Harry Potter: Starred Skies

by Mao Hisakawa

The House of Blackaxe will no longer just sit back and watch what happens in Wizarding Britain. The Lord, Altair Blackaxe, has decided to step in and take an interest in the affairs after a letter sent by Albus Dumbledore instructing him to stay away. Too bad for him that the Blackaxes are often a law unto themselves.

Altair Blackaxe considered himself a man of many talents, but acknowledged that while he wasn't perfect, he was content with himself the way he was. He looked up with a soft hum, his piercing silvery-gray eyes distant, as he was absorbed in his own thoughts. A large barn owl fluttered into the Blackaxe family house, landing on the table not too far away from Altair's seated form, and the motion seemed to make him return to himself, as he smiled gently at the owl, stroking it's feathers and relieving it of the letter and paper it carried, before twisting to lift a packet of owl treats out from behind a small crate, and set three owl treats in front of the beautiful owl, before standing to get it some water. When he returned, he smiled gently at the owl, speaking softly, "I was wondering when that meddling old man decided to try to stick his sticky fingers into the pie I've cultivated for so long, Noctem..." he trailed off, a slight smile on his lips as Noctem nipped his fingers gently, before settling down comfortably.

"We will depart tomorrow morning, beautiful girl," said Altair, stroking Noctem's feathers.

Whatever the man wearing the long, hooded, dueling robe-style robe was expecting, it certainly wasn't what he saw. He raised an almost-invisible brow beneath the hood of his robe as a family that he vaguely remembered being called the 'Weasleys' passed him. He'd set up camp where his section was marked, although he'd decided to go with an almost Hobbit-hole-like idea. A hill with gentle slopes and a large round, iron-bound door in the front that descended into the ground, thereby allowing him to expand out until he was comfortable, which he did. He laughed softly. "I'm a little too much into the Lord of the Rings movies..." he said softly, amusement clear in his tone. His eyes widened slightly as he recognized the older man with them, though. "Arthur?"

Arthur turned, looking for whoever had said his name, and spotted the man wearing the black robe. A smile broke out across his face. "My lord, Blackaxe," he said, amusement in his voice. "It's been a while hasn't it, Eagle?"

"Indeed it has, Weasley," retorted Eagle with an amused smile, pushing his hood back so that the rest of the Weasley family could see the shield-shaped, if fairly thin, face and tanned skin, as well as the elven ears that this newcomer had. "I trust you've been well, Arthur?"

Arthur nodded. "I've been better, but I'm doing alright right now, Eagle. Might I ask why you're here?" he asked, curiosity evident in his voice.

"Later, preferably in private," said Eagle lowly, to which Arthur just nodded. "Would you be so kind as to introduce me to your company?" he asked, louder.

Arthur had the temerity to look sheepish, before smiling with a nod. "Kids, meet Altair Blackaxe, the – as far as I know, anyway – de facto Lord of the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Blackaxe. Altair, meet Ron-" he pointed at the youngest male Weasley, "Fred- wait, not that's Fred," pointed to one twin, then to the other, before pointing at the first again, "That's George, sorry. My daughter, Ginny," he pointed to the youngest Weasley, "and the three oldest are Bill, Charlie, and Percy. They're apparating here, so they aren't going to arrive so early." Then he moved on to his guests. "This is Hermione Granger, and Alea Potter."

Eagle took Hermione and Alea in quietly, his sharp silvery-gray eyes appearing to look into their souls, pinning them in place, as he absorbed every detail of them, before nodding. "It's a pleasure to meet you all. Arthur, we'll use my Hobbit Hole for shelter." A slight smile made it's way across his features as Hermione and Alea stared at him, then looked at each other.

"You're a Lord of the Rings fan?" they chorused at him, making him laugh outright.

"Yes, miss Granger, miss Potter," he said, chuckling. "I believe I have room enough for all of us, if you'll follow me?"

