AN: So...it's been a while, huh? My plan was to get to some serious posting in January but computer issues threw me for a loop. Two laptops died, my PC needed a restore and I had to dig into my emergency backup files to retriev everything bar the old Son of Potter chapters. I've got a Patre0n account that will have running updates on my writing and where you can leave tips if you feel so inclined.
A huge shout out to Timuzhti for not only being a good Beta but dealing with how long it sometimes takes me to reply!
TimothyB brought up the question of why Harry and Mel keep switching rather than sticking to one or the other. What you should remember is that they're fourteen/fifteen in Son of Potter, Daughter of Black and are just getting used to their new identity. This Harry/Mel has had another forty years of living with two forms.
Think of it like Dora. While we all know her bubble-gum pink hair, that doesn't mean she wouldn't go months looking completely different as the mood takes her. Harry/Mel is fully comfortable switching between bodies and hasn't had a reason to stick to one over the other in years.
I understand if some people have difficulty in recognising some of the characters used so far. The Coven is mostly dealing with Marvel UK people right now, but they'll end up expanding and working with more familiar names soon.
A question for my readers – Excalibur isn't involved in all the MCU films during MCU: Phase 1. Would you like to see my written version of those films/scenes as outtakes? (They would be canon for M to the X.)
Chapter 4 – Manifest Destiny
12th May 2008 – Westchester, New York
"There is no memory of her," Charles Xavier said, drawing his mind out of his friend's. His office was once again bursting with his X-Men, both full and part-timers, and they had all heard of Sean's experience with the strange woman at the Irish bar. "She hasn't removed herself from your memory; rather it is as though she was never in your memory to begin with."
"How is that even possible?" The only other telepath asked. Jean knew there was far more about telepathy that she needed to learn, but she always believed the wiping of memories left psychic clues.
"I don't know, Jean," Xavier admitted, leaning back in his high-tech wheelchair. The machine had arrived over the weekend from Reed Richards and he had enjoyed taking it for a spin. "A telepath is still in someone's memory even if they convince the conscious mind to ignore them. This is as though she was never there, and Sean's mind was forced to come up with an image to fill in the blanks."
"I think we need to talk about the message, sir," Cyclops spoke up. He was in his exercise uniform and the wide yellow visor hid most of his upper face. The frown, however, was clearly seen by all, as were the tense muscles from where his arms were crossed. "It sounds like a threat. Bring these people or else."
Logan's advanced senses picked up nerves in one of his fellow X-Men's scents and the feral Canadian turned to the young German of the team. Kurt Wagner, bright-eyed, blue-furred, and pointy-tailed looked like a kid's fuzzy toy version of a devil but the young man had the heart of a champion. Nightcrawler felt his intense gaze and looked over at Wolverine.
"Logan?" He asked in a soft, heavily accented vocie. The rest of the room caught the sound, and all looked to the two men.
"Speak up, Elf," he told the kid who had been slowly growing on him. "I know you got something to say."
"Yes, Kurt, please," Xavier added. "If you know something that might make this clearer then please share."
Kurt's three-fingered hands nervously rubbed together and when he spoke, it was in a carefully controlled tone. "Her vords are those of someone who sees beyond."
"A witch?" Piotr Rasputin asked. The gentle Russian giant was one of the X-Men who was still finding their way after leaving his family's farm and tended not to push his views too often.
"That's not really a surprise with what Strange told us," Robert "Bobby" Drake pointed out only for Ororo to shake her head in the negative.
"I believe Kurt is speaking of a prophet or someone similar. People who see into the nature of others instead of the surface face that is shown."
"Ja," Kurt nodded, sending the older woman a relieved smile that she understood his meaning.
"Then shouldn't we work out who she meant?" Alex Summers, Scott's brother, asked from his position beside his green-haired wife.
"That's the easy part," Logan scoffed, smirking when both Summers brothers scowled at him. "Chuck is obvious, same as 'Ro and Banshee. I'm the Man Who Forgets, and One Eye is the Blind Apostle."
Scott shifted his body as though to challenge Logan who merely kept smirking. The Wolverine had made many comments since joining the team that Cyclops followed Xavier's 'give peace a chance' philosophy far too rigidly. The macho posturing was broken when Jean spoke up.
"And I am the Woman Who Dreams," she stated, her green eyes having watched Xavier through the entire conversation. "I think the important question is what is so important about this family."
"Not who else is going with you?" Lorna Summers asked, wrapping a slender arm around her husband to keep him from getting between the still posturing Scott and Logan. Jean shook her head and red locks fell free from her loose ponytail.
"We need to know who we are dealing with first."
"Sean?" Xavier prompted, glancing at the man who had some of the answers. The Irishman sighed, slouched into his chair as though not wanting to be there. He was absently playing with his pipe, fingertips running over the smooth wooden surface as though seeking comfort in its familiar feeling.
"The Cassidy Clan was tasked with looking after the Fae who still lived in our world when the majority stepped sideways into Avalon," Banshee explained while staring off into the distance. "The Evans, now Braddock, Clan, was tasked with protecting and guiding the throne, while Clan Gwynn was all about the common people. The Blacks have had a few names, but their nature remains.
