Reading Time: 84 Minutes

Title: Enduring
Author: MykkiTno
Fandom: Harry Potter
Genre: Contemporary, Drama, Family, Fantasy, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, Paranormal/Supernatural
Relationship(s): Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy, Severus Snape/Sirius Black
Content Rating: R
Warnings: Hate Crimes, Hate Speech, Slavery, Torture, Violence-Domestic, Violence-Against Children, Abuse-Child, Discussion-Child Abuse, Dubious Consent(magical bonds without a discussion but still wanted), Non-Con(magical Control and coercion), Mild Sexual Content, Homophobia, Disturbing Imagery, character bashing, magic withdrawal, magic addiction, non-consensual magic use. Discussion on drug usage(potions) and withdrawal. Major Character Death (canonical death, but in a non-canonical way)
Alpha: I need to thank three people for their patience and help in wrangling this massive work into a cohesive whole, Hourstillnoon, Vi and Kait for their unfailing feedback and support. They let me natter and plot out loud or suffer when I panic and send a quick blurb asking if it made sense, and their fast responses mean everything to me. SO thanks!
Word Count: 88,647
Summary: During Yule of Harry’s fifth year, he finds something in the Chamber of Secrets that answers questions he hadn’t realized he had, but he keeps the knowledge hidden until he can’t anymore. Resorting to Dark Magic isn’t something he thought he’d do, but the changes it wrought aren’t ones he regrets because the alternative would have made things worse.
Artist: CoCo

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Chapter Seven

An hour later, Draco jerked his head at the sound of Weasley’s voice echoing in the room.

“what are you doing here? You’re supposed to be helping.”

“Hmmm?” Hermione glanced up from the book in her lap, “pardon me?”

Ron glared at her, “You’re supposed to be helping Ginny and I clean, remember?”

“Oh, I don’t have to,” Hermione replied, dropping her eyes to the book. “I can’t afford to soil my clothing before returning home, so your mother told me to hide here.”

“What do you mean you’re leaving?” Ron demanded.

A long sigh emerged from the young woman curled into the armchair in the library at Grimmauld Place, replying without looking up, “I’m going home to visit with my parents until Harry gets here.”

“Of course, it’s about Harry,” Ron muttered angrily, folding his arms with a glare. “You know he’s engaged to Ginny, so you’ll have to get over him, right?”

Hermione hummed distractedly, “It has nothing to do with Harry, though I will admit his presence here will provide a vast improvement over the present company.”

Ron’s face darkened, his hands fisting at his side, as he visibly wrestled control of himself and released a slow breath, “It’s not safe if you leave, Hermione.”

Rolling her eyes, Hermione turned a page. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. It has the same sort of wards Harry has on his home, and Professor Snape is going to be keeping an eye on things while I’m there.”

“But you-but…” he trailed off, his face turning red with frustration. “I don’t want you to go.”

Hermione closed her book with an annoyed huff, saying, “Well, I do.” Then waved him off, “I’ll be leaving after the meeting.”

“You can’t leave, Hermione. You’ll have to write to your parents and say you changed your mind.” Ron stated like it was a foregone conclusion and was saved from Hermione’s reply as the door burst open. Ginny’s face flickered with clear disappointment before it was replaced with a giddy expression as she waved her wand at the door, casting a silencing charm: “You’ll never guess what has happened!”

“Besides Hermione’s abandoning us?” Ron replied waspishly.

“Oh, she’s not leaving,” Ginny waved that away, smirking as Hermione glowered at her, “Mom’s already talking to the others about it.”

Face still smug, she sank into a chair, smoothing the cover of the magazine, “Anyway, my news is much more interesting, which is why Hermione can’t leave,”

Groaning, Ron sank into a chair. ” Can you spit it out so I can add my whine to Mom to keep her here?”

A slow grin crossed Ginny’s face, “Hermione, your job the next few days is to go through the library and piece together a family tree of the Peverell family line. I need you to concentrate on the oldest child.”

Hermione’s expression was befuddled, and Draco looked at Harry, surprised to find a huge grin on his face.

Hermione spoke before Draco could comment on it, drawing his attention back to the wall, “I realize I might be one of the smartest people in this home right now, but expecting me to find information on the Peverell line in a Black family home seems a little far fetched for even the stupidest person here.”

Ron snickered and then jerked as if stung, glaring at his younger sister, “What the fuck, Gin?”

“She insulted us, and you laughed,” Ginny replied angrily.

A weird, dazed expression crossed Ron’s face, and Harry tensed in his seat. Ron replied, his voice curiously flat and monotonous: “Mione has a point. It’s a Black family library; they won’t have information on a dead family line.”

Ginny clenched her hand into the magazine, ripped it open, and shoved it towards them. ” Not much of a deadline if someone claimed the oldest title.”

“So what?” Hermione asked, rolling her eyes a little, and rose to her feet, the book clenched in front of her like a shield.

“So what?” Ginny repeated in shock, “Because they’re a bloody Duke? If I can arrange to meet them before anyone else, I’ll have a leg up on everyone else. Plus, if I use my friendship with Harry, it might endear me to the new Duke because, let’s face it, everyone wants to meet Harry.” Ginny explained hurriedly, “If the Duke turns out to be too old or ugly, then I still have Harry to fall back on.”

Revolted Hermione took a step back, “You’re twisted and disgusting.”

“You’re just jealous that I thought of it first,” Ginny snapped back, then waved dismissively at her brother. “And you got stuck with him, though why he wants you, I have no idea.”

Straightening her shoulders, Hermione looked between the siblings, “I’m not helping, and I’m not staying, so good luck with your pointless research.”

Ginny rose, a hateful, menacing expression twisting her features, “You are helping, even if I have to force you to.”

Hermione’s face took on a kind, almost patronizing look, and she tilted her head consideringly, “You can certainly try. Just a bit of advice?”

Confused, Ginny lowered her wand, “advice? You’re going to suggest the spell?”

“No, silly, I’m going to remind you of who the house likes; Medea and her sister don’t take kindly to interlopers, and that’s what she considers you to be.” Hermione explained slowly, as if speaking to a child, but then nodded encouragingly, “Give it your best shot, Ginny. See what happens.”

Annoyance replaced the confusion, Ginny’s wand snapping back up, mouth opening. The room went pitch black, and a muffled thump sounded. Then Hermione reappeared, smiling beautifully towards the past out siblings, and then with a wave of her wand, she settled them on the couches, summoned a book off the shelf she laid on Ginny’s chest and then pulled a rumbled magazine from a pocket of her robes, stuffing the Witch Weekly into the same pocket, that she tossed at Ron’s feet, the pages opening to an obviously lewd picture, that was thankfully distorted.

Then, with another self-satisfied hum, Hermione turned on her heel, wordlessly removed the silencing charm, and skipped from the room.

Draco released a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding and turned to look at Harry, who was covering his mouth. His eyes lit with untold amusement.

Not sure how to react, Draco grinned, jumping a foot as Molly Weasley’s voice echoed around the room, “Ronald Weasley! How dare you have that sort of magazine?”

Jerking his head back toward the wall, he saw Molly standing a foot into the room, abject horror on her face, which quickly turned outraged as she summoned the book that fell off her daughter when Ginny sat up, eyes wide, reading the title out loud, “Virginity and Fooling Your Spouse.”

“No, Mom. I would never.” Ginny protested and looked around the room, her face paling when she realized Hermione wasn’t there.

“Well, it certainly looks like it. Hermione said you two feel a sleep ‘reading,’ obviously too polite to sell you both out, though she did complain about your snoring, Ronald.” Molly replied dangerously, “I told both of you to head to the next floor’s parlour and start dusting. That was two hours ago. You’re going to tell me it’s completed, right?”

The siblings exchanged an uneasy look before Ginny jumped up, looking around anxiously for the magazine. “no, not exactly, we were discussing an announcement that appeared in Witch Weekly, and we were-“

“For the love of Ciere, I’ve told you to stop reading that trash!” Molly bellowed. “You’re too young to even think of the things that company publishes.” She held up a hand as Ginny opened her mouth, but then stopped, eyes darting to the book again, voice dropping dangerously low. “Ginevra Weasley, come with me, now.”

Swallowing the youngest, Weasley took a deep breath, “Mom, please just listen. This isn’t what it looks like.”

“What it looks like to me, young lady, is you might not be a virgin, something that is specifically required in the contract we currently have signed.” Molly replied, dangerously soft, “So, is there something you need to confess?”

Ginny went red, then white, and red again, voice coming out in a squeak, “Does it matter?”

Molly Weasley stood there as if frozen, then with a flick of her hand, the book burst into flames, and she tossed it into the fireplace, turned without a word and stalked from the room, leaving both Weasley siblings staring at the door in shock, the expression clear. Not once had they seen their mother too angry to talk, and they had no clue how to repair the damage.

Draco sat back as the wall went dark and then back to normal. He turned to his soulmate, who was frowning at the table. “What’s the matter?”

Harry jerked his eyes towards his and drew in a slow breath, “We need to discuss a contract between us, Draco.”

Draco opened his mouth to argue, jaw snapping shut when Harry turned to face him, “Please, just- I- watching that made me realize how serious they are about trying to control my life. Not once had I ever shown an interest in Ginny, and the fact they think the contract they have is valid with or without a virginity clause is terrifying.” He ran a hand down his face, “it’ll get worse when they realize that the Duke of Warwick is me, and-“

Draco slid his hand over Harry’s mouth and smiled weakly, “You’re right. We can discuss it with Nrocneer, okay?”

Harry released a huge sigh, shoulders dropping as he nodded, “Yeah, okay.”

The silence grew thick between them, making Draco’s shoulder hunch as he examined his soulmate’s face. Licking his lips, he reached out, placing a tentative hand on Harry’s, “What else is wrong?”

“Does Sirius have a pensive?”

Draco blinked at the question, “I have no idea; I assume, as the Earl, he has access to one, but I don’t know where his private study is, which is where it would be. Why?”

Harry slumped against the high-back but comfortable chair, saying, “The night I was drawn to the ministry was to get a prophecy, something Voldemort wanted desperately, but it broke, and I have no idea what it said.”

Frowning, Draco leaned forward, “Then how would a pensive help?”

Harry took a deep breath and looked into his eyes. “I’m hoping I caught enough of it during the fight to piece it together.”

“Ah…” Draco’s mouth opened, and he closed it after nothing came out. Then he shook his head and admitted softly, “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, love.”

“Why not?” Harry asked evenly, looking at him intently.

Draco sighed, “Because prophecy isn’t something mundanes should interpret. It’s hard enough for a genuine prophet, but if you missed just one word, never mind a sentence, you’re basing everything on an incomplete statement.”

Harry deflated fully against the chair, eyes closed without a word, making Draco relax, realizing his mate had already thought of that. “Then what do I do?”

“I don’t know if you can do much of anything,” Draco said softly. “Whatever the prophecy said is probably invalid now or completed, as the Dark Lord has been rendered a squib, right?”

Harry opened his green eyes and met Draco’s with a seriousness that raised the hairs on the back of Draco’s neck. His voice was barely a whisper when he spoke, “What if it wasn’t meant for Riddle, though?”

“Harry…” Draco whispered, his heart pounding hard. He was suddenly terrified and shook his head, hoping to prevent the words he knew would emerge.

“It’s a valid concern, Draco. What if the prophecy didn’t pertain to Riddle but Dumbledore?”

“Love.” The protest died on Draco’s lips as Harry sat up, face resolved.

“No, listen, it makes sense, doesn’t it? Who else has spent my lifetime trying to keep me under control? Who had the power to clear Sirius’s name? Who placed me with abusive relatives and then insisted I stay there? Who’s set me up for one dangerous event every year I’ve been at Hogwarts?” Harry inhaled sharply, “you can’t convince me that Dumbledore didn’t know Quirrell didn’t trip the wards or he didn’t know what was attacking the students in 2nd year? What about the third year? Not only did he allow the dementors to guard the school, something that is a violation against underage students- the over-exposure in the present of Dementors is magically draining, he allowed a supposedly dangerous criminal to infiltrate the school wards at least 3 different times, that’s also not including Professor Lupins inadequate safety precautions. The fourth year is a complete cluster fuck, I should never have been forced to compete, and no threat of losing my magic due to a magical binding contract should have been valid. Even without my additional titles, as the last Scion of House Potter, it should have been illegal to force me to compete, something the magic of the cup should have known. If they’d investigated the cup or hell, the school wards and asked, they would have known who was involved at the beginning. That also says nothing of the wards not alerting anyone to fake Moody or how both he and Umbridge were allowed to stay, torturing students as they were.”

Draco swallowed, not sure what to say. Harry’s implications were terrifying, but he focused on something that struck him odd: ” What did the fake Moody do that you considered torture?”

Harry looked at him flatly. “He demonstrated the three Unforgiveables and then put students under Imperius.”

“He what?!” The door banged open, revealing a red face and livid Severus Snape standing there with Narcissa, who was pale and trembling.

Harry rolled his eyes and repeated flatly, “he demonstrated the Unforgiveables on spiders and then taught us how to overcome Imperius.”

“Why did you never say anything? Why did none of the Gryffindors ever say anything?” Severus demanded, eyes hard.

