A/N: And with this chapter I can finally say that we are very close to going to Hogwarts. I decided that I would make a chapter where I would introduce more of the key players. Let me know what you all think, if I'm rushing or if I happened to overlook anything. I realized that this story is about passion for me. For those that are interested in Whiskey Accident, I will have more of that soon. I lost some chapters when I got a new computer, but I am putting my skeleton back together.
Chapter 9. A Midsummer Nights Ball
.oOIABBOo.
Opulence wasn't a word she was used to using. Let alone a word she used to describe anything she had ever been near or around; save that time she saw the royal jewels. But this made that look like a trifle thing.
Minerva had told her that the gala was going to be a fancy affair, but she had never expected this. Petunia's black shawl covered her bare shoulders, her long grey gown gently trailing behind her slightly with each step. She had French manicured her nails, fingers and toes. He hair was partially up, soft brownish red curls dancing over her clavicle, showing off the silver and ruby jewelry she had been gifted. Her gown and robes had quite possibly been the nicest thing she had bought, but this, this was something else. The witches around her had to be wearing clothing and garments of fabrics so exquisite she could only dream of touching them. From the moment they arrived with a slight pop outside of the massive manor the gala was being held; she was sure this was unlike anything she had experienced. The grounds were manicured beautifully.
They had been directed into the gala behind a slight procession of queuing individuals. There was a soft hum of conversation around her, but she couldn't help but be drawn into what she was seeing and hearing. At an evenly spaced interval, names were being called out as the procession moved forward. It didn't seem like everyone, but she couldn't say for certain considering she didn't understand how things happened here.
"Is that normal?" She Asked Minerva.
Minerva had been fussing over Harry, something that was happening quite a lot tonight. Oh, her nephew looked handsome, that was true, but you could immediately tell he was put off about it all. His unruly hair had been somewhat tamed, only looking like a purposeful accident. His black and fitted dress robes were the first tailored items of clothing he ever had but he wore them with ease. The emerald of his eyes was highlighted by the green that lined his robes and boy did he look dashing. It was the collar he was fussing with, and the length of the cloak over his robes. He kept tugging at them as well, unsure of how he could possibly stow his wand in this and have use of it easily. It was perplexing for the boy.
Minerva was adjusting his collar and tie for the tenth time that day since finishing preparing. "Yes, well, no." She paused as she finished up and left Harry alone. "What are you talking about?" She finally asked, realizing that she had no idea what she was asking.
"The man calling out names." She asked, her eyes still focused on the approaching door.
"Ahh." Minerva replied, looking in the general direction. "Not every ball or gala has a herald or major domo. Usually they are used to share massages regarding affairs of state, or when the truly rich and powerful hold an event, like this one. They will only announce the upper nobility." Minerva finished, giving her a quick approximation of her knowledge on matters like this. Thankful her father had given her this information, she turned to look at Harry, a small smile on her face as she watched the boy peer here and there. It seemed his interest had grown as he had taken the lead of their little three-person procession.
"Upper nobility?" Petunia asked.
Minerva shook her head and smirked, rolling her eyes all the while. "Yes, you'll know who they are, I'm certain of that." She replied. "Harry, get behind me." She called to her charge.
Harry looked back and slowed down, having resolved himself to deal with the sleeves of his robes for the rest of the night. The horror. He sighed, reservedly as he dropped back behind the older ladies and followed in tow. The procession had gone quicker than they had expected and before they knew it, they had entered the door and moved to the left following a gilded pathway with red carpet. They passed people standing around, talking softly with drinks in their hands. As they approached a covered arch, they saw the announcer man he had overheard them talking about.
Harry realized that there was soft music in the background as they entered, though they were stopped momentarily as the man looked over to granny Minerva. He approached and she stepped forward and took the lead, it was almost like the man knew what she was going to say without her saying it. He was terribly confused by it and was watching them with rapt attention, curious at their exchange before his attention was drawn away.
"Lady Minerva McGonagall, The Countess of Berwinshire. Her grandson Harrison and Niece Petunia are in attendance."
Minerva closed her eyes and pursed her lips. It couldn't be helped. She was stunning this evening, her dark green almost black gown, covered by an off white, cream shawl draped over her shoulders. Her toes were manicured to match the shawl but were hidden by the gown poking out ever so lightly with each step. She had done her hair in an updo, drawing attention to the gold jewelry on her arms, neck, and ears. Her make up drew the dim emerald from her eyes, espousing their similarity with Harry's. She extended her gloved hand for Harry to take, which he did without thinking. She brought him closer to her with a soft and guarded smile as she felt more eyes converge on them. It couldn't be helped.
The trio stepped forward and out into the congregating mass. An attendant had literally appeared out of nowhere and was now directing them to their table. Petunia looked around in silence, catching snips of conversation here and there. She had no idea what anyone was talking about, but that wasn't a surprise. She had been expecting that. Though the eyes she had not, it seemed more people than she had expected to have taken notice of them. After being directed to a chair for her convenience, she couldn't help but stare at the cream walls that led to the vaulted ceilings gilded by crown molding that gleamed with gold inlayed here and there. Tapestries and paintings were carefully placed along the walls, interspaced by windows that somehow always looked over a lake, regardless of where you looked. Every so often there was a pair of French doors leading to another courtyard. Everything was lit by a soft yellow glow of floating lanterns that were quite literally floating. Magic never ceased to amaze her. Beauty was on show like nothing she had ever seen. The amount of wealth and power was fully on display from the bronze and gold with crystal drink wear and solid gold cutlery, to the silk table linens. And that had only been for hors d'oeuvres; Petunia was not beyond admitting that she was overwhelmed.
The trio had taken their seats and sat quietly, each with their own tumultuous thoughts. Minerva hated this, it had never been a life she had wanted, and she knew now more than ever that it was a necessity. It afforded her protection. She sighed inwardly before bracing herself. She was going to have to make her rounds with Harry.
Petunia took soft shallow breaths. This had been a dream for her, if she was being honest. The chance to rub shoulders with the rich and powerful. But adding magic into it had never been something she imagined would happen. She was content enough sitting there quietly and observing. She observed well, she thought, and right now her eyes were taking in Minerva. She was tense, her jaw flexing intermittently. "Are you okay?" She questioned, looking at Minerva pointedly.
Taking in a long breath and releasing it forcefully through her nose she replied. "I will be when this is over." She said tensely, before realizing how she was acting and forcing her nerves to calm. She smiled at Petunia. "This part of life has never been my forte." She said softly.
Petunia smiled back. "Well, you definitely look the part." She said. "Upper nobility indeed." She finished, demurely.
Shaking her head, Minerva smiled before raising a brow at Petunias questioning gaze. "What is it?" She asked.
