It was a quiet evening in February when it happened. They had been sat in the room that had been converted into Harry's playroom – gone were the gothic paintings, the intimidating colours and the frankly depressing furniture.
Now, the room was brightly lit, with a bold red and gold colour scheme – Sirius was convinced Harry was a Gryffindor through and through. The wooden floorboards had been replaced with a soft carpet that you could sink into, and its deep crimson colour complimented the red walls perfectly, with a skirting board of gold separating the two surfaces.
Arcturus would have gagged at the sight on reflex if it hadn't been for Harry's reaction a week after they'd brought him home—the Slytherin in him had been pouting for months. In the time since they'd brought the boy home, young Harry had gotten into all kinds of mischief and mayhem – usually because of his own grandson - and had been driving his Elf around the bend the second he became confident on his feet.
As he sat on one of the rich couches along the side of the room, he watched with a small smile at Sirius, cross-legged on the floor with the young boy. He playfully levitated a few toys over to him, only to bring them back just out of reach as Harry squealed in joy.
"Oh, gonna get it, Harry? Gonna get it?" Sirius would tease, his voice soft and indulgent.
It happened just as Arcturus took a sip of his tea. Harry had looked so intently at another toy – a plush Phoenix that had been made from the finest material money could find. After the Stag, Doe, Grim, and Wolf, the Phoenix plushie was Harry's favourite. There had been a moment of pure concentration - which, quite frankly was mildly disturbing on a child just a few months shy of two years - and then, all of a sudden, Harry had stretched out an arm. The toy had slapped into his tiny little palm almost instantly, the grinning face of the child buried into the crook of the bird's neck.
Arcturus had spat his tea out in a quite undignified manner, while Sirius had sat there with his jaw hanging open. Lispy, Harry's Nanny-Elf, began hopping from one foot to the other, worrying the thin flesh of her bat-like ears between her fingers as she glanced between Arcturus and Harry.
"Did he-?" Sirius began, his voice barely above a whisper.
"I think…?" Arcturus tried, noting absently that Kreacher had popped into the room, clicked his long, gnarled fingers to clean the tea up, and popped back out.
Arcturus leapt off of the couch and positioned himself on the floor, grasping Harry's toy owl in front of him. "Harry," He began, drawing the boy's attention immediately. "Harry, do you think you can do that again?"
The boy was quiet for a moment, looking between the two adults in the room cautiously. When they both nodded encouragements, the boy raised an arm again and the owl flew into his embrace. Harry giggled excitedly as he fell backwards.
"That wasn't accidental magic…" Sirius breathed, replacing his wand in his wrist-holster.
"That was directed intent. I've never heard of a child do that so young before," Arcturus agreed. In all his years, never had he heard of a child consciously directing their magic at such a young age. Sure, there were the occasional bouts of accidental magic that were usually caused by extreme emotions, such as a childish temper tantrum, but that was mostly found among the Muggle-born.
"Do you think we should tell anyone? Dumbledore, maybe?" Sirius asked after a moment, moving over to Arcturus slowly as Lispy began to play with Harry. The little Elf had instantly taken a shining to the boy, doting on him every opportunity she was presented. It hadn't taken long for Arcturus to assign her exclusively to him.
"I'm not sure. We should take a step back and evaluate all of our options. Too much has happened since October to make any decision hastily," he replied slowly, stroking his stubbled chin. With a grunt, and a creaking of his knees that he was positive hadn't been there last week, he pushed himself to his feet.
"Lispy, keep playing with Harry. I need to talk with Sirius in my study. Alert me if you need anything."
"Yes Master Arcturus, sir."
Lispy curtsied elegantly before returning her attention to her charge.
"Sirius, come," he commanded, his thoughts running a mile a minute.
It was common knowledge in their world that Pureblood and Half-blood children were taught magic, or at the very least how to control their magic from a very early age; it was often a reason why Muggle-born students struggled in their first few years, and often never truly embraced their gift as their peers did.