Shrugging, Harry leaned back in the chair. “I can’t speak to the rest of my year group, but who would you have suggested I say anything to? No one believed me about not putting my name in the cup. Why would they have believed me if I’d said or ‘accused’ a respected and retired Auror of torture?”

“I would have,” Severus stated softly, making Harry scoff.

“Bullshit.”

Startled at the venom in his soulmate’s tone, Draco looked at his godfather, who looked gutted, regret etched on his face. “Harry.”

“No, don’t defend him.” Harry snapped, “he’s treated me worse than trash based on a biased opinion of my father.” He lurched from the chair and stalked to the window, “I’ve literally never had a single person stick up for me my entire life. I was thrust into this world with no warning, no education, and an escort who couldn’t even perform legal magic, had built-in biases with an inability to do legal spells, and gave me a watered-down version of why I was attacked as a toddler. When I got to Hogwarts, sure, the school opened its arms, and it was the first place I’ve ever felt at home, but I went from being called ‘Boy’ or “Freak,” which I should mention I believed was my name until I was enrolled in the public school, to the Boy Who Lived. I underwent one life-threatening experience after another as if I had decades of experience when I could be compared to a toddler learning to tie my shoes. Not once has he-“ he jerked a hand to their professor, “ever had a kind or understanding word, not once has he ever taught me anything. Instead, he berates and belittles me, sticks me in the back of the class so I can’t see the board, and then mocks me for my efforts; why the hell would I have even a snowball’s chance in hell of thinking he would believe me? And even if he did, what the fuck could he have done? No one did anything about Umbridge, and it was known she was using a blood quill.”

A heartbroken noise slipped past Draco’s lips at the emotional storm reverberating through the bond and reached out, “Love…”

“No, Draco. He’s entitled to his anger.” Severus replied softly, shoulders slumping as he exhaled, “I have no defence for my treatment, Harry. Sirius and I thought it best to maintain the illusion we supported Dumbledore.”

Bitterness, sorrow, and anger slid down the bond before the feelings vanished, and Harry spoke, voice devoid of emotion, “Yeah, at the expense of my sanity.” Harry turned slowly, eyes on the floor, “can you even conceive what having a silent supporter might have done? Knowing that I had someone, even if they could have done nothing but offer an ear, might have meant?” When he raised his eyes, they were filled with tears, “people look and expect things of me for reasons I don’t understand. There may or may not be a prophecy that started this entire nightmare, and yet I have people dismissing me like a child, but then every year, I’m thrust into situations against my will and then blamed because when adults couldn’t be bothered to do their job.”

Harry surveyed the stunned participants in the room and deflated, “I hate being kept in the dark, but it’s evident that’s where everyone believes I need to be.”

Heartsore, Draco watched the dejected slump of his soulmate’s shoulder as Harry turned to look out the window. He wanted to offer comfort but was still determining if it would be welcomed.

Severus made to move but restrained himself and cleared his throat, “I don’t want you to be in the dark, Harry. Sirius and I made many decisions without discussing them with you, and while it might sound like an excuse, some of it can’t be easily accepted without definable proof on our end.”

In a move that shocked Draco, Severus twisted his hands together in a move that spoke to more than nervousness: “Sirius should be home tonight, and we’ll sit down with the Pensive to explain our past and the decisions we’ve made. Hopefully, no matter how angry it makes you, and I suspect it will, we can work towards a truce and a working relationship in the future.”

The older man opened his mouth as if to continue but closed it slowly as Harry exhaled tiredly, “All right, we can table it for now.” He turned, folding his arms in a purely defensive move; Draco understood and sympathized with, “I assume that this isn’t why you came, so how can I help, Professor?”

“I wanted to run a few diagnostics for your file. It may never be needed, but if Dumbledore tries to argue his actions, you’ll have proof of everything that’s happened.” Severus explained calmly, “But Narcissa explained you two were going to the bank and then asked for an escort.”

“Where’s Severus?” Dumbledore’s voice rippled from the wall, revealing the dark, dungeon-like kitchen of Grimmauld’s place. The table was filled with members of the Order of Phoenix, all appearing exhausted and confused.

Dumbledore stood at the foot of the table, glaring at Sirius, who sat with another bottle of whiskey. “Well, as I didn’t leave him exhausted in my bed, and he’s not lurking in a dark corner pretending to be a bat, I have no idea where your pet is, Albus.”

A disgruntled look crossed the headmaster’s face, which was quickly replaced with an even expression, “I wish you’d stop antagonizing Severus; we are on the same side; it serves nothing by spreading malicious rumours.”

Sirius barked a laugh and tipped the bottle, taking a drink. He ignored Remus, who cleared his throat and frowned disapprovingly. “Albus is right, Pads. Why can’t you get over this schoolboy rivalry?”

Lifting an eyebrow, Sirius looked at the werewolf, “Because it amuses the fuck out of me?“

“Sirius, it’s been 14 years. Don’t you think it’s time to grow up?” Remus asked quietly, then flinched as Sirius growled. The sub-tonal echo from his chest indicated it was Padfoot, his animagis form threatening to emerge. “I know exactly how many years it’s been, Moony, and if I didn’t know better, you’re just as jealous as you were back then.”

Remus flushed but backed down; the dynamic between the two men was interesting if you knew what to look for, the werewolf submitting to the animagus.

The headmaster cleared his throat, returning the attention to him, “Well, hopefully, Severus has news when he returns. As for why this emergency meeting was called, we’ve had reports that several civilians and confirmed death eaters are suffering from random maladies that have no rhyme or reason. There is an investigation through the DMLE, but we have no real information as Fudge is still restricting access and suppressing information.” Dumbledore sighed, mopping at his brow, and then looked at a young woman with bubblegum pink hair, “Nymphadora, I understand your mother is a Doctor at St.Mungo’s?”

“Tonks,” the woman replied warily, annoyance creasing her brow. “And yes, she is the first witch in England to earn the distinction.”

Dumbledore nodded, his expression unreadable, and his eyes continued to twinkle. “Yes, yes, of course, such an honour.”

Tonks frowned, chewing her lip, “I don’t know if it’s so much an honour or just a determination to prove her devotion.”

“Do you think you could obtain information from your mother?” Albus asked causally, though he removed his hands from the table and hid them under the table out of sight.

Shaking her head, Tonks didn’t even pretend to think it over. ” It’s not going to be possible; not only has she explained the vows and oaths she took, but we agreed that we would never discuss our work as it could be considered a conflict of interest. I’m not even allowed to speak with her in the course of my job; it has to be another Auror.”

Dumbledore dropped his shoulders, his face heavy with disappointment. “That’s regrettable; it could have been an invaluable help.”

“Well, I’m not risking my mother’s magic for your curiosity,” Tonks snapped, sitting up, glare forming on her face, jerking from Kingsley Shacklebolt, who set a hand on her shoulder, “no, don’t even Kings, he has no idea the effort my mother and I have gone through to continue our relationship, I refuse to jeopardize it.”

“That’s quite alright, Tonks,” Dumbledore spoke swiftly, his eyes no longer sparkly. “We’ll see if we can find another way.” He waited a minute, taking a sip of his tea. “Do we have any credible witnesses to the events that have taken place?”

Arthur’s head ducked, but he nodded, “My office was brought in to check for muggle artifacts, of which none were found, though I can say with certainty that no muggle device could have been responsible.” He paused and licked his lips. “I also managed to check one of the bodies before I was ushered away. The frozen expression on their face was one of untold terror and pain, and I couldn’t even begin to guess what caused it beyond Judgment.”

The table froze, eyes flickering between the two men with growing unease. An unfamiliar voice whispered, “Judgement?”

Arthur nodded without looking, eyes firmly on the table, “yes, it was a very similar expression to my great-uncle when he was punished for his crimes before his execution.”

The discomfort that rippled around the table was visible as the others shifted away from Arthur Weasley. A sad smile, full of resignation, flashed across his face, but he said nothing, keeping his gaze on the table.

Albus cleared his throat, “I don’t want to disagree, my boy, but how could you possibly know what your great uncle-“

“Because it’s included in a warning when we claim the family magic, Albus.” Arthur snapped, making them flinch. The ordinarily calm, jovial man’s sudden irritation made Molly frown at him in disapproval. “We see the ritual and execution, Albus, and I can guarantee the men afflicted are because they’re being punished by magic.”

A rumble of noise sounded as Albus raised his hands, pleading for silence. ” While I don’t discount your experience, Arthur, let’s not spread untrue information without clarification. I could see it as a punishment he devised, but not ritually. He would never have the courage to petition Lady Magic—“ Albus’s face twisted slightly, “nor would she grant Voldemort’s—“ everyone flinched, “request?”

A young woman with dark hair frowned at the table. ” Who’s to say it was him? Why not the Potter Boy?”

Albus chuckled and shook his head. “Harry lacks the education to pull off such a feat, and the wards would alert me to such activities. I promise he hasn’t meddled in such forbidden arts while under my care.” He paused and cleared his throat. “It’s also prophesied that he must physically face and destroy Voldemort; using ancient ritual practices isn’t his path.”

No one said anything to counter Dumbledore, but the mood soured instantly. Arthur lurched from his chair and stalked from the room. The headmaster watched him and shook his head slowly in disappointment before turning to look at Remus. ” Has there been any luck with the werewolf packs?”

“They’ve relocated.” Remus admitted softly, head still bowed, as he pulled out a much-crumbled piece of parchment and handed it over, “They’ve warded their new location to disallow the presence of wolfsbane; I won’t find it, not even if I was standing on top of it.”

Frowning furiously, Dumbledore heaved a sigh, “That’s a shame, I’ll admit I’m disappointed-“

“Fuck off.” Sirius snapped, sitting up and glaring at the headmaster. “Oh, don’t look shocked, old man; you know the dangers of wolfsbane as much as the next person; the fact that you’ve convinced Remus it’s necessary is disgusting.”

Albus’s shocked expression was quickly replaced with a stoic one. He opened his mouth, but Sirius mimed his fingers at him to close it: “You’ve spent two decades making Remus poison himself in some form or another by encouraging the usage of wolfsbane, and while Remus and I might be at odds over certain issues, that doesn’t mean I’m going to let you chastise him for your lack of foresight.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about. Wolfsbane has only been readily available in the last ten years, Sirius,” Albus said, staring at the ex-con.

Sirius smiled, but it wasn’t pleasant, “given that I’ve had nothing but time while you’ve kept me prisoner in my own home, I’ve done some research, and it matches the memories I have of the last two years of school, and his cocktail of potions that were prescribed. I noticed a little pattern to them that gives me the idea you were using Remus as a test dummy for the creator, passing along your observations, the results of each full moon, and how they got corresponding easier to deal with. Still, Remus became more twisted and deformed until Moony became unrecognizable. It was disheartening spending a full moon with him, twelve years later, because that wasn’t the wolf I knew.” Sirius took a pull of his bottle and set it down, “in fact I suspect that you spent the year he was teaching using him once again to help improve the effectiveness of the potion. He explained that the potion had been altered and required a full seven days before a full moon, which is when I knew something wasn’t right because it made no sense for him to attack us when we left the Shrieking Shack.”

Remus abruptly left the table, Sirius looking torn before he rose to his feet and followed his friend without a backward glance, missing the contemplative expression filled Dumbledore’s face.

The four people in the study at Black Manor stared at one another, the silence stifling before Harry spoke, his voice cracking: ” What did Arthur mean when he saw his Great Uncle executed?”

Draco closed his eyes as Severus cleared his throat, “The man was arrested and charged with breaking the International Statute of Secrecy during the First World War. His punishment besides ritual rendering was the loss of title, estate, money and his life.”

“Blood traitor.” Harry whispered in sudden understanding and glanced at Draco, “It was the start of the blood feud between the Weasleys and Malfoys, wasn’t it?”

Draco opened his mouth to protest when his mother spoke, “You’d be correct, Hadrian. Gareth Weasley Sr stupidly attempted to implicate Abraxas’s father. Nico was an old man and probably the world’s worst pacifist, and he was more interested in cataloging the library than anything, including his son. It’s why Abraxas wrestled the family magics from his father at seventeen. Nico was imprisoned in the manor until Lucius was ten years old.”

“I didn’t know that,” Draco said, his face filled with confusion. “Father never talked about great-grandfather Nico.”

“I talked to the portraits,” Narcissa offered and admitted, “for a time, they were my only friends; Armand was my favourite.”

A weak smile crossed Draco’s face, and he leaned against Harry when his soulmate wrapped an arm around his waist, “mine too.”

Harry pressed closer, eyes troubled, “I can see from just that scene we watched there is more to your story than I expected, so I’ll wait until Sirius is available, Severus, but I need you to promise you’ll both be truthful and leave nothing out.”

“A pensive will be necessary, as I said, but if you wish to request Veritaserum or vow, I’m willing to do both.” Severus offered seriously, “I don’t want you to doubt my word, even though I’ve given you no reason not to.”

Harry hummed noncommittally, glancing at the normal-looking wall. ” Can we run the diagnoses? I think you’re right; we’ll need them to combat whatever Dumbledore is planning.”

