"He was handsome, this orphan, this foundling, this outcast"
-Hunchback of Notre Dame by Victor Hugo-
No particular music recommendation this time, but if you have any, feel free to share it in the comments!
Dialogue translations available at the bottom :)
"Hey."
"What." Minutes ago, when that John boy appeared outside his room and handed him an "Advance potions" book to let him into his territory, the idiot straight up gave it without asking first, which is why he's hovering like a petulant fly around him. He doesn't bother looking up from his new book.
"Ya know, y' don' need to stay in the room all the time."
"And what does that have to do with you?" He snarls.
"Dun ya get bored? It be kinda l'nley here." John kicks an imaginary pebble on the dull-coloured floor.
He flips a page delicately, starting a new chapter on "Panacea-cure of all ailments", interesting. "I'd much prefer being alone with no fools disturbing me. Silence is gold; you should probably look up what that means." He peers at John's outfit, and his lips twitch up condescendingly, "Oh wait, you probably can't."
John looks down at his clothes; mam's coat is stained with some weird purple spots, buttons dangling by a thread from his shirt that he got from da's friend, and oversized pants barely held up by a leather belt. Light pink flushes across the young boy's face. "I c'nt help it." he murmurs while looking away into the thick mist.
"Pathetic." He spits out, eyes continuing to dart across the lines, "The best-known goals of the alchemists were the transmutation of common metals into Gold or Silver (less well known is plant alchemy, or "Spagryic") and the creation of a "panacea," a remedy that supposedly would cure all diseases and prolong life indefinitely, and the discovery of a universal solvent."
Such a powerful tool, perhaps even overcoming death itself, magic and immortality…
He looks out to the dingy streets through the misted window, a beggar across the road under the flickering lamp; he'd been drubbed daily by drunk white collars for as long as he can remember. Now he's no longer shivering in his torn newspapers, and has been lying in the same position for a few days straight.If only he has magic.He thinks in contempt. There is no living for the weak, just like mother.
He thinks back to what Mrs Cole told him about: she crawled to the orphanage and died giving birth to him. Didn't even bother using some basic healing spells; truly underserving to be a witch. Flipping through the pages, he searches for the recipe for the fabled substance.
"Ya mam was sick?"
"SHUT UP!" The boy's eyes flash a bright vermillion. With a wave of his hand, the oil lamp zooms through the room and crashes against the invisible barrier, startling John, who falls onto the ground. He continues to throw the pebbles, books, and all kinds of exploits he has collected over the years. Seeing John gradually standing up despite his threats without fear, he pounces on the weak figure, only to be blocked again by the aggravating border. His fury grows when the magical presence he uses to intimidate does not answer his summons.
The boy from the other side looks at him warily, "Why ar' ya so angry all the time?"
"SHUT UP, JUST SHUT UP AND LEAVE." He heaves out, "I don't care if the man sent you here to bug me. You can go and rot with him!"
"Who are you even talking about?" John raises his voice, also getting irritated, but just as he's about to rebut, an image rises to his mind, "White beard, blue eyes?"
"Stop doing that to me!" He presses a hand against his forehead, wincing at the prickling sensation, "How did you even- what-"
"Dum-bel-door?" John utters it syllable by syllable like Da does when he says new words for him to remember. "Dumb-a-door? Why'd he called hims'lf that? That's dumb."
Seeing that immature boy outside his room giggling like mad, he rolls his eyes and shakes his head in exasperation.
While inwardly smirking, of course.
His anger dissipates while maintaining a sneer. I doubt he works for that old man with that brain, but how did he come to know his face? What was that...thing that hit my head?
"Huh? Ya got hit in the 'ead?"
"No!" He snaps back from his thoughts, "I didn't even say a word."
"Yeh ya did." John says, cocking his head to one side, "You just said what was hittin ya 'ead."
Scarlet eyes study the scrawny figure in front of him; a sense of curiosity urges him to decipher whatever phenomenon is between them. He's convinced that it's magic, but how...