Albus Dumbledore was scowling darkly, wondering where Altair had gone. After the man had received Albus' letter, he should've stayed away, though – and here, Albus sighed – knowing the difficult nature of the man, he was probably closer to home than he wanted to think about. Having that much magical energy nearby would be a problem, he admitted to himself, even if it wasn't in use that often. A low growl escaped Albus' lips, as a long-fingered hand slammed into his desk, startling Fawkes, who hadn't seen Albus in such a mood since Grindelwald. Something needed to be done about the backbone that Alea Potter was starting to show... The Dursleys should've smashed that thoroughly... "Something tells me that this year will be quite interesting," commented one of the portraits, much to Albus' ire. "I, personally, look forward to another illuminating conversation with Lord Blackaxe."

Eagle's eyes went distant for a moment, before grinning. "I tweaked a certain meddling old man's beard," he commented, a wicked smile on his face, immediately grabbing Alea's attention.

"What do you mean?" she asked, curiously, deciding to ignore the game.

"I tweaked Dumbledore's beard," said Eagle with a shrug, his grin not abating. "He sent me a letter telling me that under no circumstances was I to come to England, let alone go to the Quidditch World Cup. I originally had no intention of coming, but I couldn't resist reminding the senile old bastard that I am essentially a law unto myself, and that if he thinks I'll follow his orders he has another thing coming."

Hermione was listening in. "Professor Dumbledore," she corrected with a roll of her eyes.

"Tell me, miss Granger... Do I look like a fifteen year old?" asked Eagle, his eyes narrowed at the Muggleborn witch.

"N-no," squeaked Hermione, her eyes wide as she shrank away from him.

"Then do not presume to tell me what I can and cannot say or call the old bastard," said Eagle calmly. "I will not tell you to respect me, but I will insist that you respect the power I hold as Lord Blackaxe, and that does not include telling me what I can and cannot call that old fool."

Alea grinned. "Say, Lord Blackaxe?" she said slowly. "Think you could adopt little ol' orphaned me?"

Eagle raised an elegant eyebrow at her question as he mulled it over. "I don't see why not," he answered slowly. "But that would result in me becoming your guardian, both magical and otherwise. Might I ask why the Lady Potter would ask that question of the Blackaxe Lord?"

Alea's wide-eyed look at the title he'd given her told him all he needed to know. He sighed. "Lady Potter, I'll be blunt on two counts here. We call each other by our given names, I highly doubt we'll be very far from each other for a while. Second, we have a trip to Gringotts to make in the next few days, regardless of Molly Weasley's overbearing tendencies."

Alea just nodded, still shell-shocked, before pausing. "Where does the Potter and Blackaxe families rest in regards to the Dumbledore family?" she asked, curiously.

Altair hummed softly. "I believe the Dumbledore family is actually fairly new, and Dumbledore himself never had an heir that I know of..." he trailed off thinking. "I might need to do some research, but I know the Potter and Blackaxe families descend directly from Camelot... So against two Most Ancient and Most Noble Houses..." He grinned at Alea, before sighing. "I just wish that the Weasleys had been more careful... The Prewitts are – were, rather – fairly well-known for their inability to keep from spending unless they have almost nothing, monetary-wise." Arthur paled at that tidbit. "Don't get me wrong, almost every marriage turned out well, but the families they married into often ended up bankrupt or worse, depending on the person. The men were more level-headed about the monetary assets, and could often fight the Prewitt women on many of their more expensive purchases, sometimes coming out on top, but the mother of them was often the one that made the daughters also spend-happy." Altair shook his head. "Anywho... I believe the game just ended."

Alea looked stunned, and looked out over the now-empty stadium as Altair stood, and gently pulled Alea to her feet. "We'll have a busy next few days, Alea. Follow me, everyone." With that, Altair lead the Weasley brood down and out of the Top Box and into the Hobbit Hole that Altair had made for himself, smiling slightly at the dumbfounded look that he was given.

"There's no way we'll all fit in there," said Ron, sounding more like the pompous Draco and Lucius Malfoy, which made Altair turn and raise an eyebrow at Arthur, who just shook his head. Altair sighed.