“Very well,” Severus agreed, “do you wish for privacy?”

Harry glanced between the two adults and shook his head, “should I lay down?”

The potion master nodded his head. ” It would be best,” he said, waving a hand toward the couch. “There might be some discomfort while it is completed. It will compare against the first set of diagnostics I cast.”

“I understand. They’ve never been comfortable when Madame Pomfrey performs them either.” Harry said as he toed off his trainers and settled on the couch, shifting to get comfortable.

Severus waited a few minutes for Harry to get comfortable before casting. The white light encompassing his body split into a rainbow of colours, with the white remaining to superimpose over a sea of red and blue.

It was easy for Draco to see the differences: red was the original damage, with white showing the corrections and blue showing things that still needed correction. The disturbing thing about the blue light was centred around the scar on his head, “I thought that was fixed.” Draco said softly, curling his hands into fists to stop him from reaching out to touch.

“It is; it’s residual magic,” Narcissa stated softly from where she’d sunk into a chair, eyes wide and horrified as she gazed at her future son-in-law. “We can perform a blessing ritual through a coven or conclave of three. I’d have to research which would be more beneficial.” She reached out a finger, tracing but not touching a line, gold and thinned, “Lily’s protection, strengthen that through a maternal blessing,” she pointed to another, green and silver, “or a coven who share the bloodline. Either could be beneficial.”

Draco frowned while watching the light show. A scroll appeared and was glowing as the diagnostic continued its scan. “It might be easier for a coven, you, Pansy and Hermione.”

Humming, Narcissa titled her head, “Maybe….”

“Why not a merger of both?” Harry asked from the couch, flinching then shifting uncomfortably. “An intercepting loop, male, female, with me in the middle?”

“The magic of conclave or coven is never meant to be mixed.” Severus cautioned, running his wand down Harry’s body, “The mixing of such magics could be dangerous.”

“Prifma Libratum.”Prism Balanced Harry whispered, then jerked and drew in a hissing breath, “fuck, that hurt.”

Severus paused his movements, glancing at Harry, “Where did you hear of such a ritual?”

Harry shrugged, “Medea is quite excited.”

Draco frowned at his soulmate, unsure if he believed him, given Severus’s reaction, and wondered if it was another thing in the book Harry found in the Chamber.

“We need to host a ball.” Harry went to sit up, but Severus’s quick hand prevented him from moving, though all eyes widened in confusion as they looked at Harry.

“A ball?” Narcissa asked cautiously, “Why?”

“You’re supposed to be in hiding, remember?” Severus bit out, finishing the last sweep as he glared down at his husband’s ‘son,’ “It’s almost finished, so stay still.”

“An introduction to the wizarding world, also a challenge. I want Riddle captured. If he is a squib, he won’t be able to resist the temptation of challenging me. He’ll think he has the upper hand with a room full of victims.” Harry cracked open his eyes and waited for Severus to grunt and allow him to sit before continuing, “We block off access to private areas, hire the Dverger as security, and use the guests to power the circle built into the ballroom floor. It’ll hold for seventy-two hours, but if we can time it for a new moon and do both before dawn….” He trailed off and frowned; “six, including myself, would be the perfect balance. That’s seven, a powerful number, three females, two dark, one light, and of the blood. Three males, two light, one dark, and of the blood. It’s almost terrifying to think of things we could accomplish with that power.”

Severus sat with a frown, “while your theory is good, you don’t have a third for the conclave, and that says nothing of the anchor point.”

“The anchor point is me. Even being the focus, the family magic of Salazar resides in me, meaning I’m grey.” Harry simply nodded at the wall that erupted in vines: “As for our third, it means you’ll have to go with us to Gringotts, Consort Black, Lord Severus Prince.”

 

Chapter Eight

The four of them returned from the bank with a shocked and terrified Pansy. Harry stumbled as he emerged from the fireplace, which annoyed him to no end, but that said nothing of a familiar voice shouting as it echoed throughout the manor. “What do you mean he’s been helping you?”

Harry sighed, “Joy, that’s not exactly how I wanted it to perform an introduction. I apologize, Pansy.”

Pansy shifted closer as the same voice bellowed again.

“Why do you believe him? You’ve hated him since we met on the train as first years!”

“Let me introduce you and hopefully defuse that landmine.” Harry retook her hand, offering a reassuring squeeze, and pulled her forward, leading the way from the small room reserved for floo travel.

Turning towards the study, Harry noticed Narcissa veer off and dipped her a nod, knowing she was going to arrange rooms for Pansy, but couldn’t help but have a momentary pang of longing that he couldn’t escape as well.

Reaching the open doors of the study, he saw Sirius lounging in a chair, lazily twirling his wand, eyeing something out of sight. Still, the intensity of Sirius’s dark eyes indicated that the harsh, inaudible muttering from a pacing figure out of sight was the cause. Sirius turned his head to meet his gaze, eyes rolling in matching irritation as he rose to his feet, making Hermione, who was curled feet up in another chair, absurdly large tome on her lap, hiding half her body, look up as Cronkshank lay eagle-eyed tail flicking as if displeased by the display he was also watching.

“How did the bank go?” Sirius asked as he approached the four of them, his wand disappearing, though Harry knew it wasn’t far. Sirius reached down to give Harry a hug.

“Could have been better, but we got a contract in place.”

“Medea informed me,” Sirius offered, explaining how he knew. “It’s also why I got Hermione out of the house; the two younger Weasley siblings are becoming too unpredictable.”

Scowling, Harry shifted back, gesturing to the teen beside him, “Let me introduce you, Sirius.”

Sirius stiffened as Remus appeared, flashing gold eyes behind his shoulder, but kept his gaze on Harry and nodded.

“Sirius, may I present the Baroness of Grafton, Pansy Parkison. She claimed the title this afternoon upon the death of her father. Pansy, Sirius Black, Earl of Islington, my adopted father,” he paused and held out a hand to Hermione, who’d set her book aside and rose to her feet. “Pansy, Lady Hermione Peverell, my adopted sister and Remus Lupin, our former Professor.”

Remus opened his mouth but shut it when Sirius jerked his head, keeping his attention on Pansy, who offered a wide-eyed look but dropped a curtsy. “My Lord, Hadrian explained the circumstances and situation, withholding nothing. I agreed to the terms he set forth and appreciate the offer of sanctuary,” Pansy paused and licked her lips, “Lady Hermione, I owe you years’ worth of apologies for my treatment of you and of the beliefs I parroted; it was wrong of me, and I hope we can come to a peaceful truce.”

Hermione’s eyes widened, and she darted a glance at Harry, who nodded, instantly easing her tension. ” Call me Hermione; there need be no formality between friends, Baroness.”

Pansy head jerked up in surprise, looking back and forth between Sirius and Hermione before nodding shyly, “If we’re to be friends, it’s Pansy, please.”

“Of course, Harry left a note indicating you might be coming. Let’s leave them to their conversation, and I’ll give you a tour and show you to your rooms. After that, we can find Cissy and help finalize plans for the ball.”

“Ball?” Sirius stated, shocked, “What ball?”

“Traitor,” Harry muttered, folding his arms as Hermione winced and then offered Harry an apologetic look before snagging Pansy’s hand and fleeing the room, leaving Harry staring after Hermione’s back in utter betrayal.

“What ball, Harry?” Sirius demanded as the two girls disappeared, Cronkshanks trotting to catch up.

“The ball we’re hosting on the 14th,” Harry offered, slipping into the room, making a beeline for the sideboard of alcohol – one of the best perks of being a legal adult.

“Harry?” Remus asked in confusion as he stared at the teen, waving a hand, summoning the bottle from his grip, and rounded on Sirius. “What the hell, Pads? Not only did you kidnap him, but you’re letting him drink? ‘Maybe Dumbledore was right, and you’re not meant to be a parent!”

“Hey!” Harry shouted, glaring at Remus, “Don’t talk to Sirius that way! Not only do you not know what’s happened, but you have no room to judge, considering that you told me nothing about being my parents’ friend and only indicated you were acquaintances in school.”

“It was for your safety, Harry.” Remus brushed him off. “Albus knew he could trust me and didn’t want it to give you a false sense of hope.”

Glowering, Harry held out a hand and wordlessly summoned the bottle of fire whiskey back, twisting off the top to Remus’s stunned expression and knocking back a swallow straight from the bottle. ” False sense of hope?”

Shifting uncomfortably as five sets of eyes bore into him, Remus nodded slowly, “When Sirius broke out of prison, we knew he’d come to Hogwarts, but Dumbledore didn’t think it would serve you if you knew of the close association between us or what Sirius was supposed to be to you. Given past events, we also couldn’t be sure of Severus’s loyalties, so I came in as an impartial observer.”

“You mean Dumbledore didn’t trust his own compulsions or obedience charms? That’s ironic.” Harry muttered, taking another pull from the bottle, then batted Sirius’s metaphorical hand away when he felt the touch of magic on his skin. ” Get your own bottle, Pads; this one is mine.”

“I paid for it!” Sirius squawked but moved to grab his own. Then he stuck out his tongue, grabbing two tumblers and filling them, offering one to Severus, who moved into the room, ignoring the bristling werewolf.

“If you were born in 1323, maybe, but I have a good bet it was an ancestor who did.” Harry retorted but grabbed a tumbler and filled it, offering it to Draco, who stood indecisively by the door, “are you sure?”

“No, but I’ve had sixteen years of secrets, and I refuse to have more, especially between us,” Harry replied, wrapping an arm around Draco’s waist, purposefully allowing his sleeve to lift and reveal his mark and knew by Remus’s shocked hiss that the werewolf saw, and turned glittering eyes on the man. “Are you trustworthy, Lupin?”

“Of course I am!” Remus growled indignantly, only backing down when Sirius growled in response.

“It’s alright, Pads.” Harry assured his adopted father, “Remus can’t hurt me. His oath to Dumbledore prevents that, at least.”

“He’s being disrespectful, Hadrian,” Severus replied, sinking into a chair, touching his ring to remove the glamour, which drew Remus’s gaze.

The werewolf blinked in confusion when Sirius’s shifted too, the scruffy man turning into a regal lord in its place who’d sunk onto the love seat beside Severus, agreeing with a frown. “He is, and it makes me ashamed to have counted him as one of my best friends. His loyalty oath is to Dumbledore.”

“Eh, that may be, but Dumbledore won’t be a problem for much longer,” Harry replied, pulling Draco down beside him. Then he nodded to Remus, “You have a choice, Remus. Either you offer a loyalty oath to me, or I’ll obliviate you and drop you in a random location with enough money to tide you over and a new sense of direction that will hopefully lead you to a better life than the one Dumbledore offered.”

A swirling mass of conflicting emotions crossed Remus’s face, and he shook his head as if to clear his mind, “Not only are you not old enough, Harry, you don’t have the power to cast an obliviate that will remain unbreakable for long.”

Amused, Harry chuckled and glanced at Sirius, “You didn’t tell him?”

“Tell me what?” Remus demanded harshly.

“No, I was going to, but he got offended by the research into the usage of wolfsbane done by Sev,” Sirius replied carelessly, “I was pissed on his behalf, so I didn’t get that fair.”

“Ah….” Harry leaned back into the cushion as he shifted and waved a hand. The room lit up with colour as a spiralling circle rotated around the floor, encasing the werewolf. He then rose to his feet. “One bit of free information before I demand your choice. You’re either with me or against me, so let me introduce myself, Remus Lupin.”

“I know who you are, Harry.” The wolf snapped, then winced as the band of light flexed, immobilizing him.

“No, you don’t; even Dumbledore doesn’t, which isn’t as ironic as it should be; he’s never been one to clarify any information but goes of his own sense of importance,” Harry replied, holding his hand to Draco, who rose clasping it. “My name is Hadrian Cadmus James Peverell, Duke of Warwick, Earl of Exmoor and Guardian of Avalon, Heir Black Baron Ignis.” He bowed formally and patiently, “and magical Heir to Slytherin.” Then gestured to Draco, “My Soulmate, and Consort Draconis Black-Percaval.” Harry tilted his head, watching Remus’s eyes widen in shock. He added, “If that doesn’t clarify things, it means that I’m a fully emancipated adult, Remus, and Dumbledore has no hope of ever controlling me again.”

“But… but, Dumbledore didn’t- he said- your title- Potter went dead.” The devastation written across the werewolf’s face made Harry’s heart constrict. He flicked a finger, loosening the bonds but not dismissing the circle, and gently urged Remus to sit with a nudge of magic, “He also said wolfsbane was safe, too, Remus, and we both know Moony hates the constraint you’ve imposed on him.” He waved a hand to Sirius, “Dumbledore was also responsible for Sirius spending twelve years in prison for a crime he didn’t commit and then two years on the run,” Harry kept his gaze as Remus’s head snapped up, eyes unfocused as he turned to look at the two men on the couch, and closed his eyes as tears filled his eyes, and asked softly, “tell me one single thing Dumbledore has done that has been to our benefit?”

Remus said nothing, tears falling from his eyes and sniffing pitifully. Harry sank back to the couch, allowing Draco to lean against him, “Remus, whatever Dumbledore has shared has been designed to get you to comply with his wishes, his belief that he’s right and the rest of the world is wrong. You know there’s a prophecy about me that says I’m to defeat the Dark Lord, but have you ever thought that the Dark Lord isn’t Tom Riddle but Albus himself?”