Peering into the onyx pupils, he suddenly got plunged into a series of images, scrolls and bottles with liquids in a neat rack. Then, an odd scene of a blood-stained hand holding someone else's, a golden light weaving around them, a gentle song, and glowing flowers.
"Ah!" John's startled cry brings him back to his room, "It hit me too!"
He tries to push a thread of magic into the same presence again, finding himself zooming into the black eyes once more...
[Mam.]
...
[Mam? Are ya' better today?]
...The woman did not turn around.
"Ow." A small voice wafts up. John is now clutching his head with both hands, fingers digging into the greasy hair.
He looks at the crouching boy, recalling what he just saw and says cooly, "Your mother, she's-"
"Yea," black stands of hair flings around as John shakes his head, "Da says she's sick." he says, crestfallen.
He looks at the boy with faux pity, "She's ignoring you."
"She can't hear me because she's sick," John mutters, "ya know, with me bein' possessed, but da says the sisters c'n heal me, so mam will get better too." He meets the rubies with a hopeful glint.
"You are quite dim, you know."
John looks around and raises a quizzical eyebrow, "But it's bright in 'ere."
He huffs incredulously, giving up on the futile pursuit to make the boy see reality. As he picks up the book and plops back down on his bed, the overwhelming desire to control whatever magic it is makes him approach the naive child again.
"You, think of a number."
"Huh? Okay." John, while dazed by the boy's sudden eagerness, does not hesitate to play whatever game he is thinking of, the first person who doesn't laugh and run away from him, even though he gets furious all the time, like when Da had too much juice before coming back home.
Sensing the link between himself and the presence within the black eyes, he pushes his magic like a string of thread going through the eye of a needle. It was smooth and without resistance, like his mind diving into another sea.
[Four? Ten? Ten sounds better.]
"Your number is ten." He crosses his arms confidently.
John's eyes glitter in surprise, widening in wonder, "How did ya do that!"
"Like how you did." He says matter-of-factly.
"I..." John scratches his head, "But... should I be doin' that? Isn't it wrong to use wh'tever thing I got from being p'ssessed?"
"For god sake! It's magic! Not possession, you fool!" He tries to slap the book on the boy's head and gets blocked again. "And who cares? As long as it's useful, I'd do it."
"Oh." The petite boy nods slowly as if he has just got taught a new word. "C'n you teach me then?"
"And let you use it on me more often? I think not."
John pouts, his shoulder sagging in disappointment, whereas the boy from the other side continues his read, yearning for the power he may gain and rise to be the most powerful wizard one day.
The Order meeting for the day is set in the Headmaster's office, odd, as even the most urgent of emergencies are discussed at Grimmauld Place, like the time Harry was abducted in Privet Drive. From what Tonks had secretly told them, Dumbledore summoned almost all Order members, especially those who survived the first war. Such dire implications sent a chill to the teenagers invited to the meeting, this time with Harry, another rare occasion.
Looking around, the traces of the catastrophe weeks ago have completely disappeared, no blood, no broken window, yet Harry is still unable to shake the understated trepidation off, still remembering bits of flying and the impactful landing. He cannot help but feel the strange but familiar sense of dread presaging what might happen in the meeting.
"Albus, I can't help but think this is a bad decision. What if he tricks us and hurts the children?"
"Mollwobbles, I know you worry about them, but your concerns are a bit-"
"You don't understand, Arthur!" the Weasley matriarch trembles, "Don't you see how much of an impact those people have in our world? If it weren't for that woman, the war wouldn't have happened, lives could have been spared, and our children wouldn't have to live in fear of getting killed just because of their beliefs!"
Arthur brings his arms around his distraught wife. He knows that she never got over the death of her brothers, but he is unsure of the link between the Princes and the tragedy or war as a whole. Prince was a prominent name amongst purebloods. As a Weasley, he has been taught by his father their history. Indeed, despite being a "light-oriented" family, Septimus Weasley had always been interested in their work. By the time he became the head of the house, Albus had warned them of their dangers, not that Arthur had thought of contacting them, having seen Molly's ashen face during that conversation.