There were many different kinds of witches and wizards in their society, some far more common than others. There were the average, every-day citizens of their world – those who possessed the power, knowledge, and ambitions of those that had graduated school and were happy to just be. Some would rise high in society, like the recently appointed High Prosecutor, Cornelius Fudge.
There were others, such as those that often found themselves in physically demanding positions like the Aurors, or the Hit Wizards. While they were far less frequent in Britain, they were much more common in other places he was aware of. These were men and women who had an innate understanding of combat and strategy, more often than not. Of course, there was always an exception to the rule, he supposed.
Then, there were the passives- those who performed magic for the benefit of others. The drive to use their magic to help others tended to result in a high number of passive Healers. There were many different ways of helping others, of course, though passives seemed to have a natural inclination toward healing.
Finally, there were the Mages. These men and women were so intrinsically tied to their magic and the magic around them that they had no defining category to place them into. Throughout history, mages had appeared in every discipline known, often leading their field. The last two known mages had been Dumbledore, and later Voldemort. It had been one of the theories as to how he had amassed such a devout following. There were perhaps a handful of mages across the globe. Even the distinct possibility that Harry could perhaps be one? He almost paled at the thought.
Over the last three months, he had noted just how wild and powerful the boy's magic was, though he had chalked it up to his youth. Perhaps there was more to it? He was, after all, the last of the Potter bloodline – an ancient and distinctly powerful bloodline that could trace its lineage all the way back to Arthur's round table and even beyond. Could this be Magic's way of ensuring that the bloodline continued, especially in these dark and uncertain times?
They came to the study before his thoughts could spiral any further. With barely a pause in his stride, the door was open, and he was making his way to his chair. Sirius took his usual seat opposite him.
"We should keep this to ourselves," Arcturus began, holding a hand up to halt Sirius' protests. "With everything that's happened, I think it best. That business with Bellatrix could have quite easily happened here."
Sirius snorted.
"If you think Bellatrix could get the best of either of us…"
"Neither of us are invincible, nor neither of us are infallible, Sirius. You should know that most of all," he retorted, sharper than he had intended.
Looking suitably cowed, his grandson nodded. "So, what do you propose?"
That was the real question, wasn't it? What could they do? Both of them were powerful, there was no question about that, but if his suspicions were correct – and a part of him desperately wished he was, if only for Harry to be able to grow up and be happy - then neither of them would really, truly be able to keep up with the boy.
They could hire tutors, buy every book they could get their hands on, and hope for the best until the boy could go to Hogwarts. Perhaps… Yes, that might work!
"For now, we treat him as if he were any other child. His lessons will start earlier, to teach him control, of course. When he's a little older, we'll take him to the Capital and have him checked over. At least then, we'll know exactly what we're dealing with and how to best teach him."
"The Capital? You can't seriously mean to-" Sirius began.
"I do and I shall see that he makes it there. You know as well as I that there are many, many advantages to taking him there. Or are you forgetting that Britain is merely a colony?" Arcturus replied, his voice firm and unyielding.
"Of course I know that! But to travel there, while his magic is still so young-"
"Enough!" Arcturus cut him off, his magic flaring briefly and causing a candlestick to wobble uncertainly for a moment.
"I'm not happy about it either, but it's the best chance we have of getting some bloody answers. He shall go there, and then, before returning to this house, he shall visit his ancestral seat of power in this domain. We shall also introduce to him his other seat of power while we are there. Is that understood?"
"Yes grandfather," Sirius mumbled, running a tired hand down his face as he slumped back in his chair.
"Now, this brings me to another problem that I've been debating about for some time," he sighed, mimicking his grandson. "I would have that boy carefree and happy. I would give him the bloody world," pointing his finger in the direction of the room they had been in not so long ago.
"I would see us re-evaluate our political alliances."
Sirius blinked heavily at that, almost as if he hadn't heard him.
"Not that I'm against throwing out everything your predecessors have worked so hard to build, but why?"
"Because, we are a neutral house on the brink of extinction. You and I are the main line, Sirius. That's it. Not to mention, many of our alliances are with those who swore themselves to Voldemort. I would not have us bow to that upstart for anything."