"They're heroes, Charles, heroes," Sean stared into his oldest friend's eyes and then turned his haunted gaze over to Logan. "But heroes in the way that the X-Men aren't. They are the light in the darkness that promises a safe haven for the lost and innocent, but death and destruction for those who are their enemies. It was said that that the most painful suicide of all was to anger a Dubh. They're ghosts. Slipping into building and coating a room with the blood of their target yet no one ever knows they're there."
He shook his head as though to pull him away from his own words and scoffed at himself.
"Listen to me, telling ol' tales me da used to spread about the MacDubhs. But that's the thing, Charles. The only thing anyone knew for sure was it paid to have the Blacks as an ally and cost to have them as an enemy. They're the Crown's Left Hand, their Hand of Darkness. Gods almighty, Charles, there's little about the Blacks I can tell ye that isn't rumour and myth. Out of all four Clans, the Blacks are the ones who slipped identities and roles until no one knew what was who or who was what."
"Well, that sure helps," Alex snorted, and Sean winced, not blaming the kid for his attitude.
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13th May 2008 – New York City
Hank McCoy, sometimes known as Beast, was sitting in a relatively quiet café contemplating his life and existence. His huge, blue-furred body was hidden by a holographic form that was as close to a match to what he would look like as possible. It was a long time since Hank McCoy had looked human.
He had come a long way from his time as a CIA researcher, meeting Charles Xavier, and facing down a potential world war in Cuba. There were some nights that the erudite man felt he had never left the beach where he saw the true power and threat of Magneto for the first time. His dark thoughts were shaken off by a most interesting woman entering the café.
She was a little less than six feet tall by his calculation with below shoulder hair that framed a very intriguing face. Her eyes were initially hidden by dark green sunglasses only for her to slide them up to her rest on top of her brilliant green hair. In fact, the first word he thought of the woman was how green she was. Her eyes sparkled, her full lips smiled, and both were shining in the same colour but different shade to her hair. The viridian suit and skirt hugged her enticing figure and Hank was so caught up in her image that only rose to take her hand on instinct.
"Dr McCoy, Abigail Brand," the unique woman introduced herself. His holographic eyebrow rose at the name as she firmly shook his gloved hand, released it with the same focus and sat before he had a chance to offer her a chair. "It's good to finally meet you."
"A pleasure, madam," Hank smiled, retaking his seat. "To what does the Special Director of SWORD want with one such as I?"
"Surely you jest, Doctor?" She smirked, Hank once again finding himself mesmerised by the unique colouring of her lips. The woman who worked beneath Nick Fury waved the incoming waitress away without even paying the young girl any attention. "I run the leading organisation in the world dedicated to protecting our planet from external threats."
"Pardon my correction, but you run the only organisation in the world dedicated to such threats."
The comment had the lady Brand throw her head back and laugh in a way that had Hank drawn to the strong lines of her throat. He shifted his thoughts away from such frivolities and pushed on.
"You could be a space version of Renoir's Bain à la Grenouillère, basking in the relative peace of the cosmos while remaining aware of how easy it would be to fall into the tides before," he pointed out in his unique way. "Or you could be a Parisian Green lure, tempting but only requiring a mix of lead arsenate to become an incredibly deadly substance to be around. So, Miss Brand, what is it that SWORD wants with me?"
"That's probably the most unique way someone has ever used to describe my situation," she pointed out, all flirting vanishing during his little speech.
"I've been called loquacious in my time," he shrugged, unrepentant in ruining the mood.
"You're one of the smartest men in the world, one of the world's leading experts in mutant physiology and biology and probably know more than ten of my best people. Given SHIELD's suspicions of a shakeup in Xavier's little group, I thought I would sound you out on the possibility of coming to work for us."
"What does SHIELD know?" Hank asked, clearly worried about the surveillance of the place he considered home.
"Alex and Lorna Summers are looking into moving out of state, Robert Drake has enrolled himself onto a summer course, and Worthington is spending more time with his girlfriend. Throw in Jean Grey getting an apartment in the city and it doesn't take our best analysts to work out there's a changing of the guard happening."
"And I lament it will only get worse," Hank sighed, quickly waving his hand when her eyebrow rose in question. He knew he would need to speak to Charles about how closely they were being watched. "A simple case of chasing shadows, Miss Brand, nothing to worry about. What is it you require of me?"
"I understand you have loyalty to Xavier, Doctor," she explained, her manicured nails – painted green – tapping on the table as she spoke. "For starters, how about you become a consultant? You can continue to live at the Institute while we send you information we need your expertise on. It'll all be encrypted, and you'll have a lot of Non-Disclosure Agreements to sign, but you already know how that works."
"I do," Hank agreed, tilting his head to the side as he considered the offer.
"I can't promise we won't need you to get more involved but having you on speed-dial would be a help going forward."
"I agree in principle, Miss Brand. Do be sure to send me the paperwork so I know exactly what is being asked of me."
"Oh, Doctor," she smirked, bringing her large sunglasses down to cover her emerald eyes. She stood as a predator, smooth and dangerous. "It'll be my pleasure."
