy people with their respective careers, and they did not get as much together as either would like. Neither were to blame, it was just how their lives worked right now.

“We could always find an excuse to take another honeymoon, he suggested.

Narcissa grinned enthusiastically.

“We could…”

“There are some weekends where I won’t have a match too, and you’ll have time off from the hospital.”

“Yes, but I will be heavily pregnant by then, and then we will have a baby,” Narcissa pointed out, rolling her eyes at Harry’s bright smile.

He was overly excited at the thought of being a father. Not that she wasn’t excited in her own way, but she was almost certain she did not have a silly grin plastered across her face whenever it was mentioned.

Or perhaps she did. It certainly filled her with warmth, and terror.

“I am glad we didn’t have so many people at our wedding,” Harry sighed as they were forced to side-step another couple that were not paying attention to where they were going.

“For a pureblood wedding, this one is quite small,” Narcissa countered. “Remember how many people were at Bella’s?”

Harry nodded.

It was as though the entire pureblood community had arrived.

He paused suddenly as a magical presence washed over him, not something that would usually disturb him, but something that was out of place.

“What is it?” Narcissa asked, a frown creasing a brow.

“A lot of people just arrived by portkey,” Harry muttered in response.

“Some guests are only invited for the reception,” Narcissa explained.

Harry shook his head.

“No, that isn’t it,” he mused aloud. “Not all of them are human…”

He drew his wand as he felt a powerful set of wards be erected around them and a series of eerie howls rent the air.

“DO NOT RUN!” he shouted as the music fell silent and the guests looked around them fearfully, each knowing what was coming their way. “IF YOU RUN, THEY WILL CATCH YOU! CLUSTER UP AND GET THE CHILDREN AND VULNERABLE IN THE MIDDLE! DUMBLEDORE, AT THE BACK WITH DEARBORN. MOODY? YOU AND BONES TAKE THE WEST AND MEADOWES? YOU’RE UP HERE WITH ME. MOVE!”

The assembled Order members began shepherding the frightened guests into a large cluster as instructed and Harry brought them some time by lighting a large perimeter fire.

The group would be vulnerable to spell fire, but it would hinder the werewolves.

“Harry?” Narcissa questioned.

“Get in the centre, Cissy,” he said sharply. “I won’t put you and the baby at risk. Keep them as calm as you can, stun them if you have to.”

Narcissa appeared as though she wanted to argue, but nodded and made her way through the crowd.

“Arcturus? Stay with her,” he requested.

The Lord Black pulled his wife into the mass of people in Narcissa’s wake, and Harry waited.

There were a lot of werewolves out there, more than he had ever deal with on his own. Oddly enough, what he had just done is exactly what Moody had taught him to do if he found himself in such a situation. Werewolves thrived on the hunt and outrunning one was no easy feat, and certainly not for as many people that had gathered for the wedding.

“Hold steady!” he commanded firmly as the rustling of the trees came closer from all directions.

They were surrounded and their only hope to survive this was to stand their ground.

“Bloody full moon,” he grumbled, eying the bright orb in the sky above. “Olin, go.”

His raven took to the sky and Harry sent a flock of his own creation to follow before closing his eyes and conjuring several burning rocks. A hit from one of those would ensure the victim would not live to see the waning of the moon they looked towards.

(Break)

“They’re not running,” Selwyn pointed out.

“Of course they’re not running, you fool,” Bellatrix sighed. “Anyone who knows anything about werewolves would not run.”

“So, what do we do?”

“We send them in,” Bellatrix instructed, eying the ring of fire speculatively, testing the defence with a blasting curse. “I will put an end to that.”

The Dark Lord had taught her all about magical fires, and this, though not an easy task, was one she could handle.”

(Break)

The first of the attackers broke through the trees closest to where Dumbledore and Dearborn were manning the circle, the snarling and yelps heard across the grounds of the venue, and as tempting as it was, Harry knew not to abandon his post. He would see his share of the action soon enough.

“I’VE SENT FOR THE AURORS!” Amelia called loudly to him.

Harry snorted.

The fight would be over before they arrived.

His own confrontation began as a large, part man, part wolf vaulted over his wall of flame, only to be intercepted with a severing charm before he could touch the ground, though he did hit it with a dull thud, bereft of his left leg.

“Now, Olin,” Harry whispered.

“DEATH!”

