September 1st, 1992, Hogwarts Express
Perseus sat alone in his compartment aboard the Hogwarts Express. He arrived extremely early, to avoid Hermione's family completely. While he didn't exactly blame the man for his attitude, it didn't make him any happier about the situation. He spoke as if Perseus had played a part in those deaths, as if Perseus wouldn't give his very life— that he wouldn't end his family line—to save Hermione.
In a world where the people he cherished amounted to a grand total of one, there was nothing he wouldn't do for her. Even if it meant apologizing to and tolerating her bigoted father.
The train had just started to move when his compartment door opened.
I really should have locked it, he thought, glaring at the door.
When a head of bleach blonde hair and a sneering face stepped into his compartment, accompanied by two gorillas, his glare grew tenfold.
"Well, well," Draco said in his usual arrogant drawl. "Did you have a nice summer, Black?"
Perseus stared back at the boy, noting his smug smirk and bright eyes. He was entirely too satisfied with himself for that to have been a harmless question. Did he have a nice summer? Perseus ran through a hundred thoughts in a second, before reaching the final and most obvious conclusion. Draco knew about his interaction with Hermione's father. And he must've thought he had some way to lord this over Perseus; he wouldn't have come otherwise. Draco would never take a bet he wasn't sure of.
"Yes, Draco," Perseus said, his quiet rasp echoing in the empty compartment. "How about yourself?"
Draco looked annoyed for a moment, before his smug look returned. "I hear you gave the mudblood's father quite the tongue lashing in the alley," he said, his smirk growing wider. Perseus knew without question who the mudblood was. "Finally embracing your place in society, treating those below you how they deserve to be treated."
Perseus ignored the use of the slur for the moment, though he certainly wouldn't forget it. "Those below me?" Perseus asked, moreso to himself than to Draco. "You mean those like you, Draco?"
Draco's smirk disappeared completely and his face began to redden rapidly. "The House of Malfoy is below no one," Draco said, repeating something that had no doubt been preached to him by his father. His aunt had taught him the same thing. The difference was, while his aunt was many things, she wasn't a delusional liar.
The Black Family held the only remaining Dukedom in the entirety of Magical Britain. Lucius Malfoy was a Baron, and would never be anything more than that, if Perseus had his way.
Perseus tilted his head. "Is that so?" Perseus asked, eyes flickering up and down Draco's form. "Do you think the Marchionesses, Lady Bones, Heiress to the Founding House of Bones would agree?"
Draco's face tightened, but he continued to glare at Perseus.
"Or what about our housemate," Perseus said, with a small smirk of his own. "Marquess, Theodore Nott, Heir to the Founding House of Nott?"
Draco's face grew paler, and an ugly frown had made its way onto his lips, but still, he didn't back down.
"Or perhaps the Marquess, Neville Longbottom, Heir to the Founding House of Longbottom?"
Draco sneered, no doubt the name of a family rival serving to irritate him, especially since the boy was of higher standing than his family.
Perseus finally stood, looking down on Draco just slightly. "And what of me, Draco?" Perseus said, raising a brow. "His Grace, Perseus Black, The Duke of Camelot, Heir to the Founding House of Black?"
Draco's face soured, and his fingers twitched as if he'd go for his wand, but the boy wasn't insane. Stupid, but not insane. As low as his family had fallen, the respect for their prowess with a wand had not. No one wanted to cross wands with a Black unless strictly necessary. Besides, attacking a noble of higher standing was as close to suicide as one could get in the Wizengamot.
"Remember Draco," Perseus said, staring the boy down. "Your family has been a Noble house for less than half a century." Draco clenched his jaw, his fists balling up at his sides. "And also do not forget, that it was my Great-Grandfather Arcturus that gifted you with that honor, just so your daft daddy was of high enough standing to marry my cousin Narcissa."
Draco's face was red once more, and he was shaking with rage, but there was little he could do. Even with Crabbe and Goyle, he had no hope of defeating Perseus, and he knew it.
Perseus smiled now, nodding to Draco. He had been afraid for too long. Afraid of his Aunt, afraid of the older students in his house. But he was tired of being afraid. His aunt may be an evil crone, but she was right about some things. He was a Black. It was time he started acting like it. Invictum voluntatem. "Yes, perhaps it is time I embraced my place in society."
It seemed Draco had finally had enough, for he turned and stomped out of the compartment, Crabbe and Goyle following dumbly behind.
Perseus was just about to close the door when he heard the exchange in the vestibule of the train car.
"Move out of the way before you get hurt, mudblood," Draco spat, his wand drawn.
Sticking his head out into the corridor, Perseus' blood ran cold at the sight of Hermione, leaning against the wall where she'd obviously been shoved.