“NO!” The word was ripped from the werewolf’s mouth, but he froze in shock as the magical expulsion hit a bearer that absorbed the power. He stared at Harry in shock, who offered him a smile, though Harry couldn’t guarantee it was kind.

“My offer is simple, Remus. You can offer an unbreakable vow that you’re loyal to me until such time that Dumbledore is no longer a problem, or I can obliviate you now, offer you some better memories, and the chance to accept Moony, setting you free, the choice is entirely yours.” Harry stated evenly but firmly, “I have enough to contend with, and I’m not having another Pettigrew on my hands, which is one of the reasons Ron is no longer trusted, given what he and Ginny have done to Hermione this summer or planned for my future.”

At that, Remus looked confused and worried, “what have they done to her?”

“Do you remember when Molly caught Hermione doing Ron’s homework?” Draco asked in disgust, layering his tone, making Remus flinch but nod. “Ginny ordered Ron to ‘deal’ with her shortly before that. Because Hermione threatened to tell Sirius about her plans to slip Harry a love potion, Ron obliviated her. It didn’t work because Sirius had given her an heirloom to protect her, but they’ve become more dangerous, which is why she’s here.”

“Oh…” Remus trembled, his eyes clouding, and then flashed amber, the pain and defiance burning in them, making Harry sit up wordlessly, summoning Remus’s wand and ignoring the angry snarl from his former professor. “Calm down, Remus, and stop fighting, Moony.”

“It’s wrong!” It burst out of Remus desperately, voice breaking.

“It’s not. It’s how Dumbledore has made you believe what you are is.” Harry stated, and rose to his feet, “Dumbledore has twisted your perceptions of your own memories,” Harry held up a hand when Remus opened his mouth to argue, “Moony recognizes Padfoot as the Alpha in your dynamic, no matter the magical properties of a werewolf a Grim is always going to be more powerful, and Moony instinctively knows that, but in some twisted way Dumbledore has twisted that in your mind and made it seem that you’re inadequate. It’s how Dumbledore operates; he takes things he knows and twists them to his purpose, then discards them when they’re no longer useful.”

“He’s a good man.” Remus protested weakly, unable to break eye contact, which was enough for Harry to see what he wanted.

“A good man doesn’t send children to a home where they’re physically, emotionally, and verbally abused. A good man doesn’t ignore the same child every year when they plead and beg for sanctuary; they wouldn’t set them, testing them to see where they stand regarding magical power. A good man doesn’t set out to destroy friendships in the making or betray the very foundation of magic by trying to destroy a soul-fated match. If Albus Dumbledore were a good man, Remus, he wouldn’t have been condemned by magic herself.” He slipped through the barrier, ignoring the calls of his name and knelt in front of the werewolf, offered a hand, and waited for the man to accept it. Before the man could react, he sent the same memory into Remus’s head and tightened his grip on the older man’s hands when he tried to break free.

The parlour was tastefully decorated, the walls a pale shimmering pearl with snoozing portraits along one wall; over the fireplace stood a landscape portrait that showed a glimmering loch that rippled in the sun that glinted off the waves lazily rolling onto the shore. The blue furniture, trimmed in dark wood, was set around in a comfortable half circle, and the remains of a tea service were on the knee-high table in the center. On one couch sat Sirius, stretched out, trying to stifle yawns of exhaustion. In contrast, Remus sat on another, nursing a cup of tea, flinching every time Peter shifted on the couch beside him, watching James gush to the old man who was gazing down at Harry with serious, non-twinkling eyes, “And where is Lily, James, I expected to see her?”

James shrugged, grinning, and accepted Harry back when Ablus handed him over, his fingers seeming to tremble. “She went shopping to stock up on potion ingredients, now that Severus finally convinced her to join him in their quest to get their mastery now that Harry is three months old, and I’ve proved I can care for him.”

Sirius snorted from the couch, “You mean we can care for him? Merlin forbid you two decide to have more children. We’re going to need an army of house elves to assist us.”

Albus’s eyes flashed, “Lily’s going for her potions Mastery?”

“Yep, she’s really excited, too,” James replied happily, stroking Harry’s cheek and ignoring Sirius. “So she convinced Severus that they needed ‘new’ everything and dragged him to Rome to acquire it, claiming England had substandard cauldrons.”

Albus frowned, “The Countess of Exmoor seems content to spend your money easily.”

James pulled back, matching his frown, “Considering she’s my wife, what’s your point?”

“Oh, nothing, nothing at all, my boy, I’m just concerned,” Albus waved carelessly, “She seems to exert a lot of control when you are the Earl; wasn’t she responsible for your failure to join the Order?”

“We made the decision together, Albus. At the time, I may have only been Heir, but it wasn’t a sound decision to join an organization that is considered an illegal vigilante group, no matter their reported purpose. I had a duty to my title, family, and wife, who was carrying the next generation. Dying needlessly would have served nothing.” James retorted evenly, rocking Harry as the baby whimpered in his sleep.

“I suppose that’s fair; I didn’t think of it in those terms,” Albus admitted, but with a clear note of disapproval in his tone, “That doesn’t say anything of your decision not to continue auror training; you quit against my advice.”

“Albus, why are you so concerned about decisions Lily and I make together? Are you still put out we didn’t invite you to the wedding?” James asked, shifting on the couch to reach for the bottle, easing the nipple into Harry’s mouth.

“I’m disappointed you saw fit to invite a bunch of known death eaters to your wedding. It would have been a wonderful opportunity to acquire information.” Albus retorted, eyes flashing.

“Some may have been known death eaters, but I assure you they were all on their best behaviour given their blood status and titles. Being invited to the wedding of one of the oldest titles in circulation wouldn’t serve any of them to be anything less than perfect, and yes, I know you don’t understand the power a title can hold having none yourself. Still, I promise Lily and I were the safest we could have ever been surrounded on our wedding day. Above anything else, the nobility cares more about looks and how they’re perceived by a new player than any other action.” James shifted Harry to his shoulder after setting the bottle down, “As for Auror training, I decided it wasn’t for me. I have a much more important job in my duty to my son and my title. I can do more good battling laws that affect my son and friends in the Wizengamot than on a battlefield than sacrificing myself for some outdated ideology of light versus dark.”

Their old headmaster’s shoulders dropped in disappointment, and he sighed heavily, “That is disappointing, my boy. I was hoping I could convince you to assist you with a donation today. We’ve run up against a few heavy areas of resistance, and it’s severely hampered our efforts.”

“Then propose a law that can be introduced to the legislative body, Albus,” Sirius said, sitting up and wiping his face before adjusting the leather bracers. “This entire conversation is tiring and getting old; we’ve both told you we have no interest in joining your cause.”

The light blue eyes that were so familiar were cold as ice when he looked up from his intense stare. Throughout the conversation, his gaze never wavered from Harry, who was now sleeping in James’ arms again. “No, you’d just rather sleep your way through the entire witch population of Britain.”

“Witch or wizard, Albus, keep your facts straight.” Sirius laughed in amusement and stood, “Though, as a side note, I’m also learning from my grandfather, you know, as his Heir; if James has the oldest title in circulation, I’m set to inherit the next.”

A frown of confusion flickered through Albus’s eyes, “according to rumour, it was supposed to go to your brother.”

Another laugh left Sirius, but this one was harsh, bitter, and grief-stricken: “And that proves that your source of information is as inaccurate as ever, Albus. Regulus was labelled a traitor to Voldemort and died in ‘79. As the only viable candidate left. I have a duty to my godson and name to learn all I can and not throw it away needlessly.”

A silence settled over the room as Albus’s aura flickered and then expanded in an outward circle, encompassing all the men in the room. Only Moony’s amber eyes flickered, unaffected by the power but restricted by the wolfsbane in his human’s system.

“Such a shame it came to this; your parents had potential but decided to defy me and squandered it on you.” The old wizard shifted in his seat and sighed deeply in regret. Then he moved forward, rubbing a thumb over Harry’s forehead. “No matter. I have plans, young one. You’ll meet your end sooner than most, but as always, it’s for the greater good.”

Moony only realized he was rumbling in his chest when blue eyes pierced his, hatred and disgust filling them with no barrier. He raised a wand, “Obliviate.”

The memory released Remus with a shuddering breath, his eyes filling with tears, gold eyes locked onto green as Harry opened his mouth and spoke softly, “The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies… And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have the power the Dark Lord knows not… And either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives… The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies.”

Remus inhaled sharply, the tears suddenly releasing in a torrent of betrayal. He collapsed into Harry’s arms with whispers of apologies, the glowing circle encompassing them fading away to nothing as Harry held the fragile man in his arms.

It took a long time for the werewolf to calm down, only succeeding when a calming draught was fetched. When he did, Remus accepted his wand back and made his vow, making the two older adults relax in their seats, though they still looked uneasy.

Only their love and trust in Hadrian prevented them from arguing, though they watched the man warily, Sirius finally biting the bullet as it were to ask, “What happened?”

“Confirmation of a suspicion I had,” Harry said lightly, leaning back into his seat, pressed against Draco, who glanced at him side-eyed.

“I thought you didn’t know the prophecy?”

Harry opened his mouth and shrugged, “It just came to me, Medea, maybe? Though it does make me question, if Dumbledore was all-powerful, why did he allow the prophecy to reach Voldemort?“

There was an uncomfortable silence, but Severus cleared his throat, “It was I who did that, though I truthfully didn’t hear the whole thing.”

Harry turned his head to frown at the man, “when was that?”

“Just after your first birthday, I was one of the applicants applying for the position of Potions assistant while working on my Mastery.” Severus answered slowly, hesitantly, as if sensing a trap, “Sirius and I had already discussed options and whatnot, but the Darklord had grown extremely powerful with a lot of successes in a short period; against both of our wishes, he was pressured to join the Order with James. We decided to go with one of our original ideas when I heard the prophecy. Lily and I had a huge public falling out, and in retaliation, I joined “His” side, offering the partial prophecy as my payment to get in and spy.”

Sirius’s face filled with a weird frown of confusion as he glanced at Severus. “That can’t be right. I know I didn’t discuss my work, but Croaker and I were already researching possibilities surrounding the prophecy in March of ‘81.”

“How did you hear a potential prophecy if it was an interview being conducted? I know Dumbledore has silencing charms in his office.” Harry asked, glancing between the three men.

“The interview was held at the Hogsend, Harry.” Severus said slowly, then frowned, speaking slowly, “And that is the oddest thing to just realize; why would Albus do interviews in public?”

A growing sense of dread filled Harry as he glanced at Remus, seeing the heartbreak on the werewolf’s face. He prompted the man, “Remus?”

“Dumbledore knew the prophecy much earlier, maybe even before Harry was born.” The earlier ire was gone from the man’s voice, leaving it defeated.

“What do you mean?” Sirius demanded, pulling away from where he leaned against Severus.

Remus cleared his throat and shifted in the chair. ” Do you have a pensive? It’s easier to show the-“ he cut himself off and closed his eyes briefly before continuing, “it’ll be easier than repeating it.”

Sirius hesitated briefly before touching the table, “Medea?”

The table flickered, vanishing the top, revealing a swirling pool of ghostly white memories, and nodded to Remus.

Without comment, Remus touched the tip of his wand to his head, swirling it around before pulling it away. He duplicated the strand of silver before dropping it into the ‘bowl.’ The other memories spiralled underneath as Remus’s memory played out on the surface.

Everyone was silent as they watched the same memory Harry had seen, though he was frowning when it finished.

Draco broke the silence, “I didn’t think anyone could touch a prophecy unless it concerned those named.”

“Normally, they can’t.” Sirius said, rubbing a hand over his face, “There are sections in the Department of Mysteries that only high-level people get access to. One is associated with the Hall of Prophecies. It was one of my areas of study. However, at the time, I didn’t understand exactly why.” He rolled his eyes as the curtains fluttered, “if a threat has been determined through the Magic that governs Avalon, the appropriate prophecy will play out, being copied word for word, it was part of my job to determine the sensory threat and hopefully determine principle players.” He sighed wordlessly, refilling his glass, “I’ve determined with what memories I have, thanks to Medea and Severus’s help, that though the magic is still there, it’s fractured and broken, as evident by that.” He waved a hand at the wispy memory. “That prophecy should have hit the Hall when it was first uttered, but even though Avalon knew it to be a threat, it is no longer capable of helping us break down the areas we need to concentrate on.”

“I wonder if that’s why people forgot my titles still existed or if that was Avalon’s way of protecting me?” Harry stated, remaining unmoving when four sets of eyes fixated on him. “Well, just think, Remus believed that just the Potter title was dead; part of that duty is to be Guardian. If you consider the Warwick titles and the ties to what amount to myths and legends, why wouldn’t Avalon be trying to protect me when it became aware that there was a threat that none could combat until I was old enough?”

“What myths and legends?” Remus asked in confusion and then flushed apologetically at his ignorance.

“The tales of the three brothers,” Draco said into the awkward silence, “it’s considered nothing more than a fable now, a fairytale told to children still in the nursery.”