"How can we talk and hear each other so easily?" She asked, perplexed.
"Sound occlusion. Its magic, probably an assortment of temporary wards used for each table. Its difficult magic at first but can be replicated quite easily." She replied, reaching forward and taking a glass into her hand. "Red" She said, and the cup magically began to fill itself with liquid, a deep maroon wine.
At Petunia's amazed gaze she smiled "Pick up the cup and say your drink of preference. It will fill itself up, if that's available, otherwise the cup will glow a faint color indicating that isn't available. It's a really ingenious little bit of magic, but parents must watch their children because the cups can't distinguish age." She said with a smile, eyeing Harry before she winked at him.
Harry smiled back, a broad toothy grin, before he reached forward and took his cup in his hand. "Pumpkin juice." He said, pushing his new glasses up the bridge of his nose. The drink filled itself in the cup before he took a deep gulp. "It's cold!" He breathed, surprised.
"Cooling charm most likely, so you don't have to use ice and dilute your beverage." Minerva replied before Harry could even ask.
"Magic is so wonderful." He proclaimed softly, to Minerva and Petunia's amusement. He took another sip, looking around, taking note of the children his age, he saw. 'They all looked so natural at this.' He thought. He was slightly aware of the eyes of the people around him, some casually glancing. Others stared outright, until he met their gaze and they looked away. It was peculiar, he thought, but shrugged it off. He had no idea of the enormity of Minerva's actions. How could he know that her family's seat and title had been dormant for some time and that people were very curious as to why she had taken it up so suddenly? How could he ever know that Harrison wasn't too common a name and that Minerva had never outright spoken of any family. He had no idea of how juicy a mystery all of this was to the wizarding world, and oh how ignorance was bliss.
Harry was taking another sip when he noticed that the conversations around him had dimmed. Granny Minerva and aunt Petunia must have noticed to because they stopped what they were talking about and looked around.
"What's going on?" Harry asked.
"I'm not sure." Minerva replied.
Before she could offer any thoughts though, they were greeted with an explanation. "May I present Her Grace, the Duchess of Blackmoore Walburga Black and her son, the Marquess of Redclave Hyperion accompanied by the Lady Lucrezia Zabini The Baroness of Pietrabbondante and her son Blaise." The herald called out.
"Ahh." Minerva said.
"Her son?" Petunia questioned as the voices began to grow and the gentle buzz of noise returned, though with a different feeling to it. A lot of attention was being given to the pair that had entered, it was more than noticeable. "I thought you said that was her grandson?" Petunia questioned.
"He is." Minerva replied. "Or rather was. In their case it's a formality, actually." She looked over at them before she continued. "The Black line was broken because of the death of her husband and youngest son and imprisonment of her eldest son. Since it reverted to her, she had to name an heir. Hyperion is her only direct next of kin, but there are other branches of the family. Since he was only named, they could contest it at her death. To mitigate that and make him her uncontested heir, she probably adopted the boy in full, blood adoption most likely. Blood adoption isn't that common anymore, but for old family's like theirs, that prescribe to the old ways, it would seem like the most likely conclusion." Minerva finished.
Petunia would be lying if she said she understood much of that. She was surprised at how staunchly traditional the wizarding world remained. "Blood adoption…" She muttered to herself, wondering what it truly meant.
As if she read her mind, Minerva replied, "It's a truly nasty bit of magic that very old families would use. If you had a bastard for instance, that was accepted by the lady of the house, the lady would blood adopt the child to help cement their bond and in turn attune the child magically to her, giving the child some of her lineage in the process. There was a fifty percent chance the child would live, but if they did, they were forevermore that persons child and as such would inherit all that true born children would. Though for some instances, such as theirs, since he was already related to Walburga, the blood adoption was a formality as their bond was already made. There was probably little chance of him even being harmed. The only thing it did was make it so no member of the family from a different branch could contest her heir." Minerva finished, her eyes still following the Duchess and her charge as they made their way through the tables. Stopping every so often to exchange pleasantries.
Petunia's eyes were wide. "Why would anyone want to do that to a child!?" She asked in a soft whisper. "It's sounds ghastly." She finished.
"Oh, it is." Minerva agreed, though her voice was softer. She wasn't as affected by it as Petunia. "But I assume she did it because the boy's father and mother weren't around." She watched the pair move through the massive ballroom, the crowd of people parting as they did. The Blacks were a private bunch. She wasn't even sure which of her sons he belonged to but was certain he looked more like Sirius than Regulus. Her eyes fell on Hyperion. "The last war was hard on us, especially the children." She finished, somewhat distantly, reminded momentarily, that despite their differences they were all still flesh that could be harmed. Walburga guarded Hyperion fiercely, she knew that. But looking at Harry, she could hardly blame her. She knew from the moment that Harry had first hugged her, she would do just about anything for him. And in that moment, she thought that perhaps her and Walburga weren't too different after all.
The Duchess and her boy were truly dashing. Young Hyperion, his hair combed and parted with care. The blackest of materials was used for his dress robes, vest, dress shirt and tie, and the purest silver trimmed the cloak and robes. His houses sigil was made into a pin and placed on the right chest of his robe. His two-colored eyes moved over the crowd as his grandmother continued with her pleasantries. That wasn't expected of him, and he knew it. Eventually it would be, but for now he could find solace in the comfort age afforded him. His eyes continued to look until heterochromic aqua and steely blue grey met twin emeralds.
"He's here." Hyperion said.
"What?" Blaise replied. "Who?"
"Harry Potter." Hyperion replied.
Walburga took notice of what Hyperion had said but continued addressing those that she passed, as it was custom. "Good evening, Lady Greengrass." She said, gently, though with a note of obvious authority. Lady Greengrass replied with a smile, bowing low to avoid insult. The pair talked for a moment, though Walburga's eyes were on anything but the Lady. She was searching for the boy as well, before she realized she could follow her grandsons' line of sight, and she did. As soon as she found him, she immediately took note of who he was with.
She clenched her jaw. 'Of course.' She thought, before breaking from the idle conversation abruptly and turning to Lucrezia. "Quickly, Minerva McGonagall, does she have any children?" She asked.
"What? Uh, none that I know of your Grace." Lucrezia replied as quick as she could, though hesitated momentarily.
"That settles that curiosity, though I'm curious to know how she was able to get the boy." She said out loud, "And even more as to why he wouldn't be with Albus, or where he has been this entire time." She finished.
"Who your Grace?" Lucrezia finally asked, utterly confused.
"Just there." Walburga nodded "Harry Potter is with Minerva McGonagall." She replied.
