They had departed the Capitol early the following morning, all eager to be rid of the Viscount Trevelyan and his not-so-subtle schemes. According to Sirius, Carth Trevelyan had a reputation for ruthlessness – they were glad to be rid of him.

Upon their departure, they had enlisted the services of half a dozen guards to escort them to Potter lands. They rode in a loose formation around Sirius, Remus and himself – their eyes constantly scouring their surroundings.

They had moved south of the Capitol and had followed the cobbled road easily enough, enjoying the occasional cover of shade that the tall trees on either side provided. On his shoulder, his familiar slept, curled up in the crook of his neck, burrowed between the doublet beneath his gambeson and his skin.

It had relaxed him, to a degree. He had been on edge, almost jumping at shadows since Trevelyan's less than subtle threat the night before. It was obvious even to him, that the older man had expected to bully and intimidate him into agreeing. It was another thing to be thankful of Arcturus for – he doubted he'd have the courage and fortitude to have refused the Viscount otherwise.

His mind drifted to his eldest guardian. It had been some time since he had seen Arcturus – the longest length of time he'd gone without him in his entire life, in fact. He couldn't help but recall just how exhausted he'd appeared as he'd stumbled from the hall after renewing the fealty of his people. He had never truly been concerned for the man before, but recently Harry couldn't help but take a little more notice of his age.

While Arcturus was in fact, for a wizard at least, just a little over halfway through his life expectancy, he looked a number of decades older than he should. Witches and wizards, he had learned, don't age in the same way Muggles do – it was due in part to their magic. Magic was an energy source – almost infinite in supply, and as those born with the gift had learned over many thousands of years, how to allow their bodies to tap into this resource almost subconsciously.

It was almost a forced evolution, in a way – it was also why being stripped of your magic was considered as a more humane death penalty. Without access to that magic, the body would deteriorate and age in a much more Muggle fashion – though, it was far more dangerous to be stripped of magic as an adult rather than a child. Children could survive the process and live out their lives – the same could not be guaranteed for adults. Rapid aging over the course of a few hours was often documented in the books he had read in the Black family library.

He blinked lazily as the motion of the mare beneath him rocked him side-to-side slowly. He had enjoyed the trip if he were honest with himself. While it could never compete with a broom, there was something natural in it. Perhaps it would make an interesting hobby when they returned to Blackwall – at the very least it would make his next visit to the Capitol less embarrassing.

He looked to his right and smiled slightly at the young witch that had become his unofficial shadow on the journey. She had a friendly face, with a sharp jaw and dark hair that was braided over her shoulder. Her robes and armour were the same as those he had seen in the rest of the Capitol, and the staff that had been constantly gripped in her left hand practically oozed with power.

"Did you make your staff, or were you given it?" He asked after a time, watching as the corners of her mouth struggled not to rise. Unlike her companions, she hadn't raised the small hood sewn into her armour over her head.

"I've been wonderin' when you'd finally ask me about it, Little Lord." She replied evenly, keeping her eyes on the nearby treeline to her right.

"I've never seen staves like them before. Everyone uses wands in Britain." He shrugged, eyeing the red crystal ball the size of his head atop the staff, and the wicked looking double-edged blade that took up the bottom third of the shaft.

"Not surprisin'. Wands are easier to hide." She chuckled, the sound deep and low. It was a contrast to her voice, which was soft and kind.

She wasn't wrong. He couldn't imagine attempting to pass off a staff in the Muggle-world. At least with a wand it could be held in a holster of some-kind – most witches and wizards used either a wrist holster or a similar one on their waist.

"To answer your question, Little Lord, I made it myself. Cypress wood for the shaft, Mithril blade and a blood-ruby focus." She replied quite smugly.

"Blood-ruby? I've never heard of that before."

"I'm sure you haven't. It's not common, to be true." She shrugged, idly shifting her grip on the weapon in her hand. "Blood-rubies are found under old battlegrounds where enough blood and magic were seeped into the soil. They make deadly foci for staves."

Harry nodded slowly at that, eying the smooth sphere atop the staff even more appreciatively. "How does the staff compare to the wand? Sorry, I also realised I never asked your name?"

He received a quiet chuckle for his words. "The name's Clara Appleton, milord. Not often a Lord like yerself would take an interest in someone of my station. You honour me, Little Lord." She glanced at him and smiled kindly. "As for staves… They're more powerful, but less focused. Not to mention a little tricky in a fight."

"That makes sense, I suppose." Harry replied slowly, eyeing the cumbersome looking weapon. He peered at the rest of their company.

Besides Clara, there were two others with staves – though their designs were much different. One seemed to be a simple large chunk of wood, while the other was an elaborate design of sharp angles and spikes at the top, with a scythe-like blade at the bottom.

The other three members of their escort had a weapon of some kind attached to their belts – a mace and two swords between them and assumed they would rely on their wands. While Clara had been professional and friendly, the other guards had been distant and stoic. He was glad she had taken position nearest him.

They continued in silence for a time, with nearby birds singing away in the branches around them. The temperature was pleasantly cool, and the sky was littered with a number of large white clouds – idly he began attempting to form images out of their wispy forms.

He couldn't help but chuckle at the cloud that looked a little like a Grim – he wondered what Sirius would think of it. Though, a part of him didn't want to inflate Sirius's ego to the point where he thought the clouds were imitating him. He rolled his eyes at the thought.

His familiar stirred a little on his shoulder, nipping at his ear playfully. He had noticed in the night that the stunted beak he had first noticed was becoming more pronounced and hooked – almost like an Eagle's.

He chuckled at the action and reached absently into one of the small bags hooked to the front of his saddle. After a moment of idle fumbling, he offered a small piece of burned bacon to the little creature and smiled when it was snatched from his fingertips.

