I live in Canada so I know virtually nothing about the police and social services and how they would handle child neglect/abuse cases, so I apologise if I mess it up here. It really isn't intentional.
Thank you so much for all the reviews, favorites and alerts. They've been inspiring me to write more for this fic that was more of a by-product of an idea that wouldn't leave my head than an intentional, fully thought out story. So thanks again and I hope you enjoy this chapter!
Chapter Three: How Family Cases Should Be Managed – Wizarding Style
Once the Constables had left, the Dursely's, Harry and Blaise had gone back into the house, the latter two laden down with bags which they placed on the staircase once they were close enough without annoying the already irritated Dursley's.
Vernon was furious. His face was turning as purple as a plum and his lips were barely visible they were pressed so tightly together. He was practically growling and his eyes were narrowed with his fists clenched hard enough that his knuckles were white.
Harry just wanted to duck past the brute of a man, slip away to his room and hide out the storm. Which was laughable – he was the Boy Who Lived – but he was so afraid of his own muggle uncle that he was ready to hide. That was hero material. However, he could do nothing of the sort as, once they had all re-entered the house, Vernon whirled around and focused his entire fury on the Potter.
"This is your fault." Vernon said, practically hissed out between gritted teeth. He was like a chubbier and stupider version of Voldemort that Harry choked back a laugh. "We took in a freak like you, fed you, clothed you, put up with your weirdness and look what we get out of it! Our neighbours complain about how we treat you! You should just be grateful we even took you in! We should have just dumped you at a Church, or a hospital or even a bloody river!"
Harry cringed back away from his uncle. Vernon was basically shouting into his ear by the end of his rant and, in his anger, he spat as he spoke. The Potter waited for his uncle's next move, whether Vernon would continue with his verbal abuse or if he would escalate to physical violence.
"Excuse me." A smooth voice cut in casually. Harry blinked, he had forgotten about Blaise. He had forgotten about the Slytherin he was harbouring. Oh Merlin, that Slytherin had also just witnessed the Dursley's abuse. He doubted this would end well and found himself back to wondering how to prevent a fight between a wizard and a brute of a man, like he had debated in the mall. Wincing, Harry turned to his companion to, well, he had no idea how he was going to prevent Blaise from doing something that would probably make the both of them very satisfied.
Blaise did not look impressed, he had both eyebrows narrowed, and his eyes locked onto Vernon's icily. "Are you implying that it is Harry's fault that your neighbours are concerned about your behaviour?" he drawled, looking the aristocrat that he was.
Vernon spluttered, still half angry but now also half bemused. Blaise must have startled him, at least partly, out of his anger. Harry wasn't surprised, even he had forgotten that Blaise was there and Blaise, when he wanted to, could apparently have a very imposing presence, despite only being fifteen years old. He wondered how Blaise managed that, and if he could teach him it. Maybe he could use it against Malfoy, Harry could imagine the look on his face…
He quickly shook himself out of his train of thought and returned to the scene in front of him. It appeared that Blaise was ready to give Vernon a very verbal dressing down right there in Vernon's own home.
"Well… that is…" Petunia said from where she stood in the doorway to the kitchen. Dudley was next to her, half of his bulk hidden behind his mother as though he could project a more imposing figure. Fat chance, Harry mentally snorted to himself.
"Well? Is there truth to what the Constables had said?" Blaise said as though Petunia had not spoken at all. He was ignoring her entirely and Vernon visibly bristled at that but it was Dudley who acted.
"Don't you ignore my mom!" he said, shoving past Harry to get into the Italian's face. Blaise merely smirked in response, not at all bothered by the angry giant.
"And what are you going to do about it?" Blaise taunted.
Dudley reared back a fist in response but found himself on the floor with a bloody nose. There was an immediate shocked silence as everyone took in the scene. Dudley looked shocked and horrified, blubbering as blood dribbled down his face. Petunia broke it first with a shrill cry as she rushed to her son's side.
Vernon lurched forward at his wife's cry, towering over both Harry and Blaise. He grabbed a fistful of Blaise's shirt, shoving him roughly into the wall. His elbow was pushed against the boy's throat. Harry snapped and tried to push his uncle away from Blaise, only for Vernon to backhand him across the face. The blow sent him stumbling back into the hallway table which broke under his weight. Harry landed on top of it, wood splintering and digging into his skin. His glasses went flying and blood filled his mouth from where he had bitten his lip in the fall.
Vernon sneered down at him, "now look at what you've done boy." He still had Blaise pinned uncomfortably against the wall and Harry wondered why Blaise wasn't doing anything to stop Vernon. Blaise seemed too prideful to allow something like this to happen. But then, there was a law against minors using magic outside of school. Even though Vernon was aware of magic since he was related to a wizard, the Ministry might not take too kindly to Blaise using magic (especially since it involved the Boy Who Lived). Imagine the scandal! It would be in the headlines, which is the kind of attention Blaise had been trying to avoid in the first place.
Harry was hit with the sick realization of what could happen to Blaise, to himself, to the Dursley's and their neighbours, if Voldemort were to find out that a Zabini was – for the most part – declaring himself an enemy of the Dark Lord. Allied with a Potter – that couldn't end well. He swallowed thickly and scrambled to push himself off of the broken table, ready to intervene. Maybe if he cast the magic, they could keep Blaise hidden so no one would know that Zabini was staying with him.
"You're the one who hit him!" Blaise was saying, sounding angry. Harry had never – in the few days he had really known him – heard Blaise sound anything but calm, amused or sarcastic, so he was quick to reach out to the other boy, still trying to step around the broken pieces of wood without slipping.