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Arrochar House
The Coven sat ready for Gabrielle's medical report, together again after their slightly illegal activities. The two teams had left a large number of false names in birth databases across Europe and North America. Most were simply a name without history, but some were detailed and officially created. The wizards and witches had even slipped into the offices at night and over the weekend to input the information to speed things up. None of those who had been away from Arrochar were surprised when they returned to find the large manor covered with the required rune clusters. They all worried about the hours their leader had spent carving when she should have been resting but none were foolish enough to bring it up.
After all, they all had their nightmares.
Gabrielle Delacour strode into the room as though appearing on a catwalk, the image only slightly ruined by her heavy frown.
"We have all been changed," she instantly began. Some unladylike French was added at the end that had the friends grinning even as they shared nervous looks. "I cannot say for sure without a mutant to compare to, but our genetics have been altered where I would guess this so-called 'X-Gene' is located."
More annoyed French swearing followed with the Veela heavily questioning the parentage of anyone who thought a single gene could do everything that was being suggested.
"Can you tell what our powers are?" Neville asked, wrapping his arms tightly around Luna as she leaned her back into his strong chest.
"Non," she spat in frustration, the shake of the head throwing her already dishevelled hair everywhere. It was obvious she had been running her hands through the thick blonde locks while trying to find answers. "I will eventually, but I need mutants to test the charms on. Perhaps if we were only magicals but we aren't. Our rituals changed our very DNA and I had to rebuild the Healing Charms every time we did. I need some non-magical mutants to see what my scans can show before I can do something for us."
While disappointing, the news was anything but a surprise. They knew the cost of the rituals they had all performed to aid them in their survival of the Long War and wouldn't change any of them.
"We're safe to move ahead then?" Melania asked, only to get glared at by the angry Veela whose bare arms rippled with potential feathers.
"You! You do not get to speak," she snapped, and the room was filled with heavy sighs and eye rolls. "You were a Mancer before we came here, just over twenty-one hundred Flamels. And now you're a Mage! Your magic shifted up an entire level, Melania Black, and I want to know why!"
Mel blinked at the furious woman, fully aware that the others were looking at her with concern. It was almost unheard of for a person's magic to increase in frequency beyond their thirties without ritualistic aid. She was so focused on ignoring the glares that she lost control of her mouth.
"You told me not to speak."
Susan's backhanded slap against her hip told Melania that channelling her father was probably the wrong approach.
"I told you what the ritual was for," she sighed, running a hand through her hair to help soothe her nerves. It was a habit she had even as Harry. "That's exactly what the ritual was supposed to do, increase my power."
"Mel, you told us it would power the gateway," Blaise pointed out and she winced at his cool tone.
"It did, sort of. I was pumping my magic into the gateway ritual while my magic was being changed. That's why it hurt as much as it did."
"Is that the only thing you haven't told us?" Neville's question was filled with the sound of his pain and she winced again, almost able to read his thoughts through the words. She hated disappointing the Coven even when she continued to do what she knew they'd disagree with.
"No," she replied, honestly, pulling herself to her feet as her arms wrapped around her ribs. The others tensed, fearing what they were about to hear. "I had to allow the Hallows to bond with me. I wasn't told why but they aren't allowed in this reality and having them bond with me got around that."
"Mel, sweet Jesus, Mel," Dennis whispered, his eyes wide at her words. He was quick to stand and pull her into a tight hug and she breathed easier from his familial scent. "What about the temptation?"
She nodded into his chest and pulled away so she could see the others. "I know, I know. I've got the Wand and Stone buried deep inside me and the Cloak has never done any whispering. I'm okay using the Cloak and I think I could get away with using one of the others briefly."
"Are you sure about the Cloak?" Daphne's quested was more a pleading than anything else and her eyes were moist at the idea of losing Melania to the seductive power of the Hallows. The Coven had been forced to pull her back from the edge a number of times and none were pleasant memories.
"I'm sure," she promised, walking up to the other woman to cup her cheek. Daphne leant into the touch and closed her eyes, drawing strength from the physical closeness. "It's been used far more often that it doesn't try seducing the rightful users. I don't understand why but the Cloak activates when I Apparate now. Heck, it doesn't even feel like Apparating when I use it that way."
"That doesn't make sense," Neville frowned, trying to work the information through. Luna had tilted her head back so that her blindfold stared up at the ceiling and only Susan noticed how innocent she was attempting to appear. "How does a power that makes you totally invisible help you move from place to place?"
"No idea," Mel shrugged, turning back to the somewhat calmer Gabrielle. "So, are we cleared to rebuild this place?"
They could all tell that Gabrielle was reluctant to give the answer, but she eventually nodded her consent. She had found no medical reason to not perform a ritual that Harry had managed to come up with on the fly. She mentally rolled her eyes at that thought as Melania grinned and then spun out of the room with everyone automatically following.
Carving the runes and planning their future weren't the only things Mel had done while the others had been away. She had also dug out a cavern a hundred metres below the very centre of what would be their home. Melania took the Coven out to the central courtyard and the small tunnel that would lead them deeper.
"Let's see if this works," she mused. Before any of the others could react, the world shimmered in the way that they associated with the Cloak of Invisibility and they were suddenly in her cavern.
"Mel," Dennis said. His tone was steady despite what they had just experienced. "Did you just mass Apparate us without any physical contact?"