The shriek of the ravens was heard over the din as the flock dove from the trees and a sporadic wave of explosions sounded, muted by the wailing of the creatures that had intruded upon the wedding, and although they had dealt quite the blow to the enemy, they continued to pour from within the forest.

“Bloody hell,” Harry grumbled, wondering just how many there could be.

He was pulled from his thoughts as his fire began to flicker, slowly being snuffed by someone determined to cause maximum carnage by getting the wolves within the perimeter. They would succeed if he did nothing to prevent it.

Taking a deep breath, he focused his energy before such a thing could come to pass, and warped his flames, nodding satisfactorily as four of his cloaked figures were created before they could be doused.

Each armed with an enormous scythe, they began hacking away at their enemies, as though they were harvesting wheat, and Harry was distracted by a shriek of rage.

His gaze swept over to where it came from and he saw two figures, one masked, and one not, the latter revealed to be his furious sister-in-law.

No longer feeling the need to hold back, he levelled his wand at the deranged woman, only for her to pull her companion into the path of the spell sent her way.

The masked man screamed as the magic forced him to his knees, but was silenced by the fiery executioners axe that removed his head from his shoulders with a single stroke.

He would not be reporting back to Tom.

“HARRY!”

The voice he heard was that of his wife, and whilst he turned for the brief second, Bellatrix had fled, and he caught but a glance of her as she darted through the trees away from the fight.

Clenching his teeth, he turned and sprinted towards Narcissa who simply pointed in the direction of where Dumbledore was stood alone, attempting to fend off a dozen or so werewolves singlehandedly.

Close to the aged wizard was an unmoving figure, one he recognised as Caradoc Dearborn. It appeared the two men had been slowly overwhelmed, but the Welshman had not abandoned his post. If he lived, it would be as one of those attacking them, but judging by the amount of blood surrounding him, Harry knew he was dead.

Pushing those thoughts aside, he charged forward to assist the headmaster, the man giving him a relieved smile as he reached his side and the two worked together to keep the ravenous creatures at bay.

Between the efforts of the two men, they succeeded, but the assailants merely moved away from them to a less defended area of the circle and continued their own efforts to break through to those that would not offer as much resistance.

In part, they were successful.

Where Harry had previously been, Dorcas Meadowes had been left to her own devices, and although no harm had come to her a few had gotten past and were only being held at bay by the efforts of Arcturus Black and a few other guests that refused to cower before them.

“Olin, go!” Harry instructed.

Once more, the raven came to their rescue, forming into a thick, black fog before engulfing the werewolves that had breached the defences, leaving behind only a collection of mostly canine skeletons.

“AURORS!” a voice sounded and, Harry turned to see waves of men and women red robes bursting from within the trees.

Evidently, Bagnold had been busy with her recruitment efforts, and the werewolves were soon dispersed, realising any chance they had to feast was all but gone.

They had certainly reacted quicker to this than they had the previous Death Eater attack.

“Harry?” a voice called, and he quickly found himself in the embrace of his wife, who sobbed in relief to see him unharmed.

The same could not be said for many others, however.

As Harry took in the aftermath of the fighting around him, more than one person had been killed or injured, likely losing their nerve and attempting to flee.

Regardless, Voldemort was behind this, and Harry’s time to act was finally upon him. The Dark Lord would return soon, and tonight would be the night to carry out his final preparation.

He had waited long enough.

(Break)

“How did we fare?” the Dark Lord questioned a breathless Bellatrix as she arrived, a heady aroma of smoke lingering on her robes.

“Not well, my lord,” the woman answered. “Selwyn is dead and many of the werewolves with him. They did not flee as expected, but clustered together and fought them off.”

Voldemort nodded, not having the excursion to have gone in his favour but not as badly as it seemed. Before he could respond, however, the door to his study was unceremoniously thrown open and Greyback stalked into the room, his maw still resembling that of the wolf he was.

“My pack was slaughtered,” he seethed. “You promised we would feed, but we were cut down in droves.”

“I promised no such thing,” the Dark Lord returned evenly. “I said there was a chance for you to feed.”

“DO NOT TREAT ME LIKE A FOOLISH CUR!” the werewolf roared.

“Fenrir, you will calm yourself. You will have your chance at vengeance soon enough.”

The werewolf bared his teeth and snarled, but took his leave, wanting no quarrel with Lord Voldemort.