Lucrezia turned to look, forgetting herself and letting her eyes widen momentarily, she breathed "He's the spitting image of his father, except for those eyes of his." She paused. "Those are his mothers." She couldn't help but be momentarily taken aback by the copy of James Potter. He was small, she noticed, on the slighter side for his age, but he was positively adorable. He seemed oblivious to the eyes on him, but Minerva wasn't. Lucrezia was all too sure of that. She kept Harry no more than a hands distance, just able to grab him if need be, just like a mother. Lucrezia chuckled softly, imagining her severe Professor being the doting mother.
It almost seemed impossible.
She stifled the laugh that came to her lips but stopped the moment her eyes met Walburga's. The Duchess had made her displeasure at being here well known but understood that her station necessitated at the least an appearance. Hyperion was going to need to learn what was expected of him, and she couldn't simply sidle away from a teaching moment out of inconvenience. Lucrezia admired the woman's drive. She was a veritable force of nature given enough motivation, and Hyperion seemed to be just that. She followed behind the Duchess and her boy as they stopped every so often to approach those she deemed worth their time. Hyperion played his part, smiling when needed, shaking a hand when expected. But in between those moments he slid back into conversation with his friend.
What they were talking about, she had no idea. But it was safe to say that if it was interesting enough, Blaise would almost certainly tell her.
It wasn't truly a breach of trust but more of a mother's curiosity. Who could be mad at her if she garnered snips of information here and there? 'Knowledge is power.' She thought, her hands fiddling with the clutch she had brought that contained her wand and coin purse. She moved easily in the dark burnt-orange gown she was wearing. It suited her toned skin wonderfully. The Italian sun kissed her handsomely, she knew, if the lingering men's eyes were anything to go by. The gown hugged her form in the right places, a loose clutch of cream silk, more of a shawl than anything else was draped through her elbows, hanging loosely behind, only kept up by the fold of her arms in front of her. She wore heels that matched the silk. Certainly, tonight would prove a veritable treasure trove of information, information she would later be able to neatly disseminate.
She stopped short of bumping into her son and was brought back to her senses. 'What in the…' she thought, her hand dropping to her son's shoulder who for his part looked up and shrugged.
Infront of them Walburga and Hyperion had been stopped by the Malfoy's. "Ahh." She said aloud.
"Your Grace." Narcissa Malfoy said sweetly with a deep curtsy and head tilt. "Your Grace." Lucius followed suit, bowing at the waist and nodding his head. Narcissa stepped forward and stooped down smiling at Hyperion "My young lord." She said. Hyperion couldn't help the small smile that pushed along his lips as a soft blush bloomed on his pale cheeks. It was nothing more than the smallest of crushes. But before he could reply he was cut off…
"HYPERION!" A young girly and heavily accented voice called out before a silver blonde bullet darted between them all and hugged the boy savagely. Hyperion let out a tiny undignified squeal of surprise. Before he took in a deep breath of the very familiar scent of lilac and vanilla before realization dawned on his heterochromic gaze and his eyes widened, and the surprise faded away.
"Fleur?" He questioned, unnecessarily before the surprise slipped away and was replaced by a soft smile. A smile that even Walburga noted to her disappointment was reserved for her. It was a match she regretted but nothing she could outwardly do about. Fleur was to be an ugly part of her life, and one she would have to strive to not kill. Oh, the cold fury she felt as she remembered the day she found out about her lineage. 'Filth.' And worse she had screamed, a house elf lost its life that day, and the Delacour family had now walked a tenuous path, though with an elevated status.
"Fleur!" called Seigneur Francois Delacour. Behind him followed his wife, Apolline, the creature with which he had birthed the beast that now clung to Hyperion. Walburga bristled inwardly but held her tongue. Tolerance seemed to be a necessity as of late. So, tolerate she did.
"Oh, my little dove." She said sweetly, a smile gracing her undeniably beautiful face. Her silver flecked black hair was done beautifully, a gentle curl tumbled down. Fleur smiled back at the Duchess and released her intended.
"Bonsoir Duchesse de Blackmoore" She said politely with a deep curtsy. Her virtually silver blonde hair shone in the dim light of the gala with a fearsome sparkle, it was twisted up in a French braid, all held in place by a beautiful tiara. She wore a bare shoulder dress to match her hair, her mother knew the girl would be running or dancing, so she had convinced Fleur to wear flats. She smiled at her daughter then turned back to the Duchess. Her husband had told her years ago of what had happened, and to be honest she had been more than afraid.
She knew who the Blacks were. Their reputation had preceded them, but Francois had convinced her that it was the best way to not only protect their family, but to give them an edge they had never had before. He had failed to mention that he had also lied to the Black's informants in such a way as to make it almost impossible for the Duchess to retaliate. Almost. She had honestly thought of divorcing him then and there and leaving the country. But she knew she couldn't do that. He had promised her nothing bad would happen, and indeed nothing had. Hyperion even liked Fleur, so all wasn't lost. She knew though that she was walking on thin ice.
"Good evening your Grace." She greeted Walburga in slightly accented English with a smile and a deep bow. She knew to immediately cow to the woman, it was easier that way. They were on foreign soil, dealing with a powerful lady and Hyperion was her world.
"Apolline." Walburga replied coolly, a small smile that didn't really reach her eyes graced her features.
The veela reigned in her light indignation. She knew her place around the older witch, that didn't mean it didn't still sting. Taking in a muted breath, she stifled her burgeoning emotions and drew on her willpower to control her ever present allure. She was thankful of her control, but even more so because Fleur had yet to manifest.
Lucius Malfoy grit his teeth for a split second, feigning the action as little more than an odd throat clearing. He didn't like being interrupted. His silver-grey eyes looked over the Delacour family with impunity, a barely stifled sneer of disgust as he eyed the veela. Yes, she was beautiful, maybe even worth a romp in bed but that didn't change what she was. Turning to her husband he greeted the man.
"Bonjour Seigneur Delacour" He said haughtily, an ill formed smile, or rather sneer pressed on his lips.
"Ahh, Lord and Lady Malfoy." He followed up, ignoring the man's pretentious attitude. He cared little for the Malfoy lord. He was a necessary evil to associating with the Black's. But Narcissa, no, she was as much a victim as Apolline, he could not fault her for the company she was forced to keep. "It's been far too long." He finished, sweeping the Lady Malfoy's hand in his own and kissing the knuckle before following suit with Lucrezia and ending with the Duchess, this time though dropping to a knee in deference. He owed this woman, that much he had to admit. No doubt she had thought of a few ways to end their lives, but they were still here.
"Shall we?" He asked graciously, extending an arm for the Duchess who nodded in agreement, sliding her arm into his own.