"Blaise…" Harry was cut off when the front door opened and in stepped both Constables Scott and Corrigan.
Harry stared, openmouthed as the two officers cast unimpressed glances around the room. He couldn't blame them; he imagined the scene that they had stepped into. Blaise was pinned against the wall by an angry Vernon. Dudley was on the floor, face and shirt covered in blood with Petunia fluttering beside him, her hands bloodied. And himself, with his face and arms covered in cuts and his clothes ripped from the splintered wood, his cheek beginning to bruise while standing next to a broken table. Yes, he could clearly picture what they were thinking.
Constable Scott sighed heavily, pinched the bridge of his nose before looking Vernon straight in the eye. Vernon released Blaise and stepped away, turning to the officers. Blaise winced and rolled his shoulder, a hand going to rub at the back of his head.
"These boys attacked my family!" Vernon gestured wildly at both Harry and Blaise.
"They attacked shortly after we questioned you?" Constable Corrigan asked.
"Yes! As soon as we got into the house, they panicked and came after us!" Vernon said. Harry and Blaise exchanged glances. Vernon wasn't getting the sympathetic audience he was trying for as both of the Constables didn't look too assured.
"Mr. Dursley, shortly after we left the first time, we received another call about you shouting at them." Constable Corrigan said.
"Obviously we're going to need to take statements and talk to Social Services now." Constable Scott said. "We'll be taking you and your wife in, the boys will come too. They'll need to speak with counselers." His voice was formal and dull, as though he recited this particular speech many times. Harry hoped he didn't. How many children were abused or neglected by their guardians?
"W-wait!" Harry protested. "No one's being abused or anything!"
Constable Scott frowned, "your uncle had your friend shoved against the wall, his son has a broken nose and you fell onto a table."
Harry blinked, unsure of what to say to dissuade the officers from taking this any further. If he could show that there was no intended violence in the household, maybe they would leave? He didn't have time for problems like this, he'd managed eleven years of constant abuse without friends who cared about him! He could manage the few more years before he was of age. Especially if he could get his dad back, which he couldn't do if he was taken away somewhere without access to Blaise or the magical world. At least until the school year began.
"Actually, the broken nose thing was me." Blaise said. He didn't look too concerned about this admission. Harry sighed, so much for the no violence thing. Thankfully, the Dursley's appeared to be too shocked to actually say or do anything to make it even worse. Or too mad, in Vernon's case – Harry idly wondered if a person's face was supposed to be that purple.
Constable Corrigan looked amused. "You're all still going to have to come in." He shrugged apologetically.
Which was how they ended up seated in a waiting room… to be questioned about the apparent neglect and abuse that Harry had suffered at the hands of the Dursley's.
Early the next morning found both Harry and Blaise seated in small, empty waiting room of a Social Services building.
"You know, if I had known this is what your summer would be like, I would have held off for another month or two." Blaise said, absently flipping through a magazine.
"But then you would have missed out on all this drama." Harry said, scowling. He waved a vague hand around the room, which was empty aside from them. Dudley had been taken to get his nose looked at and Petunia and Vernon had been taken to be interrogated. Vernon had looked absolutely furious and Harry was a little nervous about what would happen if this all blew over without a fuss. Vernon would really make him regret this all.
"Have you called your mother yet?" Harry asked his companion. Blaise sighed and lowered the magazine. It had been one of the promises they had made when the Constables had left them here. Blaise had to call his parents and let them know what was going on.
"Yes. My mother is aware. She's going to call Social Services and convince them that I am under supervision." Blaise said. His tone of voice implied that he was not impressed with what was going on.
"You're only fifteen, you do need supervision in the eyes of the law." Harry said in return.
"I am a Lord, not some little brat that needs to be looked after." Blaise scoffed.
Before Harry could reply, a woman with brown hair and eyes walked into the room carrying a briefcase.
"Is one of you Harrigan Potter?" she asked, glancing down at a sheaf of paper she held.
"I am." Harry said. "And it's Harry."
"Well Harry, I am Doctor Amelia Stone." She said, holding out a hand. Harry stood and shook it.
"It's a pleasure." Harry said politely. Doctor Stone nodded in return.
"Likewise." She said. "If you could please follow me, we will begin your session. Your friend will have to stay out here." She added the last bit with a quick glance to Blaise. He just raised an eyebrow in return and deliberately flipped a page in the magazine he was holding.
Harry sighed – why did that seem so common now that he hung out with the Italian? – and followed the doctor into an ajoining room. Doctor Stone closed the door behind them.
Blaise sighed absentmindedly as he flipped idly through the same magazine for the fifth time. It was utterly dull, blathering on about muggle fashion sense and the idiocy of men and women in their search for the ultimate sexual experience. He had no interest in the material but it was at least interesting to look at the pictures while he was waiting. Waiting. He had been waiting for only about twenty minutes and he was already bored.
He looked up from his magazine when the door from the hall opened and in stepped Constable Scott and another man. The man was tall, wiry with sandy blonde hair and blue eyes, wearing a black tailored suit and a dark blue tie. In one hand he was carrying a leather briefcase while the other held a folder of papers.
Constable Scott pointed to him. "This' Blaise Zabini, he's a friend of Harry that was staying over at the time."
The man nodded and looked around. "Where's Harry?" He asked. He had a crisp, smooth English accent. Constable Scott looked thoughtful so Blaise sighed.
"In there." He nodded towards the other door. "With Doctor Stone."