News of the Princes has been circulating within the Ministry, and folks in the Wizengamot seem to have mixed sentiments regarding the Prince Lord's appearance. While the minister did not speak of the encounter in detail, speculations have been thrown around and about: How they might be here to reinstate their position, perhaps trying to revive the soon-to-be-dead bloodline, or returning to magical Britain to enact revenge for their exile. (suggested by an ardent Elphias)
"You need not worry, dear girl." Dumbledore's eyes twinkle knowingly, "While we shouldn't underestimate our guest, his main goal for now is to locate the lost child. I am positive he wouldn't attempt anything against us."
"Still..."
"No matter what," Arthur murmurs close to her ears, "We will always protect them, hmm?"
The four Weasley children, alongside Harry, shuffle in their seats, not understanding how the upcoming meeting upsets their mother to such a degree. While their mother is always known for her overbearing protectiveness, she acts like someone is up to hunt them all down. Neither Bill nor Charlie has responded to their secretly sent inquiries; Percy is deep in the bowels of the Ministry, though they doubt the estranged brother would provide them with any relevant information. Hermione's research regretfully didn't satiate their curiosity about the Princes, especially with the mysterious relationship between the man and the potions professor. What are the adults hiding? And why is Dumbledore acting so differently than the time in the infirmary?
The usual Auror members, with Remus and a large black hound in tow, walks into the office from a flash of green flames at the fireplace. Sirius immediately leaps onto Harry's lap with a cheerful bark upon spotting his godson, startling a laugh out of Harry, who reciprocated with a tight hug. The black fur is silky with a mild pine aroma, just like the perfume he wears on meeting days. "I gave snuffles a long overdue shower before coming here." Remus runs his scarred hand down the dog's back, and Harry is pretty sure Sirius made a mess judging by Remus's wet and ruffled hair, as well as the grin of mischief on snuffles face.
He hazards a glance at Dumbledore; the Headmaster is smiling warmly at the scene, and his radiant blue eyes twinkling like usual. But wouldn't it be risky for Sirius to be here? With someone else coming into the meeting? Upon seeing the old man's slightly inclined head, the boy relaxed. I'm sure it's safe if Lord Prince didn't notice him last time.
With the appearance of Bill, Charlie and the three Head of Houses, only two have not arrived thus far, well at least after...
"Malfoy!" Moody roars at the three newcomers striding into the office. Their sudden appearance causes a ripple of murmurs and protests from members around the long table. Lord Malfoy merely sneers at them as if they are the ones unwelcomed, while the lady and Draco Malfoy put up steeled faces.
"I do hope we remain civil with each other, everyone." Dumbledore spreads his arms and clasps them together like he would at the welcoming feats: "The Malfoys are invited to this meeting to provide insight that may contribute to our continuous effort. Especially in the face of another possible threat."
"They are death eaters!" Doge shouts, pointing wildly at Draco Malfoy, who, to his credit, holds back his usual "blood traitor" retort, "They might as well summon You-know-who to us now!"
"Elphias, old friend. Since you weren't here several weeks ago, you missed something crucial. Due to, unforeseen circumstances, it seems Mr Malfoy's loyalties have shifted away from Voldermort." a steady clicking saunters down from the raised platform. "It is splendid to have another informant to our cause, especially now that Severus can no longer go to Tom."
Malfoy senior's narrowed eyes flash coldly, his lips pursed into a thin line, but he refrains from speaking. The Order leader smiled at him like a parent would to an obedient child.
"First Snape, now Malfoy?" Moody folds his fingers on top of the head of his cane, sneering, "Death eaters aren't exactly the best pets to keep, Albus."
"Why you-"
Narcissa Malfoy instinctively holds her son back before he can finish, subtly moving him closer to the still-lit fireplace. Harry guesses that the Malfoys are prepared to leave in case of conflict arises.
"Excuse me, Albus, " Professor Sprout hesitantly raises her arm, not used to her status as an Order member, as well as the shouting that accompanies it, "But should we start with the meeting first? You did say it was urgent.