"A bit much, wouldn't you say?" She questioned as their little group made their way through the throng. She looked back at Hyperion who had followed suit with Fleur and walked close behind. The ladies had followed behind with Draco and Blaise talking while Narcissa, Lucrezia, and Apolline did the same.
"We are to be Family, your Grace, surely we should act the part?" Francois replied with a smile, nodding every so often at witches and wizards they walked by.
She pursed her lips. "I agree François, that's why you're still alive." She finished, giving a small smile and a nod to a passing witch and wizard. "I rarely tolerate even effrontery, but for my boy it seems there is no depth too deep for me to dive." She followed up.
"Well, I'm glad you took a deep breath, your Grace." He followed, his wit taking her for a moment as her eyes narrowed.
"You are far too funny Francois. I think I will keep you around. Though a shrunken head could be just as useful." Her cool voice cut, a tinge of displeasure echoing in the back. She smiled at the taller man, though knew inwardly she stood a mountain amongst these mole hills. She couldn't help but truly smile as the man paled slightly, silence consuming their short walk. "Oh, lighten up Francois, I won't have your head shrunken just yet. I don't think Hyperion would like that." She finished as they approached their elevated table.
Francois visibly relaxed and smiled at the woman at his side. She was something else he had to admit. He admired her tenacity and drive. Her wit was ever sharp, and it seemed her tolerance and patience had even increased. Who said the wizarding world couldn't evolve? Here they were, amongst the Blacks, self-proclaimed creature haters and the youngest of them was courting one. Though he would never call his daughter a creature. It was a reality for the climate they were in. England wasn't as progressive as the mainland.
The group sat as attendants drew their chairs, a comfort given because of their association with Walburga and Hyperion.
The summer gala was a function put on annually by the British Wizengamot with some funding provided by the International Confederation of Wizards, but most of it from the richer families. It was intended for the worlds high wizarding society to meet at a neutral location and exchange conversation in a pleasant environment. What it turned into was a popularity contest. Most of the people came here hoping to meet and talk and rub shoulders with the truly powerful, and the Duchess was one of those. In the last hour, since the speeches, many notable witches and wizards had come by their table, curious questions and snips of gossip passing them by.
Nobody really spoke to her though, Petunia reflected as her eyes moved over the crowd. She was a new entity, she understood but it was still odd to be so glanced over when she was so clearly there. A few people had come by their table, but not too many. Those that had, only had words for Minerva, though they all did ask who she and Harry were.
It seemed to be a thing about hierarchy, she realized. At a place like this, she didn't matter. She didn't have anything to offer. And she was oddly enough fine with it, she had to be.
Sipping at her wine she looked up to Minerva staring at her in the eyes.
"Are you okay?" Minerva asked.
"Hmm?" She questioned. "I'm fine. Just taking in the sights and sounds. It's all so new and different for me, I can't help but be a bit overwhelmed." She paused and sipped some more wine. "I lived a false life where I was forced to hate magic because magic was used on me." She looked up at Minerva. "It's a weird feeling to be so envious of something you were made to hate, and even now I still can't help but wonder how I could ever hate magic." She finished with a small smile. "I just wish I could use a wand."
Minerva smiled sadly. She had never actually spoken to her about the effects of all of that. She made a note to do so later. "I'm certain we could find some way around that." Minerva said, the sadness leaving the smile as a thought came to her. "We did have wands we would preload with spells for children or squibs. We can try to make one of those work. We would need to look into it, but there may be a way to help you throughout your day with small minor spells."
"Really?!" Petunia questioned hopefully, the melancholy leaving her face. She felt like a child, but it felt good.
"I promise you I will look into it." Minerva agreed.
That had been enough to spark some life into their table. The next half hour passed with ease, even as food came to their table and Harry's hungry insistence finally stopped. Minerva watched the nephew and aunt now, the way Petunia fussed over Harry. She smiled, it's what they boy needed, a mother to guide him and a grandmother to protect them. She looked up just in time as the Lady Bones approached their table.
"Deputy Headmistress." Lady bones began.
"Lead Auror Bones." Minerva replied, formally and with a head nod.
They both paused for a moment before they Smiled. "Oh Amelia, how are you?" Minerva asked, breaking their silence with a smile that reached her eyes. It was the first person that had greeted them that she was happy to see. Gesturing for her to sit down, Amelia did. The young lady had recently made Lead Auror, the youngest yet. She was on a trajectory nobody could deny, some even said she would be Minister someday. She would be happy if that were the case, Amelia had a good head on her shoulders.
Good enough, she realized, to fill in on some information. Another half hour passed and the four had become acquainted. Amelia had been filled in on some information and now knew exactly who Harry was. She couldn't deny the open reverence Amelia had introduced herself to Harry. She didn't like it. Harry had to be treated like a normal boy, not some sagely wizard before his time. Harry was powerful, she knew quite possibly an Arch-Mage in the making, but normality was what he needed. Normality and wide berth to come into his own.
Finishing her bite of salad Amelia continued. "As soon as Susan feels better, we have to have them meet." She finished.
"For Harry's birthday, perhaps?" Minerva asked.
Harry looked up and nodded emphatically. They had been talking about plans for his party and the children they should invite.
"Who else were you thinking Minerva?" She queried, looking between the three. "Them…perhaps?" She asked with a brow raise and slight smile nodding in the general direction of the Blacks and their retinue.
"Perhaps." Minerva replied, with a smirk.
"Is it a necessity?" Petunia asked. "Inviting them? It certainly doesn't seem like they would even come. So why bother?"
Minerva and Amelia both looked at her and back to each other. Minerva nodded to Amelia as Amelia speared another fork of steak and was chewing it. She finished her bite and proceeded to explain. "Our society is saturated in formality and pretense. Somehow feudality has stayed in full swing. The Blacks are the highest lords around us and their children, outwardly have not made any allegiances. As much as we may disagree with Walburga and the other parents, Harry deserves an opportunity to make friends with everyone even her own heir, Hyperion. Word tells he is rather smart and cunning for his age."
Petunia nodded in agreement. "It's all so confusing, I swear." She finished, taking a sip of her own drink.
Minerva and Amelia both smiled. "You'll learn Petunia." Minerva replied. "We grew up in it. At least you aren't coming in blind." She finished.
Smiling, she agreed, she turned to Harry and watched him. He ate slowly, looking at his food every so often as he decided what order he would eat. He was smiling his little sideways Harry smile, the smile he gave her every morning with his tussled hair when he first woke up and was surrounded by his pillows and blankets. He looked up and around every often, a glistening interest shining in his eyes as he watched the comings and goings. 'He's so innocent.', she thought. She looked around now, her eyes falling on the children around her and what Minerva had said. 'They all are.' She thought, as her eyes fell on Hyperion at one of the high tables.