It seemed to be growing quite well, with its frame filling out a little more on an almost daily basis. Even in comparison to the day before, the body of his little friend appeared much healthier – even the skin appeared a much more normal hue of pink.

A noise in front of him drew his attention to Sirius, who was muttering angrily with Remus – no doubt about the Viscount's threat. What the man would do in response was anyone's guess, and Sirius had barely been held back from challenging the older man to a duel. Sirius had pouted and scowled all day – his magic had been wild and barely restrained as a result.

But what could they do? They had been staying in the man's home for all intents and purposes, and even Harry knew that breaking the honoured tradition of Guest-right was to invite chaos upon those who did.

Besides, soon enough they would all be safely beyond the reach of Trevelyan and any danger within the Potter lands – though he had to admit, he had absolutely no idea what the Potter lands actually held. He knew they were vast, according to the late-night conversation he, Sirius and Remus had had in an attempt to distract themselves.

"Little Lord," Clara began hesitantly. He turned to face her curiously. "I know it's not my place to ask, but I was wondering what your plans were once you reached your lands?"

"I suppose that's up to Sirius and Remus. I don't know much about my duties here." He shrugged, nodding in his guardian's direction.

"I was unaware, Little Lord. I take it this is your first visit?" She asked, a finely shaped eyebrow raised slightly.

"Aye, it is. It's like nothing I could have imagined." He grinned, earning one in reply. After a moment he asked, "Why do you call me that?"

"Call you what, milord?"

"Little Lord."

"You're little and you're a lord." She shrugged in response, as if it made perfect sense. He had to admit, she wasn't wrong.

"True. Can't imagine it would go over too well with many others, though." He grinned cheekily, earning a snort of amusement.

"Aye, you're not wrong on that account. Though, not much interaction with noblefolk like yerself in my day-to-day."

He nodded at that. Indeed, he couldn't imagine it would be particularly common for a guard to interact with anyone from the noble families on a regular basis. Perhaps their household guard, but that was about it.

"What are they like? The other nobles, I mean." Harry found himself asking, shifting in his saddle as they meandered around a lazy bend.

"They're like nobles, milord. Not my place to question them." She shrugged, her dark eyes darting to the shadows as they passed. What she was looking for, he couldn't say.

As the road straightened out once more, they were greeted with an odd sight. A hundred metres from them sat a man in a dark cloak leaning against a gnarled stick that seemed thicker in width than Harry's waist – even from this distance.

The party came to a stop – they hadn't come across anyone else on the road all day. Immediately, the guards closed in around them, forcing Sirius, Remus and himself into the centre with a pair of guards on each side. He glanced nervously at Clara, who winked at him in return.

"Don't you worry, Little Lord. You stick close to me, and I'll protect you."

His heart was hammering in his chest. After Trevelyan, he'd been on edge all day to some degree. He had tried to distract himself, but in the seriousness of the situation it all came flooding back.

"Leygood, ride out and check him." One of the guards commanded – the grizzled man, who's face Harry had noticed earlier that morning was covered in scars was the one that had claimed seniority.

"Aye sir." Leygood replied – he was a younger wizard and the one Harry had noticed had carried the mace on his hip.

They watched in silence as the young man galloped towards the stranger. At this distance, they couldn't hear what was said, but after a moment Leygood appeared to edge his horse forward and nudged the stranger with the toe of his boot.

The stranger collapsed in three pieces. "It's a tra-" Leygood yelled, spurring his horse back to the group. Even at this distance his voice was panicked, though his words were cut off as he fell backwards off of his horse like a doll. His horse continued galloping, though Leygood's foot was still caught in one of the stirrups and was dragged along behind.

"Form up! Shields and barriers! Nothing gets through!" The same grizzled guard yelled – instantly snapping a large white shield into existence with a sharp slash of his wand.

Noises on either side of him revealed a dozen or so men in patchwork armour and chainmail that lazily strolled out from the undergrowth. All were of varying size and build, and all were wearing matching smirks. One of the brigands waved their wand and twin columns of flame cut off the road ahead and behind them. They were trapped.

"Off the horses! Close ranks!"

Harry leapt from his mare, hurrying to Sirius's side – Clara was right behind him, her eyes never leaving their attackers.

"Harry, stay close to me." Sirius commanded, his own wand in-hand. Remus was next to him with his own.

"Lay down your weapons and we'll make it quick!" A voice called out imperiously. "You're outnumbered!"

"Allow us passage and no-one need die!" Clara called back angrily.

"Kill them."

Chaos erupted around them. Spells were shot from wands and impacted on the strong shields the guards had erected. Over their shoulders, Sirius and Remus threw their own volleys at those they could. A pair of screams indicated their hits. On his shoulder, his familiar was hoping up and down angrily.

"Anyone that dies without taking at least one of them with you, I'll make an Inferi out of your fucking corpse!" One of the guards growled before letting loose with a number of rapid cutting curses.

Harry watched from among the press of bodies as the dark red bursts of energy slashed at one of the brigand's shields before the shield shattered under the onslaught. The final burst of light opened his stomach up from hip to shoulder. The wet slaps of his innards spilling from the wound were followed shortly by the limp corpse following it moments later.

Harry screwed his eyes shut, tears threatening to spill down his cheeks.

A nearby scream caused him to open his eyes. To his left, one of the guards had taken a blasting hex to his leg and had toppled to the floor clutching at his bloody stump. Another flash of light reduced his chest to a large crater. Harry couldn't tear his eyes from the vacant, pain-filled expression that had been frozen on his face.

His gaze flicked up at one of the approaching brutes. There was nothing between him and Harry. Just as he was about to panic, a flash of yellow struck the man in the shoulder and he was thrown backwards with a sickening crunch against one of the many trees. Sirius stepped before him, his wand flicking this way and that. If Sirius was there, he was safe. He was protected.