“Alright?” Remus questioned slowly, “Is it important to this subject?”

Draco glanced at Harry briefly, who shrugged but answered for his soulmate: “I’m the master of death, Remus. I descended from two of the three brothers from both sides. My father was born to Ignatas, the youngest brother, and my mother to the middle brother, Cadmus. ” He flicked a hand, summoning a small book from the shelf, and offered it to the man. You can read it and determine if it’s important later.”

Skeptical Remus accepted the worn book and set it on the small table beside him. “Okay, but that doesn’t help us determine when Albus heard the prophecy first or why it took so long for it to be leaked—if that’s even the right word.”

“It would be.” Draco said, sitting up, “I think Harry’s right. Avalon’s trying to protect him, but when Dumbledore made his plans, that’s what alerted Avalon, hoping someone could figure out what the prophecy meant.” He frowned in sudden thought, “Dumbledore sat on the prophecy even after he marked Harry. Something must have happened in the months leading up to March that made Avalon react.”

The three older males shook their heads, “the Wizengamot would have been in sessions, so it’s possible something happened there, but any of the people we could ask are either dead or unavailable.”

Sirius knocked back his drink and leaned against Severus again, “I don’t know if we’ll ever know what triggered the response, and I’m not sure if it matters.”

“But shouldn’t we determine how true it is, it could contain the answers to defeating the Darklord.” Remus protested, glancing between them, “We still have to bring down He Who Must Not Be Named and now apparently Dumbledore.”

“Riddle is a non-issue, Remus.” Harry said tiredly, glancing at the clock and spoke before Remus could, “Folly.”

The house elf popped into the room, “Your Grace.”

Rolling his eyes at the address, Harry sighed, “Could we have some sandwiches and maybe some sweets? Also, check in on Hermione and our guests to see if they need anything.”

“Mistresses have already summoned tea tray,” the house elf snapped her fingers, and a fully prepared tea tray appeared on the suddenly normal tabletop, “Folly was just waiting for you to be summoning.”

“Thank you, Folly.” Harry replied, grabbing a sandwich, “If you could also get me a mild headache relief potion, I would be grateful.”

The house elf raised an eyebrow, and pulled five vials from her pocket, “if masters don’t want to be having headaches, they should be not drinking on empty stomachs.”

“You’re right; thank you, Folly.” Harry apologized graciously, ignoring Sirius’s look of betrayal as his glass vanished from his hand and the house elf popped away.

“They like you better than me.”

“Oh, get over it, you hairy mutt,” Severus replied, patting his shoulder and reaching for one of the vials, “Folly is ecstatic to serve you cause you could have had another Kretcher on your hands.”

Sirius shuddered, accepting the potion Severus handed over without a word, “no thanks, that was a horrible experience.”

“Indeed, now eat something,” Severus replied dryly, grabbing a sandwich, which he also passed to Sirius before taking one for himself.

“You know it’s weird seeing you too like this.” Remus said quietly, “I- my memories are all jumbled, but I vaguely recall knowing you, too, fixed things back then, but I never expected this level of comfort between you.”

“That event, we can also lay at Dumbledore’s feet,” Sirius replied bitterly, “and Peter’s.”

“Why?” Remus asked slowly.

“You’re talking about the night I tricked Sev into finding you in the Willow?”

Nodding, Remus picked up a sandwich but didn’t bite it as Sirius glanced at Severus, who offered a small nod, “It’s time, Siri. No more secrets.”

Sirius closed his eyes and blew out a breath, then gestured to Severus, “We’ve known we were soulmates since we were twelve years old.” He shrugged as Remus gapped at them and unbuckled the thick black bracket from around his wrist, revealing the gold band, a matching one appearing on Severus’s wrist. “The bands didn’t form until after we left school, but we knew, though, with the hostilities between our two houses and James’s attitude, we couldn’t share that with anyone. For most of the pranks we played, Severus and I worked out and discussed beforehand, except for the last two. Though it was what led to us not trusting Peter and James breaking free of Dumbledore’s control.” Sirius met Remus’s eyes, filled with regret, “we also knew how you felt about me, and it felt wrong to rub what we knew in your face.”

Remus blushed and averted his gaze, “it was a childhood crush. I’m over it.”

Harry seriously doubted that but didn’t say anything, letting Sirius talk. He was not surprised when he didn’t call out the lie. “Two weeks leading up to that scene in the courtyard, James had been acting odder than usual, and it was taking everything I had to deflect and deter him, his jealousy over Sev’s and Lily’s friendship being a driving force behind it. I suspect but don’t know for sure, but I think Peter masked his scent and followed me one night when I snuck from the dorms, where I met with Severus in secret. It sounds convoluted and almost farfetched, but I believe, and Severus agrees with me, that Peter put a Ficklius curse on James to get back at me for your crush by having him attack Severus. He then compounded that by urging James to go to Dumbledore about my possible betrayal to the “light,” where James was ordered to do what he must.” Sirius swallowed hard, “he placed me under imperious and told me to set Severus up to ‘prove my loyalty,’ and upon completion of my task I was set to forget. The only problem that no one took into consideration was my inheritance. When I came of age, Medea, our matriarch, was very thorough; when allowing blood into the family magic, she erased and restored all my memories, and I immediately reached out to Severus and explained what happened. It was at the same time James came into his title and had the same thing happen; all four of us sat down and discussed everything, which is when Lily helped us craft my bracelet; it links our bond and is tied to the family magic to protect us.”

Remus opened his mouth, closed it, and then opened it again before Sirius cracked a sad sort of smile and waved his wand, “I can offer pensive memories if you need proof.”

For a single moment, it looked like Remus was going to demand them, and then he shook his head.

Draco leaned forward with a frown, “Harry told me how Peter became the secret keeper, but I don’t understand how if none of you trusted him.”

It was Sirius’s turn to open his mouth and then snap it shut with a confused frown, “I don’t actually have an answer to that. In hindsight, it’s not something that should have been possible with James’s lordship and my work with the Unspeakables, though I do remember fighting with Croaker and demanding to leave.”

“It’s the Elder Wand.” Harry offered, munching on another sandwich, “Dumbledore was the owner.”

“Was?” Remus asked in confusion. “He lost it?”

“You’ve heard of the Elder Wand but not the three brothers?” Draco asked in confusion.

Remus raised an eyebrow, “I have a Mastery in defence; of course, I know of the Elder Wand; I made a study of its history as part of my thesis work; the last known rumoured owner was Gregorovitch, but it was never confirmed.”

Harry rolled his eyes, “Grindelwald stole it, Dumbledore won it, and when I claimed my titles, it came home; even if I don’t have physical ownership of it yet, the wand will have stopped working for the Head Master properly.” He smiled slightly, “in fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if he had to start using a different wand given the protest my wand has probably been exhibiting.”

Harry rose to his feet, “Excuse me for a minute; I need to use the bathroom.”

“You’ll be coming back, right?” Sirius asked as Harry made his way to the door, “You still haven’t explained this bloody stupid ball thing I’m apparently hosting in less than ten days.”

Harry glanced hopefully at Draco, who snorted and shook his head, “Absolutely not, love. It’s your party, you can explain it.”

Harry frowned at his lover and sighed, “I’ll be right back, I promise.”

“How do you know it stopped working for him?” Remus called as he hit the door.

Harry twisted and then nodded to the book, “I’m the master of Death, Remus; it belongs to me.”

After using the bathroom, Harry took a detour, moving through the manor, searching for the girls and finding them in the solarium, chatting easily, glad that Hermione was relaxed in their company and moving on, heading back to the study.

When he reached the room, he found Remus bent over the children’s book, brow wrinkled in confusion, as Draco and Severus discussed something in a low tone, while Sirius lay across Severus’s lap, head turned towards the wall, eyes tracing the lines, though he did turn to look at Harry with a furrow, “Severus said we owed you an explanation for keeping with this charade when I escaped prison.”

“It would be nice, but I think I understand why now.” Harry replied carefully, “Given the careful way in which we’ve kept secrets from Dumbledore and suspecting he might be the actual target of the prophecy, it was safer for all involved until I reached my birthday.”

Sirius sat up, rubbing a hand over his face, “That was a major part of it, though never predicted any of this,” he waved a hand expressively, “I regret most of it though and wished we’d filled you in.”

Frowning, Harry crossed the room and sat down by Draco, who slipped a hand in his and sighed, “It would have been nice to have a silent supporter the last two years in the form of a physical person, and I know what I said this morning, but at the same time, in hindsight, I think it’s made me stronger. I may have only had a spiritual mentor for the last six months, but they’ve taught me what I needed to know, directed me if they couldn’t answer my questions, and provided a font of information not found in books.”

The room stilled at his statement, and he forced himself not to sigh again, knowing what was coming, and waited.

“Spiritual mentor?” Severus questioned, exchanging a look with Sirius, “Sirius has only had the title for a little over two months, Hadrian.”

Harry dipped his head in acknowledgement but offered nothing, making both men narrow their eyes. Sirius leaned forward, “I’ve suspected you didn’t come up with your plans on your own, so who’s your ‘spiritual mentor, Harry?”

Arching an eyebrow, Harry snorted, “Who’s yours?”

Sirius frowned, “you know-stop, beating around the bush,”

Rolling his eyes, Harry sighed heavily, “Yours is Medea, the matriarch of your family line; who’s the head of my family line, Sirius?”

Face blank, Sirius looked at his soulmate, who face palmed, “You’re denser than a flubber worm; he’s talking about Slytherin, mutt, as in Salazar, one of the Founders of Hogwarts.”

“Oh….” Sirius said, blinking slowly before his eyes widened in shock, “Oh sweet Merlin, really?”

Harry laughed slightly, “Really, he’s nothing like you’d expect either. He was actually really proud I sorted into Gryffindor. Thought it was the grandest thing. He ran off to Godric, bragging that he finally got a true snake into his-“

Draco jerked beside him and glared at him, “You never said you met the rest of them!”

“I didn’t love. Calm down.” Harry patted his hand.

“Don’t patronize me, Hadrian.” Draco snapped, “You just implied that you did.”

“Love,” Harry grinned, “what did I say Salazar was?”

“A portrait.” Draco said, ignoring the rest of the room, “which stands to reason you know where the rest are.”

“No love, I said, his anima imagosoul portrait, it’s not like the portraits we know and see today, they’re memories, Salazar’s is legitimately real, meaning his spirit actually steps from inside the vale and crosses over,” Harry explained carefully, watching the shocked awe cross his soulmate’s face.

“Holy fuck! Really?” Draco demanded, eyes burning brightly. “Can I meet him?”

An affronted noise left Severus, and though his cheeks flushed when Harry looked at him, he replied stiffly, “I, too, would like the opportunity to meet him, if possible?”

“Sure, it’ll be possible, once school starts and things are semi-calm, I have a high suspicion it’s about to get chaotic.” Harry offered with a smile.

“Chaotic indeed,” Severus echoed, gaze boring into Harry, his voice suddenly serious, “I’m assuming it’s from your ancestor, where you learnt about that ritual too.”

“What ritual?” Sirius asked, confused as he looked between his husband and godson.

Severus kept his gaze on Harry, who couldn’t help but wince, “prifma libratum.”Prism Balanced

“It wasn’t him specifically but books in the study, written by Merlin.” Harry stated and shrugged his gaze unwaveringly, “Some were theory, some are the early basis for things we use today; some are forgotten or forbidden.”

“That sounds extremely dangerous, Harry.” Remus cautioned, voice filled with worry, “Merlin may have been the foundation of what became Avalon, but he was a dark wizard, it wouldn’t be smart to play around with any of his works.”

“By classification, you’re a dark creature. Sirius and Narcissa are dark; hell, the Weasley twins are dark, and so was my mom.” Harry turned a challenging glare on the werewolf, “Judging a person based on the magic residing in them is the first step towards becoming biased towards them.” He paused and then added, “And for the record, Merlin was grey, like Salazar and me.”

Remus winced but held his ground, “have you used any of the spells in the book?”

“Would it matter if I had?” Harry asked curiously and glanced between the three older adults; both Sirius and Severus remained impassive, but Remus seemed to have a panicked gleam in his eyes. “Technically, as Guardian of Avalon, my duty is to magic first and foremost. I’m not morally bound by the constraints the rest of society is.” He lifted a brow at the noise Remus made and then looked at Sirius, “It’s the same principle Unspeakables make when they vow to serve Avalon.”

Frowning, Remus glanced at Sirius, who shrugged, “Though I’m curious how he knows that’s, Harry’s right. When I became an Unspeakable, I made a vow to Avalon. Our duty is to magic first. Also, if you remember, I’ve already had one argument with Molly about the classifications of magic, and I won that.”

“Remus, were you ever told the Potter family motto?” Harry asked before Remus could respond, and waited for his old professor to shake his head, “We are all born in the shadow of Avalon, and to Avalon, we must all return.“ When it looked like Remus would argue, Harry sighed, “Would you consider ritual oaths dark if it rid the world of a great evil?”

Catching the twitch of Draco’s hand, he squeezed it reassuringly, gazing steadily at the werewolf.