Constable Scott nodded and the other man looked satisfied.
"All right, I have to go so I'll leave you here then." Constable Scott said, shaking hands with the other man before taking his leave.
The man sighed, rushing a hand through his hair and ruffling it wildly. He dropped his briefcase onto an empty chair and shook his head before turning to Blaise.
"Lord Zabini?" He said, holding his hand out. "I am Christian Lucas Williams, the Potter family advisor."
Blaise immediately stood, discarded the magazine and shook the man's hand. "A pleasure, Mr. Williams."
Williams smiled. "The pleasure is all mine. I hear it's because of you that things are in motion."
"I'm not too sure about that." Blaise said.
"We'll see." Williams said. "If you'll excuse me, I have to collect my client."
"I'll be waiting out here." Blaise said, his tone serious and he returned to his seat. Williams nodded solemnly.
"Understood." He said quietly before knocking on the office door.
Within a few minutes, Williams, Harry and Doctor Stone exited the office. Doctor Stone placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, but the boy shrugged it off immediately. He quickly strode over to Blaise, not looking in the direction of the doctor. Harry was simmering quietly, lips pressed into a frown, eyes narrowed, hands and jaw clenched. His face was a little red and he was visibly tense at the shoulders. Blaise raised an eyebrow, glancing between the Potter and the doctor that was currently speaking with Williams.
"Problem?" He asked, placing the magazine he had been reading back onto the table. He stood, casually brushing lint off of his clothing. Harry breathed out slowly but said nothing.
"Boys," Williams said coming over, "are you ready to go?" Harry nodded and walked to the door without glancing at Doctor Stone. She smiled tightly and nodded at Blaise, shaking hands with Williams.
"Thank you for your assistance." She said through clenched teeth. Blaise's eyebrow rose a little higher. Harry was already out the door by the time Doctor Stone retreated back to her office and Blaise followed Williams out.
Harry was waiting outside, pacing back and forth. Blaise stopped next to him and grabbed his shoulder.
"Harry?" He asked. Harry spun to him.
"She is one of the worst doctors I have ever spoken to! That arrogant, assuming broad! I am not defenseless nor am I allowing any abuse…" Harry ranted. Williams cut him off by clearing his throat.
"While I agree with your assessment, Mr. Potter, it would perhaps be more productive to do so in the car?" Williams said, tilting his head as a car pulled up to the curb in front of them. Harry blinked, startled out of his rant. He glanced uncertainly to Blaise and Williams' lips twitched slightly in amusement.
Blaise shrugged. "It's up to you." He said, "he's your advisor."
"Where would we be going?" Harry asked suspiciously. Williams smiled.
"The Potter Manor in Scotland. I was informed by Gringotts that they sent important documents to the manor at the request of your temporary advisor." Williams explained. "And it would be the best place to go to explain your family history to you. It's where James grew up, after all."
Harry hesitated then nodded. "Okay." He glanced at Blaise again, who nodded in return. They started towards the car and when they were close, the back door opened for them. They exchanged glances and Harry noticed that Blaise had his hand in his pocket, where he kept his wand. Harry did the same with his own before entering the car. There was no one else but the driver in the car and Williams slid into the front passenger seat.
"Scotland Manor." Williams said and the driver nodded, pulling out onto the street.
"This is Garen McLocke. He'll get us safely and quickly to Potter Manor." Williams introduced. Blaise and Harry said their hellos quietly, watching the adults cautiously. The car suddenly sped forward and Harry lurched back into his seat.
"What is this?" Harry asked, panicking. Blaise sighed, casual despite the racing car.
"Haven't you been on the Knight Bus? It's the same thing." Blaise said, and Williams nodded from the front.
"That's right," he confirmed. "We'll be at the manor momentarily." The car came to a complete stop in front a tall, gothic designed gate. Slowly, the gate opened and McLocke drove them up the driveway, pausing at the entrance to the extravagant mansion that lay before them.
"Woah…" Harry said. "This is my family home?" Nobody said anything in response and Harry focused on soaking in the sight, taking in every detail of the house that he could see. After awhile of no one doing anything, Harry cleared his throat.
"So…" he said, awkwardly looking between Blaise and Williams. "What now?"
"Unfortunately, I have a few things to take care of, so I will not be joining you at the manor for today." Williams told them, looking apologetic. "I'm sure Clarie will be happy to show you around." With that said, the passenger door opened on its own and Blaise stepped out, pulling Harry along with him.
"I'll see the two of you later." Williams said before the car drove off down the road and disappeared from sight.
"Uh, thanks for the ride!" Harry called belatedly. "Do you think they heard me?"
Blaise scoffed and pushed him towards the door. "Come on Harry." He said, stopping a few feet away. "This is Potter Manor of Scotland, one of the finest estates in all of the United Kingdom and home to a wide variety of magical and non-magical entities."
"You sound like a real estate agent." Harry said in return, gazing at the Potter crest that adorned the door. He stepped closer and startled when the door began to open on its own.
"A what?" Blaise asked, before shaking his head. "Oh look, your house is welcoming you home." Harry glanced at him.
"No, it's just recognising you as a member of the family, it's not sentient." Blaise said to the unasked question.
"So, this place is a sanctuary?" Harry asked, peeking through the door curiously.
"Yes," Blaise said, "any kind of magical and non-magical entities, rare animals, and even some witches and wizards that were disowned from the magical community, can request sanctuary here as long as they conform to a few rules."
"Rules?" Harry asked, and Blaise shrugged.