The circle of warriors closed in, covering the gap in their defences. Through the press of bodies and the gaps between his defender's legs, Harry spotted the results of his defence: bodies lying in the dirt motionless while others clutched and grabbed at bloody wounds.

Another guard fell, the remains of his head falling around them in a spray of gore and bone. A piece landed at Harry's feet that still had clumps of matted hair attached to it. Before he could stop himself, he was doubled over and spilling his lunch onto the ground.

A sharp whip-like crack pierced in the air, and he was sent flying. He landed in a crumpled heap a few metres from the wall of flame that had cut off their retreat. He groaned as he pushed himself to his feet unsteadily. His ears were ringing. He shook his head as he looked for his familiar.

It seemed that whatever attempt had been made to knock them down, had also knocked their attackers down. There was a short reprieve while everyone stumbled back to their feet. Clara rushed over to him, her staff in her right hand and his familiar held carefully in her left. She pushed the bird into his hands and pushed him in the direction of a large boulder roughly. Her words were slow and muffled by the ringing in his ears, but he obeyed.

From where he crouched, he watched the battle renew. Without the need to protect a child, the guards rallied alongside Sirius and Remus, slowly advancing on the less organised attackers. Remus twirled a quick motion with his wrist just before a brilliant white light shot out of its tip, the light piercing the chest of one of the largest men he had ever seen. He collapsed in a boneless heap.

There had to only be eight attackers now, but in that moment two of them rushed the remaining two guards. Clara, he noticed, caught a short, wicked looking sword on the blade of her staff before slapping it out of the way and spinning the staff in her hand. With a powerful swing, she cracked her opponent across the jaw with the heavy crystal. As her opponent staggered away, she aimed with the crystal and unleashed a powerful arc of lighting at his exposed back. The man was launched half a dozen meters as his back was blown to pieces.

She looked his way for a brief moment, shouting something to him with a panicked look. She barely managed two words before something impacted the side of her head and blew it to pieces.

Her remaining dark eye stared at him vacantly from where she had crumpled to the ground.

The tears were freely flowing down his cheeks.

He cried out in surprise as a hand roughly covered his mouth and he felt the tip of a wand stabbing into his throat just behind his jaw. Sirius turned to look at him in alarm, his wand raised. Remus stood at his back, his forehead slick with sweat. One guard remained standing but was also being held at wand-point.

"One move and I kill the boy!" The voice behind him snarled.

"Harm a hair on him and I'll rip you to pieces." Sirius growled dangerously. Harry looked at his Godfather pleadingly as he struggled. "It'll be alright, pup."

Harry noticed there were only four of their attackers remaining, all with their wands pointed at those of their own party who had survived.

A startled yelp from his captor drew his attention to his familiar. The loyal little bird had buried its wicked looking beak into the soft flesh of his attacker's arm, and Harry couldn't help the spike of fear that went through him. What would this person do to his familiar? If they were capable of such bloody murder, were they also capable of murdering his defenceless little friend? He wouldn't allow it!

The hand on his mouth was removed, only to quickly wrap a tight fist around the creature. "No! You can't!" Harry screamed, fighting against the other arm that had wrapped itself around his neck. He threw his elbows back and kicked backwards with his heels as his hands struggled to loosen the grip.

With an angry curse, the man – beast, as he refused to believe a man could be so evil to have done all of this, threw his familiar through the air.

He watched; his throat clenched in fear as his companion arced through the air. Time seemed to slow to a crawl.

There was a brilliant flash of orange light as a small sun exploded where his familiar had been. The roiling mass of flame lashed out angrily before the dull snaps of wings beating matched the thumping of his heart.

With flames still licking its body, the gorgeous red feathers caught the sunlight and looked like small flames themselves. The previously stunted beak that had only just begun to hook was now longer, fully pronounced and looked deadly. The ugly oversized glossy black eyes were now proportionate to the rest of the bird and surrounded by a dark, almost black skin. A crown of red feathers capped the bird's head.

A screech from the creature echoed in the silence angrily. A burst of light from his captors wand leapt towards the magnificent bird, but just before it could impact, the bird burst into bright flames once again and the curse passed harmlessly through where the bird had been.

There was a momentary burst of heat behind him, and he looked over his shoulder suddenly to see wicked-looking talons bury into the shoulder of the beat behind him. A startled scream of pain and surprise and both creature and beast were swallowed by another burst of flame.

The clearing was silent as those on opposing sides looked at one another and around their immediate area for the man. A small tugging sensation in the back of his mind pulled his eyes skywards. He caught sight of the creature high above them, holding a struggling human in its grasp. With a horrifying scream, the beast was released and left to fall to the ground.

The body impacted the ground heavily, the skull smashing open on the hard cobblestone road as blood began to pool beneath it.

Another burst of flame and another of their attackers disappeared. His resulting scream as he plummeted to his death spurred both Sirius and Remus into action. Sirius lashed out with his wand, launching his captor in two separate directions with a powerful cutting curse and a blasting hex. Remus, who had been freed of being held at wand-point lashed out at the remaining brigand and cleanly beheaded him. The remaining guard slumped to the floor, exhausted.

Harry stumbled into the road and watched with wide eyes as the creature elegantly glided down to the floor before him – its talons clacking against the rough stone and its head tilted curiously to the side. Stood before him, the bird came to his waist and was half as broad as himself. It hopped curiously forward, a soft trill escaping its maw.

Sirius rushed over to him and swept him into his embrace. "Harry, are you alright? Are you hurt? Tell me, son." He whispered, sweeping his hair behind his ears. Harry nodded numbly and continued to stare at the bird.

"She's a Phoenix, Sirius." He whispered, barely able to hear the words himself. Had he said them aloud?