Draco began to raise his wand, before following Hermione's gaze, looking over his shoulder and making eye contact with Perseus, and thinking better of it.
With a final sneer, he stormed out of the train car.
Hermione pushed herself off the wall, patting her bushy hair down and straightening her tie, which he noted with surprise was a half windsor. Otherwise, she looked fine. Her big brown eyes were clear, and her face was its usual creamy white, not even flustered from the altercation. Still, Perseus could see she was worried about something.
Silently, he stepped back into his compartment, leaving the door open behind him. She would see the invitation for what it was.
He'd barely stepped into the compartment before she followed him inside, closing the door behind her. She closed the shades, and Perseus slid his wand from its holster.
With a complex twirl and jab of his wand he cast the strongest obscuring spell he knew. " Absconditum."
A flash of light pulsed from the end of his wand, spreading outwards to coat the walls of the compartment, before fading away.
Hermione watched on with awe, and Perseus couldn't help but smile. Her fascination with new magic never failed to cause that familiar warmth to blossom in his chest.
"You are going to teach me that spell," she said firmly, staring into his skull with her big brown eyes.
Perseus could only chuckle and nod. It wasn't family magic, and he'd never deny her otherwise. Not that it mattered much. She was a ways away from being able to do that particular spell with any sort of consistency.
Perseus opened his mouth, but before he could get a word out, the girl had flung herself at him.
He struggled to breathe while her thin arms squeezed him around the ribs, before settling for returning the hug. Breathing was a luxury anyways.
"I am so sorry, Perseus," Hermione mumbled into his chest, somehow squeezing him even tighter. "If I had known my father was going to act like that, I'd have never let him read those books!"
"It's fine, Hermione," he said, speaking around the mass of hair filling his face. "Your father is entitled to his opinion the same as everyone else."
Hermione pulled back, looking up at him with surprised eyes. "Well that certainly doesn't make them right!"
Perseus nodded his head. "No, it doesn't."
Hermione pulled back, her eyes scanning him from head to toe. "You didn't get into any trouble, did you?"
Perseus sat down on the bench, meeting Hermione's concerned eyes. He didn't think he'd ever get used to someone worrying about him. "No, if my aunt heard about what happened, she didn't bother saying anything."
Hermione sat down on the bench across from him, fiddling with her fingers.
She was acting oddly, but he'd let her tell him what was wrong when she was ready.
"Perseus?"
"Yes?"
Hermione chewed her lip gently. Perseus smiled. It wasn't often Hermione was slow to ask questions. "Are those things you said to Malfoy true? Are you really a Duke? Is Neville really a Marquess?"
Perseus chuckled quietly. It was often so easy to forget that Hermione did not grow up in the same way he did, learning the things most magical children learned as children. But then she'd go and use someone's given name, or ask a question that most kids already knew the answer to. It was sometimes baffling for him to reconcile the girl that was so good at magic, with the girl that knew so little about their world.
"Yes, that's all true. I'm surprised you haven't heard about it before now, with Longbottom and Potter being your friends."
"Harry?" she asked, a look of doubt on her face.
"Yes, Potter. Did he not tell you that he's a Viscount? Even someone in Weasley's," he said the name with disdain, "family was a Baron a long time ago."
Hermione stared at him, open mouthed as she tried to process what he was telling her. He could see the thoughts flying behind her eyes, and prepared himself for the barrage of questions that was surely about to come his way.
"How many of my classmates are Nobles? And how is there a nobility with no monarch? What does it mean to be a noble in the magical world? Is that why you're so good at magic? Does it give you extra power?"
Perseus had to stop himself from bursting out laughing. Of course she'd want to know if being a noble gave someone an unfair advantage when it came to using magic.
"There are many Nobles that attend Hogwarts, it is after all the most prestigious school in Britain. Secondly, there was a monarchy, if you recall in the history books I gave you. While King Arthur's rule wasn't very long, it was more than long enough for the man to establish a peerage. Being a Noble guarantees one a seat on the Wizengamot, with an increasing number of votes based on the rank of your title. And no, being a noble does not make you better or more powerful at magic, I just practice a lot."
Hermione blinked a single time, before nodding and continuing to nibble on her lip and squirm in her seat.
"Perseus?" she said, her voice quieter, more timid.
"Yes, Hermione?"
"What happens if someone misses the Hogwarts Express?"
Perseus frowned. While Hermione was one to ask questions just for curiosity's sake, this clearly was not one of those times.
"If they're from a magical family, I believe it becomes their parents responsibility to get them to school. If they're not," Perseus shrugged. "They don't come to Hogwarts."
"So that's just it for muggleborns?" Hermione said incredulously, with heat in her voice. "You make one mistake and you can never come back?"