"Ah, since this involves Severus and our dear guest, it'll be better if we wait for them before proceeding. Severus did notify me of a possible delay, after all." Dumbledore replies jovially. On the other hand, Harry finds the Headmaster's cheerful attitude uncanny.
Hearing a rap at the door, the crowd turns around with anticipation and vigilance at the guest's arrival. "Do come in, Mr Prince." Dumbledore calls as the door slowly creaks open, everyone in the office, including the various framed predecessors, holds their breath in unison.
"Sorry to disappoint you, Headmaster, but he has yet to arrive." The black cloak billows dramatically behind Snape, striding into the office as he sneers at everyone. However, his glare briefly softens at the sight of the Malfoys while the aristocrats avoid eye contact with him. The other professors seem confused, but each sends an acknowledging smile at the man. The rest of the crowd appears divided between acceptance and scepticism. Doge and Mrs Weasley, in particular, are fidgeting in their seats. Snuffle's body is stiff, razor-sharp teeth showing through the dark lips, ready to pounce on the professor.
It is hard for Harry to associate the current stoic-as-ever professor with the man who lay fragile on the infirmary bed after the rescue, barely able to give him instructions. Also...
"Regarding… your question a few days …ago… she likes to eat pasta… with a disgusting amount of Parmesan cheese on top."
With the initial excitement of new information regarding his mum over, his head has been bursting with questions: How did she and Snape meet? What were they like at school? Why does Snape act like he hates him if McGonagall says he doesn't? Why did Snape become a death eater if he's friends with mum?
Catching the eye of the professor, Harry gives him a slight nod. Snape raises an eyebrow at that before scowling harder and turning away. For some reason, the expression doesn't rile him up like it would anymore, and Harry is inwardly giddy.
He turns his sight back on the Headmaster, a friendly smile still plastered as he converses with the professor, but the twinkle is snuffed out, and there is a drop in his tone; he might so far think Dumbledore is... displeased.
"Prince?" both Bill and Charlie turn to Dumbledore, "Like the Assemblagio Principe, that Prince?" the younger brother exclaims.
"The House of Princes with the Heptagram?" Bill catches up immediately, eyes brightening with recognition
If Mrs Weasley wasn't already pale enough, she seems to have lost all colour at that moment, "How- How did you two..."
"A lot of the researchers from the conservatory are from their institute." Charlie explains animatedly, "my lecturer for Dragon behavioural studies is one of them. They are also the main sponsors amongst the others."
"One of the Heir Prince's Journals on warding is used as study material for curse-breaking apprenticeship at Gringotts. Personally, I think those records are brilliant. The goblins have been using them for years. Even though they were banned in Most of England after... something, they still have them due to their neutrality." Bill adds, "So what the goblins said was true, the Overseer did come back to Britain!" he gasps in realisation.
"Do you know how much danger you two are in right now! Getting involved with those things!" Mrs Weasly shoots up from her chair, face red with fright and anger, "How come you two never told me about these!"
"Mom... you were never interested in my work," Charlie replies calmly with a hint of resignation.
"The journal was just used as a textbook. There's nothing special about it." Bill too, is confused by their mother's fierce reaction, "If you are worried about me breaking wizarding law for reading those journals, Gringotts got a pass from the ministry decades ago, despite not being involved with wizards politically."
Hearing what the two Weasley brothers have said, most order members look less tense. Professor Flitwick and Hermione's interests are definitely piqued. The Malfoys have their bodies leaning forward at the explanation.
However, Dumbledore, Doge, and Mrs Weasley are visibly displeased, probably for varying reasons. Snape stayed impassive throughout the conversation, crossing his arms and standing by the wall, making the boy wonder how the Headmaster reacted when Snape probably had to explain why he knew Lord Prince. Yet, despite what the mysterious man had revealed, Snape doesn't seem that friendly with the Princes.
Well, Snape doesn't seem friendly with anyone, even with his actual friends. Harry looks at Professor Sprout and Professor McGonagall, the latter occasionally glancing at the dour man.