"Such things like no acts of violence, no illegal use of magic and so on." Blaise said.
"Oh, well that makes sense, I guess." Harry said, reaching to knock on the door. Blaise looked at him in amusement.
"You don't need to knock, Harry, you are a Potter after all." Blaise told him. Before Harry could reply, a small figure appeared in the open doorway.
"Master Harrigan! You're here!" A squeaky feminine voice called. There was a blur before something small collided with Harry's legs.
"Uh… hi?' Harry said tentatively, sending a glare Blaise's way as the other boy chuckled.
"Oh! I am sorry, you do not remember me! You were only a babe when I last saw you." The blur, a female house elf wearing a fine navy blue cloak of sorts embroidered with the Potter crest, stepped back and smiled up at Harry. She bowed, "I am Clarie, Master Harrigan."
Harry blinked, "it's a pleasure to meet you as well." He said, giving a slight bow to the house elf, before offering his hand. Clarie shook it gently, a small smile adorning her face.
Harry gestured to his companion, "this is a good friend of mine, Blaise."
Blaise smiled slightly and also gave a small bow. "A pleasure, Miss Clarie."
Clarie's eyes widened before abruptly bowing. "The pleasure is mine, Master Harrigan, Lord Zabini! I am so happy that you have come." She gestured to them, "come in! come in out of the cold!"
Clarie closed the door behind the two boys and took their coats, hanging them in a nearby closet. "The dragons have not eaten yet, so it is best not to linger in the courtyard until their bellies are full."
"Dragons?" Harry asked incredulously, stopping in what looked to be a living room, with multiple couches, a coffee table and a large fireplace that was roaring with light in the background.
His mind flashed back to the dragons he had met. The baby Norbert who burned off Hagrid's beard and was the size of a cat. The adult dragons from the Triwizard Tournament and especially the one that had chased him all around Hogwarts grounds, intent on killing him. He shuddered and quickly attempted to hide it. From Blaise's expression, he was not quick enough.
"Friendly dragons." Blaise stressed, "they're here for a sanctuary, not to eat the occassional wizard that pops by. I believe Miss Clarie merely means that they will be a little on the grumpy side until they've eaten."
Clarie nodded vigorously. "Yes! Lord Zabini is correct. I am sorry to have misled you." She looked so apologetic that Harry rushed to assure her, not wanting a repeat of Dobby.
"It's alright, I've just had some… bad encounters with dragons before." Harry said. Clarie looked appeased so Harry decided to drop the subect for a later time. "So this is where my dad grew up?"
"Yes, Master Harrigan, but this is your home as well." Clarie said, looking anxious. "I will have some tea and biscuits prepared. Please make yourselves at home." With that, she disappeared with a small tuft of smoke. Harry looked surprised and uncertain at her sudden exit.
Blaise chuckled, "she's very happy you're here, Harry."
"Are you sure?" Harry asked uncertainly. Blaise rolled his eyes.
"Yes, that is why she left you and your guest alone and went to get treats. She wants you to have a chance to acquaint yourself with the house and to feel welcome and comfortable." Blaise said patiently.
"Oh." Harry said. "Why are you being called Lord Zabini?"
Blaise blinked at the sudden change in topic, "you know about my mother, correct?"
Harry nodded. He had been told multiple times by multiple people about Blaise's mother. She was nicknamed the "Black Widow" as she seemed to have a habit of marrying rich men who would then meet an unfortunate end, leaving her with all their money and inheritance. That was just about all that was known about the Zabini family, aside from the fact that they were known for staying out of the war and remaining neutral.
"Well, because she was married into the Zabini family and has been married into several others, she cannot uphold the name of Lady Zabini in a political manner. Also, since I am the oldest blood-Zabini alive, and am over the age of thirteen, I am Lord of the House." Blaise said.
"Here you are, sirs!" Clarie exclaimed as she popped up next to them. Harry flinched and was annoyed to note that Blaise did not. Blaise smirked at him in return but Clarie looked apologetic.
"I am sorry, Master Harrigan, the next time I will announce my presence first." The house elf said guiltily. Harry just waved a hand as though physically dismissing the apology.
"Don't worry about it, Miss Clarie." He said with a smile. "I can get used to it."
Clarie practically glowed as she lowered a platter of sweets and tea onto the coffee table. Once Harry and Blaise had seated themselves, she vanished again with a bow.
Blaise laughed, "you just made her day, Harry."
Harry paused as he fixed his tea. "What do you mean? Because I came here?"
"Well that too, but I meant more that you said you'd get used to her, which implies that you're going to stick around." Blaise said.
Harry looked affronted, "why wouldn't I? This is my home, isn't it?"
"Of course, but Miss Clarie didn't know if you were merely visiting or actually staying. She's probably setting up your room right now." Blaise said, stirring his tea and taking a sip. He hummed and relaxed back into his seat. Harry looked amused.
"Are you going to stay?" He asked suddenly, and watched as Blaise paused. "I- I mean… you don't have to but you wanted to hide away from Voldemort, right?"
"If you don't mind, I'd be happy to." Blaise said, lowering his cup of tea.
"You're quite welcome, that's why this whole thing started in the first place." Harry said with a grin. He was internally relieved that Blaise had not decided to back out on him after the mess with the Dursley's and the sudden entrance and exit of the Potter family advisor Williams. "Besides, you still need to teach me more about the wizarding world."
"True." Blaise agreed, "you still have much to learn."
"I'm a padawan now?" Harry grinned at Blaise's confused expression. "I may not know much about wizards but you don't know much about muggles."