"I never said it was fair, Hermione. I'm not sure how true that is nowadays anyhow," he said with another shrug. "I'm sure Deputy Headmistress McGonagall would pay you a visit if you missed the express. Headmaster Dumbledore doesn't seem like the type to not find out what happened to one of his students."
Hermione nodded, standing up quickly from her seat. Perseus stood as well, as etiquette dictated he should.
"Thank you Perseus," she said, squeezing him again. "I'd better go before someone comes looking."
Perseus watched as she turned and headed for the door, taking her warmth with her. She stopped right before she opened it and said over her shoulder, "I hope you're ready to finish second this year." And then she was gone, the door sliding quietly shut behind her.
Perseus shook his head and cast a locking spell, hoping no one bothered him for the rest of the trip. He got a book out of his trunk titled The Secrets of Animagery, by Cepheus Cygnus Black.
He hadn't inherited the Metamorphmagus ability from his family, so it was very likely he had inherited the animagus ability, at least that's what his aunt told him. The woman was ruthless and bitter, but she was as knowledgeable as they came and Perseus had learned to trust her judgement when it came to magic and the Black family, and to completely disregard it for anything else.
Opening his book, he settled in for the long train ride ahead.
Perseus shot subtle glances at Hermione from where he sat at the Slytherin table for the Welcome Feast.
Hermione was sitting alone, her two friends absent and no one else bothered to pay her any attention. It explained her question on the train, anyway. No Weasley or Potter in sight combined with Hermione's earlier question meant only one thing: the two idiots had missed the Express. He expected this sort of thing out of Weasley, but he'd expected more out of Potter, at least. The boy seemed to have some common sense, though he probably used the lot of it keeping the red headed niffler he called a friend out of trouble.
Clearly, he didn't have quite enough this time.
"Perseus," said Daphne, who was sitting across from him.
Perseus looked up, noticing her for the first time. The summer had treated her well. Her skin had a tan that was usually missing from her fair skin, and it made her eye catching ice blue eyes even more so. She looked like she'd grown, if Perseus had to say, her face was a little sharper and her shoulders were a little wider.
She was looking at him amusedly, no doubt noticing his unusual lack of attention to his surroundings. She was just as observant as him, most of the time.
He nodded his head at her, prompting her to speak.
"How was your summer?" she asked, bumping her feet with his under the table, a light blush forming on her face.
What was with that question, Perseus wondered. While Daphne's interest seemed innocent enough, and the girl had never been anything other than kind and cordial with him, the question still set him on edge.
"It was fine," he said, sliding his feet away from hers. Outside of Hermione, he was still very uncomfortable with being touched. Even Hermione's touch proved to be too much at times, much to her displeasure. "I read books and practiced magic."
Daphne raised a brow at him. "That's it? You didn't do anything exciting at all?"
He frowned. "What do you mean? I just told you I practiced magic."
Daphne rolled her eyes, much to his confusion. He didn't think he'd ever understand the way other people think, especially not girls. Even Hermione was a mystery to him much of the time. At least she was interested in important things, like magic.
Perseus looked up as the Great Hall door banged open, and his head of house entered looking particularly gleeful, a look that never meant well for anyone .
He spoke quickly to Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore, who glanced towards the Gryffindor table before getting to their feet, their faces grim. They followed Snape out of the hall, and murmurs broke out across the hall as soon as the door closed behind them.
It took him a moment to put the pieces together. The only thing that could make Professor Snape that happy, had to involve Potter. Clearly, the boy had found his way to Hogwarts on his own, and in a fashion that was not particularly suitable.
Perseus shook his head. No doubt he'd hear all about it from Hermione; she was a stickler for rules, and would certainly feel the need to rant to someone other than the two idiots who had broken the rules.
Perseus himself didn't care about rules so much, especially those that tried to regulate what magic someone could and couldn't learn. If you were capable of doing it, who had the right to tell you not to? It all just seemed backwards to him.
Perseus got to his feet with the rest of his house when Professor Snape returned, looking far more sour than usual, and headed to the dungeon. He took note of all the new first years. He wasn't really a people person, but something about their young, nervous faces pulled him in. He was sure he looked and felt the same way, perhaps he could do something to help alleviate their stress? He certainly wished someone had done so for him.
Nodding to himself, he decided he'd introduce himself to the first years when he got the chance. The Prefects were next to useless as far as helping students were concerned, and Perseus thought himself more than capable of helping them out.
Catching Hermione's eye as he left the Hall, he gave her the smallest of nods, before heading down to the dungeon. He was looking forward to this year, besides the fraud Lockhart teaching his favorite subject. There was nothing he could do about it, he decided, so he put it out of his mind. He could teach himself far better than the ponce could, no matter what Hermione thought.