"As interesting as it is," Malfoy crosses his arms, "I would very much like this meeting to end. There are more important things for us to attend than this joke of a gathering. If there is anything you would like to order me to do, Headmaster, do get on with it."
"Rushing away to save your arse, Malfoy?" Moody grunts. Tonks holds back a snicker, but the neon-yellow hair fails to hide her amusement. Dumbledore subtly looks towards Snape, perhaps trying to see how the man would react to his ex-friends getting demeaned. His face is as blank as ever.
"Alastor." Dumbledore warns the ex-Auror with a twitch on his lips and turns to look at the magical bronze sundial amongst the number of gadgets on the shelves, "Well, since Mr Prince seems to be late, we shall get on with the trivial matters firs-"
"Could one really be blamed for tardiness if they were given a different time and destination in their invitation?"
Everyone except Snape and Harry points their wands at the voice behind Dumbledore, whose face drops into a deep frown. Lord Prince, alongside two cloaked and hooded personnel, stands unperturbed on the office's balcony, the repaired halo-like rose window behind him. For a moment, the scorching light of the midday sun bleached the walls through multi-coloured glass panes, stretching the shadows into stark long stripes, overshadowing half of the long table. The Lord's posture is that of grace and confidence, though lacking the arrogance that Harry tends to link with, his eyes gleaming with an otherwordly glow, similar to what he demonstrated in the infirmary. The serene expression reflects his keen perception from experience with a peculiar youthfulness.
"H-How did they get in!" Doge ekes out, his wand quivering, then braces himself again, "You are being blatantly disrespectful to the Headmaster! Apologise!"
The Prince's iridescent eyes flick to meet Doge's, who recoils from the prolonged gaze, "Elphias Doge, born 31st of August, 1881. Graduated from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Currently holds the position of special advisor to the Wizengamot..." he enunciates along each step down the yellow stock stairs.
"There is no need to be terrified, μειράκιο. You were the one who wrote that file open to the entire Ministry." His voice is soaked with amusement, enjoying the blanched face change to that of beet red. Turning to the rest of the order, landing his gaze on each member around the table, lingering on some. To those knowing, it is like a predator waiting for the prey to make its first move, yet it is of promise and healing to Harry. Unbeknownst to the boy, such odd resonation is formed before they even meet.
"Mr Prince." Dumbledore's lips twitch upwards, "While it is good to have you here, it would have been better if you arrived through the front gate for security measures. I think everyone here can use fewer surprises after what happened recently."
"?سدت الباب الأمامي ولكن ترك فجوة في الخلف" A deep middle-aged woman's voice drifts out on the left behind Lord Prince, all of her features are covered in layers of black except her eyes, despite blending in with the shadows, those bright hazel irises glitters brightly.
"Smetilla." The man in a white hooded cloak mutters, subtly jabbing the woman with his long-sleeved elbow
"Who are those people?" Tonks whispers at Kingsley, who cautiously shakes his head.
"Amadeo and Rimsha are secretaries from the headquarters and the division over at the Middle East. I originally invited the head of a different institute in Japan, Madame Uzume, to come along. Though she believed I could manage this myself and was not interested." Lord Prince replies wryly. "It is a rule in the Assemblaggio for the overseer to bring at least two personnel from the other institutes to give their objective opinions. Some decisions make a massive impact, after all."
Tonks's hair flashes bright red in embarrassment. Upon seeing that, the man chuckles, "A metamorphagus; I haven't had the fortune to know one in a while. Are you perhaps from the Black Family?"
Moody roughly pulls on the young Auror's arm when she automatically blurts out her answer, "That would be a yes, I assume. Then the black hound over there must be Sirius Black, correct?"
"OBLIVI-"
Just as Dumbledore quickly whips out his wand, Lord Prince casually waves his hand, dispersing the light that bolts toward them. The two secretaries stay still, their faith in their employer's abilities evident.
"كيف وقحا" the woman says, shaking her head.
As Harry remembers, the hooded man, Amadeo huffs and replies in a teasing tone, "Cosa ti aspettavi comunque?"