Sirius turned his head and regarded the bird carefully. Remus and the remaining guard joined them, both looking a little worse for wear. "I dare say she is, pup." He said slowly.

Harry reached out a trembling hand, the events of the last few minutes finally catching up to him as the adrenaline left his system. Had it only been a few minutes? It had felt so much longer. The Phoenix hopped a step closer before it nuzzled into his open palm.

"I think she needs a name." Remus whispered as the remaining guard dropped to his knees.

Harry was quiet for a time, his gaze locked on his familiar. He had heard of Phoenix's becoming familiars, but it was so rare it was almost unheard of. The only other Phoenix that he was aware of was Fawkes, Dumbledore's familiar, which in itself caused a huge uproar when it had happened shortly after Grindelwald's defeat.

Harry stared into its eyes, his head pounding with the rhythmic thumping of his heart. "Clara." He murmured after a moment, gently rubbing his thumb over the crown of feathers on its head. Clara trilled her agreement softly as she shook her body slightly.

Eventually, he tore his eyes from the bird and looked around at the devastation around them. "What do we do?"

Remus sighed as Sirius rocked back on his heels wearily. "We'll bury our fallen and mark their final resting places. The others we'll burn." Sirius nodded his agreement to Remus's plan.

"I want to help." Harry replied, feeling the tears form once again.

"You've done beautifully, Harry. Let me take it from here." Sirius replied, affectionately cupping his cheek, and wiping a tear away with the pad of his thumb. Harry nodded numbly and allowed himself to be walked back to the boulder he had hidden behind.

Clara followed alongside him, hopping into the air, and gliding the short distance. Sirius sat him down facing the treeline. His hands shook violently, and he balled them into fists in an attempt to hold them still. Clara nipped at his ear as she nuzzled his cheek.

As Sirius moved to help the remaining guard he didn't know the name of and Remus, he found himself fit to burst. With a shuddering sob, he threw his arms around his familiar and wept into its feathers in sporadic gasps.

The Phoenix moved into the embrace, its neck curling over the filthy leather gambeson on his shoulder. He felt so helpless. Clara died because she was distracted by him. If he'd have grabbed a wand, surely he could have helped! Distracted someone long enough for Clara or one of the others to focus on the fight!

His one saving grace of the entire ordeal was that both Sirius and Remus had survived and seemed unscathed. Was this what fighting was like? How often would he be in this situation in his life? His parents had been murdered when he was a child – he couldn't handle it if anyone else he knew was murdered.

He sniffed and wiped the back of his hand across his nose as the sobs ebbed from his body. The tears continued their way down his cheeks, but he felt oddly… numb. He leaned back and took in the face of his familiar and attempted to offer it a small smile of thanks – though he noticed the small pool of tears in its own eyes.

"Don't cry." He sniffled, swiping the sleeves of his tunic across his cheeks. He pulled the hem of his sleeve down over his hand a little and dabbed away the Phoenix's tears with as much care as he could manage. "All better." He murmured.

A sharp crack and a bloom of light and heat behind him caused him to turn around. He saw the remains of their attackers dumped into a pile of bodies alight with yellow-orange flame. They had been thrown onto the pile unceremoniously by a still furious looking Sirius, while Remus and the guard appeared to have finished burying the fallen and were fashioning some markers.

His gaze returned to Sirius, who remained before the burning brigands. With the soft glow from the flames on his face, and the way his half-tied-back hair blew in the breeze he could think of no greater man to look up to. He remembered the first moment he truly felt like he was going to die – when there had been nothing between him and that brigand, only for Sirius to step unflinchingly between them with his wand raised. Sirius hadn't hesitated.

He loved Sirius deeply, and in many ways he was his father. James Potter was a stolen from him in Godric's Hollow, and for all Sirius and Remus had told him, he was a man made of stories who had passed his blood and name onto him. He loved his first father deeply, he truly did, but for all intents and purposes he was a Black.

It was Sirius who had been with him on every birthday. Sirius who had tucked him in at night and kissed his forehead. It didn't lessen the profound impact and moments Remus and Arcturus had on his life, but they didn't share the connection he and Sirius did.

In that moment, with the image of Sirius stood before the impromptu pyre in his gambeson and gorget, he knew who he wanted to make proud above all else. Never again would he be helpless and afraid.

He drew in a shaky breath and walked over to his Godfather. Sirius noticed his presence and turned before he knelt before him, the scowl disappearing completely as it was replaced by a look Harry could only describe as utter relief. Harry threw his arms around the older man's neck, the steel of their gorgets scraping together as Sirius rocked back from the force a little.

"I love you, Sirius." He whispered, feeling Sirius's right hand begin gently stroking the back of his head.

"I love you too pup." Sirius croaked quietly, wrapping his free arm around Harry's waist.

"Promise me you'll always be there."

There was a quiet moment between the two of them. Sirius nodded slowly, "I'll always be there, Harry. I'm not going anywhere."

"I want to go home." He murmured as the stench of cooking flesh threatened to empty his stomach once again.

"Why don't you go over to Remus while I go and round up the horses, hm?"

He'd forgotten about the horses in all the chaos. They must have bolted at some point after they'd dismounted. "Clara can help you. I don't want you going off alone."

"Hey, I'm supposed to be the responsible one, remember?" Sirius grinned weakly as he pulled away to look Harry in the eye. "I'll take Clara and we'll both be careful, okay?"

Harry nodded tiredly.

"Good. Come on, let's get you to Remus."


They arrived at Arpton Keep just as the sun began making its final descent beyond the horizon, with the warm orange glow bathing the stonework in its glow.

On either side of the path, two metres below them on either side were a pair of rushing rivers – they were each a light crystal blue, and on occasion Harry thought he could spot the odd fish darting between the rocks.