"I do too!" Blaise protested, "I have a cellphone, I wear muggle clothes, I travel in taxis and use muggle money."
"Well… you're better than Ron." Harry teased.
"Why are you always comparing me with Gryffindorks?" Blaise asked in exasperation.
Clarie appeared abruptly next to the table. "Is it to your liking, sirs?"
"Delicious." Harry said immediately. "Thank you, Miss Clarie."
"Very good." Blaise agreed, taking another sip of his tea.
Clarie looked pleased. "Thank you," she said, "you may call me Clarie, if the masters would like."
"Only if you call me Harry and him Blaise." Harry countered. Clarie bowed.
"Of course Master Harry, Master Blaise." Clarie responded, "your rooms have been prepared."
"That's not what I meant!" Harry protested but Clarie just smiled pleasantly.
"The documents that you requested from Gringotts have arrived." She informed them, holding out a folder of loose parchment and a small leather bound book. Harry took it, feeling hesitant. He remembered what Blaise and Blackknot had discussed. It was possible that his father was alive, not dead but missing. Was it a mistake by Gringotts? A misprint? Or could it be true? The answer may be resting in his hands at this very moment.
He took a long, shaky breath. Clarie and Blaise said nothing, Clarie turning to refill Harry's cup of tea and Blaise munching quietly on a bisquit. Harry forced himself to open the book, attempting to squash any beginnings of hope that were welling inside of him. He stared blankly at the first page, with its small, neat handwriting, and abruptly handed the book over to Blaise. "I can't…"
Blaise nodded in understanding, taking the book and casually flipping it open to the first page. Clarie hung around in concern at the apprehension her young master exhibited.
The Zabini heir frowned, scanning the pages intently and then reread several of them. Finally, he settled back, closed the book and looked tired and dazed.
"Well?" Harry asked anxiously, breaking the silence that had descended on them.
"From what is here, it's quite possible that your father is still alive." Blaise said finally. Clarie's eyes widened, taking in a sharp breath and Harry looked awed.
"Really?" He asked disbelievingly. His voice was barely above a whisper, so hesitant and dazed, trying to take in the information he had just received.
"It's not for certain." Blaise said, "I mean… according to these documents, he's neither dead or alive but in some sort of limbo, in a realm in between life and death, but that's never been proven before so…" He trailed off. Harry noted that he looked strained and his voice was hesitant. He probably didn't want to get Harry's hopes up by telling something false but at the same time, giving him something to go on.
"Okay, that's something." Harry said quietly. "If… if it is true, is there a way to get him back?"
Blaise looked at him. "Maybe. If we can track down his soul and his body, then… maybe."
Harry nodded in understanding. "Thank you, Blaise. I know this isn't what you expected when you came to me for help, but I really appreciate it." He said, looking to his companion with gratitude.
Blaise shrugged, "I had nothing else to do with my summer." He said casually, teasingly and Harry laughed. "You should have Mr. Williams look this over as well." He continued.
"I will." Harry promised. "I trust your judgment but this' what he was trained for, right?"
"Right." Blaise agreed. "We should probably go to your father's grave too. If we can find a spell to check, we might get some more answers."
"I'll leave finding the spell to you," Harry said, shrugging. "I would have no idea where to look." Blaise smirked at him, looking amused. He took another sip of his tea and leaned back in his seat comfortably.
Clarie appeared next to them, "would sirs like anything else?"
"We're fine, thank you Clarie." Harry said, finishing off his tea.
"Then, would sirs like to explore the grounds? The dragons have eaten, the fauna are asleep and the birds are settled. There is little chance of any accidental trauma." Clarie told them.
Harry paused, "'accidental trauma'?"
"Yes, Master Harry. There have been incidences of maiming, death and other sorts of conditions due to irritable sanctuary members and ignorance of visitors." Clarie said, "any more bisquits, sirs?"
"Uh, no thanks, Clarie." Harry said, dazed. Across from him, Blaise was smirking at him from behind his tea cup and Harry glared at him. "Be quiet, Zabini."
"Ooh, back to last names, are we?" Blaise chuckled, setting down his now empty tea cup. He stood, "shall we follow through with Miss Clarie's suggestion and check out the grounds?"
Harry stood as well, "okay."
When Harry first stepped out a backdoor of the magnificent family mansion, he came to such an abrupt stop that Blaise almost walked into him. Luckily, Blaise was quick to come to a halt before he collided and sent them both tumbling down the path.
From the doorway, Harry overlooked a well used gravel path that led through a thick forest of tall and overwhelming trees of all sizes and colours. There were several kinds of bushes and flowers settled comfortably amongst these trees that were clearly properly tended to and the pathway was kept clear of debris.
Behind him, Blaise let out a small huff and gave him a slight shove in the shoulder.
"If you would exit the house, then maybe you could inspect the flowers up close?" Blaise suggested, his tone holding a miniscule layer of mockery.
Harry frowned but did so, stepping out of the building and into the open, fresh air scented with the blooming florel. As he walked down the path, he gazed in open wonderment at the assortment of creatures that slipped through the trees, silently stalking the humans as they ventured further from the house and further into the sanctuary's domain.
The path opened up to a large meadow with tall brazen grass and a decent sized lake. With the sun shining down on them, the nature was serene and beautiful in a way that Harry had never seen outside of Hogwarts. Even the very air seemed to hold a mystic presence that both unnerved and enticed the young Potter.
