Their travel had continued on once he had regained some of his strength; his small avian companion perched comfortably on his left shoulder. While the casual banter between the three of them continued, there was a definite undercurrent of concern from the two adults.

When their belongings had finally been packed away into their saddlebags, the sun had been high in the sky and its warmth had blanketed them comfortably, even with their leather armour. With feeling returned to his arse from the few days break, he found himself more confidently approaching the horse. Perhaps the travel wouldn't be as painful as it was before?

They had continued along the cobblestone road, with the quiet clip-clopping hooves of the two stallions and his own mare steadily passing the time in the intervals of comfortable silence. On either side of the road, huge trees of all shapes and sizes surrounded them, sometimes arching over the path to provide some cool shade.

On the edge of his hearing, the sound of rushing water accompanied them. Sirius had mentioned at one point that all the rivers in the area congregated at the Capitol and provided fresh water to the city. If that were the case, perhaps it wouldn't smell as much as he thought it might – half a million people in a city must be foul.

The sun indicated early afternoon when they finally crested a nearby hill and Harry caught his first glance of the city. His small familiar squawked excitedly on its perch.

It was magnificent. Large plains stretched out for miles around, the deep green grasses causing the glittering white stone walls that looked huge to stand out even more. From where they stopped to take in the view, he could easily see the tight press of buildings contained within the large walls. At first glance, there were no easily discernible districts, as each clump of buildings seemed arrayed every which way.

A second inner wall bisected the city – a defensive measure, he supposed. It wasn't uncommon for cities to have another line of defence to fall back to in the event the outer wall was breached. These appeared to have many more gates if the regular squat towers were anything to go by.

Then, as his eyes followed the gradual rise of the city, he saw it. There, standing tall and proud over this city, was the most magnificent castle he had ever seen. He had seen images of his own ancestral castle, Rosestone, but even that paled in comparison to this.

Huge stone towers, keeps, and holdfasts created a sprawling citadel that stretched proudly into the sky, the highest points just tickling the lowest clouds. It was like something out of a story. His eyes snapped to Sirius.

"That is our capitol?" Harry breathed, listening to the soft tune of trumpets as they were carried on the wind.

"That it is, pup," Sirius grinned as he raised a hand and pointed at the keep. "That's the Citadel. Our ruling council rules from that seat of power, and has done since it was founded."

"It's… beautiful," Remus exhaled, his eyes wide and mouth hanging open.

"Race you down there?" Harry challenged, his confidence in his riding vastly improved.

Sirius barked out a laugh. "Go on then, pup! I'll see you at the bottom of the hill!"

Sirius was off as he cracked his reins. Harry grinned, doing the same, only to see his horse remained still.

"C'mon! After him!" he ordered, lightly pressing his feet into the flanks of his mount as he usually did to get it moving.

Remus's amused chortles echoed across the hilltop as Sirius became a distant figure.

"Not working out the way you hoped, is it pup?"

"Bollocks!" Harry grumbled dejectedly, huffing petulantly as his horse trotted along after Moony's. Had his horse simply been following along, ignoring his orders all this time? A part of him felt decidedly cheated at the thought.

It took a lot longer than it had taken Sirius to reach the bottom, the adult in question looking decidedly smug upon their arrival as he lounged in the saddle.

"Did it not work out the way you'd planned, Harry?" Sirius winked. It was an incredibly smug looking wink.

Harry, ever the mature one of the three, stuck his tongue out in reply. Sirius laughed harder – the bastard.

It was an hour later when he finally saw the roaring rivers cutting across the green fields towards the city. In his excitement atop the hill, he hadn't thought to notice them. They were a deep, clear blue as they rushed along their meandering paths towards the white-walled city.

As they got closer and closer, they came across larger and larger groups – most travelling on foot. It wasn't long until they were directly in front of the large gates, imposing towers on either side. Above them, the banner of a large golden dragon with a trio of crowns hung upon a field of deep crimson.

He didn't recognise that banner. But before he could take another glance at it, they were pushed along by the ever-growing crowd and under the short tunnel that took them into the city-proper.

Once inside the walls, the crowd began to disperse in different directions. Sirius appeared to at least know his way to wherever they were going. All around them were buildings with smooth white facades broken up by wooden beams hung with colourful streamers and bolts of variously coloured cloth.

Men and women on either side of him were selling their wares, and children ran freely among the crowds. To his left, the smell of a bakery tickled his nose and caused his stomach to grumble. The tiny beak of his newest companion nipped at his ear.

Gently pulling on the reins and urging the horse towards the smell wasn't as difficult as he'd imagined. Sirius and Remus came to a stop a moment later when they realised what he was doing.

Leaning down from his saddle a little to see into the bakery, he called out, "Can I have a small loaf of bread, please?"

There was a brief clatter of cooking utensils, and a muffled curse before a gruff-looking man, who's hair was thin and balding waddled out the front as he wiped his hands on an apron.

"Just a single loaf, milord?"

His voice was deep and booming, clear even through the multitudes of voices around him.

"Aye, just a small one if you have it. This little one is hungry, I think," Harry grinned, hooking a thumb at his familiar.

"I've got just the thing. Fresh out the oven, it is," the baker replied, retreating momentarily into the building. He returned, seconds later with a small chunk of bread wrapped in a swath of cloth. "That'll be six Knuts, milord."

Sitting up slightly, Harry pulled on the small drawstring pouch that was tied to his belt and fished the copper coins out. With a smile and a thankful nod, the exchange was made. The baker returned to his shop, and Harry began breaking small chunks off for the creature on his shoulder.

The bird, for that's all he knew it was, flapped its wings excitedly and devoured the food as it hopped from one foot to the other. For how gangly and misshapen it appeared to be, it seemed to have excellent balance.