"I think that's called teleporting," Neville pointed out from where he was inspecting one side of the stone cube they were standing in. The area was a perfect square, carved with runes across all six surfaces and traced with what looked like extremely old blood. He spun around to stare at his sister in shock. "I know this place; it's in Godric's journals. You didn't just take Hogwarts' Heartstone; you swiped its chamber as well!"
Melania couldn't help the smirk that pulled at her mouth as she stepped into the middle of the cube.
"Well, why only steal the diamond when it comes in such a nice box?" She joked, reaching into her pocket to pull out a small yellow quartz crystal.
There was a round of shaking heads at her antics as the Heartstone leapt off her palm and took its spot in the exact mid-point of the cube's dimensions, growing until it took up exactly half the cube's space. It hovered there under the power of its own magic, a magic that was over two centuries old, and the pulses within the Heartstone felt almost eager to the mortals around it.
"So, all we have to do is bond with it and keep the image of Castle Black in our minds?" Susan asked, eyeing the Heartstone as though seeing it as a potential threat.
"That's all you have to do," Mel promised.
The Coven had all memorised what their new home would look like, right down to the style of doorknobs preferred. No detail was too small or big and the Occlumency-remembered images would be poured into the Heartstone to show it what to create. Part of the rune cluster Harry had created would allow Luna's Seer ability to connect to their future home, using their magic and the Ley Lines to bring an idea into physical reality.
Each member of the Coven stepped forward until the pulsing gem was surrounded, its yellow glow causing their shadows to dance along the granite walls. They each took a knife from somewhere, Melania's was the same silver blade that had long ago been used to bind her uncle to Harry's self-made wand, and palms were cut. Seven pairs of bloody palms slammed against the Heartstone with each Coven member pouring their magic and very essence into it. Melania stood for a moment as she mentally focused, pulling her body's ability to shift into Harry's form out until she shivered from teetering on the edge of morphing. Her blood twisted in her veins as it constantly shifted between their DNAs and only then did she add her own palms and power into the ritual.
The yellow Heartstone erupted with a blinding light. The seven intersecting Ley Lines became visible, golden cords passing through the granite walls, through their bodies and into the stone. The bloody runes all around them glowed white and if they had been able to see beyond the Heartstone's light, they would have seen the runes dance over the granite's surface to find a brand-new configuration. Above them, Arrochar House was coming undone. Rooms blinked into and out of existence, moving from one area to another and either growing or shrinking depending on what it was and what it was becoming. Walls thickened, becoming magic-infused stone while also growing veins of copper, aluminium and optical fibre as Dennis' Technomancy caused the entire building to be modern technology ready.
The strain on the Coven was immense as they channelled just a portion of the Ley Lines' power to bring about their creation. Their minds began to buckle under the pressure until only the essence of what they were trying to create remained instead of the perfect image they had all memorised. Daphne and Luna poured into Castle Black a sense of home and family, of offices to conduct business, playrooms for children to enjoy, welcoming areas to accept visitors, and areas to enjoy both passions and hobbies. Art rooms, printing rooms, multiple duelling and physical training rooms grew in detail from what they considered to be Home.
Neville formed the aura of a family Hall that would stand the test of time, of a strong and powerful base for a House which would refuse to be bowed or broken by its enemies. A concept of family reaching back centuries and beyond filled the birthing halls above them, mixing with the echoes of Hogwarts to make a place that both inspired and intimidated. Susan's addition was the hidden truth of the Ossuary. A place of welcoming and power that held more within its deepest shadows, of a land and family willing to do anything to keep itself and its loved ones safe. Of a home that could be reformed from the ashes by the will and blood of those it protected.
These ideas saturated the forming Castle, giving it an aura which would have dwarfed everything bar Hogwarts at its peak from their original dimension.
Gabrielle and Blaise unconsciously added their own personal touches. Hidden rooms sprung up beneath stairways, secret passages and stashes of weapons and places for protected information grew between rooms and hallways. Daphne added the sense of power, of prestige, of a home and building that contained not only the blood of a magically powerful family but a business and politically powerful one too. A giant ballroom for galas, a second, far bigger, kitchen ready to create a feast.
Castle Black's reality solidified, becoming a home that was ready for love, for the dedication to a cause, and to be a place that allowed those within to grow into whoever they wished to be. And as large as Castle Black grew, its foundations mirrored to contain everything the building was.
One by one the members collapsed just before the magical drain would have become fatal until only Melania and Neville remained. Melania refused to allow her brother to handle pain that was exceeding what she had gone through to open the portal to bring them to this new home. A gold ring faded into existence around her middle finger, its dark green stone having the marking of a joined triangle, line, and circle, and deep within she pulled free the seductive power of the Elder Wand. Mel's veins darkened to a pulsing red as its power flowed through her and she poured her all into the stone, only partially aware that she had broken Neville's connection with the Heartstone.
Her own concept of Home filled her senses. The moment Harry Potter saw the majestic Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for the very first time, of enjoying wandering its halls and exploring its histories. Then it was Melania's time in Grimmauld Place, of the library that she had claimed as her own that allowed the learning and understanding of even the most derived and hated magic, of the time chamber that had given her the chance to properly connect with her family that first summer, the study and hidden rooms that were so typical to House Black, and the sense of love and protection she had felt when she ripped its wards away from the bastard Dumbledore.