Blaise whistled lowly in appreciation, looking impressed (which said a lot, Harry believed, since the Zabini only seemed to portray small amounts of emotion at a time, and they were typically not as positive).
"This is far more than I had been expecting." Blaise said.
"And just what were you expecting?" Harry asked, "a kennel?"
"No," Blaise frowned at him, "though I was expecting the creatures to have less freedom of privacy. There are many places for all sorts of creatures to live in private."
"Oh." Harry said, turning to peer closer at the lake. "How deep is that?"
"If you're thinking of swimming in there, I wouldn't recommend it." Blaise said, a slight smirk adorning his face.
"No, I was just curious." Harry said, looking affronted, then he blinked. "Why?"
"Selkie apparently live there." Blaise said, pointing to a sign that was perched near the waters edge. It read: 'Lake Messina - Home of the Scylla Clan; no admittance without permission of a Master'.
Harry blushed, even with his new glasses, he had not noticed the sign. So much for those observant skills of his; he was growing too lax apparently.
"Moving on." Blaise said, gesturing to the path that continued to trail through the tall grass, around the outer rim of the lake all the way to a large rock formation that gathered at the bottom of a great hill. Harry walked down the path, followed by Blaise.
They were silent, casually observing their surroundings. Harry's eyes widened when he caught a glimpse of greyish skin, yellow eyes and broken teeth peering up at him from below the surface of the water. The putrid eyes blinked up at him, twice, before the creature seemed to sink back into the dark depths of the lake. Harry breathed slowly, relaxing as it vanished and banished the images of the merpeople from the lake at Hogwarts from his mind – no more thinking of the tournament, he was determined to keep away any further analysis of his actions and Cedric's death.
When they reached the rocks, Harry's eyes immediately spotted the intricate carvings lining a doorway built into the stone.
"Runes."Blaise said, "probably to safeguard the creatures inside from whatever may want to harm them."
Harry nodded and passed through the doorway with ease, stepping into a long tunnel lightened only by small balls of blue fire that floated near the ceiling.
"This is ancient magic." Blaise observed. "These kinds of flames are extremely difficult and dangerous to create but are easy to maintain. If they're made wrong, you're more likely to burn yourself alive."
Harry winced and continued walking with the Slytherin behind him. The tunnel was so small that only one person could walk through at a time, so they filed into a single lane to get through.
The exit was bright and Harry had to wait several seconds for his eyes to adjust, but when they did, his eyes widened. There before them must have been about twenty dragons, some as large as the ones he had seen in the Triwizard Tournament and others as small as his head. They were of different colours and styles and all Harry could do was stand there and stare in awe at the magnificent creatures. It was only when one of the larger ones, a deep charcoal grey dragon with three horns on its head, two on its forehead ridges on either side and one perched on its nose, and seemingly glowing ice blue eyes noticed them and stomped (stomped as in Harry and Blaise had to hold onto the rock face to keep from falling over) towards them, that he was knocked out of his awe. Steam was huffed from its large nostrils and Harry felt even more nervous than he had in the tournament. At least in the tournament, he had a way out, he had his broom and the confidence that he could outfly the natural flying predator. But now, all he had was a wand that he shouldn't use unless he wanted to give the Ministry and the papers more ammunition against him.
The dragon lumbered over to them and stopped, looming over the humans. It was about the size of a large commercial airplane, though its wings were currently folded against its back. With an icy gaze, the dragon watched them, breathing in deep enough that it rustled the humans' clothes and hair.
Harry glanced to his companion and saw that Blaise was watching the dragon in turn, with a contemplative look on his face. But no fear, anxiety or anger, only mere curiousity. He, himself, found that he was taking the dragon in, noting the thick scars that adorned the creatures left front leg and streaked across its left folded wing, disappearing down its side.
After a few moments, the dragon let out a large huff (that nearly toppled them over) and, apparently bored with them, trudged away, pushing past a few dozing dragons (which growled but did nothing else) and spanned its wings out to their full distance. With a few deep strokes, the dragon was in the air, sending a mini storm of dust and debris over the other dragons and the humans.
Harry coughed and took off his glasses, futiley attempting to clean them. Next to him, Blaise was frowning down at his dusty clothing and making a poor attempt at brushing it off. Harry had the feeling that Blaise would be changing his attire as soon as they entered the mansion.
With the large dragon gone (and their heartrates having slowed back to normal), it was mutually decided, in a silent discussion (lest they disturb the other dragons) to turn back and check in with Clarie. They had no interruptions for their walk back, though Harry caught a glimpse of a large object diving through the clouds above their heads (that may or may not have coincided with his sped up pace).
"Just in time, young sirs!" Clarie said once they stepped back inside the house. She frowned at their appearance and, with a snap of her fingers, both boys were dust free. Blaise, amusingly enough, looked immensely relieved.
"Thank you." Blaise said with such effect that Clarie blushed. She coughed and fidgeted before bowing abruptly.
"Th-thank you, Master Blaise." She said. Harry watched her in amusement. "Oh, I must tell you that Mr. Williams has arrived and is awaiting your arrival in the meeting room."
"Williams?" Harry repeated. "That's my advisor right?"
Blaise nodded, "yes. He must have finished whatever other business he had, early."
"Okay." Harry nodded and started walking before, once again, he came to an abrupt stop. "Uh, where's the meeting room?"
To his dismay, both Blaise and Clarie snickered, though Clarie did her best to keep hers hidden. "You guys are so mean."