Once his familiar had consumed its body weight in bread, Harry urged the horse to move once again. Sirius took the lead, while Remus remained at his side. They travelled the remarkably clean streets in quiet conversation, the two of them pointing out details as they passed.

They saw what appeared to be a large, finely decorated building of worship. There was what seemed to be a tournament ground and as they drew nearer to the Citadel, there was the keep itself.

It had been a sight to behold at a distance, but here, up close, it was something else entirely.

The stonework appeared flawless, but entirely practical. It wasn't some delicate thing that would crumble from a single siege-spell – no, this keep was designed for war. How many times had it been attacked? How many defenders did it take to hold it? How many staff? Was there a staff, or were they all House Elves? He had so many questions!

When they finally reached the keep itself, Harry found himself looking up at a third wall – which made sense when he really thought about it. Unlike the other walls they'd passed through, this one had a single entrance and was guarded by a number of men and women in an odd combination of armour and robes.

They appeared to be wearing tight-fitting tunics over chainmail that was dyed a deep red not too dissimilar from the banner he'd seen at the entrance of the city. Their left shoulders had a large studded leather pauldron, and there was a short bolt of cloth that hung from the back of their belts down to the back of their knees. Their forearms, hands, right shoulder, calves, knees, and feet were protected by well-fitted steel plate armour. Some wore hoods sewn into their tunics, while others didn't.

He could also spot an assortment of weapons; there were the expected wands, but also swords, bows, halberds, pikes, and staves! He had only seen renderings of a wizard's staff, and all had appeared to be long, gnarled pieces of wood. These appeared to be something else entirely. Some were simple wooden poles with a crystal ball at the top – others, had a blade for the bottom third of the weapon!

Then there were the more outlandish staves that seemed to be made entirely out of some kind of metal with large, strange shapes the size of an adult's head. Some were sharp and jagged, while others were smoother and more complicated in its design. Overall, the sight was brilliant!

"Halt! State your business!" One of the staff-wielding guardsmen ordered, placing the bladed lower half of his weapon on the floor before him. A second, a woman, placed herself next to her partner as she fingered the hilt of a sword.

"Sirius Black, heir to the House of Black. With me is our Steward, Remus Lupin," Sirius replied, his voice powerful. At the mention of his name, Remus bowed his head politely.

"And the heir of House Potter. Our business is with the Council."

The two guards looked between themselves briefly before nodding.

"Very well, you may proceed, Heir Black. The Viscount will see you housed for the duration of your stay."

The two guards stepped back and to either side of their party, bowing at the waist as they passed between them.

As they entered the courtyard, his eyes attempted to capture all they could. There were guards patrolling, men and women loading and unloading carts, and what he had to assume were Nobles taking casual strolls. As the shadows became longer and the sun had lowered considerably, there was even a number of wizards and witches going around casting those small balls of light he'd noticed when Arcturus had sat in his chair.

A stable boy rushed up to gather the reins of his horse and led him over to the stables, other stable boys doing the same for Sirius and Remus. The dismount was much easier than last time, even with the awkward weight of his familiar on his shoulder. A little nip on his ear reminded him to give it a scratch under its chin. It preened at the attention, causing Harry to giggle.

"We'll take your saddlebags, My Lords," said the eldest of the boys, roughly similar to Harry's own age if he had to venture a guess. Harry smiled at him.

"That'll be excellent, lads," Sirius replied, nodding his head slowly. "Have them taken to whichever rooms we're assigned."

"Yes, My Lord."

The three of them turned, Sirius leading the way, with Remus and Harry following in his wake, and made their way to the far side of the courtyard. As they passed, people stopped and looked at them curiously. Some, mostly the Nobles, began muttering and whispering amongst themselves.

The doors were flanked by two guards on either side, and as they arrived, the guards threw the doors open for them. If Harry had thought the exterior of the castle was a marvel, the interior blasted that standard out of the Quidditch pitch.

Tall sand-coloured marble pillars lined the walls with fine carvings of intricate patterns spiralling up them. The walls, also marble, stretched high into the air with tapestries and banners hanging proudly. There was the occasional weapon mounted below a moving portrait, re-enacting some feat of bravery or skill. The ceiling was high and arched, much like the Black castle, but in a much grander scale. High above them were balconies of even higher floors!

The click-clacking of heels against the polished marble floor drew his attention forwards. There, beyond a small entryway and approaching them, was an aged-looking man with a bald head and blonde mutton-chop facial hair. His countenance was stern and severe, while his figure was lithe and well-trimmed. Despite his apparent age, his shoulders were broad and strong. His piercing green eyes passed over him and made him feel as if he had been judged and found wanting.

"Heir Black. So gracious of you to take the time out of your busy schedule and join us… finally," the man's deep, richly accented voice drawled. An eyebrow had raised itself almost imperceptibly. He offered no bow or hand to shake as he stared at the three of them.

"Viscount Trevelyan, we didn't expect to receive the honour of your visit," Sirius replied, bowing politely.

"I'm sure you didn't," the Viscount replied. His face remained stony and expressionless as he peered at Sirius as one would an insect.

Is this who the guards had been talking about? What was a Viscount? Better yet, why was he looking at Sirius that way? He fought to keep the frown off of his face.

"And this must be your Steward," Trevelyan continued, eyeing Remus carefully. "I do hope you can keep him muzzled." Harry saw Remus's shoulders sag ever so slightly – despite how welcome they had all made him feel in their small family, Harry was well aware of other people's attitudes towards his soft-spoken uncle.

"And who might this be? Don't tell me your family has slipped so far as to taking in strays, Black?"

Harry felt his face flush in anger as he glared at the man.

"My name is Harry. Harry Potter."

A brief expression of surprise flittered across Trevelyan's face for a moment before it disappeared completely. "Indeed? Well, you may not be as stupid as we all believed, Black."

"My intelligence is always vastly underestimated, Viscount," Sirius replied, his voice tight with anger.