Mel screamed as reality above them finally snapped together with the last piece of the new Castle Black popping into place. The others were already passed out and never knew when the magic of the granite walls added to the ritual to create the protective wards that would stretch for miles. For the second time in less than a month, a magical wave rippled across the world as everyone and everything suddenly had their reality rewrote to think Arrochar House had always been Castle Black.
Melania finally crumpled as the ritual finished. The magic the Coven had unleashed still sparking in the Heartstone's container. The ring housing the Resurrection Stone glowed and the three shapes etched on the stone began glowing different colours.
There had once been three house-elves who had undying loyalty to Melania, house-elves who saved her life and those of her friends and family more than once. She had saved theirs, the bonds between them and her growing until they became far more than an ordinary Master-elf relationship. In the end, one of her enemies had got sick of them being her ace-in-the-hole and released a worldwide curse that killed all house-elves. She had spent hours pouring her magic and will into their dying bodies, refusing to let those she considered family pass on. Ultimately, it was all futile, and she buried the elves in her family plots.
The ritual to create Castle Black had caused Melania to reach deep and pour what would make it a home into the Heartstone. It was the same sense of home that had been missing since she had held the cold hands of those house-elves and cried for their loss.
The stone flashed three times before it sunk back into her finger and with each flash, a form began to shimmer into reality. Gone were their old bodies, instead they looked as Melania had always seen them.
Winky Black was only a little shorter than her Mistress with short, spiky blonde hair and dressed in jeans and a loose pale-pink blouse. Dobby Potter had a mane of wild black hair to his shoulders and a mischievousness gleam in his bright eyes that would have made Sirius Black proud. Leather covered his legs while a black t-shirt with the logo 'Mischief is Never Managed' was spread across the front. Kreacher Black was bigger than the others, his shoulders wider and his face marked with a scowl that warned anyone that he was dangerous. He wore trousers and a white shirt, the sign of a proper manservant, and had his arms crossed.
"Mistress always did overwork herself," Kreacher declared with a shake of the head. His brown hair was military cut and added to his serious air. "She hasn't stopped since coming to this world."
All three elves knew everything Melania had done since their deaths. Their features were those of elves from legends and her magic had given them the intelligence to match their Mistress.
"Then we shall take care of her," Winky demanded, looking around at the pile of bodies surrounding the resurrected elves. "We shall take care of all of them."
The male elves nodded, and a series of pops took the Coven to their waiting bedrooms. The humans would wake to find their possession unpacked from the many trunks they had brought with them. The elves would take a little bit longer to get used to.
Outside the new Castle Black stood a beautiful woman of indeterminate age and origin. Her grass green robe was fluttering in non-existent air as she brought her arms down from carefully manipulating the Ley Lines and powerful ritual. Gaea gave a small, loving smile to the large building and the window that she knew housed her sleeping Champion. The theory behind the ritual had been sound but her Champion had taken too much on their shoulders and would have broken if not for her own secret guiding hand. Bringing back the elves had not even needed her to step into Death's realm as Melania had unconsciously drawn the creatures' souls into her own rather than permanently lose them. All Gaea had to do was nudge the powerful stone within the ring to bring the souls back and provide fitting bodies for them to take.
The Elder Goddess looked to the heavens where she knew the Norse god Heimdall watched in frustration as her protections kept the Coven hidden from All-Seeing eyes.
"Do what is right, not what is easy, Illuminator of Worlds."
The dark-skinned protector of the Bifrost shifted as he felt the weight of the First Mother's attention. His king had demanded he be informed of any signs of the seidhr but there had only been a wave of power and nothing to pinpoint the location of Odin's targets. With those mental gymnastics performed, Heimdall breathed a sigh of relief as Gaea's presence faded from his senses.
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Gaea's Champion opened his Avada Kedavra eyes to find himself in a land of grey fog. The utter silence of the world immediately clued Harry in on where he was and he closed his eyes and opened his senses until he felt a pull off in a seemingly random direction.
"Hello Darkness, my old friend," he began to hum, beginning the journey towards where Death awaited. Each step shifted his body between his own and Melania's, and it was only seeing the growth and shrinking of their breasts that had him realise that he was once again naked. While the image wasn't as disturbing as it had been when he was fourteen, it was still a distracting sight.
"Don't dress! Don't dress!" A childish voice called out as he was about to imagine up some clothes. "How can you be yourself when you hide in a dress?"
"Because the dress doesn't make me who I am," he answered, dragon-skin trousers appearing over his legs while a loose tunic covered his chest. "You don't like people who hide?"
"Can't hide from me, oh no siree, I can see, I see."
"Do you like seeing?" He asked, thinking about his beloved Luna. The comparison only increased at the strange voice's reply.
"I have to see. I'm not me if I don't see."
"You've accepted yourself," Harry smiled into the fog while his eyes held a spark of sympathy for the owner of the voice. "That's more than most people have."
"And have you accepted?" The dry rustling voice of Death asked from behind Harry. He calmly turned to see the form of an attractive woman. He had seen Death take many different forms over the years in their secret meetings and never asked why she seemed to settle on this one. It wasn't his place.
"As much as I can," he answered, truthfully. It always paid to be truthful with Death. "I'm only human after all."