Snuffles, who has been under the table the entire time, carefully paddles back further to Remus's leg, trembling. The scarred man instinctively raises a hand in front of the animagus, eyes filled with worry about what the Prince would do. The Order members seem mentally preparing themselves for an imminent fight while the Malfoys sit still in shock. The lady, in particular, stares at the dog with a questioning look.
"Persistence is a virtue when it comes to learning," Lord Prince explains in a tone similar to Dumbledore giving Harry advice, "however, there are times it becomes a stubborn, foolish pursuit."
The twinkle-less eyes grow frosty, and the Aurors sitting near the Headmaster quietly inch their chairs away. "I understand," Dumbledore says, "but dare I swear on my magic that Sirius Black is -"
"Is a fugitive, has yet to be put on a fair trial after 15 years, possibly innocent, but nobody knows." The older man offers as he stares straight at the glimmering grey eyes under the table, "Needless to say, it is rather easy to identify an heir from a prominent family when you have lived long enough."
"You do seem to know Sirius's predicament well." the Order founder smooths his long beard, Snape's impassive expression is instantly marred by a snarl.
"Not quite." Prince shakes his head, "While I briefly delved into politics when Decimus was still with us, I am hardly an expert as he was in the British Ministry. The minister was kind enough to provide some files when Amadeo requested them on my behalf."
Harry can feel the glee under Malfoy senior's uninterested mask, remembering how Fudge changed from hostile to practically licking Lord Prince's shoes. Since the minister is very much like an enemy of Dumbledore at this point, it was like one more ally to the Ministry's side, in other words, one with the Malfoys.
"I seem to have postponed the meeting even more, my apologies." The man walks to the end of the long table, taking the empty seat facing directly towards the Headmaster's throne-like chair; his poise turns the creaky wooden chair into a cathedra, his two assistants perching dutifully behind him. "Now then, what is it you have invited me for?
Dumbledore sits as the charmed chair slides closer, smiling ingratiatingly, "Ah, after learning more about the organisation. I realise our resistance against the current crisis can benefit significantly from your help. I hope we can exchange services, forming a collaborative relationship."
Lord Prince lowers his bloodless lips behind the steepled fingers, pearly irises piercing the Headmaster, "And what is that service you are offering?"
"We have the best searchers when it comes to missing persons," gesturing at the row of experienced Aurors, "I do recall you have been searching for the young Prince Heir for quite some time to ensure the Prince line persists."
Despite their hidden features, Harry notices the clenched fists of the two secretaries. Snape, too, looks like he bit on an exceptionally sour sorbet lemon. Looking to the left, his friends exchange confused glances, harking back to the audible disdain and caution during their first encounter. Why would the old Headmaster be offering to help them now? Judging by the professors' visages, they have the same question in mind.
Mrs Weasley seems visibly shaken by Dumbledore's offer and casts a pleading look at the man, who shakes his head in response.
Lord Prince taps his gloved finger on the long table in a slow, rhythmic cadence, the serene smile never deserting away, "In 1980, during the height of Tom Riddle's expedition, Inessa Florence Cassitera Prince was found dead after jumping off a cliff, barefoot, and lingering curses on her back. Inessa was heavily pregnant at the time, yet as an educator cultivating children, you didn't hesitate to have her chased down, let alone by people who were parents themselves." Ignoring the loud uproar around the table, the man continues, "So do explain. What is your goal in looking for my family now if you were so keen on expunging them?"
Seeing that the Headmaster stays silent, horror builds up in Harry's chest. Is it true? To kill both lives, with one who hasn't had the chance to experience life? Dumbledore mentioned they were dangerous people, but a baby?
"Albus..." McGonagall looks at the mute leader, "please tell me that it's-"
"You're just trying to discredit the Headmaster!" Doge yells, with Mrs Weasley nodding fiercely, tears falling freely down her cheek, "There is no proof that any of us have done such a heinous crime!"