"Ronald Weasley, please refrain from any more mule-headed and idiotic comments about a place I invite people to. Many of my homes thus far have often been too big, and I usually manage to find that family who needs it more than I do," he smiled slightly. "So you could say that while I'm not poor, I'm comfortable. If you were to look into my vaults, on the other hand, you would call me a liar to my face, and snap that I'm 'filthy rich'." He added quotation marks around the words 'filthy rich.' "I'm well-known in the proper circles for having homes with enough general revenue that I often get termed the 'world's landlord.' I suppose it's true, seeing as quite a few people actually pay me for wherever they live... Including the Weasleys. I suppose it's time for a complete overhaul of the place, Arthur?"

"I..." Arthur sighed. "I'd agree with you, if the current financial situation didn't agree with what you said regarding the Prewitt family."

Altair and Alea raised eyebrows almost simultaneously. "Why don't you ask Lord Blackaxe for a loan of a couple hundred thousand Galleons and just not tell Mrs. Weasley about the loan entirely?" Alea asked.

Altair chuckled. "That's to do with the whole 'I don't want to have to repay anybody' Prewitt thinking. Molly wouldn't accept it, and Arthur doesn't want to be indebted to me," he explained, before sending everybody to bed, except Arthur, the twins, and Alea, and leading them into a study room, and closing the door behind them tightly, before sealing the place with powerful privacy wards as soon as the door closed.

"I suppose you're all wondering about why I invited Alea, Fred, George, and you, Arthur." Altair's voice held a very different quality, one of an experienced war general, despite not looking more than twenty, which startled a couple of the four in there, but listened to Altair. "It's simple. There's going to be an altercation tonight regarding several drunken Death Eaters who were pardoned." He started pacing. "I also intend to take Alea, here, out from under Dumblefuck's nose, so that she can gain the skills and rank needed to fight Voldemort on a level that only three people will ever know, let alone recognize. Said goat-fucking bastard seems to be under the misconception that she is a weapon to be used against Voldemort, then destroyed afterward. Minister Fudge, the incompetent fuck that he is, is only reinforcing this throughout the rest of the Wizarding World." He fixed them all with a stare that told them exactly what he wasn't saying as they read between the lines. "I expect you four to be able to get out of this mess in one piece and back to the Burrow. Understand, Alea, I don't intend to leave you there very long, but you will be taken from this campsite to the Burrow, where you will stay until I collect you, understand?"

Alea nodded. "I've had enough of being kept in the dark, Altair," she answered, a fiery will dancing in her eyes.

"Good, because with me, you're getting the truth, hard and straight," replied Altair. "The reasoning behind me staying behind is because out of the five of us, I'm the only one with the kind of magical firepower required to take on two dozen Death Eaters and come out in one piece, even if a firefight with the incompetent DMLE under Fudge decides to take action against the one person with the balls to do their jobs for them." Everyone nodded. "Alright, go rest, I'll keep an ear out. If you hear anything after you enter your rooms, get up, get dressed, and apparate away. I required an area that I could apparate in an out of as a matter of course." They nodded, as the door opened and the wards deactivated. Altair stretched, before smiling slightly, and with a flick of his wrist, then a subsequent flick of the wand that had appeared in his hand, Alea staggered slightly as the memory blocks that Altair'd found while scanning her mind gently were released. Another flick of his wrist, and the wand vanished, as Altair glanced at the sword and battle-axe crossed on the wall behind him with undisguised longing, but stepped outside the door to his Hobbit Hole as Noctem, his barn owl, landed on the fence-post nearby. "Keep watch, Noctem," said her companion quietly. "Chaos taints the night, tonight." Noctem nodded slightly, taking off with a rustle.

Inside the Hole, Alea was woken up by Arthur, shouting, "Get up! Ron, Hermione, Alea, Ginny, get up, this is urgent!"

Alea sat up quickly and felt her long red hair cascade down her back. "'S' matter?" she said.