"For now," Death replied. Harry frowned at her words but was then distracted when he saw the Black Knife appear in her hand. The Knife was an intrinsic part of the Black family, storing and sharing the fighting skills of all those who had gone before. It had been invaluable to Melania in surviving many battles. "The deal was struck, the bargain has been made. Powers beyond mortal reach turn their eyes to the Nexus World. They turn their eyes to you."
Death lifted the Knife up and began to run a finger over the blade's tip as someone would across the edge of a wet glass.
"What do I do?"
"Be more than you are," Death answered, pushing her palm onto the blade, pushing her hand down to its hilt A black smoke rose from the Knife and the silence of the realm was broken by a disturbing hiss. He watched in fascination as Death lifted her hand back up the Knife in the same slow manner she had stabbed it. "Grow into your role."
"How?"
Death turned the Knife around and offered it to Harry handle first. He could see the Eye of Horus on the smooth grip and the blade now had black etchings along its side.
"A sacrifice of blood, speak the words, and their power shall transfer to you. The cost is the same as the deal."
Harry took careful hold of the handle and the words Death had spoken of were suddenly there in his mind. Her grip tightened around the blade and her dark, fathomless eyes narrowed.
"Remember, my Champion. It is one use per soul. Break the spell and they are free from its curse."
"I'll remember," he promised. The fog closed in around them and his vision blurred as Dream was pulled away by life. Somewhere in the darkness before her body woke, Melania was sure she heard a voice speak. Be careful, my Champion.
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14th May 2008
"Wake up, bitch," the dulcet tones of Gabrielle Delacour snapped.
Melania groaned, and her laurel eyes fluttered open to reveal a large room that looked like Hogwarts' Hospital Wing would have if it had been modernised. The irate Veela was glaring down at Melania and tapping her wand furiously against her own thigh, a tic that the Coven knew meant trouble.
"I heard your breathing change," she explained with a growl. "You did it again. You took too much on yourself and lied to me about the ritual."
"Technically I told the truth," Melania declared. It was a weak defence even to her own ears. "Susan asked if that was all you had to do, and it was."
Anything else the Lady Black thought of saying went out the window when Gabrielle's non-wand hand erupted in flames. It was only through instinct that had her out of the bed before the fireball landed where she had been laying. Perhaps I have been pushing things a bit too far, she thought, forced to dodge another tossed flame. She was saved by having to face more when Gabrielle's screech of rage alerted some of the others.
The first two to appear in the Hospital Wing almost cost Mel a flame to the face as she was struck dumb by the site of a much-changed Winky and Dobby. It was only Dobby's quickly created shield that kept her from losing eyebrows that she knew Gabrielle would refuse to help grow back.
The Coven raced in through the thick double doors and Gabrielle had broken into a French tirade of epic proportions, but Melania only had eyes for her elves. She would know them anywhere, even with their change in bodies, and the tears she had buried at their deaths threatened to break free from joy. The Veela's tantrum subsided once she realised the object of her complaints was taking no notice of her and there was only silence in the Wing as everyone waited to see the expected breakdown.
"How?" The single word was filled with pleading, not so much to understand but to make sure they were real.
"We never left you, Mistress," Winky answered, stepping forward into the arms of the woman she had essentially raised when Harry had finally been told the truth of his birth. The two females would have broken the bones of anyone else from how tightly they held each other, the love they felt for each other a living thing that hung in the air.
Winky eventually pulled back so that Dobby could step forward. Melania instantly shifted into Harry so that the lost boy and beaten elf who found friendship and freedom in each other could meet again. Harry's tilted smirk appeared as he took in the hair his friend was now sporting.
"You're a real Potter now, huh?" He joked, the words coming out in a thick croak.
"I always was, Harry," Dobby smiled back. The eyes might not be as wild as they had once been but there was no doubting the elf behind them. "You've been a right mess without us."
Harry snorted, not even bothering to defend himself from the accusation. His smile slipped as he realised someone was missing, the worried look easily read by his friends.
"Kreacher is downstairs keeping some Spooks from getting too nosy," Dennis announced, and none missed the relief in Harry's face at knowing Kreacher was also back.
"I don't care about the how, I'm just glad it happened," Harry proclaimed. It wasn't that he didn't have a guess, it was more he didn't want to speak about his connection with Death. "Were we expecting any visitors?"
"Since you were passed out for the entire day, you wouldn't know that we got an emergency letter," Gabrielle snapped, obviously still frustrated with his willingness to put himself in danger. "I knew you would be up today, so we agreed for them to come. Whatever the issue is, they felt we needed to know."
Harry nodded at the information and closed his eyes to connect with Castle Black's wards. The rush of information was initially overwhelming, but practice and experience had taught them all how to ride the initial link through. He could feel the others linked the wards and the presence of the group of government agents in one of the meeting rooms Castle Black now possessed. He ran through the layout of the castle, picking out the biggest things that seemed different to what their initial design had been, and then let the link settle into the back of his mind.
"Well, let's go speak to the nice government lackeys," he cheerfully proclaimed. He stalked out of the room at a fast pace, letting him call the Black Knife from its hidden place just long enough to determine that the new markings were actually there without the others spotting it. Death's gift was something he would need to really think over before using and now was not the time.