The castle itself was nestled on a cliff-top, its tall curtain walls protecting it from all directions while the rivers cascaded over the precipice in what must have been gorgeous waterfalls. A part of him wished to look up at the keep from the fields he imagined were below it.

The keep itself was a fairly traditional castle, with a mixture of circular and square towers of varying heights surrounding a large central keep. It didn't feel right that it was his.

Harry sighed quietly as he took in the state of their beleaguered party. He had paid his respects to the graves of the guards who had given their lives, though he had lingered at Clara's. It was only natural, he supposed, that he would feel a greater connection with her as she was the only one who he'd had any real form of interaction with.

The remaining guard, a forty-year-old wizard by the name of Felix Cale, was the wizard he had noticed with the angular staff. He seemed a friendly sort, if a little withdrawn but Harry didn't blame him with everything that had happened.

Above him, he heard Clara give a small trill of excitement as she swooped through the air, with her long tail feathers leaving a small trail of flames in the approaching night's sky.

A trio of horn-blasts called out from the castle.

It was a few minutes later when they stopped before the gate and a voice called down to them from among the crenellations. Now they were closer, he also noticed there were a number of hoardings on the towers that appeared at regular intervals along the wall.

"State your business, strangers. Who comes before Arpton Keep at this hour?"

"The Lord Potter has come to claim this castle and its lands!" Sirius bellowed in return. Harry noticed his Godfather was clutching the reins tightly in his grip. "We were ambushed on the road and have little patience to remain outside of a castle that by rights belongs to the Potters!"

There was silence from the keep, no doubt those on the other side of the wall were debating back and forth. The clunk of the lone portcullis's chain being winched drew his eyes to the gatehouse before them.

The metal gate rose slowly, as the chain clinked and clanked in the silence of the evening. Harry swayed side to side a little as his mare shuffled a little nervously at the noise. He reached forward and gave it a reassuring pat on its neck. It had taken Sirius hours to track the horses down. He hadn't found the one that had dragged Leygood's corpse off, and some others had disappeared too. Luckily, Sirius had found his own, Remus's and Harry's easily enough – though he had only been able to find one of the guard's horses for Felix.

The heavy gate swung open and a small group of men strode out nervously – their hands nervously twitching towards the weapons that hung from their belts. He noted that their armour was similar to Felix's besides the colour and the sigil. Rather than the deep reds the guards in the Capitol had favoured, these men wore the blue and grey of House Potter and the prowling wolf emblazoned proudly on their chests and gorgets.

"Which of you is the Lord Potter?" A gruff voice questioned from within the detachment of men. Harry noted that they were all looking at Sirius and Remus, dismissing him out of hand.

"I am." He announced in as strong a voice as he could manage, given the day's events. He swung himself from his horse and stepped before the group. "I, Harry of the House Potter, son of James and Lily Potter claim this castle and its lands by right of blood and magic."

As the words left his mouth, Clara swooped to the ground elegantly beside him, hopping forward once imperiously. At the sight of the Phoenix, the men dropped to a knee and bowed their heads, murmuring a quiet "Milord".

"May I enter my castle?" He asked, quickly gesturing for them to rise. He looked over his shoulder at his three companions, all of whom nodded at him encouragingly. When he looked back at the men before him, they practically tripped over themselves to make way for him. One guard had run back through the gate and announced the return of their lord.

A guard rushed to gather the reins of his horse as they were led through the gate, the oak doors looked to be at least eight inches thick and banded with what appeared to be bars of Mithril reinforced the wood. These gates would not break easily, at least.

As he stepped into the courtyard, Sirius, Remus and Felix had dismounted and walked their horses through behind him, he noticed everyone gathered and staring in his direction. The courtyard was beautiful, with colourful flowers and twisting ivy growing up and around the buildings – though what those buildings were for, he couldn't say.

The entire courtyard knelt as one.

"Rise." He called, his voice echoing in the silence. He looked around at the guards that were spread throughout the courtyard and along the walls, all with just as much variety in their weapons as there were in the Capitol.

The population of the castle rose silently, and a middle-aged wizard stepped forward. His shoulder-length brown hair was greying at the temples and the top and sides were pulled into a knot at the back of his head. His leather tunic and boots were of a fine quality and cut in a similar style to his own though there was no sigil beside the wolf on his breast. "My Lord," The man began, bowing his head and clasping his hands at the small of his back. "My name is Brandon, of House Aves. I have been the Steward for this castle ever since your father assigned me. It would be my honour to introduce you to your keep at your convenience. Shall I arrange for you to take the Lord's apartment tonight or would you prefer other quarters?"

"I would like quarters near my Godfather, Sirius Black and my uncle Remus Lupin. Where Felix wishes to stay is entirely up to him – it has been a difficult day for all of us."

It seemed in that moment that Brandon noticed the dried blood on all of their armour. "You encountered trouble on the road?" He gasped, shocked.

"A dozen brigands ambushed us. Our party departed the Capitol with six guards, unfortunately Felix here was the only survivor." Sirius replied, clasping a hand on Felix's shoulder. "The fallen will be mourned."

Brandon nodded; his face drawn in a concerned frown. Clara chirped at Harry's side, affectionately nipping at his fingers. "I see you have found a friend in your travels." Brandon chuckled, eyeing the swan-sized bird with a raised eyebrow. "Well, nobody could ever say Potters do anything by half-measures." The man chuckled, winking playfully at Harry. Harry grinned in response. "Shall we feed your friend let her be on her way?"

"She is my familiar, I doubt she'll be leaving my side any time soon." Harry replied, scratching the bird under her chin. Clara closed her eyes at the sensation and lifted her wings a little.

"You are bound to a Phoenix? You really are a Potter, it seems." Brandon chuckled. Sirius and Remus snickering behind him.

"Do we have anywhere she could rest?" Harry asked, hearing the quiet murmurs of those around the courtyard.