"We shall see," replied Trevelyan evenly. "Come, your quarters await. I'm sure you'll want to wash and rest from your travels."

Harry would have muttered a scathing response to the old fossil, if not for Arcturus's many lessons and knowing he was not only representing House Black, but House Potter as well. They followed the man through the winding corridors and up spiralling staircases. By the time they arrived at their apartments, he was thoroughly lost.

"You shall stay here. I shall have the servants bring your… possessions to you presently. If you require anything in the meantime, simply ask a guard and they will pass your needs along. If that is all?" Trevelyan left immediately, not awaiting a response.

Gesturing for them to follow him, Sirius led them into their lodgings. The entry room was lavishly furnished in rich mahogany furniture with red cushions. The table that took up the large space in the centre was large and could easily seat a dozen or more. The couches were the same deep red he'd seen throughout the rest of the keep, all with the same odd sigil.

Sirius dropped onto one of the four couches before the spitting fireplace and groaned as he rubbed at his eyes. "Moony, before we leave, I'm hexing the pompous twat."

"Who is he?" Harry asked, dropping into the couch opposite as he removed his belt. The small sheath of his dagger clunked against the table before him as he placed it unceremoniously in a small mound of leather and silver.

"Viscount Carth Trevelyan, the glorified caretaker of this castle. His family has ruled here for a few hundred years and will likely rule for a few hundred more," Sirius replied.

"He's an arsehole. I don't like what he said about Remus," Harry growled, leaning forward as his familiar leapt from his shoulder to the table. It burrowed its way into the mound that was his belt.

"Leave it, pup. It's not worth it," Remus replied softly, throwing his cloak over a stand by the door.

"It's not right!" Harry shot back, his anger causing his fists to tremble.

"No, it's not but there's nothing we can do about it. Outside of the Council, he's the next figure of authority – even we have to answer to someone, Harry," Sirius sighed, sitting up finally and rubbing his temples.

"But why does he have to be a prick?" Harry grumbled, rubbing his own tired eyes. "I won't have him bad-mouth Remus again."

"And what shall the little pup do, hm?" Remus asked, affectionately tousling Harry's hair as he passed behind him.

"Kick him in the shins and prank his balls off," he replied immediately, grinning.

"Not this time, Harry. Trevelyan could easily have you executed if you cross him. He's a ruthless, cunning and brilliant man. Never underestimate him, do you understand me?" Sirius ordered, rushing before him, and dropping to a knee.

Harry had never seen Sirius so earnest, his dark eyes unflinching as he stared into them. Harry licked his lips nervously before he nodded. "I swear."

Sirius nodded as he rocked back on his heels and stood.

"Good. Now, go and wash up – you stink," Sirius grinned, playfully scrunching his nose in disgust.

Harry rolled his eyes and shoved Sirius away playfully as he stood.

"Like you smell any better, you mangy old dog."

"Hey, who're you calling old?" Sirius called as Harry ducked into one of the rooms with a chuckle, already fiddling with the clasps and buckles on his armour.

He groaned as the clasps came undone, feeling the tightness of the clothes lessen. He looked about the room. It appeared to be a small antechamber that led into three other rooms, all with studded wooden doors in stone archways. Shrugging, he moved to the central one and toed the door open as his fingers fiddled with his vambrace on his left wrist.

The room was larger than he expected, with a large canopy bed dominating the space. The rich reds and golds glittered in the light cast from the fireplace – its warmth comfortable but not overbearing. Large panelled windows flanked both sides of the bed, and the final rays of daylight flittered through onto the thick rugs.

Before the fire, sat atop a large pedestal, was a golden tub with a small grouping of runes carved into its surface. He stepped over to it and gently ran his fingers over the polished metal. His eyes focused on one of the runes specifically as his finger traced the lines. He closed his eyes and searched for his magic like Remus had taught him.

The maelstrom inside him was like a wild storm, lashing out this way and that. He kept it contained most of the time and had yet to perform any accidental magic, as Remus had called it. It yearned to be set loose, to impose his will on the world around him, to shape everything to his desires. It whispered sweet nothings into his ears, promising him power, control, family. His focus became razor sharp and his brows pulled together furiously – the storm withdrew a little. Who was his magic to attempt to seduce him with that?

He had a family! He had Arcturus, Sirius, Remus, Lispy, and all the other Black House Elves – he even liked Kreacher, for Merlin's sake! Furiously, he grasped his magic and forced it into submission. His magic answered to him.

With his magic sufficiently cowed, he allowed the smallest drop to whisper through his fingertip and caress the rune. Immediately, the bottom of the tub began filling with water that had the faintest scent of vanilla and mint. It was an interesting combination.

The steel gorget came off first, the small ties on each side of his neck coming loose with a practiced tug. It separated easily down the seam on either shoulder as he lifted it over his head. He placed it carefully on a small nearby table, his fingers absently tracing the prowling wolf.

Next, came the sleeveless leather gambeson with its diamond quilting. It slid over his head easily enough, and the loss of the weight was immediately felt and welcomed. He took a quiet moment to enjoy the sensation with his eyes closed, breathing deeply through his nose. He grimaced – Sirius was right, he was positively ripe.

The vambraces quickly followed once the leather gambeson was draped over a nearby mannequin. These joined the gorget on the small table, their small metal buckles clinking together. The long-sleeved padded shirt was the next to be removed – it was awkward and bulky over his chainmail and was always a pain in the arse to remove. Through the years of experience of putting it on and taking off all by himself, however, he managed to eventually shimmy it over his head.

The chainmail was the trickiest of the lot. Mithril chainmail was light and flexible, but it did have some weight, and as with all armour, there was a degree of movement that was lost in its use. The main tie was at the nape of his neck, which was easy enough to tug loose. However, the ties on his side were awkward and difficult as they were just out of his reach. Through a little tugging and stretching, the ties came loose, and he allowed the mail to fall over his head as he doubled over.