“I—“ Remus paused and frowned, admitting slowly, “Given my status as a creature, I’m not magically compatible in rituals, so it’s not my area of expertise or something I’ve thought of, but it’s a fair question. Most rituals are based on blood, and education and history teach us that blood magic is anathema, so I don’t believe it’s wise to play around with them.”

“Is this indoctrination?” Harry asked the room at random and waved a hand, indicating it was a rhetorical question. “If it weren’t for blood magic, Sirius wouldn’t have an heir, and house Black would be considered dead even with a current lord sitting the seats.” Harry snapped, starting to get irritated. ” Did you ever meet Artecus Black?”

“Yes, of course,” Remus answered, bewildered at the question.

“He was a strong, firm man, practically glowed with light magic?” Harry demanded and tilted his head as Remus nodded reluctantly, “Then why did Artecus lead the adoption ritual, Remus? Just because education taught us to shun blood magic doesn’t make it wrong; it also wouldn’t have rendered Tom Riddle a squib either.”

Remus froze, eyes darting around the room, “what?”

“During the claiming of my titles, during my oath to magic, I demanded retribution from those of the bloodline that betrayed me. Tom Riddle is a distant cousin born of the youngest child from Cadmus’s line; if he had followed the founding principles of what Salazar believed, then he could have claimed the magic instead of being denied. Trust in the cycles of life; all things have their time, and all things come full circle; in Riddle’s quest for immortality, he broke that covenant and damned himself. I petitioned, magic granted; it’s why all his Death Eaters are dropping like flies; they’re being punished for breaking their own oaths to magic.”

At that, Remus had nothing to say, and he leaned back against the chair as Narcissa swept into the room, Hermione bounding in behind her, dragging a reluctant but smiling Pansy redirecting the conversation.

 

Chapter Nine

Three days before the ball, the four teens crowded around one end of the breakfast table, devouring the papers and magazine delivered that morning, waiting for the last one, which appeared in the holder next to the buffet table.

Draco set the paper he was reading to the side and rose to his feet, moving to grab it. He stopped to stare at the front page, the burning nausea he’d been combatting all night, almost winning his silent battle.

Looking up, Harry half rose to his feet, “What is it love?”

Swallowing, Draco unfolded the paper and sat back down, the four of them crowding around the paper and the headline, with a warning underneath.

*The article below contains information that will disturb our readers. Please take heed and guard yourself and your family. This is not for the faint of heart.*

“Massacre and Ritual disturbance at oldest Circle?”

Earlier this morning officals were called to investigate a magical disturbance in Avebury, in one of our oldest and purest ritual circles, upon arrival they expected to have heavy resistance but encountered a massacre of untold proportions.

Of the half dozen bodies, only one was still alive, Lucius Malfoy, standing in the center, obviously leading the ritual. However, it was a Lucius Malfoy none would recognize, the absolute remorse and devastation was nothing upon the destroyed repeated whimpers of a once proud man. “Repentance.”

There is no official statement to say what the blood ritual was intended to do, but given that the other bodies included marked death eaters, it seems that the affliction suffered by those who have already passed or are in St.Mungo’s is more widespread than previously thought. Among the bodies, their identity has been confirmed as the seniors or last of their lines, Yaxley, the Carrows twins, Ludo Bagman, and Flint Senior.

There must have been a sense of desperation in the men and women included to petition magic to cure whatever was wrong, and it seems that magic has once again given answers; there is no forgiveness to be got. Croaker has this to say at the end of the statement: we are still investigating the anomalies ongoing in our society, and we ask our citizens to not panic; the Magic of Avalon is growing and changing, and we ask that you trust in that which gave us our gift. While repentance is right, sometimes the crimes committed are too much for redemption, as shown in this case.”

Feeling faint, Draco sat back, staring at the paper, jolting when Harry took his hand and squeezed. “Love?”

“He betrayed our covenant.” Draco whispered in shock, not even sure where the words were coming from, but knew they were right.

“How do you know?” Harry asked, making Draco blink and look at his soulmate, the slight glow to his soulmate making him swallow.

“Just as your duty is to Avalon herself, ours was to Avebury and the protection and purity of the circles.” Draco said, voice growing steadily stronger at the approval in the green eyes that had captivated him as an eleven year old boy in a dressmakers shop.

“Then take it back, purify it, and make it right.” The utter conviction in Harry’s tone, didn’t even make Draco question the order, and he knew that was what is was, but he followed it anyway.

“Don’t let go.” He whispered, turning in his chair to keep Harry in his sight.

“Never love,” Harry whispered brushing back a lock of hair that fell over his eyes, “I’ll anchor you where ever you go.”

Without another word, Draco clasped his hands around his soulmates and closed his eyes, feeling the warm shelter of Harry’s magic wrap around him, and opened his heart and mind.

No words passed his lips, but the battle he fought in his mind was vivid as he stormed past shadowy figures that tried to hinder him, fighting to reach the center, where he found a prism of shining shields and knew instinctively that it was his for the taking. With a deep breath, he reached out and touched the shield, absorbing it. He heard the excited babble of voices explode in his mind, and the relief, love, and acceptance filled him completely. This was his family, his true descendants, the ones barricaded from their purpose and blocked from the family magic. The others, those responsible for the blockade, screamed their fury behind him, but he turned, lifting his chin in a challenge and drawing on Harry’s strength, cut them down, ripping them from their place and casting them aside.

It was with a shudder he opened his eyes, silver meeting green, the love that burned in them, making his burn with unshed tears. “They loved me, even though they were blocked from accepting me.”

“Did you learn why?” The question made Draco pause, eyes unfocused as if searching for the answer.

“My great-great grandfather hate Veela’s and barred them from the family, but the duties and responsibilities are supposed to be carried by a Veela of the blood,” Draco responded through numb lips.

“And those responsible?” Harry asked with fire in his eyes.

“Render to ash,“ starting to shake, Draco stared into Harry’s eyes, “I don’t understand, what did I do?”

Face softening, Harry cupped Draco’s cheek, rubbing his thumb under his eyes, then raised Draco’s right hand with his other, caressing the ring that had appeared on his finger. “You fought and won your family title, Lord Malfoy, Consort of Warwick.”

“But I was cast out and disowned,” Draco whispered, the tears breaking free.

“Yeah, By the ones who feared you, but the ones left took you back and accepted you as the rightful lord, Draco,” Harry whispered softly, ignoring the commotion that Draco was only partially aware of at the entrance to the breakfast parlour. “You have what it takes to correct the wrongs committed by the guilty and make your name great again, and I’ll fight to make it happen.”

Leaning his head against his soulmate’s shoulder, Draco lost himself to his emotions, the only tether he had gathering him close, whispering soft words of reassurance, and it was with a gentle press of lips to his forehead that followed him into a deep sleep.

When Draco woke again, his mother’s floral scent invaded his senses, and the immediate rush of love echoed through the bond, letting him know that even though Harry wasn’t there physically, he wasn’t far from his thoughts.

Blinking open his eyes, Draco glanced around the room, a little surprised he was in the study and not his and Harry’s rooms, both having moved into the Heir’s suite.

“Why here?” His voice cracked, and he licked his dry lips, nodding in thanks as his mother helped him take a sip of water.

“Hadrian thought you might like the comfort of the wall to confirm your placement.” Narcissa nodded towards the wall, eyes wide, voice softening with sadness, “Magic is wonderful yet often horrible when used incorrectly, I’m proud you assumed the responsibility to fix what the ancestors did. I’m ashamed to say I never even noticed Armand wasn’t in the family bond after our marriage ritual was complete.”

“Did you figure out who was the cause?” Draco asked, not willing to look at the wall just yet.

“Yes, Nicoli, who would have been Abraxas’s Grandfather, fell in love and had a one-sided bond with a woman named Madeline Kentcel, who was a full Veela and spy for Napoleon. She publicly shamed him, and in retaliation, he condemned the family, and he felt his only atonement was to banish the blood of any past or potential Veela into the family line.” Narcissa’s voice held a hint of disdain, “Lucius was likely severely punished for daring to approach my parents with the idea of an alliance given the Black’s descendants from full-blooded Veela blood on both sides. The first branch through Medea, she married the man Ignos, who is considered the founder of the family even if the power comes from her, and then later on, through a bastard, many great-grand-daughter of Slytherin.” She sighed and sat back into the embrace of the chair, “anyway the wall updated, removing those guilty like your father attempted to do to you.”

Draco frowned, “Lucius might have donated some of the genetic makeup in the creation of me, but he was never a father.”

“I know, my Dragon, and I’m sorry I allowed you to suffer as you did,” Narcissa responded sadly, “you deserve the world, and I did nothing to really protect you.”

Keeping his first reaction behind his teeth, Draco reached across the small place that divided them and took her hands. “You did when it mattered, mum. The choices you made allowed me to bond with Harry, and that—“ he swallowed and met his soulmate’s eyes as Harry appeared at the door. That means more than anything in the world.”

An answering smile tugged at Harry’s lips as he pushed off the frame, body moving fluidly, exhibiting a confidence that Draco suspected was the most comfortable he’d ever seen his soulmate be.

It was gratifying and a huge turn-on that it was because of him, but he buried that reaction behind a veneer of calm he knew didn’t fool Harry as he lifted his chin in a silent challenge, “Hadrian?”

Smirking, Harry slid onto the couch beside him, pressing a kiss to his head, and wordlessly held out the gossip magazine open to a page, “Hermione found it.”

Draco hesitated for only a second, before snatching the magazine, noting the laughter dancing in Harry’s green eyes, smoothing the page as he bent his head to read.

The Warwick Conundrum?

Despite this author’s best efforts, I’ve been forced to admit defeat, something I never thought I’d say in my seventy-five-year career. Yet, it seems the conundrum and mystery surrounding the new Duke of Warwick’s real identity will remain just that until his first public appearance, which is set to be on August 15.

Once again, this author has been unable to determine where or when that will be but has been promised an exclusive interview with the Duke, his consort and soulmate, of which no part of that person has been whispered. In fact, until receiving the letter offering the interview, this author didn’t even know he was already married.

I predict no matter how old this mysterious person turns out to be, witches worldwide will wear mourning for failing to capture the attention of the new Duke.

One thing that has puzzled this author and made me question recent events is the appearance of the new Duke; given the afflictions suffered by ‘certain’ members of high society, it makes me wonder if they are, in fact, responsible? With the recent news in the Prophet concerning the desecration at the Circle of Avebury, if it was a ritual punishment enacted by the new Duke, though admittedly, this author is not sure how it would be completed, as it is not my area of expertise. If it is the new Duke’s work, I, for one, will say with unreserved joy a bittersweet thanks; seeing the name of the one responsible for the death of my only grandson in the paper days after the title was claimed means more than anything I’ve ever accomplished in my life and career.

Draco lifted his head, mouth gaping, and flushed at the chuckle that left his soulmate. ” Did you do this?”

“No,” Harry admitted with a laugh. “Apparently, that was all Pansy. Madame Issac has been her favourite gossip columnist since she could remember and knows the history surrounding the death of her grandson during Riddle’s first reign. One of the Lestrange brothers was responsible for his death, but given the weakened state of the wizarding world and the whispers of Dumbledore, no one was ready to press for the death penalty or kiss, no matter the crimes previously committed.”

He nodded to the magazine again, “flip it over.”

Confused, Draco complied, mouth dropping open at the headline.

“Longbottom’s Mysteriously Cured?

The world may remember the attack on Frank and Alice Longbottom on November 1, 1981, just a day after He Who Must Not Be Named, was defeated by Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived.

The Longbottom’s were attacked with the belief that they would lead to the location of the Dark Lord, or Harry Potter, as they were his Godparents. Regrettably, they refused to divulge any information before they were tortured into insanity. Obviously, yet somewhat sadly, they had better morals than the Potter’s secret keeper, who turned out to be Peter Pettigrew (turn to page 19 for more information on The Life of the Rat Betrayer.)

The people responsible were Bellatrix Lestrange(deceased May 1996), her husband and his brothers(deceased August 3, 1996), and Barty Crouch Jr.(June 1995).

With the rumours and speculation that have abounded since the affliction has run rampant throughout the wizarding society, this bit was missed in the excitement, but it appears that within 24 hours of the two remaining brothers’ deaths, both Frank and Alice Longbottom have had marked improvements, though no confirmation has been provided by either the family or the hospital.

We hope here at Witch Weekly that if the Longbottoms have been cured of their state, we wish them and their family continued good health.”

“I never knew.” Draco admitted, shaken, “Longbottom never breathed a word at school.”

“I found out accidentally, but Neville was always the odd one out, even in Gryffindor. It wasn’t until this year that he came into his own. He was phenomenal at the ministry, and it made me infinitely proud to call him a friend.” Harry replied and glanced at the magazine. “I think he claimed the title from his dad on his birthday. Between that and what I did, I think it was enough to circumvent the curse.”

Draco and Narcissa both paused at that and exchanged wary looks. ” You think it’s a curse and not a medical medley?”

Brow creasing in concentration, Harry shrugged, “Yes? I don’t know how to explain it, but I think it was a rebound hexad split, resulting in a merger of personalities from each person, which resulted in the effects we saw.”