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OoOoO
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Peter Wisdom was a man with sharp cheekbones, scruffy black Potter hair to his shoulders, and a lazy attitude that hid a fierce soul. The tinted glasses put a dark gleam to the blue eyes behind and there was a packet of cigarettes sticking out of his suit jacket where a pocket square should have been. Harry took the measure of the man in within moments of shaking hands and knew he was someone Harry would fight beside but not wish to fight against.
"What can we do for you, Agent Wisdom?"
"It's what MI-13 can do for you and your people, Lord Potter," Wisdom smiled, retaking his seat in the same smooth motion he had stood when they entered the room. He slid a thick manila envelope across the table while being careful to keep as much out of Harry's reach as was polite. "I've got your official identity papers here as well as the details for a brand-new bank account with the money for the gold you agreed to sell us."
Harry pushed the thick package over to Blaise without even looking down. The Italian wizard cast wandless charms to make sure it wasn't dangerous and then ripped into the contents, checking every with an experienced eye.
"It's all good, Harry," Blaise promised. The group knew that there were ways to move the money into a different account and out of the way of the government if they wanted to. Wisdom seemed actually happy at their paranoia, or at the very least respectful of it.
"I've also got two people who would like to sign up for your gig here at Arrochar."
"Caer Danu," Harry interrupted. While their home was now Castle Black, the lands around it that fell beneath Harry and the Coven's control would be known as Caer Danu, the Stronghold of Danu. "Keep Arrochar as the official name but we call it Caer Danu."
"I like it," the purple-haired woman that had been at Melania's meeting with the Queen said. She and an older man were the only people Wisdom had brought with him and Harry could guess why.
"Well, Bee, that leads me into the introductions," Wisdom smiled, and Harry felt as though he was facing down the basilisk again. This man is dangerous was a thought the Coven had at his laid-back manner. "This lass is Elizabeth Braddock, also known as Betsy, and daughter of Sir James."
"I'm known as an Always-On Telepath," the half-Asian young woman proclaimed. Her red shirt was open low enough to reveal her tight black top designed to support more than show off her firm breasts. She had a graceful movement even in sitting that reminded Harry of watching Andromeda using her knives. "It means I'm always taking in information around me even if I don't want to. I can help you get a read on people without them knowing I'm poking about in their minds. I'm also a qualified pilot."
Harry blinked at the last part and looked sideways at Neville who sat beside him. "Private plane?"
"It's a good status symbol," Longbottom instantly agreed. "We're eventually going to get into the upper echelons of the rich and famous and need a way of moving around that's both secure and impressive."
"Dennis?" Harry turned to his technology expert who was already busy mentally calculating the project.
"I need the best-looking model we can get," the Technomancer informed Wisdom. Dennis' glamour was firmly in place to hide his artificial arm from outsiders. "The avionics need to work but don't worry about anything else. I'll fix up whatever is needed on the inside."
Wisdom's eyebrow was rising at the efficiency of the group working together while Betsy was startled at how in tune their thoughts became during the entire conversation. It was shocking enough that she almost missed when Harry turned back to her.
"Why do you want to join us?"
She held her silence until getting the nod from her boss and then explained to the listening magicals.
"I'm part of MI-13's Psi-Division but all that really means I'm a specific cog in one special wheel of MI-13. I want to be more involved in making the world a better place and I think I can do more good working here than at MI-13."
Daphne's eyes narrowed as she turned her attention from the interesting woman to the man her instincts wanted to kill. Her tone was frigid when she asked her question. "And what happens to Miss Braddock if we say no?"
"Nothing," Wisdom answered with a shrug. "She carries on with her duties and it's never brought up again. We put a memo out for volunteers who would be willing to be on the ground floor of a new 'department' and Bee here was offering herself before its ink was dry."
Blaise looked at the dark-skinned man in jeans and tee-shirt who had yet to speak. He looked roughly Neville's high of a little over six foot and had enough muscle to be intimidating if Blaise was into being intimidated. "Is that the same with you?"
"No," the man answered in the same bland tone the question was asked. "I'm Dredmund Cromwell. I've spent my life studying and working on engineering and chemistry until I found papers in my parents' estate that linked us to a clan of Druids. I've been researching Druidism and alchemy ever since."
"You're the one Traveler said would help us with the potions," Susan proclaimed, and the man did a partial bow with his upper body at the accusation.
"I'm excited to actually learn from people who have been studying potions all their lives. Being self-taught is not an easy road to take."
"Nor is being a Druid," Neville added, and there was something new in his gaze as he assessed Dredmund's worth. "I took twelve years before my mentor said I was ready to branch out on my own. If you settle in here and are willing to learn…"
Neville let his sentence fade off with a shrug, but the meaning was clear. Cromwell's aloof mask broke at the idea of learning from a master and he seemed to lose years off his life at the prospect. The joy was short-lived as it was interrupted by Harry groaning.
"I'm going to need the best Personal Assistant in the world to keep up with everything," he complained, looking up at the ceiling as he remembered how hectic life could be with social engagements.
"Good luck with that," Betsy said, snorting at the idea. "That's Pepper Potts. She keeps Tony Stark from diving off the deep end and only just at that. There's no way she'd leave that gig for this."
Harry's brilliant green eyes latched on to her blue at the name and she saw the glint of the devil in the gaze. It made her reconsider if the man in front of her could pull off the impossible.