He almost fell backwards as the weight suddenly left him, and the dull thud of the metal echoed throughout the room. With a barely contained moan of absolute bliss, Harry rolled his shoulders comfortably. The constant weight and pressure were no more – he was free!

After that, his tunic and undershirt were peeled off – he tried not to gag at the sound and the feeling of it- and once his upper body was bare to the gentle breeze of the open window, he got to work on removing his boots. The tall, knee-high boots were made of quality leather, with two buckles running up the calves to secure them. The came undone easily, and with a few tugs, his feet were free.

He'd barely removed the rest of his clothes by the time the water in the tub stopped rising, a light mist of steam already wafting from the water. Slipping in gently, he couldn't help the groan that whispered past his lips as the warm water soothing his aching body.

He sat there in the tub for a time with his arms draped on either side. This was bliss. While Blackwall had tubs, baths, and showers, he found something truly relaxing about sitting in a tub before the fireplace. It allowed him to relax in a way that sitting in a bath couldn't compare with – perhaps it was the pop-crackle of the fire in the background, rather than the oppressive silence of a bathroom.

Time stopped having any real bearing as he became completely relaxed. He closed his eyes and sank deeper into the water. Could he stay here forever? He'd be more wrinkled than Merlin, but at least he'd be comfortable – though he was quite stumped on just how he'd eat.

There was a knock on his door, and he groaned.

"Pup, we're to eat in the hall tonight. Hurry up – the House Elves should have laid out a fresh change of clothes on your bed for you," Sirius's voice called.

"Alright! I'll be out in a minute!" he called in reply, lightly brushing a finger against the rune that would turn the water soapy.

He furiously scrubbed at his skin, watching as the dirt and grime almost peeled off him. Once his skin was thoroughly pink, he dunked his head under the water and washed his hair with his fingertips.

Harry hadn't given much care for his appearance as a child, content to have unruly, wild hair sticking up this way and that. It had been Sirius, just two years previously, who had taken him aside and explained the reasoning behind a well-groomed appearance. As a result, he had bathed far more frequently and allowed his hair to grow out in a parody of Sirius's own shoulder length curls. Sirius never failed to complain once a week how Harry was blessed with naturally straight hair, while he'd been cursed with ridiculous curls. He had even gotten Arcturus to take him to Saint Mungo's and have his vision corrected by a specialist. It had been a transformation that had caused Neville and Daphne a second to realise it had been him when he had arrived some weeks later when they were all three next met.

Neville had known he was allowing his hair to grow, an effort which Sirius had assisted him in with a little magic, but he had been unaware of his plans to discard his glasses. The only real downside of the whole thing was he now sported a centre-parting, meaning it was far more difficult to hide his scar. Daphne had briefly forgotten to check for the scar, and instead demanded to know who he was. A few moments later, she was hitting him with her latest book on runes for not telling her his plans.

A few days before Harry had been told of the trip, the three of them had sat under one of the large trees on the Greengrass estate, swapping hopes and dreams about their magical education at Hogwarts when they had gotten to the topic of Houses. Neville had surprised him with his desire to be sorted into Gryffindor, the house of his father. Harry had been sure Neville would be better suited to Hufflepuff – he was a loyal friend, his best friend even.

Daphne had been no surprise, hoping for Slytherin. Her sharp tongue and quick mind were often overlooked as she cunningly hid behind a façade of cool indifference. Neville and Harry were going to pull another prank on Sirius? She'd huff, call their idea foolhardy, and then go on to point out all the ways they could go about it without getting caught. She was downright Slytherin when she got going.

Harry, as well as Neville, had his eyes set firmly on Gryffindor – Sirius had done the math a year ago and giddily told him that the chances were high that he'd be assigned to their old room. He determined to sleep in the same bed his father had used throughout his Hogwarts years – it was a way of connecting physically with the man he only ever got to hear tales of.

Harry sat back up and gulped in as much air as he could. Water dripped from his nose into the tub in a steady stream, and he had to blink away the few droplets that made it into his eyes. He brushed the same rune once again and watched as the suds and grime from his wash were drawn to the sides of the tub before promptly vanishing, leaving the water clean once again.

With a final dunk and rinsing of his hair, Harry rid himself of any remaining suds and finished his bath. He stood slowly, aware of the smooth surface of the bottom of the tub, and looked around for something to dry himself with.

Draped over a small table between the tub and the fire was a cotton towel large enough to wrap around himself. Raising his hand absently, he felt the towel leap into his awaiting hand before wrapping it around himself and stepping from the container fully.

One final tap of the original rune, and the water receded into the bottom of the tub before disappearing completely, with not a single speck of dirt or dampness to betray its previous use.

He dried himself quickly and efficiently as he padded his way over to the bed. The House Elves must have been some of the most efficient and quiet he had ever come across – he hadn't even heard them enter the room.

The simple dark tunic was trimmed with the colours of House Potter, a saturated blue and grey, while the rest of the tunic was a rich black to match his hair- Sirius told him it made his eyes pop. The main reason he wore it, however, was to honour House Black in his own little way. The dark trousers were form-fitting but comfortable, and he'd be wearing his usual boots, though they'd been cleaned of the dust and dirt they had been covered in.

He quickly dressed, shrugging the clothes on before he attacked his hair with the towel once more. The resulting mass of hair was quickly combed and tied into a manageable knot at the back of his head.

Feeling presentable once more, Harry nodded as he checked himself over in the mirror before striding out the door. He found Sirius and Remus sittin comfortably on the couches in the main room in similar clothes to his own, though their trimmings represented House Black. While Remus was thumbing through a book idly, he noticed Sirius was feeding his familiar a few crumbs of something.

Clearing his throat, he smiled at the two adults as he moved over to the table to retrieve his belt. Arcturus would skin him alive if he went anywhere without some means to defend himself. As a result, the dagger was a constant weight on his belt.