To his own mortification, the last word was sounded out into a whine that actually had Blaise chuckling and Clarie fiddling with her uniform, her head down so her face was hidden. "I should just stop talking." Harry muttered, sweeping a hand through his hair. He paused, however, when he noticed Clarie gazing at him sternly.
"Is there something wrong, Miss. Clarie?" Blaise asked curiously.
"You are most like your father, Master Harry!" The house elf said exuberantly. "I will find the spell to fix your hair once you have finished with your guest."
"Fix my hair?" Harry asked, hands automatically going up to touch his hair. He felt faintly alarmed and now eyed the house elf warily. She had a certain gleam in her eye that reminded him of Hermione when she thought of something she believed to be genius and "convinced" Harry and Ron to go along with it.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Blaise's very annoying eyebrow raising to his hairline as he regarded the two with amusement.
Straightening, Harry cleared his throat, casting a glare in Blaise's direction (which the Slytherin just brushed off casually). "Clarie, if you would please direct us to the meeting room?"
Just like that, the gleam was gone as her eyes widened and she bowed deeply. "Of course, Master Harry. Right this way."
With that said, Harry and Blaise followed the house elf through the lengthy, twisting hallways (that all looked the exact same – really, it was no wonder he hadn't figured out how to get around yet, it was almost worse than Hogwarts).
"Mr. Potter." The man greeted with a small but sincere smile. He shook Harry's hand in a strong grip. "First, I must apologize for my earlier abrupt behaviour. It was unacceptable."
"It's fine." Harry dismissed. "I understand that you had taken time out of a busy day to help us. So, thank you for getting us here."
"Well, you're quite welcome, Mr. Potter." Williams said.
"Harry,please." Harry said in return. "This is Blaise Zabini, he's been acting as my, uh, temporary advisor."
Blaise stepped forward and shook the man's hand. "Always a pleasure, Mr. Williams."
Williams smiled slightly. "Once again, I am grateful for your assistance in this matter, Lord Zabini." Blaise nodded solemnly but Harry frowned.
"What do you mean by that?" He asked.
"I think has been unable to get into contact with you before my interference." Blaise said.
"That's right." Williams agreed. "Since the death of your parents, I have been disallowed direct contact with you on my terms."
"Why?" Harry asked in confusion.
"It was decided that, for your own protection, you would not have any knowledge of the wizarding world until the age of eleven and that you would not have any interaction with family responsibilities until you are legally an adult, unless you were the one to initiate the contact." Williams explained.
"Which I would not have done without Blaise's interference." Harry said, with dawning annoyance.
"I didn't do much." Blaise argued. "All I did was ask you a few questions."
"And took me to Diagon Alley, acted as my temporary advisor and began teaching me about wizarding norms and my family history." Harry countered.
Williams chuckled, "sounds like you've done a lot, Lord Zabini." Blaise shrugged but did not verbally respond.
Harry wondered where he would be right now if Blaise hadn't shown up. Probably stuck with his relatives doing chores and being looked down on. His anger would be building up at the lack of contact from his wizarding friends and being trapped in the house being treated like a servant or prisoner instead of enjoying a nice summer free of dark lords, meddling classmates, obsessive fans, dreadful teachers and the ridiculous Ministry.
Breaking out of his thoughts, he gestured to the sofa. "Have a seat." Harry was almost glad now that aunt Petunia had made him wait on their guests. Who knew those "polite" skills would ever come in handy?
"Thank you," Williams said, seating himself. Clarie appeared with bisquits, which she set on the table. Harry and Blaise sat across from Williams on the other sofa.
"I'd like to inform you that I have sorted everything out with social services and spoken to your muggle… family members. They are aware that you will not be returning for an unknown amount of time and are to allow you entry to retrieve your things at your convenience." He said but before Harry could respond with more than a nod, the man continued.
"Down to business then." Williams started. "I was told that you had requested documents regarding your father?"
Harry hesitated and glanced at Blaise, whom nodded. He held out the documents to the man. "My dad might not be dead." He said bluntly.
Williams paused for a moment before he took the documents, regarding both boys with a serious, piercing gaze. "Is that so? How interesting…" He began to flip through the material before him and Harry was relieved that he had taken them seriously enough to actually read through the documents. As he read, Williams' expression grew tighter, a frown beginning to deepen on his lips. Then, he lowered the documents and raised his head to look at the two teenagers.
"From a cursory glance, I would have to say that you are right. James Potter isn't dead." He said slowly, sounding both dazed and amused. "Of course James would overcome death." He said under his breath, "he's like a cat with nine lives."
Blaise and Harry exchanged bemused glances as Williams finally came back to his senses.
"My apologies. It's just… your father seems to have the uh… ability of coming out of situations that no one should rightfully come out of at all." Williams explained to them. He cleared his throat.
"Now, according to these documents," Williams said, getting back on track. "Your father never actually died."
"You both have said that before, but what does it mean?" Harry asked. "If my dad isn't dead, then where has he been? Where is he now? And how do you know that Gringotts hasn't made a mistake?"
As much as he hated to ask, he didn't want to get his hopes to high up, only for his father – a possible, living relative that didn't hate him on principle – to actually still be dead. Harry wasn't sure if he could handle that, especially so soon after Cedric's death. His longing for a family was part of what drove him, kept him apart from Voldemort – from becoming another Dark Lord – he still loved and hoped. He still believed in the world, still believed in the people around him, despite harsh life experiences that gave him reason – a screaming in your face reason – to do otherwise. The anguish of a father being just out of reach was like the offer Voldemort had made him in his first year. His parents so close and yet still so far from his grasp. Harry had another – crushing – hope of at least one parent returning to him and he had no idea what to do with it.