"And we're raising Harry," Sirius breathed, suddenly looking far older than he was.
"Indeed. We have the last Potter. The war wiped out all the other lines, according to the Wizengamot. He is integral to a number of alliances that are the polar opposite of our own."
There was a pause for a time.
"I think it best if we stand behind him, regardless. Call it an old man's worry, but I fear for that boy. I worry he won't get a day of peace."
"But he killed him!"
"Aye, he did. And how many do you think would like nothing more than to avenge their fallen Lord? How long until we have another Dark Lord? How long until there's another war, and we're not fighting it, but Harry is?!"
He'd worked himself up, he knew that, but the blood pumping through his veins wouldn't be calmed. His fear for the innocent child was overwhelming him in that moment.
"If he fights, I'll be there alongside him. Just like I was for his father," Sirius replied, a steel in his voice that was becoming more and more common whenever Harry's future was discussed.
"And if you're old? If you're dead? Who stands with him then?"
Sirius sighed and frowned. "Who did you have in mind?"
"A number of families, if I'm honest. Dumbledore, McGonagall, Prewett, Bones, Abbott… Longbottom."
"You can't be serious! Augusta would curse us out of the country before we could say a word!" Sirius exclaimed, his voice rising.
"As of this morning, I'm deadly serious. This arrived," he replied calmly, passing a small piece of parchment over the desk.
Sirius took it, and he watched as his eyes darted back and forth across the page, then for a second and a third time. "This is real? Seriously?"
"As real as you and I," he replied with a solemn nod.
"But she's in Azkaban! How in Merlin's name did you manage to get the Ministry to sign off on this?"
He smiled briefly, remembering the rather forceful conversation he'd had with Bagnold a week ago. She would agree to this, or… well, he hadn't given her any other option, if he was honest with himself. It was awfully Gryffindor of him. He refused to gag at the thought.
"I have my ways. In any case, it matters very little – Bellatrix will die tomorrow evening. She will be cast from the family in perpetuity and erased from any family grimoire. In addition, I sent Andromeda an owl this morning offering a place in the family once more."
"Andromeda? But, I thought-" Sirius began, his jaw working, though no sound escaped.
"She ran off in haste and made assumptions in anger. I never cast her from the family – she has, and always will be a Black. Once Bellatrix's assets have been seized and audited by Gringotts, Andromeda shall be given everything."
Arcturus smirked. He did so miss little Andromeda.
The two of them sat there for a moment, the conversation having taken something out of both of them. There was so much to do now; so much to discuss, so many people to talk to.
"What about Augusta? You still haven't said how you're going to approach her," Sirius finally asked.
"Well, now that would just be telling," Arcturus winked as a decidedly Slytherin smirk spread across his lips.
"You've got some bloody nerve!" Augusta Longbottom snapped as he stepped through the fireplace. The two were long-time friends from their years in the Wizengamot together. While Augusta hadn't officially held a seat, as she had married into the family, many of the political motions her husband, Rupert Longbottom, had pushed forward had been at her insistence.
As he stepped into her office properly, he quickly took everything in. The room was light, lit through the many, many windows that made up the walls. All around the room were various potted plants, arranged in such a way that the colours often complimented one another. The smell was earthy and fresh, while the temperature was cool and inviting- a far cry from his own study.
The woman he'd come to see, however, was anything but inviting. She stood there, wand pointed in his general direction, with her face flushed a furious red. She looked quite the sight in her signature vulture hat and tweed suit.
He held his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "Augusta, I promise you, I mean no ill intent."
"No ill intent?! My Frank is beyond mad thanks in no small part because of your family!" she screeched, a vein visible protruding from her forehead. "Poor Neville is all but a bloody orphan because of your Bellatrix!"
"Ah, I'm glad you mentioned her, actually," he said, clicking his fingers. "I come with a gift. Kreacher!"