"Invite them." She said.
"What?" Minerva asked, turning to Petunia. Amelia and Harry were looking at her too.
"Invite them." She said, nodding in the direction of the Duchess.
Minerva and Amelia shared a look before Minerva replied. "Petunia. Are you sure?" She asked softly. "I know I haven't actually told you about them in depth. Before you make that decision, you should really know more about them." She finished.
"No, Minerva, just invite them. Invite as many children as we can." She looked at Harry and smiled. "The more the merrier. We have a lot of birthdays to make up for, and Harry has a lot of new friends to make."
Harry's eyes had gotten wider and he hadn't noticed that at some point he had started slowly nodding his head. He looked at Minerva with pleading eyes.
'How could she deny that face?' She thought. "Well then the more the merrier it is." She replied with a smile and nod to them both. "Amelia…" She began looking to the younger witch, "I have to admit that I am rather dreadful at planning parties…"
Amelia rose her hand, stopping Minerva "Say no more Countess, I would love to help however I can." Without looking she drew her wand and flicked it wordlessly. Harry and Petunia watched raptly as what looked like paper and something to write with materialized from what they thought was nothing, but in fact was a napkin that had been transfigured.
Harry and Petunia clapped in amazement, drawing a few eyes, to Minerva's chagrin. Amelia smiled at them looking up, "Where do we begin?"
"It was a mistake, if you ask me." Lucius was saying. "Trolls are barely sentient. They're awful and brutish creatures, even talking about giving them rights was the biggest mistake he made." He smiled. "For his career of course."
"But it opened the conversation for rights for many other magical creatures." Francois cut in. He should have realized the group he was talking to. The snide looks he was getting, the eye rolling. Apolline was aware, very. She stifled her outrage, her jaw clenching as the man spoke, totally unaware of the slights against her he made with each derisive comment.
"Naturally, there are some that are better than the others. Veela's are virtually indistinguishable from humans so that makes sense, but Trolls, why their very presence is an affront to the senses!" Lucius continued, barely trying to save face.
"Naturally." Walburga repeated, eyeing them all with a half formed smirk on her lips. Veiled insults were one thing, but the fool bordered on outright offensive. Even she, with her many dislikes, knew the benefit of cordiality, maybe even humility, far better than the Lord Malfoy, she ruminated.
Hyperion watched it all happening. Blaise, Fleur, and surprisingly Draco were talking about something he truly didn't care about. He was bored. His mismatched eyes swept over the crowd, watching how the other children interacted with such ease and impunity, free of the decorum that surrounded him. At times he found himself feeling akin to contemptuous, though only for their open disregard for formality. 'It got tiring sometimes', he thought. He remembered when he told his grandmother that. She had laughed, truly laughed. He was seven then, and she had reminded him that and then asked him if he was tired, how did he think she felt?
But as his eyes left the kids in the hall and turned back to his grandmother, he could tell there was no laughter in her eyes right then. She was displeased, because she was here or because of her company he had no idea, but he supposed it didn't really matter. He simply did what he always did and remained the cool and impassive Hyperion Black. His grandmothers' displeasure could be deep sometimes, and it was easier to stay on her good side when her mood was foul. It was a Black trait.
It was a moment before he realized their table had gotten quiet. He looked around and then turned to Blaise, before he opened his mouth Blaise nodded in the direction that everyone was looking.
"Oh" He said softly.
Harry Potter was coming towards their table, an older witch and two younger women were with him, trailing slightly behind. The older witch had a hand on his shoulder. He didn't recognize her. She looked older than granny Walburga, but then so did every other grandma. It was nothing peculiar to him, his family was rather beautiful he admitted. Looking at the other women he recognized them both, though for totally separate reasons.
"C'est la femme avec qui je l'ai vu, grand-mère..." Hyperion said, casually overlooking the familiar Lady Bones and focusing on the unknown woman.
They all looked at him, Blaise with a smirk because he couldn't speak French, Draco with a triumphant smile because he could speak French, and the rest all wondering what he was talking about except for Walburga who nodded at her boy, offering him a slight appreciative smile.
As Minerva approached, she stopped short of the table and looked at Walburga. She offered her a head nod and stiff bow before speaking "Your Grace." Her retinue repeated the process, though for Harry and Petunia it was painfully obvious how unprepared they were.
Hyperion smirked, 'Why bother if it only makes you look worse?' he thought.
"Minerva…" Walburga replied, her fingers crossing as she gave her quite the sardonic smile. Minerva's nostrils flared in response, but nothing else. She adjusted herself accordingly and mirrored the smile. "Please, do sit Countess." Walburga finished, her wand appearing in her hand as she moved it casually, conjuring chairs that matched the others.
Giving her appreciation of the gesture, Minerva, Amelia, Harry and Petunia took the chairs.
"I have to be honest Minerva, it's a surprise to see you here." Walburga began.
"It's a surprise to be here." Minerva replied.
"So then please, do me the honor?" She paused.
"Of?" Minerva asked, brow raised.
Walburga smiled, an unusually bright smile, a curious glint in her eyes as she focused on the heir Potter. "Telling us why we've been graced by your presence?" She gestured around, "I doubt I'm not the only person that's noticed that you haven't been to one of these in quite some time."
She had looked away from Harry and had let her sights fall on Petunia, just long enough to make it uncomfortable before she turned back to Minerva, completely overlooking Amelia. She didn't care for the exceptionally righteous Auror and her sudden and unjustified raids. Smiling still she continued, "Though seeing who you're with, I suddenly know why." She turned back to Harry and stood now, everyone at the table followed her example and stood.
A strange silence came over their group as Walburga approached the now standing Harry. She took a step towards him before clutching at her gown and gracefully dropping to her knee. Minerva made a move but stopped herself as Walburga smiled to Harry. "Welcome home, Harry Potter. Our world has certainly missed you." Her voice was soft, her emotions unreadable. But Hyperion knew her, she was measuring them. She had yet to qualify them and was doing nothing more than allowing her presence to be known. He smiled at his grandmother, his mother, waiting.
"Thank you." Harry replied, softly. His little face unreadable as he looked away for a moment and up to Petunia.
Walburga followed his look and also looked up to Petunia, standing now as she turned to the woman, looking her over for a moment before speaking, "I'm certain I've never met you before. You are?" She paused.
Petunia hesitated for a moment, a moment longer than she should have, Walburga noticed. Her eyes flickered over to Minerva before she replied. "I'm Petunia, Petunia Evans, Harry's aunt." She said quickly. "Your Grace!" She blurted with a quick and unpracticed curtsy.
"Ahh, Evans." She gave her a flick of a smile, her brow furrowing. "Evans, I don't recognize that name."