"We'll be back soon, alright?" Harry whispered to the small bird.

A slow blink and a noise that could only be described as a tweet was his only response. He gently scratched the top of its head where a small crown of feathers was beginning to appear before he looked at the two adults waiting for him.

"I'm ready," he sighed.

Sirius led the two of them through the corridors once again, and Harry was quite convinced that whoever had designed the layout of the keep had been insane. There were so many twists and turns, and Gods, don't get him started on the stairs!

After a time, they arrived at what appeared to be a throne room. The banner depicting the golden dragon hung proudly from the rafters on the left-hand side. Interestingly enough, on the right-hand side were banners displaying a silver griffin with a wand in each talon atop a field of sage green.

The multiple tiers of viewing galleries were empty, and the room was lit with the soft, silver-white glow of the floating balls of light.

The room was filled with tables from the large entry doors all the way to just before the large throne sat within the gaping maw of a huge metallic dragon. Each table was crammed full of men and women, each staring at the three of them as they entered.

Sirius stepped forward first, as his name was called.

"Introducing the heir to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black, Sirius Black!" the announcer proclaimed. Sirius bowed politely to the room at large before he was directed to the head table where the Viscount sat.

"Introducing Remus Lupin, Steward to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black!"

Mimicking Sirius, Remus bowed a little lower before he was led to one of the lower tables. As he sat, Remus nodded to Harry with a small smile.

"Introducing the Lord-apparent of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter, Harry Potter!"

At the declaration of his family name, frantic whispering broke out among the occupants of the chamber. Ignoring them all, he too bowed at the waist and allowed himself to be led to his seat.

It wasn't until he arrived at his chair that he realised he'd been seated between Sirius and the Viscount. His eyes wildly sought Sirius, who nodded ever so slightly to him. Sirius would look after him. He gulped a little as he sat in the chair.

For a moment, there was an absence of noise in the cavernous room. All the eyes before him were peering up at the head table curiously, wondering just what was to happen. Slowly, Trevelyan stood and clapped his hands – food appeared on every table at the sound – and called in his powerful voice, "Let the feast begin!"

Immediately hands reached out to snatch at food all around the hall. Harry would have thought that none of them had eaten a meal in a month based off of the ferocity with which everyone attacked their food.

To his right, Sirius gathered a light meal of chicken, potatoes, and a small variety of vegetables with a little gravy. Harry opted to instead have a serving of a dish that had minced beef, vegetables and potato combined into some sort of pie.

The table was quiet, besides the clattering of cutlery, murmured conversation, and occasional barks of laughter from the lower tables. Harry remembered his etiquette lessons and kept his elbows tucked in tightly, forkfuls of food small, and his back straight. He would not engage in conversation until someone spoke to him.

"It is fortunate you arrived when you had, Lord Potter," Trevelyan spoke for the first time, his face impassive as he sipped from his goblet.

Harry turned to look at him once he'd swallowed his food, "My Lord?"

"There were rumours that the last remaining heir to the Potter lands and title had died along with his parents. There were many in this court that believed your lands and wealth should be divided up between them."

Harry flinched at the mention of his parents and fought hard to keep the scowl from his face.

"I imagine they would think themselves so lucky, My Lord."

Sirius snorted quietly into his goblet.

"Tell me, young Harry. What plans have you for the future of your house?" Carth Trevelyan asked after a time – both of them, including Sirius had pushed their plates away.

"Plans, Lord Trevelyan?" Harry asked as he sipped his own goblet – it was a sweet summer wine from the tang on his lips.

Carth huffed out a quiet noise of amusement.

"You're a sharp one, aren't you boy?"

"The last person to underestimate me was killed, or so the story goes," Harry stared back, before he slowly added, "My Lord."

"My daughter would like you, I'm sure."

"You have a daughter, Lord Trevelyan?" Sirius asked, attempting to change the direction of the conversation.

"Aye, a daughter and a son – both old enough to be the boy's parents. They are away from the city for now, but will return soon enough, I'm sure."

"You must be very proud of them," Sirius offered politely. Carth, however made no inclination one way or another. "I trust the Council has been informed of our desire to meet with them?"

"They have, you are expected to present yourselves before them at noon tomorrow."

Sirius nodded and lifted his goblet in thanks. "You honour us with your assistance, Viscount."

"Indeed."

The rest of the feast passed in an oppressive silence as the rowdiness at the lower tables became louder and louder. It wasn't long until both Harry and Sirius stood from the table and excused themselves, pleading exhaustion from the long journey. Upon their departure from the hall, Remus joined them. By the time Harry stumbled into his room, he barely had the strength to divest himself of his clothes.


"You are to comport yourself with honour and dignity before the Council, do you understand me?" Sirius asked, his hand gently cupping Harry's cheek. Harry nodded slowly.

He was dressed in a similar way to the previous night, only this time his tunic had the prowling white wolf of his house stitched proudly on his left breast.

"Good," Sirius nodded in return as his hand dropped back to his side. "Come, it's time."

Sirius led him through a small garden courtyard that had a dazzling array of colour – there were reds, purples, whites, yellows, oranges and more. The fragrances were sweet and inviting and helped to relax him immensely.

He had so many questions about this Council – who were they? Why were they seeing them?

Sirius stopped before an ancient looking door – its wood was flaking and peeling, with large knots providing dark spots all throughout the wood. The thing looked positively ready to crumble. Sirius gave a slight nod to himself before heaving the door open with a groan of its hinges.

Within was a large domed room. There were the large, intricate pillars that supported the walls. They were made of full granite, and their carvings were both crude and simple. Indeed, the entire room looked to have been carved out of a single, enormous boulder.