Dimly, she remembered what Altair had said, and shook herself awake, quickly hopping out of bed and getting dressed, grabbing her wand, and grabbing Fred's hand, nodding at him. "Let's go," she said, her voice calmer than her mind. Fred nodded, and they vanished with a crack, George and Arthur a step behind them. They landed together in front of the Burrow, and hurried inside, startling Molly as they went upstairs to go back to sleep, though Alea laid in the room she was sharing with Hermione, staring at the ceiling as she waited, wide awake.

Back in the campground, Altair stood up straight, and walked towards the crowd of black-robed and, as his sharp eyes picked out the smaller details, cowled and masked people, he flicked his wrist, and his wand appeared in his hand. As soon as he cleared the crowd of witches and wizards that were fleeing the opposite direction, he heard a scream of pain. Just like that, the dam holding his massive magical presence opened the floodgates, and his wand went from still to a blur of movement, spells being launched towards the crowd, one – a blasting curse – slammed into the Death Eater holding a Beauxbatons student under the Cruciatus, blowing them away, and the crowd scattered, deadly curses and hexes flying towards the lone Blackaxe, who went from just his wand arm being a whirl of movement, to his entire body dodging curses and hexes, though at one point, he narrowly dodged an Avada Kedavra. He stood over the two French students as he held his own against the less than two dozen Death Eaters, who went down within minutes of each other, courtesy of a combination charm he'd developed. It stunned, bound, and tagged each Death Eater it connected with, vanishing anything that could be used to hide identities.

When the spells stopped flying, he levitated the stunned, bound, and identified Death Eaters closer to him, setting them in neat rows, faces visible. As a final touch to his victory against them, he set up an anti-Apparition and anti-Portkey ward tied directly to his own magical signature, so he was the only one who could bypass them with no problems. Then he turned to the French students, one of whom was trembling violently from her Cruciatus exposure, but still trying to protect the younger of the two. Altair flicked his wrist, his wand vanishing again. "Ne blessez pas ma sœur," hissed the crucio'd student, but he rested a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Je ne veux pas de mal à vous ou à votre sœur," he replied, his voice soothing. "Calme féroce un. Je suis Altair Blackaxe."

"Je suis..." she hesitated. "Je suis Fleur Delacour, et ceci est ma sœur, Gabrielle."

Altair smiled slightly. "Vous avez tous les deux beaux noms. Il est un plaisir de faire votre connaissance, mademoiselle. Je souhaite qu'il aurait pu être dans de meilleures conditions, cependant," he replied, wryly, before throwing himself on top of them, knocking them both flat.

"STUPIFY!" roared a dozen voices. No sooner than Fleur, Gabrielle, and Altair landed, did twelve red jets of light fly over the top of his head. "Merde le ministère incompétent en Angleterre. Bien sûr, ils avaient recours à la force meurtrière non seulement sur les victimes, mais la personne qui a fait leur putain de travail pour eux," he growled, before reverting to his roots as he shouted in English, "Hold, damn your eyes!"

His harsh tone made everyone standing freeze as he stood, his eyes flashing dangerously. "And why the Hell did you just launch lethal Stunners at me when I was making sure they-" he gestured to the two French girls at his feet, "were okay?"

One of the Ministry idiots decided to open his mouth. "We will-"

Altair cut him off. "You will what, huh?" he snapped, his wand in his hand and trained on the man in almost no time at all. "You and your crew attacked me and these two French students with no provocation. One of them, Miss Fleur Delacour, was exposed to the damn Cruciatus, and you're too concerned with being incompetent and possibly murderous than to check the idiots who are just now waking up right over there-" he pointed at the rows of stirring Death Eaters, hoods back, and masks next to them, "I'm disgusted with the state of the Ministry of Magic, here in Europe. Go back to whatever holes you crawled out of, while I take care of your jobs for you!" His voice was extremely scathing, his eyes as cold as ice.

He turned back to Fleur and Gabrielle, and asked gently, "Comment vous sentez-vous?"