"Oh, you probably wouldn't, I'm not a witch." She said, not thinking anything of it.
A few things happened at the same time. Across the entire full hall people were talking, some eating, others were visiting with old friends, some making new ones. Some teenagers had snuck away to snog in a closet, and a parent was searching for them. The parent passed a woman that was laughing so hard she knocked over a cup, making the gentleman to her right stand quickly, bumping into a server who stumbled just enough to drop his tray of champagne. As the glass fell to the ground and shattered, for a split second all eyes turned in that direction. Not Hyperion's, they stayed firmly on his grandmother as for the briefest of moments the immediate area around them cooled. Hyperion's entire life had been spent with her, so it stood to reason that he was acutely aware of his grandmothers emotions, her magical pressure, her simple existence. And right now, her magic was reacting, in a way that she was suddenly struggling to contain herself.
The wrath in her eyes burned wildly, though Petunia was none the wiser. She grew up in a world where racism typically dealt with just that, race. She had no idea that what she said, around certain people was akin to social suicide, let alone, actual homicide. She had no idea who the Blacks, truly were.
Minerva visibly paled, her mind kicking into gear as she thought of what to say, but very surprisingly, she, nor Amelia were the ones that came to the rescue.
"Umm, my lady, can your son come to my birthday?" Harry asked.
His voice cut the tension as Walburga's smile faltered, almost imperceptibly, though Hyperion noticed. Her pupils were little more than a pin pick against a sea of purplish blue. She turned to look at Minerva, her jaw clenched. "Why of course." She hid the strain in her voice almost perfectly.
Narcissa had been watching and had also felt it, the slight changes in the area around them. Her eyes moved from one person to another, falling on Harry as he spoke. The boy had to have been totally oblivious to the happenings around him, or he was totally aware and was playing them all.
Harry for his part felt it too. He had yet to tell his grandmother, but he was becoming better at feeling things. Grandpa Mac had been teaching him, so he had taken to wandering around the Manse trying his hardest to feel for any magical items, grandpa Mac said there were quite a few. It seemed the effect was twofold, giving him the ability to sense much better but making him much more sensitive to the fluctuation of magic around him.
He couldn't tell were it was coming from, but he knew something had changed and he needed to only follow one boys' eyes. He looked at Hyperion and then to the Duchess and knew that maybe, this would be a moment to diffuse the tension.
When Walburga replied, Harry smiled back. "Thank you."
"Of course, my dear. I'll contact Minerva for all the details." She said to the child.
Turning to her group, more so her boy she gave him the slightest of smiles. "I think we will be going now. I've suddenly lost my compulsion to join in on the festivities."
"Of course." Minerva muttered behind her, her voice flat though knowing.
"I'll be sure to owl you." Walburga finished as she placed a hand on Hyperion's upper back. "Let's go home, shall we?" Her eyes snapped to Lucrezia and then to Narcissa, before she turned to her boy with no more words left. The remainder of her group followed the Duchess and her heir as they left the gala, cutting through the crowd as voices got quieter. Some were questioning the Duchess sudden departure. Others were talking about the group she left with, though everybody noticed who they had just spoken to.
Minerva, Harry, Amelia, and Petunia were left standing at one of the higher tables; the dim lights unable to hide the eyes that were now on them. Minerva didn't like this, she had worked hard to keep Harry from being suddenly harangued by a deluge of people, but she could hear the mutters now. The voices were getting louder, "Who's that Auror Bones' is with?" She heard someone questioning. "Is that Professor McGonagall?" Someone else asked. "Who's the little boy?" another voice cut through.
"We should probably be going." Amelia said, unaware of when she had become a part of this.
"Yes, we should." Minerva replied, turning on her heels as her group made its way out, quick enough to avoid any approaches as it seemed some people were gathering more courage as the seconds passed. They barely made it to the floo as Augusta Longbottom finally got the nerve to approach them.
"Minerva?" She questioned.
"Augusta." Minerva replied, a pinch of floo powder in her hands. She gave Augusta the slightest of nods. "I really must be going; my grandson isn't feeling the greatest." She lied. "Though we should certainly have tea some time soon." She finished as she threw the floo powder into the fireplace. "The Manse." She said.
"Of course." Augusta replied, given no other option.
"The fucking cheek." Narcissa said as she was pouring a glass of whiskey in one of the many rooms at Blackmoore Palace. Very surprisingly they had all been invited back, the Veela as well, though as the moments passed by, she wasn't too surprised. 'They were all to be family at some point.' She smirked inwardly at the thought. Narcissa was a Black through and through, and her compulsion for hate was just as capable as the rest.
"I'm not a witch." Lucrezia echoed as Narcissa approached them all. They had taken to a lounge in the Palace, sitting comfortably. The Palace was just that, a castle with many rooms and attendants to match. The house elves handled most of it, though humans remained on the staff for the things that needed a human touch. They had all been invited to stay for the remainder of the summer, as was custom for Hyperion's birthday. This time though, the Malfoys had been invited by proxy.
That was something Narcissa hadn't expected but was fully hoping to capitalize on. It felt good to be back in her family's ancestral home. Her relationship with her Aunt had been strained to say the least. Walburga didn't care much for Lucius, and it showed. Her voice never displayed anything more than civility when she spoke to him, but for her, it was different. It was an anger she knew, but she stifled it. She caught Walburga's eyes on her every now and then, questioning, regarding. She knew she only needed to wait and eventually Walburga's displeasure towards her would fade. After all, it wasn't her fault she was married to the man, and as such, forced to associate with those he associated with.
Walburga had cut all ties to the Dark Lord after Orion and Regulus had died under suspicious circumstances. Narcissa had fully intended to do the same but it seemed Lucius had other plans. She was never certain for sure, but she was certain Lucius was too afraid of the Dark Lord to do so, but given the fact that he was dead, she couldn't understand why.
She had essentially been disowned because of that decision, though she clung to some sort of hope that one day she would be invited back. That hope came in the form of Hyperion, and she could not have been any happier for it. She could have kissed Sirius for having a child around the same time as her, even more for going to prison so soon after his birth. It wasn't a surprise to her that Sirius had had a child in secret considering who his mother was. 'We are a private enough bunch…' She thought. She felt some shame for being happy about Sirius' imprisonment, but she couldn't turn away from an opportunity like that. Walburga was going to need help, especially since the boy's mother had died at childbirth she had been told. It was sad, she thought, that Hyperion would never know his mother or father, but looking at Walburga…it seemed they had been just what each other needed. Walburga was ever the mother of little Hyperion, and he was her grandson, 'no her son' she thought. The son Sirius and Regulus could never be.
Joining them once more with two glasses in her hands, she set one down "Here you are, aunt Walburga." She said softly.