Draco frowned and shook his head, completely lost. “I don’t understand. Who do you think was responsible? Because no matter how deranged the Death Eaters were, I don’t think they had the knowledge to pull something like that off or the power corrupted by Riddle as they were.”

“Unfortunately, in this case, I think it was the Longbottoms who were the likely cause; they weren’t encumbered by Riddle, had the power and motivation as a soul-bonded couple, along with the knowledge.” He swallowed roughly and glanced away. “My mother and Alice spent years researching and testing new spells, and there are notes in my mother’s journal that I found in the vaults with their initial thought process.”

“That’s…. Wow, that’s the kind of dark magic that’s horrifying, Harry.” Draco breathed, unsure what else to say, “Will you ever say anything?”

“I know my mother’s magic was dark, and while people might blame her for the spell work itself, Alice is just as guilty for the creation and casting, considering my mother was already dead at that point. As for speaking of it? Not publicly, but if the Longbottoms are cured, I will discuss it with them; I believe Neville and I deserve to know the truth of the situation.”

“Yeah, that’s fair.” Draco blew out a breath. “As long as you don’t blame yourself, please, you’re not responsible for other people’s past, present, or future actions.”

A flicker of a smile teased the corner of Harry’s face before it fell, head leaning against Draco’s shoulder, eyes closing when Draco ran a hand through his hair, “I know that, Dragon, but it doesn’t mean others won’t hold me to the same standard.”

Draco could only sigh and kiss the top of Harry’s head, knowing his soulmate spoke only the truth.

****

In a small but neat cottage, an old bitter man glared hatefully at the collection of newspapers. He’d thought he had time, his plan foul-proof. He’d known the locations of the Horcrux for years, yet, given the events of the last few weeks in the revelation of this unknown Duke, he’d made the journey to check on them and had been blind-sided by the disappearance of two, both related to Salazar Slytherin.

The resulting panic had almost ruined everything, and he held onto his temper by the skin of his teeth, apperating back to this shack to pursue his correspondents in the hopes his threats, bribery or sleuthing had revealed the identity of this mysterious Duke. He just had to eliminate the man so his nemesis could assume his path to restore Albus to his rightful position, and everything would be fine. Perfect even, yet

there was nothing but the news showcasing the crumbling of his carefully crafted plans and the unravelling of decades of work, which infuriated him. He had no idea how this was possible, but it was happening in real-time.

With a sigh, he attempted to banish the papers into the fireplace with a flick of his wand and glared at it when it bucked in his hands, refusing his command. The knowledge that his wand had stopped working tickled something in the back of his mind, making his gut tighten with sudden nerves.

There were only several reasons for the Elder Wand to stop working for him. Still, the most logical seemed impossible when he knew Harry was tucked safely away in Surrey, surrounded by his spells and enhancements meant to ensure the boys continued survival, immersed in the hate and blind eye his aunt exhibited.

Well, it was no matter. Rising, Albus swept the papers into the fireplace and strolled from the room. He had places to be, and one of those happened to be in collecting Harry. He needed the boy to be a draw to get the fool Slughorn back into the school, the process one more step into testing Harry to make sure he was ready.

It was Harry’s destiny, prophesied and all, to defeat the Dark Lord. If Albus refused to acknowledge that it wasn’t about Tom Riddle, it proved how far the broken and bitter old man had fallen into senility believing his own lies.

Dusk had settled over the small town as Albus apparated outside the wards and sniffled in disdain at the cul-de-sac, the perfect rows of cookie-cutter houses an affront to his sensibilities even after all these years. Believing, as his father had all those years ago, that the rigid structural system muggles had imposed on the natural world was ruinous to the magical community. Magic was meant to be fluid and constantly moving, yet the taller the buildings, the more constrained the magic became. He vividly remembered the rants Percival Dumbledore would have against muggles and the filth they inflicted on the world, and then parroting them as if they were gospel. Unknowing or caring how his mother would flinch but not say anything during them and look at him with eyes of disappointment before scurrying from the room with a hint of fear filling them.

It was hard when Adriana died; the rage Albus had felt against the three boys only dimmed and corralled when Percival hunted them down like sport, giving the belief that his hatred was justified. Albus wasn’t sure which way his father would have reacted to the two world wars and the development of nuclear bombs; it could have either been unrelenting rage that they were destroying the planet or joyous amusement that so many died.

The move to Godric’s Hallow had been a desperate attempt to separate himself from the legacy his father left, knowing it wouldn’t serve him for his future plans, those plans requiring a subtly that would never be suspected. He just had to wait until his father died to claim the lordship. Even though his father had been guilty and sentenced to life in prison, the title hadn’t been stripped, which Albus hadn’t understood until Percival died, and his rage had been overwhelming.

To find out that his mother had been a muggle-born had been soul-shattering. No matter the airs his mother had exhibited, she never seemed to understand precisely what Percival had given up for her when he fell in love with her because the one stipulation in the family archives was the Pure-Blood status of the Lord, watching the title die due to extinction had caused Albus to flee, burying himself in his studies, until his mother died, leaving him saddle with the burden his little sister was.

Shaking the memories from his head, Albus disillusioned himself and strolled down the street, keeping watch for any muggles. He sneered disdainfully at the Squib’s home, the army of cats glaring at him hatefully as he strolled by.

He was so distracted by thoughts of his parents he didn’t even notice the shimmering ward appeared before him, and he sucked in sharp pain filled breath at the sensation of foreign magic sizzling along his skin.

It made him freeze, confusion flickering across his face as he tried to examine the spell’s work. Then, in horrified disbelief, he watched as it unravelled at the first conscious touch, unfurling like a flower before it dissipated in a little burst he couldn’t track or trace.

Standing there stunned, mind racing, Albus desperately racked the area looking for a signature, anything to hint at who the wizard was. He was left with a seething mass of bewilderment. The single smidge of magic left behind felt deliberate, like a threat and challenge all rolled into one, and it wasn’t one he knew or recognized. He knew it was powerful, the taste of it addictive and the envy it left behind a thought he shoved aside, tried to get a read on anything about it, and received nothing but the knowledge it was old, far older than anything he knew. That knowledge sent a shiver of fear down his spine. Albus quickly hurried his steps to Number 4 Private Drive; he needed to collect Harry and be on their way, just in case the unknown was still watching because Albus knew he couldn’t hope to compete with them.

***

Miles away, Harry’s eyes snapped open from where he lay with his head in Draco’s lap, the four teens lounging in the study and sat up slowly, body tense and alert.

Drawing his wand, he wordlessly called up his patronus, the expected stag not appearing. Something shifted in his stomach as he gazed into the glittering eyes of the Grim and reached out a hand, touching the snout with tears in his eyes, before clearing his throat, “Get dad, tell him ‘HE’ knows, please.”

Padfoot nodded and loped through the door, leaving a stunned silence behind. The two Slytherins stared at him, mouth agape, leaving it to Hermione to speak softly, “Harry?”

Harry shook his head, unable to answer under the relentless pounding in his chest, terrified if he voiced anything before Sirius arrived, he wouldn’t do anything but cry.

The sorrow he felt was overlaid by guilt that his patronus had changed from his father’s animagus to Sirius’s. Though he wasn’t as surprised as he should be, he knew from his reading that it was possible; it just wasn’t something he expected.

Harry was so lost in thought that he jumped when Draco squeezed his hand, and vaguely, he heard Hermione’s voice over the ringing in his ears, hurriedly explaining the issue.

A second later, Sirius ran into the room, stumbling to a stop, breathing hard, eyes wide as Harry stood, tears blurring his eyes and whispered. “Are you mad?”

“Oh, pup, no, never. It’s an honour.” Sirius whispered back firmly and held out his arms.

Stumbling forward, Harry landed in them, burrowing into the hidden strength of Sirius’s hold, “I didn’t know; I would have-“

Sirius’s hand tightened in his hair, and the firm press of his lips against the top of his head stopped the flow of words: “Hush, it’s not wrong, Harry. James would understand and be so unbelievably proud, too, given that he never managed to produce a corporal form.”

Confused, Harry pulled back, “But I thought it was a stag, too?”

Shrugging, Sirius sighed, “He suspected it was based on his animagus form but could never confirm it.”

“Oh….” Harry whispered, wiping his face.

He flushed slightly as Sirius tsked softly and held out a handkerchief, “We can talk about it later if you need, but you said he knew?”

Confused, Harry blinked and remembered why he’d called Sirius in the first place, “Oh, yeah, Dumbledore crossed the wards I placed at Private Drive. I expect he’ll-“

The wall lit up instantly. The echo of a door slamming opening, followed by an enraged bellow of Harry’s name, cut him off.

It woke the portrait in the hall, Walburga’s raving overlapping Albus’s shouting as he stalked through the house. He slashed his wand viscously toward the portrait and snarled in growing rage when nothing happened, “Shut up, you hag!”

“Filthy half-blood, sins of the Father darken your soul.”

“Albus!” Molly’s voice came hurrying from outside the scene of Albus facing off against the portrait, hand on her chest. “Sweet Merlin, you terrified us. What’s happened?”

“Where’s Harry?” Albus demanded, ignoring her comment.

“Where’s Harry?” Molly asked in confusion, “What do you mean?”

Dumbledore’s eye twitched as he stared straight into Molly’s eyes, “are you telling me Harry’s not here?”

“No, Albus, I swear. I’ve done everything you said.“ Molly assured the wizard, “No one’s been in contact with Harry since the train, I promise.”

The twitch became more pronounced, and Albus drew in a deep breath, “Where’s Sirius?”

Frowning, Molly raised her hands fretfully. “Albus, dear, are you alright? You sent Sirius off on that mission last meeting, remember?”

Without answering, Albus stalked towards the stairs, muttering under his breath, “Harry has to be here, somewhere, he can’t- ruins my plans.”

As soon as he made it halfway up the stairs, the house rumbled. The stairs shifted underneath his feet, turning into a slide, sending the old wizard sliding down to land in an inelegant heap on the floor.

A second later, the closet hall burst open, pelleting the victims with everything inside. Old moth-eaten coats, hats, mittens, forgotten umbrellas, and children’s toys chased the two down the hall towards the parlour. The door vanished completely to the shocked shouts inside the room, Molly bounced off the wall, banging into the other, eyes terrified as the kitchen door started banging incessantly, and the echo of flames crackling echoed from the room, compounded by the banging and terrified screaming into the walled off room.

Snarling with rage, Albus raised his wand and seemed to freeze, eyes widening as he struggled to breathe.

Harry turned to look at Sirius, who grinned wickedly and disappeared with a near silent crack, appearing a second later in a suddenly calm home, the door in the study reappearing and a feral look of outrage on his face that silenced the shrieking, “what the fuck are you doing to my home?”

Albus’s rage didn’t decrease, but he stared warily at Sirius, clearly understanding something, as he struggled to appear calm, drawing in several steadying breaths, “It was a misunderstanding, Sirius.”

“This was no misunderstanding. You clearly came in with the intent to harm, Albus. The house wouldn’t have reacted the way she did otherwise.”

Molly chuckled nervously. “You’re saying that like the house is alive; you realize that, right?”

“The house is sentient, Molly,” Sirius replied flatly, folding his arms as the woman sent a questioning frown towards Albus. Sirius snorted in amusement and shook his head, “let me explain to you the way ancient houses work, Mrs.Weasley,”

“I know how the Sacred Twenty-Eight works, Sirius Black; my family is one.” Molly snapped heatedly.

“The Sacred Twenty-Eight is shit. It’s a mockery of what an ancient house means. The Prewett’s have only been landed since 1423; the Blacks can count ancestors back thousands of years, considering Medea, our matriarch, was born in the 5th century BC.” Sirius replied dryly, amusement dancing in his eyes as Molly gaped at him. “My family is one of the oldest families still in existence in the UK; we fought the Roman and Saxon invasions and have held the Islington title in some form or another since 625, starting with Baron; our riches come from the very foundation of what makes Britain, Britain. It was my ancestor who was responsible for the muggle monarchy adopting our system of titling nobility-“

Albus cleared his throat. “While your history lesson is diverting, and we can certainly discuss it later, we have more pressing matters. Do you know where Harry is?”

“Do I know where my godson is?” Sirius asked slowly, body going ridge, “Are you suggesting you lost him, Albus?”

A frustrated huff escaped Albus, and he snapped, “This is serious.”

“I know, I am.” Sirius deadpanned, expression blank.

“Black!” Dumbledore growled and flinched as the house shook threateningly.

Sirius smiled, touched the ring that appeared on his hand, and lifted his chin as they gapped at his change of appearance, “I’d be careful with what you decide to do next; the house won’t take kindly to you threatening Islington.”

There was a stunned silence, and Albus’s face was filled with horror. “What have you done?”

A slow smile crossed Sirius’s face, and he gave a mock bow, “What you’ve failed to do, Albus, and what I should have done years ago. Protect my godson,” he paused and then titled his head, and held up two pearl coloured envelopes, “and Merlin only knows why, but he wishes to invite you to celebrate with him in two days, where we have hundreds of guest arriving to introduce him to society as the last Scion of House Potter.” He glanced at Molly and her children, “You may stay in my home, but remember you’re guests, and mind your manners while you reside here; she lets me know everything.” He turned to stare straight at Ginny, who paled rapidly and then apparated from the room, leaving a stunned silence.