Around the room in regular intervals were metal sconces that held an eerie blue flame. If the cool feel of the room were any indication, there appeared to be little, if any, heat given from it, but Harry knew it had to be Magefyre. He had never seen it in person, but many of the tomes in the Black family library had references to the substance.

Despite the appearance of flame, Magefyre was in fact the magical imprint of flames long extinguished. While he wasn't entirely clear on the specifics, as he understood it, only a witch or wizard with an innate and intimate relationship with fire were able to summon it. There were other connections for other people that connected with the other elements. Sirius had told him that his father had been able to summon Magefyre from his fifth year.

"Greetings to the House of Black and the House of Potter," an ancient voice croaked, the sound echoing throughout the chamber.

Harry's eyes were torn from the flames and found themselves fixated upon a large circular table in the centre of the room on a large stone dais. Around the table were twelve high-backed stone chairs with exquisitely carved statues in them.

Harry approached the table slowly and cautiously. He felt his magic calling to him, and before he could wrestle it under control, it rushed from him in powerful waves and into the stone table.

The sensation of so much magic leaving him was surprisingly soothing and left his chest feeling tingly. He had slammed his eyes shut at the first hint of his magic stirring, though when he opened them, he could barely believe his eyes.

Flowing in a steady stream towards a rune he hadn't noticed in the centre of the table was his magic! It was visible! He'd never heard of anything like this, and the startled noise Sirius made behind him told him he was equally shocked. Spells were often visible as they took form, but the innate magic in a person had only been theorised. His magic appeared like water. It was dense, viscous, and dare-he-say, pure. It was beautiful.

"Long have we awaited your arrival…"

"… to awake the sleepers from stone…"

"… to greet our magic with yours…"

"… we welcome you…"

"… Lord Harry Potter."

As the staccato of voices came to their end, the eyes of the statues snapped open with a flash of pale blue light. Their cold blue eyes bore into him as his magic continued to trickle into the table.

"To whom am I speaking?" Harry asked after a moment.

"We are one and we are twelve, unified in our duty to our Lord… To our King."

Harry frowned, that answered absolutely nothing. "But who are you?"

"We had names once, long ago. Families both great and powerful, though our names were forgotten." One of the voices replied mournfully. "We are bound to this place to await his return."

"Who's return?"

"The King's."

"Are you the Council?" Harry asked after a short silence, his gaze sweeping across the unblinking statues.

"That is what we have become known as, aye."

"My Godfather, Heir to the Ancient and Noble House of Black has begged an audience with you."

"We know. Come forth, scion of my blood," a new voice called, no less ancient but somehow more… tender?

Sirius slowly moved to stand by Harry, his eyes darting between the trickle of magic and the statues warily. He clasped his hands before him.

"My Lords, myself and my grandfather – the Lord Arcturus Black, have questions pertaining to our charge."

Harry looked up at Sirius – he hadn't known they were seeing the Council about him! Had he done something wrong? Was something wrong with him? Sirius looked down at him and smiled reassuringly as he placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"You will leave here today with no answers, only questions."

"My Lords?" Sirius asked, surprised.

"Place the boy on the table before us."

Harry looked to Sirius nervously. Sirius seemed torn before nodding to himself.

"Do it, pup."

With a grunt, Harry pulled himself onto the stone table easily enough before walking to the centre. He noticed for the first time that each of the statues had different facial features and varied armour, though they all displayed the same sigil of the dragon and three crowns. He also noticed that the entire surface of the table was littered with various runes he didn't recognise. Slowly, from the outside in, they lit up with the same eerie blue as the eyes of the statues.

In a rush of magic that blew his hair about him wildly and flapped the loose material of his clothes, Harry gasped as he dropped to his knees and screamed.

His head felt like it was going to implode as his scar seared his forehead. The scar had always drawn the attention of those around him, as it appeared to have never healed. The angry lightning bolt above his right eye was a constant ugly red that was raw to the touch.

In all the years of it occasionally aching and throbbing through the darkest of nights, it had never compared to the agony he now suffered. He gripped at his head as the blood ran in thick trails down his face. His throat was raw and strained, and in the distance he thought he could hear Sirius screaming spells at the statues around him.

The magic continued to attack him mercilessly, and behind his eyelids, the statues began to move and change. The rough stone fell away in large chunks, revealing the polished silver plates of armour and tanned skin of those inside them. They stood from their chairs and gathered around him, kneeling in a circle upon the table and placing strong hands on his shoulders.

Time lost its meaning as he continued to scream. He could have been there for seconds, minutes, hours, or even days – he felt nothing besides the blinding pain.

Some time into it, when he thought he could take no more, there was a dull crack beneath him, and he fell backwards. He opened his eyes groggily to see a large, oily mass writhing above him angrily. He tilted his head to the side and saw the statues had remained in place. Had he imagined them changing?

He groaned as he sat up on his elbows and returned his gaze to the mass above him.

"What is that?"

"A remnant of twisted magic. No longer shall it torment you."

"Harry!" Sirius called, slamming his fists against a milky white barrier that hadn't been there before. He noticed for the first time that Remus also seemed to be there. How long had he been screaming? Both men looked shaken and haggard.

"I'm alright!" he groaned in reply, forcing himself to his knees slowly. There was a pulse of light above him and he turned just in time to watch as the substance shredded mercilessly.

"Your time with us is over. Go forth and return in time. We shall await you."

With that, the blue eyes around him closed and the barrier that had been keeping Sirius and Remus away dropped instantly. Neither man wasted any time in climbing upon the table and gathering him in their arms.

"Harry! Merlin you put years on me!" Sirius moaned, wiping hair from Harry's face as he was pulled bodily into the man's lap and gently rocked back and forth.

"What happened, Harry?" Remus asked softly, kissing his brow.

"Not sure. Everything hurts," he groaned softly in reply.

"Remus, help me get him to our rooms," Sirius ordered, throwing Harry's right arm around his neck – by the time he was pulled upright, he was unconscious.