"There is the upper-most floor of the Owlery. She could comfortably have the entire floor to herself – the owls prefer to avoid that level."

"Good, she can have that then. Off you go, girl." Harry agreed, smiling at the bird as she leapt into the air and went in the direction of one of the taller, rounded towers.

"Come, I'll show you to the family wing and we'll get you settled in." Brandon smiled, gesturing for them to follow. Harry looked over his shoulder to see Felix meander over to one of the nearby guards, no doubt arranging his own lodgings. The man looked over at Harry once he felt his gaze and nodded respectfully in his direction. Harry returned the nod and turned to follow Brandon.

The interior of the castle was made of dark stone, an odd contrast to the lighter stone that made up the exterior walls. The shape of the many stones that made up the corridors were left in their natural shape, rather than the neat bricks that had formed the interior of the Citadel.

A marble tiled floor caused the sound of their footsteps to echo along its length, while the dark mahogany ceiling made the ceiling look almost pitch black. Evenly spaced throughout the many corridors were scones of howling wolves that held a silver-white ball of light, illuminating the many corners.

"Don't worry My Lord, you'll soon know this place as if you'd been running about the place as your father had wished you to." Brandon said over his shoulder, having noticed Harry's curious gaze.

"You knew James?" Sirius asked casually, his hands clasped at the small of his back.

"Aye, I knew him. Not as well as our fathers wished, of course. Charlus Potter and my own father, Rickard, were good friends."

"Did my father come here often?" Harry asked, peering out of a window as they passed. Below were a series of magnificent gardens with a large oak tree in the middle. From this height in one of the upper floors of the main keep, he realised the garden was laid out in a large heptagram with the tree in the centre.

"He came more as a boy than as a man. He was to rule here in his father's name until he claimed the lordship as many heirs do. Unfortunately, Lord Charlus was killed and your father never returned." Brandon shrugged. "There were rumours that James married a young witch and had a son, but they weren't confirmed until your arrival." Brandon smiled back at Harry. "We've often wondered if someone would come to claim the Potter lands. We are all loyal to the family and would have fought fiercely to defend your lands from any vultures."

Harry balked at that. These people didn't even know him, and they were willing to fight to protect his land and his name. Memories from earlier in the day threatened to claw their way back to the front of his mind.

"Thank you, Brandon – but truly, I don't want anyone to fight and die for me. I would see you all reach old age peacefully." He replied shakily. He felt Remus grip his shoulder comfortingly.

"Aye, you're a Potter alright." Brandon chuckled, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he looked at Harry. "The Potters have earned the loyalty of your subjects many times over throughout the years. You seem to have a knack for putting others before yourselves, My Lord." Brandon winked. Sirius snorted behind him.

"I'll try to live up to my family's reputation." Harry smiled in return as they came to a stop before a pair of large oak doors that must have been two metres tall and almost four across.

Brandon gestured to the doors before he heaved them open. Inside, their saddlebags had been placed on a large central table in three separate piles. "The Elves will have brought these up but thought it best to leave their storage to you, what with not knowing which rooms you would prefer."

Harry stepped into the room, and instantly noticed the pale blue colour scheme with grey trimmings. The family banner hung proudly on the far wall from the door. To his right was a large fireplace and a number of seating areas with half a dozen nearby bookshelves. To his left were a number of doors that no doubt led to various sleeping quarters.

It was with an odd sort of realisation that he noticed that he felt at home for the first time since they had left Blackwall. Something deep inside him felt at peace for the first time in his life. The feeling burst into existence in his chest and spread steadily through his extremities and into his mind with a pleasant buzz. He let out a contented sigh.

"It's been a long time since I saw the Family Magic at work." Brandon smiled. Remus and Sirius turned to look at Harry.

"You're looking better, pup." Remus smiled.

"I feel… I don't know how I feel, but it's good."

"The castle has been home to the Potters since before this world was formed. Potter blood and magic has seeped into the castle for generation after generation – it will protect you and yours until the last." Brandon explained from his position by the door. Harry frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"If the castle is besieged, there are passageways that only someone of the blood can open. The wards will defend the castle until they fall, and if anyone were to garrison the keep without your permission, they would find the castle itself rebelling against them. The odd step missing here or there on the stairs, shelves or roof tiles dropping on unsuspecting guards, that sort of thing."

"Not even Blackstone Castle would react like that." Sirius gasped, with his eyes wide. At Harry's confused frown, he added. "The Black's family seat. Where we arrived."

"Well, I'll leave you to settle in, My Lords. If you require anything at all, just let me know. I'll assign a pair of guards to the hallway outside." Brandon smiled, bowing as he backed out of the room. "Oh, and Lord Potter? Welcome home."


They remained at Arpton for a week, and Harry found himself falling in love with the garden he had found with the large oak tree. The oak was oddly shaped, with a strange arch in its trunk tall enough for a grown man to walk through easily. A small pond surrounded the tree, with a single two-metre-long arched bridge allowing access. It hadn't taken long for Harry to find peace with his back resting against the trunk and the sounds of the castle echoing in the quiet.

He could find himself enjoying this spot well into his old age. He wondered what he would look like, as his future wife would come out to find him with his children as he sat there and polished whatever weapon he would choose to wield. Would he sharpen a sword? Polish a wand? Oil the blade of his staff or clean its crystal ball?

He could see them now – a small army of children running along the path towards him. He would stop in his work and sweep them into his arms, spinning them around before kissing his wife. He smiled at the scene behind his eyelids.

A gentle breeze tickled its way across his upper lip, and he found his lips twitching at the sensation briefly. He sighed, opening his eyes as the image disappeared. He winced as he opened his eyes and sat up off of the large root he'd been leaning on. The sky above him was clear and a trio of birds flew by overhead. He heard Clara's cawing before he saw her. He grinned as he watched the large bird swoop lazily between the towers of his family home as she flew toward him.