Sirius reappeared in the study, laughing uproariously.

Harry shushed him as Albus approached the envelope like it would explode in front of him, his hand shaking as he bent to pick up one.

The sound of the envelope opening was loud in the parlour’s silence. Blood drained from Dumbledore’s face as he read the paper inside. Without a word to anyone, he stuffed it inside his robes and strolled from the room, the slamming of the door making everyone jump.

It took Molly another five minutes to move forward. Hesitantly summoning the remaining envelope to her hand, Ron and Ginny crowing around her as she read it out loud.

“You are cordially invited to a formal ball on August 15 by Narcissa Black, cousin to the Earl of Islington and hostess for the evening, as he introduced his adopted son and Heir, the last Scion of House Potter.

The receiving line starts at 9 pm.

RSVP by pressing your wands to this invitation. The invite will act as a port key the night of the ball and allow you to pass through the gates. Dverger War Mages will provide security.

Lady Narcissa Black-Malfoy

“Oh dear Merlin, what is he playing at?” Molly breathed, staring at the invite as if it would bite her.

The conflicting expressions that crossed the three faces were surreal. It should have alarmed Harry at Ginny’s greed. Yet, maybe given the contract Draco and him had signed layering on one more protection, it was Ron’s unfamiliar expression that caused a twisting sensation in Harry’s stomach; it was pained and revolted and filled with grief, yet Harry didn’t know what to do with it when a single tear slid down his former best-friends face as Ron quickly brushed it away and left the room.

*****

The morning of the ball dawned bright and beautiful, though, in Draco’s opinion, he shouldn’t have known that. The nerves rolling off his soulmate disturbed his sleep, and he opened blurry eyes to watch Harry pace in their suite of rooms. “What’s wrong?”

Harry jumped and turned to him, face a conflicting mass of emotions that he struggled to hide. He shrugged and turned away, resuming his pacing.

Sighing sadly, Draco sat up and glanced out the window, scowling at the first rays of the sunrise on the horizon. He loved his husband and soulmate with everything he was, but pre-dawn angst was almost too much. Yet, he crawled from the bed and intercepted Harry’s pacing by blocking his path and grabbing his hands. “What is it love?”

Sighing, Harry’s shoulders slumped in defeat, “Something Pansy said last night, after the last view Grimmauld showed us.”

Draco made a face, thinking back to last night. He still did not understand why the house had shown Ron sitting in the parlour, bawling like his life was over, sweating but white as a ghost and shaking like a leaf as he dry heaved into a bucket. “What did she say?”

“She made the off comment that it reminded her of her father when he stopped taking Opium,“ Harry muttered, eyes sliding closed, “she said watching Ron was like watching her father suffer through withdrawal. Then I got distracted when we went off on a tangent about the difference in historical truths on the opium trade.”

Draco blinked slowly, body stilling in understanding, and focused on the vital part of Harry’s statement, tabling the opium trade for another conversation. “you think Weasley’s being drugged? By who?”

Helplessly, Harry opened his mouth and then closed it, shrugging his shoulders. ” I don’t know, but…” he trailed off and swallowed, his eyes fluttering closed when Draco cupped his cheek.

“You think it’s his sister, don’t you?” He asked softly.

“I don’t want to, but yeah.” Harry huffed, “Both of them had been acting strange for weeks after the ministry event, and they didn’t get any better, according to Hermione, when they moved into Sirius’s home. In fact, it got oddly worse and random; there would be days or periods where Ron was fine, normal even, but then he’d do a 180° and flip, become irritable or moody. She never knew what to expect on any given interaction.”

Dazed, Draco could only shake his head and ask, “Where would she even get access to drugs like that?”

Harry licked his lips, “what if it’s not the actual drug?”

It took a second for Draco to understand the implication, “you think she’s controlling him?”

“And maybe Molly,” Harry added and then explained at Draco’s baffled expression. “I’ve spent the night reviewing the scenes you’ve described and watched, and I noticed Molly’s more jittery than normal. Likes she’s trying to follow instructions but fight them simultaneously, like that scene with the book Hermione planted? It was conflicting reactions; she was genuinely horrified to realize Ginny might not be a virgin before the implications of the fake contract kicked in. Her concern was so real she didn’t protest Hermione leaving and only lamented the loss after the fact.” He paused and sank into a chair when Draco backed him into one, “Also, I realized something about the locket, the one that was a Horcrux. I recognized it.”

Frowning, Draco sat across from him, “What do you mean? From a book or something?”

“No.” Harry shook his head. “Last year, I spent time at Grimmauld Place. Kretcher, a house elf, guarded it with his life, so I summoned him this morning and asked about it.” Harry ran a hand down his face. “His reaction upon seeing it confirmed I was right. He was ecstatically happy to see it was fixed and explained that the Regulus Black had swapped the real one with a fake one when he defected from Riddle’s side.”

Feeling twenty steps behind his soulmate’s thought process and wishing he was dreaming, Draco sighed and asked, “Love, what do Ron and the amulet have to do with one another?”

“Kretcher said he could hear it whispering sometimes, and the evil it radiated started to infect the house, making it harder for him to do his job. What if Ron was being influenced by it, too?”

“I don’t know, but I think it’s something to discuss with Sirius,” Draco finally said, realizing he’d been silent for too long.

“Yeah, I know, I started to but quickly changed my mind.” Harry muttered and then flushed when Draco raised an eyebrow, “Let’s just say that I’m glad the Heir’s suite is in the opposite wing.”

“Oh, ew. why would you tell me that?” Draco whined and then shot a wordless stinging hex when Harry laughed, “I liked the ignorance, you git.”

Only Remus was at breakfast. The werewolf had stayed at the manor, unwilling to go anywhere Albus might get him. He was currently undergoing a cleansing regimen crafted by Severus to gently expel the decades-long use of Wolfsbane from his system, and even though it had only been a few weeks, he looked better than he had ever looked.

Draco filled his and Harry’s plates, knowing his soulmate would probably not eat if he wasn’t forced, and set the plate in front of him. He gave him a pointed look when Harry made a face but gamely picked up his fork and glanced at Remus: ” Are there any drugs, potions, or plants that act like Imperious, and is that something that can be checked for if someone is currently under it?”

The werewolf jerked his head up in surprise, his mouth falling open in shock at Harry’s expectant expression, which proved it was a legitimate question: “What? Why?”

“Ron’s behaviour,” Harry offered and then explained what Pansy had said about his behaviour, which sounded like drug withdrawal.

Blowing out a breath, Remus dropped his head, hand fisting on the table. “I’m sure Severus could answer alternative sources, but I don’t know. As for spell work, some other minor curses or hexes could, for a limited time, alter someone’s behaviour, but even in the case of the Imperius, you have to have cause to perform the test, and suspicion won’t cut it.”

“So Ron would have to break the law first?” Harry demanded, bewildered.

Offering an apologetic grimace, Remus nodded, “After the first war ended, Albus did a lot of work within the Wizengamot, saying everyone was remediable, and healing can’t happen with baseless accusations.” He licked his lips, “It’s also not illegal for family members to provide potions to family members no matter what that potion is, unless, of course, it results in death, though the law is lax on that too, considering it would be a mid-demeanour and considered accidental.”

“Merlin,” Draco breathed involuntarily, “are you serious?” At Remus’s nod, Draco demanded, “How the fuck did any of this pass?”

A flush crossed Remus’s face, and he shrugged uncomfortably: “As someone who was blindly led by Albus for over two decades, it’s easy to see now that he’s purposefully overwhelming and underwhelming at the same time. He puts this air of grandfatherly concern that makes people immediately trust him.”

Harry frowned, setting his fork down, “can you hide your aura?”

At Remus’s blank look, one Draco knew was on his own face, Harry sighed, “Wizarding society has an automatic divide and assumption on the classification of a person’s magic. It’s etched into their aura, and depending on the strength of their own inner gift, it’s visible if you know what to look for. Yet, I just realized I’ve never seen Dumbledore’s or Ginny’s.”

“You can see people’s auras?” Remus asked in a choked voice.

“Well, yeah, it’s not hard,” Harry replied with a frown, glancing between the werewolf and his soulmate, who looked shocked. “You know this, Draco. It’s how I can tell the type of magic someone has. Why are you looking at me like that?”

Draco swallowed, “I-I never questioned how you knew because seeing auras is as rare as being a Parselmouth, love.”

“Oh,” Harry whispered, sinking into his chair with a sigh.

Draco nudged his shoulder and nodded to his plate, making Harry huff but sit up and pick up his fork.

Remus tilted his head, “you said you can’t see Albus’s aura?”

Harry finished his mouthful of eggs, shaking his head: “No, he’s too bright, always twinkling like his eyes; he’s purposefully obscuring it. I think the only reason people don’t question it is the presence of Fawkes, a pure creature, assuming that if he has a Phoenix, he couldn’t be anything but good.”

Disgruntled Remus huffed and took a too-large gulp of tea, “and Ginny?”

“Given Ginny’s age, I’ve always dismissed it, assuming she hadn’t fully matured, but what if her time in the Chamber and Riddle’s thrall taught her to hide it?”

“Is it possible she found the study?” Remus asked, eyes wary, “the book you described indicates there could be much more questionable relics inside.”

“She didn’t. I was the first person since Salazar died to enter,” he paused and swallowed. “He technically died in the chamber. After the other founders died, the fighting and suspicion he was under were tearing apart society, so he finished his self-portrait, cast the spell, and stepped over willingly, hoping it would provide peace.”

The sadness in Harry’s voice made Draco swallow and reach out to squeeze his soulmate’s hand.

Remus cleared his throat, “I don’t know what to say, Harry, but once again, you’ve given me a lot to think about.” He offered a sad sort of smile, “I’ll see what I can find in the law books to see if there is something we can do to confirm and test Ron, but it’s going to take time, so the only advice I can offer is to be careful.”

“Yeah,” Harry replied glumly, “because if he is being influenced, I can’t trust him, I know. It’s just-“ he sighed, “it’s so hard. I know he can be an ass, but he was my first friend, and I guess I’m terrified to find out none of it was real.”

Draco jerked as if dying, “you think he’s been influenced all along?”

“I don’t know, but I have to question it. It’s not Ron’s fault if he was, and I know that, but some of his more questionable traits have always bothered me, and vice versa. He genuinely hates my fame and tries to hide it, but he loathes it and almost relishes in the distrust people toss my way; it makes me wonder why either of us stayed.”

“Eat your breakfast, Harry,” Draco ordered, horrified to feel sorry for both of them. He knew what it was like to make ‘friends’ with people you usually wouldn’t want to associate with; being influenced to stay friends with someone against your will was probably the worst sort of curse that made it worse.

“Why did you never say anything, Harry?” Remus asked quietly.

“Appearances, mostly.” He muttered, “In hindsight, during the fourth year, it’s obvious now he was fighting something; Ron was so pissed about my entry into the tournament that he refused to listen to reason and ignored me until after the first test, and then immediately did a 180°.”

“Is it possible you were being influenced, too?” Draco asked softly and then held a hand to hold Harry’s outburst off. “Listen, I’m not saying it to make you doubt everything, but looking objectively at everything that’s happened—our animosity, Uncle Sev’s and Remus’s behaviour—it’s all connected.”

“Asking the hat to put me in Gryffindor,” Harry added petulantly, huffing a laugh at Draco’s expression. “The hat wanted to put me in Slytherin, and I refused.”

“Hadrian!” Draco slapped his chest, “You stupid bloody prat! We could have been friends for years, you idiot.”

Snorting, Harry shrugged, “probably would have found the Chamber before Keme was woken too.”

“Are you…. Merlin,” Draco’s eyes widened in understanding, “if you found it first, you could have dispelled whatever Riddle put on her.”

Nodding, Harry finished his breakfast and pushed his plate away, grimacing as his morning dosage of potions appeared beside his drink. “If I’d known or understood more about the magic, I could probably have saved her instead of having to kill her.”

Snorting in exasperation and fondness, Draco reached up, tucking a lock of hair that fell over Harry’s eyes and nodded to the potions, “Drink your potions before you make me cry over the death of a basilisk that’s been dead for four years.”

“Do I have to?” Harry asked with a little whine but reached out and grabbed the first one, knocking it back with a shudder of revolution.

“You do because then we have dance lessons in the ballroom,” Draco replied seriously, lifting and finishing the last of his tea.

Looking at Remus, he set his cup down, “If you’re still here when the girls wake up, could you direct them to the ballroom?”

“Of course, though I suspect Hermione knows Harry’s schedule better than he does,” Remus replied absently and summoned the first papers to appear in the tray holder, the headline visible across the front page.

“Earl of Islington hosting ball tonight. Harry Potter, Baron Ignis?”

Remus paused, unfolding it and glanced between the two. “Do you wish to read it first?”

Harry shook his head, setting down the last potion, and shoved his chair back, “No, the girls can give me the highlights; I want to go dance with my husband without being gawked at.”

Draco blushed at Harry’s words but accepted the hand that pulled him from his chair and allowed himself to be led from the room.

 

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