He groaned as he sat up, his shoulders aching. He felt like he'd been trampled by a raging herd of Hippogriffs. A soft chirp from the pillow next to him revealed his little familiar, and he couldn't help but smile.

"Hello, you."

The little bird hopped across the pillow and nuzzled his cheek affectionately. He scratched it under the chin in return before throwing aside the covers. The last thing he remembered was Remus and Sirius worrying over him after whatever happened with the Council.

And what was it that had happened? Had that mass of oily, dark magic been inside him this whole time? He had to admit that he felt lighter, more carefree – unburdened of a strange weight he couldn't name.

He moved over to a nearby mirror and washbasin and splashed the fresh water on his face and neck. He placed his hands on either side of the basin for a moment, allowing the water to drip from the tip of his nose. Tilting his head back slightly, he peered at his reflection, his eyes immediately drawing themselves to his scar.

He gasped – no longer was the scar ugly, raw, and fresh-looking. Instead, it was a thin red line that appeared completely healed. It was too wide to expect it to fade into pale skin and become almost invisible, but at the very least it was no longer as obvious as it had been. Perhaps people would stare at it less.

Gently, he allowed his fingers on his right hand to trace it. It no longer throbbed and would likely never weep again. He felt his eyes brimming with tears a little at the thought.

He blew out an unsteady breath and sniffed defiantly. He would not cry – that was what children did, and he was almost ten. In another year, he would be going to Hogwarts where he could become a proper wizard. He cleared his throat as he pulled away from the mirror.

The sounds of the city outside trickled through the open window, and he found himself shivering slightly at the gentle breeze that ghosted across his bare chest. He resolved to dress himself before doing anything else.

He selected a tunic similar to the one he'd worn to meet the Council, though the neckline was slightly different- a little more relaxed and breathable. With the garment neatly arranged, hem lightly hanging around his mid-thigh, he moved to the door after collecting his familiar.

He really needed to think of a name for his new companion, but he was torn. On the one hand, having a name for it would help to train it, but on the other hand, he had no idea what the Hell it was. Did he really want to call it, say, Snowy, when it could be a Thunderbird for all he knew? Though, a part of him couldn't help but snicker at the thought of a Thunderbird called Snowy, of all things.

He stepped into the main apartment to see Sirius scribbling on some parchment, and Remus reading a book on what appeared to be some take on charm spells.

"Morning," Harry groaned, slowly lowering himself into one of the spare couches.

The heads of both Sirius and Remus snapped in his direction. It appeared they had both been so preoccupied with their own work that they hadn't heard him enter the room.

"Prongslet!" they both called, using the most private of their terms of endearment. He smiled at the name – he knew it hurt them both to call him that, being a reminder of his father and what had befallen him, but it was also Harry's favourite name. It was another connection to his father.

"How are you feeling?"

"Are you alright?"

"Does anything hurt?"

"Are you dizzy at all?"

The rapid-fire questions that came at him caused him to blink dumbly for a moment as the two adults leapt to their feet and rushed to him. A gentle nip to his left earlobe reminded him there was also someone else who was interested in hearing how he felt.

"I'm fine, I'm fine. I have a bit of a headache and I ache a little, but that's it. I swear," Harry replied, holding a hand up to stop any further questions while he massaged his forehead with his other hand.

"Harry…" Remus began, gasping.

"Your scar!" Sirius finished, the two adults peering at it closely.

"Yeah, I noticed it when I woke up," Harry grinned, allowing a finger to trace it. "How long was I asleep?"

"Not for long, pup. Just for the night. You had us worried. What happened?" Sirius whispered, pulling Harry into a strong hug.

Harry felt his familiar squawk a protest and hop from his shoulder and onto the back of the couch at the action of his Godfather. Harry wrapped his arms around Sirius and buried his face in his thin leather tunic, inhaling deeply. Sirius always smelt of a strange combination of leather, the deep musky aftershave he was partial to, and just the faintest hint of dog.

"I don't know. I got on the table, and then the next thing I know I'm looking up at that black mass above me."

"Harry, that came out of you," Remus murmured quietly. Harry pulled away from Sirius at that.

"You're sure?"

Remus nodded slowly. "We saw it. Did they say what it was?"

"I think they called it a 'remnant of twisted magic'? That was all they said."

Sirius and Remus looked between themselves for a moment before Sirius sighed.

"Pup, when Arcturus and I arrived at Hogwarts to collect you, they told us there was some Dark Magic attached to your scar, but they had no idea of what it was, nor how to remove it."

Harry sat there quietly, letting the words process themselves in his mind. So, it had come from him. Merlin, there was so much of it! How could that have gotten inside him? Was it some dark reflection of his own magic or maybe…?

"It was something to do with Voldemort, wasn't it? Something he did to me that night."

Sirius nodded slowly, but it was Remus who spoke.

"We can't be sure, but that's our best guess."

"He is gone, right? He's not coming back?" he asked, his voice tight with emotion. He fell back against the cushion behind him, his familiar cooing against his cheek.

"Yeah, pup. He's gone."

Harry nodded absently, running his hands down his face tiredly. "How long until we go home?"

"We leave at first light for the Potter lands here. Arcturus will meet us in Wales when we leave here. We're introducing you to your ancestral seats," Sirius smiled, taking the seat next to him.

"Seats? As in plural?"

"Of course – there's the one here, and the one in Britain."

"So, what's the one here called? You've had me study Rosestone until I could walk around it blindfolded," Harry murmured as he stared up at the ceiling tiredly. He felt so exhausted, but he'd only just woken up.

"Arpton Keep. It's close enough to Rosestone's layout and design, but just on land rather than an island. It's on a cliff, sat between two huge waterfalls."

"It sounds impressive."

"It is." Sirius leaned forward and placed a hand on his knee and gave it a comforting squeeze. "Your father showed it to me just before our final year at Hogwarts."