"Thank you." Walburga replied, her back to them all, looking out of a window and onto the grounds. They had all changed from their formal gowns into something more leisurely. Hyperion was on the floor, laying on a rug next to the chair his grandmother had been in, he was hissing away ever so softly. Narcissa was acutely aware of how disconcerting it may have seemed to the Delacour's who had not been aware of Hyperion's ability. She smiled slightly behind her drink as she watched the young heir talking to his serpent. She had asked why he was laying there when they had come in, when Walburga had told her that Hyperion's familiar preferred the cool stone of the ground from time to time.
Walburga had learned that when she herself found Hyperion lying on the floor one evening a few weeks earlier. After asking him why she had gone and done some research. It seemed that basilisks were odd in that during their juvenile years they would get very hot during a growth spurt and sought out cool earth or water. Since this serpent had made a bond with a wizard becoming a familiar, Hyperion's already immense and still growing magical power fed it, causing it to grow faster than normal and most likely bigger. That was evident in the fact that the little snake had doubled from two feet in length to almost five in a few weeks. No one was certain of the life spans of the serpent kings, though one thing was sure, their growth was supposed to take centuries.
Narcissa's interest was piqued when she noticed that Hyperion had stopped talking and the snake was speaking back to him, or so she thought. She so wanted to ask what they were going on about. She felt her husband shift to her right and turned to look at him. He was staring at Hyperion, his face somewhat pale and his eyes uneasy. He was painfully unnerved by the boy and his snake, an obvious effect of his time with the Dark Lord. She had only seen him once, and he had not spoken to a snake then, so for her it was something darkly intriguing, not fear inducing.
"What is she saying to you?" She asked softly, working up the courage to interrupt their conversation.
Hyperion's heterochromic gaze turned to her and settled there for a moment. It was like he was trying to gauge her, see if he should tell her. He looked to his snake and then back to Narcissa before pushing himself from the floor and crouching down. Hyperion extended his arm as his horned snake made its way from the cool ground and up his arm and slithered her way around the boy before settling around his shoulders as Hyperion stood now and made his way to a chair across from Narcissa.
Walburga had taken her seat and was sipping at her beverage. She watched them, her brows furrowed gently as she turned to Hyperion, wondering what it was he was up to.
Hyperion crossed his legs at the ankle and looked up as Phi slithered down his chest and rested her head next to his right hand where Hyperion lightly traced circles in between the ridges of horns that ran along the top of her head. He was doing his best to emulate his grandmother and Walburga knew it. She watched him carefully, hiding a smile. 'What are you getting up to?' She thought.
Draco, Blaise, and Fleur had joined the adults now. The three of them had been hungry while Hyperion wasn't and had elected to go to the kitchens for a snack. Draco and Blaise found empty chairs and sat next to each other. Fleur found a seat in between her parents, yawning. She leaned against her mother, muttering something unintelligible. Apolline smiled and pet her daughters head and cheek as Fleur lay against her.
"I was telling Ophiuchus about this evening." Hyperion finally said. Draco and Blaise shared a look, wondering what he was talking about. "She was rather disappointed that I didn't take her with me, but she finally agreed that it would be odd to carry a snake around a gala, since not that many know of my ability."
"Ophiuchus?" Draco asked. "Whose Ophiuchus?"
Hyperion gave Draco a slight smirk, pausing as he decided on how to answer. He often found himself especially critical when he spoke to his blonde agemate. To be honest, Draco wasn't totally insufferable. He was simply easier to tolerate in bits. He was taken care of just as much as any of them, but he supposed it had to do something with discipline, he thought. His grandmother had said something about it in passing, and it had stuck.
Exhaling harder than normal through his nose he replied. "My familiar, Draco, the great serpent around my shoulders." He finished, his eyes narrowing as he stopped himself from calling the boy a name.
"Oh." Draco said softly, his pale cheeks flushing gently as his eyes moved to the snake and back to Hyperion's face. He slid back into his chair and gave him his attention once more.
"Yes, well, Phi and I had some thoughts on her getting bigger. Its fine now, she can get about well enough but soon she's going to be too big and can't simply go around the house in plain view." He began, his eyes flicking to Fleur who was looking at him. She had pressed herself against her mother, slightly nervous from the looks of it. His eyes turned back to Draco and moved to Narcissa and then finally to his grandmother. "She needs a way to get around, unseen, mémé. I thought maybe under Blackmoore Palace we could make tunnels for her. And then we can connect the tunnels to our other homes so she can travel to us." He finished, looking at his grandmother, the pleading in his eyes belying the calm of his face.
She watched Hyperion, wondering why he decided to ask all of this while these people were all here. This could have waited, but she played along, none the less. "Well, if it's for your familiar then we can look into what that would entail."
Hyperion smiled and then looked to Narcissa and then to Lucius and over to Lucrezia and finally ended at the Delacour's. "If my grandmother will look into it, then I must also ask all of you to consider doing the same, since your homes are the homes I will most likely be at." He finished.
The room remained silent for a few moments before Apolline broke the silence. "What?" She asked, somewhat surprised. All eyes turned to her. "You want to make tunnels, under our homes, for your snake?" She repeated, although paraphrasing what he had said.
Hyperion looked back at his intendeds' mother, their eyes locking for what was a few seconds but seemed much longer. His heterochromic gaze was unwavering, solid and unyielding. He had been taught to speak and act with authority and maintaining the most unflinching face he could went along with that. His lips parted for a moment before he looked to his grandmother, who for her part nodded her approval unsure of what he needed approval for. "Naturally, I speak with the full authority of the Duchess of Blackmoore, and considering certain facts…" he paused and looked at Francois…" I'm certain this is something more than doable for you. Isn't it?" He finished.
Apolline hesitated, her eyes moving from boy to woman…He was ten, not even. He was a child and he was blackmailing them, openly and without impunity. She knew what facts he spoke of…Apolline looked at Fleur ever so slightly, thinking. 'But he likes her.' She took a breath and slowly looked at the snake around his neck. It was ominous to say the least. Something about it unsettled her, perhaps its alien awareness as its eyes focused on her. It was intelligent.
"It is." She said softly, realizing that she had no other option but to say yes. She sighed inwardly, how had they gotten into this situation? They were like injured deer being circled by wolves and Fleur was their target. She would be lying if she said that she wasn't afraid, more for her daughter than anything else. Hyperion liked her, so perhaps she was safe…but Hyperion was also Walburga's progeny and was obviously not above using her to his advantage.