"Now that the good stuff is out of the way," Wisdom proclaimed, drawing everyone's attention as he slid over a folder with the MI-13 name stamped on the front. "Here's an olive branch from us to show we want this relationship to work. You've already got some people looking for you."
Harry immediately spun the folder around and threw it open to reveal the files within. He partitioned his thoughts to read and listen as Wisdom continued.
"The bald guy is Professor Charles Xavier, . in genetics, biophysics, psychology, anthropology, and psychiatry. The leading authority in genetics when it comes to mutants and mutations with his colleagues Moira MacTaggart and Hank McCoy close seconds. He is also a mutant telepath of a level that's off the charts. It's believed he could pluck the secrets out of a person's mind half a world away and not even stop eating breakfast."
"Why is he after us?" Blaise demanded, contingencies already beginning to build in his mind on how to take out such a threat.
"Our entrance into this world," Luna answered before Wisdom could. "People felt it and they fear our steps."
"Pretty much, little lady," Wisdom agreed. "He was once part of a CIA sponsored group of mutants looking to be heroes back in the 1960s. Their only mission prevented the Cuban Crisis from escalating into open war but then the program fell apart. Mostly because one of its members because a mutant terrorist and took half the group with him. Seven years ago, Xavier starts recruiting mutants and two years later the 'X-Men' are out there saving people."
"It says here that his students were teenagers," Harry pointed out as he flicked through the slender file of the original X-Men. A lot of the specifics were considered educated guesses but there was enough for Harry to frown in distaste. "Shit, this Drake kid was fourteen when he entered Xavier's school. You're saying he was training them as soldiers that early?"
"We honestly don't know," Wisdom confessed, speaking loud enough to be heard over the angry noises the Coven made at what they were hearing. "What we do know is he took four kids in and in two years produced a decently trained squad of mutant fighters for equal rights."
"You said four kids, but this group has five members," Susan pointed out as the files were shared among the team. Wisdom was nodding before she finished her point.
"Hank McCoy worked with Xavier during the same CIA mission. The entire group were injected with a serum that slows down ageing. Who did it or why isn't known and no one in the CIA ever came forward as the culprit.
"Last month something pushed Xavier to start reaching out to more mutants," Wisdom continued with the briefing. They were beginning to impress him with their reactions and attention to detail. He hadn't believed the report stating this group had been militarily trained, but it was beginning to show. "Older mutants from across the world, one was another member of the CIA team, one's a teenager from Russia, and another is a Canadian Black Ops nightmare that scares everyone."
"Is he trying to recreate the original team?" Daphne asked.
"One of that team is dead, three more have become mutant terrorists with warrants for their arrest in multiple countries, and another refused to be involved even though he has his two nephews as part of Xavier's school," Wisdom was shaking his head at the suggestion. "We think something happened with his first group since they've now been observed taking actions indicating they're leaving his command."
"So, he's replacing them with older versions," Neville mused, and it was difficult to ignore the doubt in his voice.
"Again, unknown," the disgust at not knowing was clear in Wisdom's. "What we do know is the entire squad of old and new members flew from New York to Muir Island yesterday. For those in the class who are geographically impaired, Muir Island is not only the home of Moira MacTaggart and the largest, most complex mutant research facility in the world, it is also less than a two-hour flight from this location."
"They're coming for us?" Harry asked, his face going blank as the dangerous man he had become revealed itself. The same change happened with the rest of the Coven and Wisdom just barely kept himself from pulling his gun on them. He had a feeling it would be the last thing he ever did.
"One of the X-Men is Sean Cassidy," Betsy spoke up, her telepathy revealing far more than what Wisdom's instincts were. Where Wisdom looked at the group as a threat, Betsy saw them and the ruthlessness they possessed as exactly what she wanted to be a part of. "He's the fourth Lord of the Land and the only one you haven't met yet. I believe you can have parley with the X-Men on Muir Island with us and Cassidy as intermediaries. It would be against Xavier's psychological profile for him to be coming to attack you. It's more likely a show of force as he assesses your threat level to the world."
The intense assessment Harry Potter gave Betsy when she finished speaking sent waves through her body and her pulse to quicken. Daphne smirked knowingly as though fully aware of what the gaze was doing to the other woman.
"You just might be good enough for the team," Harry declared. The rest of his family knew that this was the military leader speaking and not the man who welcomed all who were on the side of good. "Luna, will it work?"
Although no plan survives contact with the enemy, Harry trusted Luna to assess the most likely chance of their plans working while refusing to rely on her during an actual mission unless she offered. It was a balance he struck to make sure his little sister never thought they only cared about her for her Sight.
"Make it you, Melania, Neville, Daphne, Blaise, our new ninja, and someone from the British government who has power. Any more and things will go bad."
"I'm sorry, I'm a little confused," Dredmund spoke up, frowning at Harry. "I was under the impression that you were Melania as well."
The feral smirk did nothing to ease his confusion.
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OoOoO
SN: For those curious about the magical frequencies thing. Imagine it as a version of the EM spectrum with the lowest frequency being the purest form of magic. The higher the frequency, the more energy is within the same amount of magic. This is not a be-all, end-all way of knowing who will bet who nor is this the full description. That will come later in the story.