Within moments, the ugliest of all his House Elves appeared before him. He was not alone, however. Alongside him was the corpse of his former relative, her skin only slightly paler than it had been in life, and her infamously wild, curly hair lay limp and mangled.
"What is the meaning of this?" Augusta demanded, her wand instantly moving to the corpse.
"This… creature has been executed for her crimes with The Kiss in Azkaban. She has been stripped of any relation to the House of Black in perpetuity as well as been removed – with extreme prejudice -from any mention in our family grimoires. We offer you her remains for you to do as you please – in the extent of the law, of course - in the hopes that it can help in part with our formal apology to the House of Longbottom," Arcturus replied formally. "Personally, I suggest burning the bitch."
Cremations were a tricky business for magical society. Witches and wizards weren't traditionally a religious lot, but tended to revere magic itself. Magic had many, many different forms. Over the thousands of years, many aspects of it had been given names, as it often felt alive, in a sense. Through these beliefs, it had become tradition for many to simply be buried in a location of their choosing – usually with an item of personal importance. Many chose their wands, of course, but others took books, brooms, or personal treasure – one witch famously attempted to take a dragon with her. As a result, it had become an unofficial insult to be cremated, as the body was considered to be a blessing from magic – something special in and of itself. Sometimes it couldn't be helped, and witches and wizards got themselves killed through explosions or by dragons anyway. Honestly, some people were just born to die stupid deaths.
Augusta was quiet for a long time, merely eyeing the corpse and the wretched Elf next to it. Eventually, she took two determined strides forward, spat on Bellatrix's face, and ordered Kreacher to take it to one of her own Elves and begin setting up a pyre.
"Feel a bit better?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at her once Kreacher had left.
"I'd make an Inferi out of her just to kill her myself if I could," she spat, her hands trembling in rage.
"Frank was a good lad, Augusta. I'm truly very sorry."
Augusta sat down heavily in her chair on the far side of her desk and stared at him with a look that he couldn't quite pinpoint.
"He was. The best a mother could ask for."
"I understand he was close to James Potter."
Augusta snorted.
"Your days in the Wizengamot are well and truly over if you're going to be as transparent as that, Arcturus. Yes, James looked up to him like an older brother."
Arcturus shrugged. "I didn't come here to play word-games. I would have us be friends, allies even."
She laughed, even as a House Elf appeared, wearing a uniform of a pair of denim dungarees and a tiny, child-sized checked shirt underneath it.
"Oh, Arcturus, why on Avalon would House Longbottom and House Black stand as allies? Especially after what the bitch and her friends did?"
"House Black is re-evaluating its political and social standing following the fall of the Dark Lord. We know we can't remain neutral in the future if another threat arises. We would stand faithfully behind the House of Potter."
He reached out and stirred a bit of cream and sugar into his tea that had been provided by the Elf. He thanked it politely as it popped away with a small smile.
"You would stand behind Potter?" she asked finally, her white-china cup halfway to her mouth.
"I should have done so before now. My heir did what I could not, and even now is sat in the boy's den, playing with the last of the Potter line. In the time I've spent with the boy, I've come to love him as my own. Sirius is as devoted to the boy as any parent."
"It could upset a great many houses that Longbottom is allied with. Merlin, man – even our own vassals would be outraged."
"To the void with our vassals. They fall in line behind us. They owe fealty to us. I'm not hoping that it happens today, but House Black will begin removing itself from any previous alliance that would not support House Potter as of tonight. The quaffle is in your court, so to speak."
He smiled slightly around his cup. The tea was fantastic.
"And what would you want from this alliance, hm?" Augusta's cup was completely forgotten now. Her face was set in a slight frown he knew had nothing to do with her mood, but everything to do with how she was concentrating – attempting to find every angle to his motivations. If she had been able to keep her face less obvious, she could have made a fantastic Slytherin. He'd best not mention that to the aged Hufflepuff.
"Agreement on political agendas, an agreement to take up arms in defence of one another, and I believe some supervised play-dates between young Harry and Neville. I understand from Sirius that the two of them are godbrothers?"