Moments later, she came to an easy landing on the carpet of dried leaves beneath the oak and nipped at his boots playfully. "Knock it off, you oversized chicken." He chuckled, reaching into a pouch on his belt before tossing a handful of hard bacon towards her. He watched as she snatched the meat up from the floor and tossed it down her gullet.

He had read somewhere that Phoenix's were herbivores, but Clara seemed just as happy consuming meat as she was consuming plant-matter. Perhaps it was a difference in environment, or maybe nobody had witnessed a Phoenix consume meat in the wild. It did seem odd that they had evolved to have such sharp beaks if they were just going to eat berries and seeds.

Clara hopped towards him before she nuzzled into his chest. He grinned as he slowly stroked her neck. He knew why she had sought him out – it was almost time for him to return to the matters of the castle.

Magical families were incredibly private in many aspects, so it wasn't unexpected for them to know so little about many topics. To that extent, for the most private of family secrets, it was often in the Goblins and their banks that families turned to, storing their secrets and prized possessions deep within their vaults.

Even as a sort of adopted son of House Black, Harry knew nothing of their personal traditions, plans or secrets. There were simply some lines that were not crossed – not unless he renounced the Potter name and took the Black one, though despite often considering it over the years, he knew it to be impossible.

While his childhood had been filled with family and lots of laughter – thanks to Sirius and Remus – he had also been raised by Arcturus Black. He had been educated in his duties and what was expected of him, he knew that it was up to him to carry on the magical lineage of the House of Potter. There were no cousins, or aunts and uncles to pass the duty to – just him. Every other line of House Potter had been murdered by Voldemort and his Death Eaters in an effort to draw his parents out of hiding in the last war.

No doubt, when he came of age in seven years, it would be a birthday to remember. The House of Potter was rich in land and wealth both in Britain and here, and there would be many families that would want access to some of that wealth. While the prospect of a wife and children was exciting to him – to a degree, he was in no personal rush and wasn't looking forward to having to deal with any betrothal offers. That wasn't even considering those who thought of him only as The-Boy-Who-Lived.

Perhaps, he would one day follow in his father's footsteps and find a Muggle-born he could fall in love with. He couldn't help the snort that escaped him at the thought of Trevelyan hearing that bit of news.

In any event, they would be leaving for Wales in a day or two for Rosestone – Arpton had its own Ro'rim chamber and they would travel directly there. He had plans for the coming months. While he would claim the castle and lands in Wales, he knew they were returning to Blackwall shortly after. Once there, he would ask Arcturus and Sirius to arrange a number of lessons – specifically, sparring with a blade and horse-riding.

The horse-riding was a given. When he had to return here, and eventually he would return here, he would have to ride a horse again, and there wasn't a chance he was going to suffer it ill-prepared like he had.

The blade training was a more recent decision, if he were honest with himself. He had been exploring two days previous when he had found a room in the heart of the castle with a set of Mithril plate, of the like he had never seen before, and an elegant sword of the same metal.

It had taken him exactly thirty minutes to drag both Sirius and Remus into the room, where they too marvelled at the craftsmanship. Sirius had guessed that the armour pre-dated the creation of the realm, but by how much he couldn't say – only that he had never seen the design before, while the sword was identified to be a bastard sword. The blade had taken his breath away, with its milky-white surface that caught the light, wolfs-head crossguard, brown dragonhide leather grip and spiked pommel.

The blade had captured his imagination immediately. How many times had it been used in battle? Did it have a name? All the best swords had names – his favourite was Excalibur, the sword of Arthur Pendragon, King of Kings. He had fallen asleep each night since, dreaming of wielding the blade against fearsome dragons terrorising towns, and rescuing the damsels.

Harry grinned as Clara nudged his chin with her beak. Clara had been wonderful in their time here – she had appeared in his darkest moments, as he woke yelling and screaming in the night with his magic lashing out wildly as memories of the attack on the road tormented him. He would wake, covered in sweat, and his room half destroyed by his magical maelstrom in his terror – not even Sirius had been safe of it.

The first night they had stayed at the keep, Sirius had ran into Harry's room in an attempt to calm him. With his magic lashing out erratically, Sirius had been caught unaware and thrown from the room. It hadn't been until his familiar had arrived in a burst of magical flames that he had been able to regain some control. He had often found his room half destroyed in the mornings regardless. Thankfully, the House Elves and his immediate companions knew enough magic to repair any broken furniture.

His nights had been better since then, though the nightmares remained – at the very least, if Sirius or Remus attempted to console him, they weren't hit with any magic. Both Sirius and Remus, who were each veterans of Voldemort's Blood War, had assured him that the dreams would fade in time, though if they got any worse he was to let them know immediately and they'd arrange for a Mind Healer.

He sighed and leaned his head against the trunk of the tree behind him. Hopefully they would fade from his mind. With a grunt, he pushed himself to his feet and dusted the leaves from his clothes. No doubt they would be expecting him in the Great Hall any time now.

All day he had been greeting his various vassals who had been trickling in since news of his arrival had gone out. Some were little older than children, and others were old men who had barely contained their sneers of derision at being answerable to a child. Sirius's presence behind him and clearly dissuaded anyone from speaking on such thoughts in his presence.

He gave Clara one last affectionate pat before beginning his journey through the gardens. He passed the clumps of lavender, magnolias, roses and various other flowers that were in full bloom and inhaled their sweet scenes deeply. At some point, when he next returned, he would make sure a portion of the garden was given to a number of lilies. It would be his own way of honouring his mother.