"Then I'll get to see it with your and Remus just before my first year," Harry grinned at both men. Remus smiled at him warmly before they were interrupted by a knock on the door.

Sirius frowned before he stood to open the door, and from the murmured voices, he wasn't impressed. Harry sat himself up a little more.

"I've a message for the Lord Potter?"

Ah, so it was a messenger then.

"What's the message?" he asked, pushing himself to his feet and holding out a hand to his familiar.

"Lord Trevelyan requests your presence in his solar promptly. Lord Black is to remain here," the gaunt looking woman replied with an air of aloofness, her copper hair tied back in an intricate braid that complimented her dress.

He looked at Sirius, who shrugged.

"If he's requested your presence and I've been ordered to stay here, there's not much I can do, pup."

Harry nodded slowly as he felt the familiar on his shoulder shift from foot to foot.

"Very well. I'll be back soon, Sirius. Remus, keep an eye on him, will you?" He had tried to sound casual, but it felt hollow, even to him.

The woman nodded and gestured for him to follow. He hadn't noticed, but she appeared to have been escorted by a pair of burly looking guards. The echo of the quartet's shoes and the clinking of metal armour plates were the only accompaniment to their short journey.


They arrived promptly at an opulent set of apartments, presumably the home of the Viscount. The woman knocked three times before the command to enter was called through the wood. The woman opened the door for him before saying, "Lord Potter, as you requested My Lord."

The guards moved to take position on either side of the door in the corridor.

"Very good, you may leave us," Carth intoned gravely from his desk. He was sat at a large oak table covered in a neat sort of chaos as he scribbled away at some parchment. Between himself and Carth Trevelyan sat a blonde-haired woman, whose hair was braided into elegant waves that fell to the small of her back. As she turned to peer over her shoulder at him, he noted her sage green sleeveless dress, high cheekbones, pouty lips, and green eyes.

His escort curtsied once and left the room promptly. Harry bowed properly at the waist and waited patiently with his hands clasped at the small of his back and his feet a shoulder's width apart. The woman had turned dismissively back to the Lord Trevelyan and continued to sip from the crystal goblet she had been holding.

"Sit," came the eventual command. Harry bowed his head, despite nobody in the room looking in his direction, and did as he was told. Carth continued scribbling.

The silence continued on, save for the gentle tapping of Trevelyan dipping his quill in more ink. The silence suited Harry just fine. It gave his eyes a chance to dart across the desk and to take in the details of the room that he could see.

The room was furnished with the same hue of green that he had seen on the banners in the great hall, with that same Griffon on almost every item in the room. It appeared to be the banner of House Trevelyan – he wondered what their House Words were? We who make people wait sprang to mind.

"I suspect you wonder why I summoned you," Trevelyan finally remarked, still scratching away.

"It had crossed my mind," Harry replied evenly.

"Allow me to introduce my daughter, Lady Alara Trevelyan – my second born," Carth said, finally looking up from his parchment and placing his quill alongside half a dozen others in a neat line.

Harry inclined his head politely in Alara's direction. "My Lady."

"Lord Potter," she replied evenly, returning her own nod.

"Now, onto matters of business. As you are no doubt aware, you are the last with any claim to the lands and titles of the House of Potter." Carth sat back in his chair and steepled his fingers before his chest. "As such, there are certain obligations that have to be met."

"My Lord?" he asked, his brow furrowing.

"Heirs. The Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter is one of the oldest families in our world. It is your duty to continue that bloodline. You are aware of this, I take it?"

"I am, Lord Trevelyan."

"Excellent. I trust you can understand my concern when we hear there are wars being fought beyond the Ro'rim?" Trevelyan asked, an eyebrow quirking.

"I can certainly understand your point of view on this, yes."

"And as the young man lauded for ending the last conflict, as a babe no less, this puts us in an interesting position."

"And what position would that be, Lord Trevelyan?" Harry asked, his own eyebrow raised curiously.

"I propose, instead of returning through the Ro'rim with the Black's, you instead remain here at the Citadel. You shall be afforded the highest education money can buy, and in time you will join your house to mine."

Alara, to his right, choked on the mouthful of her drink she had taken. He looked at her confused.

"Are you offering a betrothal, Lord Trevelyan?" The man nodded. "I wasn't aware you had any children my age."

"I don't. You will wed my daughter. She is widowed, but still of an age to have children."

The words echoed through his mind. He was being offered the Viscount's daughter. Why? It was political manoeuvring; of that he was sure. But why now? Did he know they were leaving in the morning?

"What?!" Alara snapped, finally having regained control over her breathing. Her cheeks were flame red. "He is a child."

"And he shall reach his majority in only a few short years. This will be a benefit to both Houses, and you shall hold your tongue and do as commanded."

Harry shuffled awkwardly in his seat. "I thank you for the offer, Lord Trevelyan, but respectfully I have to decline."

"On what grounds?"

"Respectfully, My Lord, I decline on the basis that I'll be attending Hogwarts as my father and mother both did. I also intend to return to Blackwall Estate with the men that have raised me since I was a babe," Harry replied evenly – he noticed Alara's fury had tempered itself a little.

"In that case, I will not be able to protect your lands and titles were something to befall you, Lord Potter. It is my understanding that you plan to travel to the Potter lands before returning home?" Trevelyan asked before continuing at Harry's nod. "I must warn you that the roads are… ill-maintained and are often prowled by dangerous creatures. It would be a shame if Heir Black were unable to protect you adequately."

The subtle threat hung in the air, and Harry found himself gripping the arms of his chair tightly.

"I assure you, Lord Trevelyan – Sirius Black takes any and all threats to my person with the utmost seriousness."

"We can only hope he lives up to your ringing endorsement. It seems our business is concluded. The guards at the door shall escort you back to your chambers, Lord Potter."