"Aye, your boy is right on that front, I suppose. He's a quiet lad, prone to shyness – hard to believe he's Frank's," Augusta scoffed.
Arcturus frowned at that.
"If my sources within the D.M.L.E are to be believed, Augusta, they found Crouch Junior and one of the LeStrange brothers playing with the boy while the other two tortured your son and daughter-in-law in the next room. Things like that will affect a child – try being a little more patient with the lad. Maybe Harry and Neville will be good for one another, hm?"
"Don't presume to tell me how to raise my grandson, Arcturus," Augusta sniped in return. "I know full well what the report said, and I'd thank you not to mention it again in this household."
He held his hands up in surrender. "I apologise if I insulted you, I don't mean to presume to tell you how to raise your grandson. In any case, we've wandered from the topic. Besides those previously mentioned points, House Black is more than willing to offer financial recompense for the loss of its Lord and Lady. This can be done either through monetary means, business endeavours, or even a combination of the two. House Black has greatly slighted your House, Augusta. Let me try and make it right somehow."
"You can't buy your forgiveness, Arcturus!" Augusta snapped, her left eye twitching slightly.
"You know as well as I that my intentions are not to recompense forgiveness, Augusta. I'm offering your house a Werguild as tradition demands, and because it's the least I can bloody well do. You're smarter than this. Stop taking every other sentence I say as insult, purely because some tart from my family wronged yours. You know me! We've been friendly for decades."
Augusta was silent for a while, stewing in her anger. The angry huffs of air being shot out of her nose would have deterred a Hungarian Horntail.
"Very well, Arcturus. House Longbottom will accept the Werguild. Any further alliance will depend entirely on how honest your motives are. We can discuss it further after the next Wizengamot session in March. I assume you'll also be approaching the other like-minded houses for a similar alliance in the meantime?"
"Of course," he nodded. He stood as he did so, wrapping his knee-length coat around him absently.
"Very well, I-"
Whatever Augusta was about to say was interrupted when a young, chubby-faced child burst through the large oak door, a pair of House Elves trailing behind him worriedly in an almost comical way.
"Gram! I did a-"
The boy halted his thought when he spotted Arcturus standing there with a grin on his face.
"Neville, what have I told you about barging into rooms?"
The boy looked down, all his excitement drained from his face and he sniffled at his shoes. "It's not polite Gram. Di'nt know you had company, sorry sir," Neville apologised, bowing a little in Arcturus' direction.
"Neville Longbottom, correct?" Arcturus asked as he stepped up to the boy. When the lad nodded, he got down on one knee and flicked his chin playfully.
"What was it you wanted to tell," he looked over his shoulder at Augusta briefly with a twinkle in his eye. "Grams about, hmm?"
"I did a bit of gard'nin' with the Elves an' they said it was good n'stuff," Neville mumbled, looking more proud toward the end of the declaration.
"That's good, hm? You'll have little green thumbs before you know it. I know another little boy who likes playing with House Elves, do you know who?"
Neville shook his head slightly, his mouth forming an adorable little O, and his eyes were equally as wide.
"My great-grandchild, Harry. Would you like to meet him someday? He's your age."
Arcturus' heart nearly broke at how quickly the child nodded.
"Well, we'll have to arrange something now, won't we?"
Arcturus stood to his full height once again as Neville ran out the room excitedly, babbling something about telling his Elf friends.
"You're incorrigible, even after all these years," Augusta scoffed as she came to stand next to him.
Arcturus snorted, "I'd be a piss poor Slytherin if I wasn't underhanded now, wouldn't I?"
There was a moment of silence as the two of them moved to the fireplace.
"I just want what's best for Harry, and that involves other children his own age. Do you want to leave him to Sirius and me for eleven years?" he asked, raising an eyebrow as he grasped a handful of powder.
"Merlin forbid. Sirius doesn't need to corrupt anyone other than himself, thank you. Now, get going so I can burn the bitch," Augusta said, pushing him into the fireplace. With a wink, Arcturus was engulfed in the green flames as he called out the name of his home.