“What will we do now, my lord?” Bellatrix asked, wrinkling her nose at the remaining scent of blood and sweat the creature left behind.

“This evening has given me much to ponder,” the Dark Lord mused aloud. “I will need to think how best to proceed. Peverell must be dealt with first and foremost. When he is gone, Britain will be ripe for the taking. For now, we continue as we are but do not be predictable with your movements. If Peverell arrives, you are to flee. Let us leave him frustrated.”

Bellatrix nodded her understanding.

“Patience, Bella,” Voldemort whispered. “Every man has his weakness, and we will find his.”

(Break)

It was almost dawn when Harry entered his basement having left Narcissa sleeping soundly in bed. The wedding had become a disaster with the werewolf attack. Dearborn was dead, as were several others, and two more having been infected with Lycanthropy.

Were it not for his quick action and the others listening to him, Harry knew it would have been much worse. Still, the attack was no longer his focus, no longer the reason he remained awake. His attention was solely focused on the book he had spent the past months reading the secrets of the Peverell family, the magic, and understanding their connection with Death.

Despite his efforts, all the work he had put into mastering the arts of his ancestors would be for nought until he completed this final step.

Opening the book on the very last page, he removed his cloak, the elder wand and the Peverell lordship ring and placed them on the floor in front of him in a triangle, before adding his phoenix feather and holly wand, his basilisk ingredients, and some feathers donated by Olin to the centre.”

“Death,” the raven cawed gently, seemingly approving Harry’s intended undertaking.

“Protection, life, and healing,” Harry muttered, nodding towards his former wand. “Death for those who look upon our gaze,” he added, gesturing to the Basilisk ingredients, “and Death’s companion, for the soul,” he finished, reciting the passage of the book as he acknowledged the feathers of the raven.

To truly master the hallows, they must be bound by blood, and by soul. These are our gifts, our magic, for they are life, and we are Death.

The words had been penned by Cadmus Peverell some one thousand years ago, the words reminiscent of something the cloaked figure would say. Although instructions were lacking, Harry had acquired a few terms pertaining to binding something to the soul.

In a way, a traditional wizarding ceremony accomplished just that, but it would be insufficient to bind objects. To do so, there needed to be a catalyst for the magic to take hold, things of sentimental magical value, and things conducive to what the desired result would be.

His first wand had saved his life on many occasions and the feather within had come from Fawkes whose tears had become part of his blood.

The basilisk ingredients were of similar value, although the opposite effect had been achieved. The venom had almost killed him, but he had overcome the beast, slain it and claimed its parts for himself.

Olin’s feathers were the final piece for the companion that had come to him when he had been in need, had protected him and was a creation of the cloaked figure himself.

All three were conducive to what he wished to achieve. To work as intended, the hallows must become a part of him.

“Is this truly the way, old friend?”

“Death,” Olin replied, nodding.

“Then let it be done,” Harry muttered, drawing his dagger as he sat amongst his belongings.

Taking a deep breath, he cut open his palm and allowed the blood to pool before holding it over each of the items. When a few drops had been placed on each, he felt for the magic in each.

A wave of coldness like nothing else he had felt filled his veins and only a moment later, his phoenix feather wand burst into black flames followed by the basilisk ingredients and the Olin’s feathers.

When they had been consumed, the remaining smoke coalesced together and shrouded the gathered hallows. Fearing they too would be destroyed, he reached for them, only to be sent sprawling backwards as the smoke lunged and slammed into his chest.

Struggling to breathe and with his vison swimming in and out of focus, he took in the sight of the glowing Peverell ring adorning his finger, the darkened elder wand in his hand, and the feeling of the cloak being draped about his shoulders.

How long he was unconscious for, he knew not, but when he opened his eyes, he was stood before the veil for the first time in many moons passed.

Already knowing what to expect, he waited for the cloaked figure to emerge, and was not disappointed.

“I see you have succeeded, Peverell,” it commented.

“Did I have any choice?”

“There is always a choice,” the figure replied. “I believe, you made the right one in this instance.”

“So, what happens now?”

It felt as though the figure grinned from beneath its hood.

“You begin to understand the true power that being my champion gives you. Rest, for now. When you return to me, you will need your strength.”

Once more, the black fog descended and Harry found himself breathing heavily on the floor of his basement, with the magic of the cloaked figure never having felt so strong within him.