An hour or two later around eleven thirty in the evening, long after the Delacour's and Lucius had excused themselves and gone to bed and it was only Walburga and her family, did Walburga finally come back to her thoughts. She was watching Hyperion who now lay on a conjured sofa, a conjuration he had been working on for an hour or so. Draco had fallen asleep on the floor below him and Blaise was asleep on the sofa on the opposite end. Fleur had stayed down with them and had also fallen asleep, but on a high backed chair. At some point someone had conjured blankets for them all, choosing to leave them there.
Narcissa was sitting in a chair, idly reading a book, simply thankful for being here. Walburga watched Hyperion, he was practicing a wand movement, dragging the wand through the air with a slow twirl before pulling the tip up quickly and flicking it down again. "What are you trying to do?" She asked gently.
He looked up at Walburga, "Its an odd movement." He said, matter-of-factly. "It would be a hard movement to do in a duel." He continued.
She nodded. "It would." She paused, tilting her head to the side. "You didn't need my approval earlier." She said gently. "But you already know that."
He smiled, slyly. "I do."
"Then what was the act for?" She asked.
He looked up at her in earnest. "They respect you, they fear you, they don't do either for me." He began. "I'm a child, I'm your heir, but I'm still a child. So if they thought I had your support, and if you gave me your support then they probably wouldn't have any to question me again."
"Whether you have my support or don't." She stated.
"Yes." He agreed, still practicing the movement.
"And do you think you will have many more reasons to force them to act how you want?" She questioned.
Stopping the movement, he looked at his grandmother and nodded. "It's a possibility. I'll be going to Hogwarts soon, so I won't be around you as much. And we all won't be around each other very often, so now was as good a time as any."
'To begin to establish his dominance.' She thought. She frowned for a moment, thinking for a split second that her boy was growing up. She hated the thought of him no longer needing her, but she pushed it away and offered him a tired half smile. "Well then, I approve of your endeavors Hyperion Corvus Black." She finished.
Narcissa looked up as she heard Walburga use Hyperion's full name. She had heard them speaking but hadn't paid much mind until then. Now though, she couldn't help the small smile that graced her face as Hyperion had left the sofa, he had worked on conjuring with Walburga's help. He was sitting in her lap, talking about Merlin only knows what… but it was moments like that that reminded her that Walburga could be a wonderful parent should she want to and with Hyperion, she wanted to.
"He's asleep." She said as she came into the less formal living room of the Manse.
Petunia sat across from the other two ladies. They were all in night gowns and robes now. It was well past midnight as she took a sip of her tea.
"He's so excited he couldn't sleep at first. He was telling me of the different creatures he read of since coming here and hopes we can have a zoo there too." Petunia said, pulling her legs under her as she got comfortable on the oversized loveseat she had found herself on.
"We can certainly look into it." Minerva replied, stifling a yawn. "We need to make a list in the morning." She finished.
Amelia was sipping at her tea as well. Setting it down she happened to look at Petunia who seemed to be in a world of her own. "Are you okay?" She asked.
Petunia turned to Amelia, "Yes…" She paused, biting her lip. "Did I do something wrong earlier?" She asked. The thought had been there since they had left the gala. It had all seemed to be going fine until she had spoken and suddenly the Duchess had to leave.
Minerva and Amelia shared a look. "I had hoped to speak to you and Harry together, but telling you may help us explain it to Harry." Minerva said.
"Explain what?" Petunia asked.
Minerva hesitated for a second, why she wasn't sure. She looked at Petunia momentarily, a touch of sadness in her eyes before speaking. "The Black's are what some would call purists. They do not like muggles for not having magic and believe muggle born wizards are an abnormality. Their Tolerance begins at half-blooded witches and wizards, and even then, sometimes they still have a hard time with that. " Minerva said, softening the true rhetoric and sipping her tea.
"Ahh." Was Petunia's knowing reply. "So, they don't like me…" She said, more than asked.
"That is the short version." Amelia replied.
Raising a brow something dawned on her, "Then what about Harry? He's my nephew and there aren't any witches or wizards in our family that I know of." Petunia began, but then actually thought.
"Harry shouldn't have a problem. He's the heir of a powerful and old house, and he's a half blood." Amelia cut in.
"I see." Replied Petunia, resolving to ask more about this in the morning.
They all lapsed into silence. Each for their own reason. Amelia had thought of going home but had decided that she would stay here and then send for Susan in the morning. There was no point in waking her now. Minerva was focused on Harry's party. She would need to start some lists. It was her process, and best of way of sorting situations and she considered her grandsons first birthday party to be a situation.
Petunia though was still pondering the concept of the Black's hate. She could almost laugh at the irony of being hated for not having magic when magic made her hate Harry for having magic. It was a confusing sentence, she knew, but oh so real and oh so oddly tangible it left a bitter taste in her mouth. She had no right to feel angry at them. Her guilt still existed in a very real fashion, and at times the feeling threatened to consume her. The pressure weighed on her heart heavy, even to the point of tears, but she always told herself that it wasn't her fault and even so she still had a lot of time to make up for it. She bit at her lip, drawing her attention back to the here and now. Her cup of tea was still in her hand and neither Amelia nor Minerva were looking at her.
She set it down gently, before standing and excusing herself. As she made her way through the beauty of the manse, she resolved to talk to Minerva about it all in the morning. She came up the grand stairs and followed her usual path that took her past Harry's room. She stopped and opened the door slightly, peering in at the sleeping boy. She couldn't help the smile that pulled at the corner of her lips.
She would do anything for that boy, even conquer her own demons.
A/N: Ok…another chapter closer to Hogwarts. I expect maybe two more chapters and all of them are at the school. Next up is the week leading up to the birthdays of the stars of this show and more of the children's point of view. This chapter was long, but I really needed to include some of the people that will be important moving on. Now there is a moment where I say that Walburga is a wonderful parent, it's all subjective okay. Lol. I'm saying she was wonderful by Narcissa's very flawed standards, considering who she was raised by.
Hyperion is a direct result of his upbringing. He wants to emulate what he knows, whether he understands it or not. His goal is to understand it so he doesnt have to pretend anymore. just like any child that wants their parents approval. He is just being raised in a much harsher manner and forced to come to some realizations much earlier than us. He lives in a society where you're taught to live and lead at a younger age. We have child soldiers today and as bad as it may sound, its a similar thing that is happening to Hyperion. Remember, Walburga, is still Walburga...just much saner and because of it, probably much more cruel. She is haunted by Orion and Regulus deaths because she feels directly responsible for it and even more so by Sirius imprisonment because she didn't have the power to stop it from happening...i'll get into more of that later, but its one reason why she is pushing and trying so hard with Hyperion. She needs him to be stronger than they all were. The story is obviously sill building so thank you everyone for the patience and hope you enjoyed. As always read and review. THANK YOU!
Translation: That's the woman I saw him with, grandma.