Williams was looking at him sympathetically, as though he understood what Harry was going through – but how could he? How could anyone understand his life and the continued hope they keep dangling in front of him just out of reach? Harry could feel a bottled anger bubbling up inside of him and he looked away. His eyes locked onto Blaise's and he realised that he saw no sympathy or pity, but a cool understanding.
Blaise arched that – ridiculously annoying – eyebrow at him, watching him with an expectant gaze. Harry could practically hear the 'hurry up and get over your meltdown so we can move on to more important things'. Oh, he wondered how he had ever managed his life without a sarcastic, cold Slytherin beside him.
Harry rolled his eyes and looked inquiringly at Williams. "Well?"
Williams blinked and then shook his head. "Right." He said. "Well, first of all, Gringotts does not make mistakes like that. The magic involved in death identification and family lineage is an ancient, intricate spell that cannot be falsified. Prior to sending the relevant documents to survivors, the goblins are required to check for any tampering of the documents themselves. The magic is never wrong."
He held up a piece of parchment. "This is an information sheet that tells us when the first spell was cast and when the documents had last been checked by a certified employee." Williams handed it over to Harry, whom looked it over. There was the date of that fateful Halloween when James and Lily Potter were declared dead. Underneath that was the date of when Harry and Blaise had visited the manager, Blackknot. Hary handed the slip over to Blaise, the Slytherin glancing at it before handing it back to the advisor.
"For your next questions." Williams continued. "That is what we need to figure out. I was a friend of James, I am confident to say the if he were still alive, he would not have stayed away from you, even if others believed that you would be safer without him around."
"…so my dad is alive, but either doesn't know about that or me, or can't do anything about it?" Harry questioned, brows furrowed.
Blaise chuckled. "Pretty much."
Williams looked amused. "Eloquently put. Essentially, that is a good assumption to make. It is likely that your father is in some sort of limbo, or state of unawareness that is keeping him from you. However, in order to prove or disprove it, we would need to research further. Perhaps some of the more complicated tracking spells…" By the end of his dialogue, Williams had withdrawn to muttering, concentrating on solutions to the problem before them.
Harry and Blaise exchanged amused glances – or rather, Harry looked amused while Blaise looked slightly amused if the twitch of his lips and arch in his brows meant what Harry thought it did, and he was getting pretty good at figuring out what Blaise was feeling just by facial expressions (considering the other boy was least likely to actually say what he was feeling, without sarcasm anyway).
Clarie appeared with a small pop, a small tray ladened with three cups and a tea pot balanced in one hand, and she took in Williams hunched over the documents and muttering to himself. With ease, her attention turned to her more aware company.
"Fresh tea, sirs?"She offered, placing the tray down by the bisquits. Blaise nodded. Harry watched as she fixed Blaise's tea with efficiency, remembering the young lord's preference. Once she was done, she handed the cup over to Blaise, whom accepted it and offered her a quiet thank you.
Clarie filled a cup of tea for Harry as well, and set about fixing a cup for Williams, which she placed near his left hand. She then vanished, taking the tray as she left with another soft popping sound. It was not loud enough to startle Williams out of his musings so Harry turned to Blaise.
"What are we supposed to do now?" He wondered. Blaise took a sip of his tea as he considered.
"We could wait for Mr. Williams to finish, explore your estate some more or ask Clarie about how your father's not-death might have occurred in the first place." Blaise offered.
Harry stared at him. "Clarie would know?"
"It's possible." Blaise shrugged, "Your father grew up here with her and so she may know if what happened to him may have been purposeful."
"Oh." Harry said, sipping at his tea. "Then I guess we need to wait for her to return."
Blaise looked amused and quickly spoke when Harry frowned at him. "You're her master, Harry. You can just call for her assistance."
Harry's frown deepened. "Like slave labour?" He thought of Hermione and how she would react to this concept, how she believed that it was a form of slavery of house elves. However, Blaise shook his head.
"In some other old families, such as the Malfoys and the Blacks, that is true, but the Potter's pay house elves, offer free room and board and a proper education. Also, house elves are free to leave when they want." Blaise said and Harry was instantly relieved.
"That's good to hear." He said. "So how do I call her?"
"You can call her name, snap your fingers, whatever. She'll come and you two can discuss communication later." Blaise said.
Harry hesitated then called. "Clarie?"
A few seconds past before a small pop sounded and Clarie appeared before them. "You called, Master Harry?"
"Uh, yes, hi." Harry said awkwardly. "We were wondering if, uh, there could be a reason as to why my dad's alive?"
Clarie stared at him thoughtfully. "There are many possible reasons." She said omniously. "The library may help you more with your research though."
"Library?" Harry asked.
"Yes, sir. It is just down this hallway here, and eight doors down." Clarie gestured down an adjoining hallway.
"Oh, thank you." Harry said, still slightly confused at Clarie's response.
"Is that all, sirs?" She asked.
"Yes, that's it." Harry responded.
"Then I will leave you to your research." With that said, Clarie once again popped out of the room.
Blaise stood, setting his empty cup on the table. "Let's check out the library then."
Harry nodded, putting his own cup down and standing. Williams was still digging through the documents and appeared to not have heard anything that had been said in the past bit. "Do you think we should leave a note?"
Blaise shook his head. "I'm sure Clarie is keeping an eye out so she'll let him know if need be."
"Right." Harry said, walking down the hallway the house elf had told them to follow. "Research it is." If only Hermione could see him now.