As he entered the castle, he turned right towards the Great Hall, remembering that turning left led down towards the crypts. He had discovered that the previous day in a moment of forgetfulness. It had been a moment of indecision in which corridor led to the castle-proper and had led to him discovering some of the dusty stone tombs and effigies of his ancestors. The closest relation he had discovered had in fact been his Great-Grandfather, Eddison 'Edd' Potter who had died – according to his inscription – of natural causes at the ripe-old-age of 143. He had been succeeded by Charlus James Potter, his only son and Harry's Grandfather.

He had spent a number of hours walking among his ancestors in the well-lit cavernous chambers, feeling their stone gazes following his movements silently. It had felt like an experience which had really settled the weight of his family's history on his shoulders. He had heard accounts of how old his family was, and how far back his lineage ran, but to be able to actually see it had been something else.

He nodded politely as he passed the staff in the halls, each of them curtsying or bowing politely. That was something that he hadn't gotten used to in the slightest since the whole trip had begun. It had thrown him initially in the Capitol, having been expected to be called Lord or My Lord or some such variation – but he hadn't counted on the bowing in the slightest. It felt so strange for an adult to defer to him in such a manner. On his next visit, he'd make it an unofficial rule not to bow or curtsy among the staff.

He sighed as he finally arrived at his destination – a side door to the Great Hall that he was to enter through. He had performed the Fealty Ritual with the occupants of Arpton keep the first morning after his arrival with the help of Sirius and Brandon – now it was time to repeat the process with his vassal lords.

He nodded at the two guards that stood on either side of the door, their staves that were entirely different from one another and any other design he had seen thus far held proudly at attention by their sides. One of the two guards nodded – a woman with copper hair that spilled out from under her hood, he noted – smiled slightly at him and opened the door.

He was hit with a wave of noise – evidently there was some form of silencing charm or rune-work that was at work most of the time. He tried not to wince as his head started to throb with the early signs of a migraine.

He stepped into the room, the noise of the door closing behind him had an immediate silencing effect on the room at large. Easily over two dozen pairs of eyes stared at him as he slowly made his way to the throne upon the raised dais. It was vastly different to the Black's throne he'd seen Arcturus sit. This one was simple in its design – an elegant Mithril frame with prowling wolves for armrests with rich light-blue velvet cushions. The banner of his house hung proudly from the rafters behind the chair on either side. It was subtle but the whole thing exuded an air of subtle power that even at his young age he had to appreciate.

He sat the throne quietly and closed his eyes and reached out with his magic like Sirius and Brandon had instructed him to do so. It took a moment, but he recognised the familiar presence of the castle easily enough.

His eyes snapped open as his body thrummed with his family magic – it was as if he could feel a little of every Potter before him. His eyes swept the room with a pale blue tint to his vision. He saw Sirius and Remus proudly standing at the far side of the hall with smiles on their faces. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't force even the slightest twitch of his mouth.

The lords in the room were quiet, their collective gaze focused entirely on him.

"Anyone that desires to renew their fealty to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter may do so now. Bend the knee and say the words and be protected by my wand and magic. Let anyone who would break fealty sworn today or betray the trust of my house be cursed as an oath-breaker." He called calmly, his voice deep and radiating the power he felt darting through every limb he had. His own magic was practically singing in response.

As one, every single lord and heir in the room dropped to a knee with their heads bowed.

"Do you all swear to come to the aid of House Potter when called upon? Do you swear to add your magic to ours in times of strife and hardship? From this day, until the end of days?"

"We so swear, from this day, until the end of days." The hall chorused, their voices echoing throughout the room. The rush of magic at the end of their words caught him entirely unprepared. This was so much more than what he had seen Arcturus go through, and by extension his own experience of claiming his seat just days before.

He felt not just the magic from the men before him, but the magic of those sworn to them. It was a heady feeling, and one he was sure to make him feel utterly spent once the ritual was over. At the very least, he would have a decent sleep – though he'd be impressed if he made it out of the hall conscious.

"I thank you all for your loyalty and fealty. You may rise."

The room rose as one, each man regardless of age looking a little healthier and younger. He hadn't realised his family magic would affect them so visibly – he suddenly felt a terrible sense of regret for not coming sooner.

"My Lord Potter." Sirius called as he approached the front of the crowd, Remus at his side proudly. He gazed upon them from his seat. Please, Merlin don't let Sirius prank him now.

If he could have gasped, he would have. He watched as both Sirius and Remus took a knee with their heads bowed low. "Lord Potter, I come before you as both the heir to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black and also as a proud father." Sirius paused; his voice shaky in the silent room. "I would pledge the loyalty of my house and our own vassals to yours. We would shield your back, keep your counsel and give our lives for yours if need be. We swear this by all the Gods of magic."

His mouth responded with the words he didn't know, "And I vow you shall have my wand and my magic in times of strife. I pledge to ask no service of your house that may bring you shame nor dishonour. I swear this by all the Gods of magic. Arise."

He watched as Sirius stood shakily as their respective magic was exchanged. It was an even more potent experience than before. He noticed that his limbs were visibly trembling in the chair – what that meant for him, he knew not.

"My Lord." Another voice called. This time it was Felix – the guard they had travelled from the Capitol with. He hadn't noticed him in the mass of bodies. He took a knee where Sirius and Remus had been only moments before. "You know me as Felix of House Cale. I am a fifth-born son and a proud warrior. I would pledge myself to your household. I would guard you and yours with my life and my magic. You saved my life, Lord Potter – allow me the chance to do right by you."

Harry recited the same oath he had given Sirius and barely managed to control the closing of the ritual as no others came forward. It seemed there was a reason that this was usually held when a wizard came of age – he was barely hanging on by a thread.

He sagged in the chair as the magic left him and watched with closing eyes as Sirius began climbing the few steps toward the chair with a proud smile.

"Sleep, pup. I'm so very proud of you. So very proud."