Gabrielle hesitantly smiled at him, before saying softly, "Je suis - je suis d'accord, monsieur Blackaxe."

Altair smiled gently at her. "Se il vous plaît, appelez-moi Altair." He turned to Fleur, repeating his question.

She shrugged slightly. "Je suis pire, Altair, mais je vous remercie pour l'intérêt."

"Moi aussi, mademoiselle. Se il vous plaît, ne pas danser autour de la question. Comment ça va?" he rebuked her gently.

Fleur blushed, to her sister's apparent disbelief. "Pardonnez-moi, je ne suis pas habitué aux gens qui demandent ce genre de question," she said softly. "Je me sens encore les effets de la malédiction, Altair. Je ne sais pas si je serai capable de marcher." She bit her lip, looking up at him uncertainly.

He just smiled gently at her, and picked her up bridal-style, before looking at Gabrielle, who scrambled to her feet. "Pouvez-vous me guider pour vos parents ou à l'école Chef, mademoiselle?"

Fleur got his attention, blushing. "Je crois que je sais où Madame Maxime est," she said.

"Se il vous plaît, me diriger." With that, he walked off, Gabrielle by them as Fleur guided them to her Headmistress. When they arrived, he settled her comfortably, before kissing Fleur and Gabrielle's cheeks, then bowed. "Ce fut un plaisir de vous rencontrer, et je l'espère de vous revoir à Hogwarts."

With that, he turned, and started walking away, hearing the sound of students meeting, as well as the sound of happy and relieved parents, which made him smile. 'Perhaps continuing my family's tendency of being a law unto ourselves was best in this case,' he mused, his hands in his pockets as he walked on, but not before he pulled his robe's hood up again. When he reached the woods, he spun on his heel and apparated to the Burrow with a soft crack.

When Altair appeared with a crack, Alea crashed into him first, making him stagger slightly as she glomped him. A startled look appeared on his face, before smiling and returning Alea's hug. "Hi there," he said, smiling.

She pushed his hood back and smiled back at him, before slapping him. "That's for worrying me," she said, before blushing.

Altair just laughed. "If you ever want to know just how powerful I really am, just ask. I don't often do it, though... tends to turn me into a blazing torch of magical energy."

Molly stepped outside, the morning's paper in her hand. Altair took one look at the headlines and the look on her face and groaned. "Let me guess, that Skeeter woman managed to catch wind of me reaming out DMLE Aurors for being incompetent and having to do their jobs for them, as well as the whole thing about the two Beauxbatons students." It wasn't a question.

Alea nodded, finally letting him go. "She had a field day," she admitted. "The Prophet accused the Ministry for exactly the same thing you accused them of, incompetence."

Altair sighed. "Time for me to go meet with the head of the DMLE, I guess. Madam Bones' idiot Aurors need training on how to respond on time without the use of possibly lethal spells. Twelve overpowered Stunners at three people?" he snorted.

Molly gasped in shock.

"They were targeting me, completely ignoring the French students I was checking, as well as the Death Eaters in full DE regalia nearby that I'd exposed. Madam Bones is going to have a field day," the slight smile on his face at the thought of that turned downright evil.

Percy came out to see who it was. "Who are you?" he asked.

"Altair Blackaxe, Lord of the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Blackaxe," answered Altair breezily. "Nicknamed many things, including the world's landlord."

Percy looked curious, though hesitant. "Were you the one to accuse the Ministry of outright idiocy, murderous actions, and -" Percy's expression darkened, "incompetence?"

"Sounds about right, yeah," said Altair with a shrug. "You'd accuse them of incompetence if they were more worried about someone checking the victims than the perps themselves... rows of neatly bound and just waking up Death Eaters, and the twelve Aurors that decided to show shot overpowered Stunners at me, while I was making sure the two French students were okay." He snorted. "If that's not incompetence and blatant refusal of justice, then I don't know what is. Now, then... I have a letter to write to Madam Bones of the DMLE, and a couple meetings with the Goblins in case everything goes south."