"While it was not reported in your local papers for certain, it was a known incident across the rest of Europe. If my memory serves well, there was a requested investigation in the ICW. Still, it was mysteriously rejected after two appeals." the clouded eyes flash, "By the by, brewing that poison must have damaged your lungs quite a bit, hasn't it, Elphias Doge?"
The greenish pimple scars stand out even more on the translucent face. The wheeziness in Doge's voice now makes a lot of sense.
The Prince inclines back onto the chair, grinning enigmatically, "Well, not that the offer is not enticing; unfortunately, I do not know much of the child personally. Eileen did not mention much other than a nickname. It was either Jean or John."
"Oh?" Dumbledore has been waiting to move on from the previous topic, looking straight at the man at the other end of the table, "Most curious, how come the mother does not remember her son other than a nickname?"
"I am rather dubious about what happened, other than that she came to me one day pleading to let her stay in Italy, eager to leave her life in Britain behind. Judging by her health, she wasn't treated well."
Next to Harry, Hermione has been itching to speak up, yet too anxious to do anything other than wringing her hands and squirming in her seat. Seeing this, he decides to jab his best friend in the elbow, eliciting a yelp from the jittery girl. Everyone's focus is now on Hermione amidst the stretched silence.
"Ms Granger?" The Headmaster turns to look at his student, hoping his mild probing is enough of a warning to prevent the girl from saying a word.
After a moment of hesitation, curiosity gets the better of the girl, "Sorry to interrupt sir, but may I ask a question?" Hermione raises her hand like she would during class. Arthur holds his wife's hand tightly under the table, sensing that Molly might go on another round of hysterics.
"Of course." Lord Prince replies with a Duchene smile.
"I did some reading regarding your house's history. Was it incorrect that the lady was disowned after the presumed abandoned bonding? I mean no offence." the adults suck their breath at the straightforwardness. While Dumbledore's glare almost dropped the office into sub-zero, Snape's vacant expression seemed increasingly hollow, pinning his gaze at the empty gap between the two portraits.
The older man considers for a moment, turning back to the now uptight teenager, "Do not fear, little miss. It is merely I do not get asked about Eileen outside of work a lot.", he says reassuringly, "While it is true that her father disowned her as his daughter, Eileen was not disowned from the Prince Family, as the final decision is determined by me. Her father, Cathalius, did regret his decision years later. She now takes the role of my granddaughter, even though we are centuries apart."
"This is also why it is near impossible to locate her son," the ancient man sighs with a hint of regret, "Eileen, in desperation, performed a crude ritual in hopes of severing any relation from the child that your order has been so eager to look for. The child may no longer have her features, but family magic punished her severely, hence her fragile health and shortened lifespan. Therefore technically, she is the one family I have left."
"I'm sure the order can provide some assistance in that regard." The Headmaster placates, "While I understand the House of Prince maybe be wary of us, I assure you we have no bad intentions towards your remaining heir. I sincerely hope you will consider our offer, perhaps as a heartfelt apology."
Professor Sprout and Professor Flitwick are visibly disturbed by the man's casual tone. What if it is true that their leader and friend they have been looking up to did the crimes that Prince insinuated? Did Albus expect the Lord to just brush it off and take upon his help?
"That was rather... pompous of you." Prince chuckles wryly, "Before I make a decision, however, I would like to chat with Mr Potter and Severus first."
Hey there fellas, it's been a while! Uni's been pretty busy and all, but I've been managing and enjoying it so far :D
This chapter was originally pretty long (about 7k words), but I ultimately decided to cut some off for ch 19 instead. So while this chapter acts more like a filler, there will hopefully be a quicker update :)
Since John (Severus) grew up in the Midlands according to canon, I tried to use a "Brummie accent translator", said website shut down and stopped working mid-writing, so the accent is probably even more inaccurate, and to those who come from the Midlands, I'm very sorry for butchering it:')
Thank you for reading! As per usual, comments, criticisms and advice are much appreciated! See you soon! :D
Translation (by order):
"Blocked the front door but left a gap at the back?" (Rimsha)
"Stop it." (Amadeo)
"How rude." (Rimsha)
"What did you expect anyway?" (Amadeo)
