He stepped into Arpton Keep with a small smile on his lips. The chamber was spartan, with only the mirror itself set into the wall and the small flickering blue flames of Magefyre in the scones set around the room. He grinned as Brandon rose from his kneeling position by the door – a pair of guards, each with their own unique staves quickly following him.
"Arpton Keep is yours, my Lord." Brandon smiled, bowing his head a little as he did so.
"Thank you, Brandon – no doubt it continued to thrive under your care."
"You're too kind, Lord Potter."
Harry's eyes took a quick glance at the guards flanking Brandon for a moment, and he grinned as he noticed one of them was Felix. The years since the ambush had been kind to the man, and upon their last visit, Harry had congratulated the man on his first child.
Felix had dealt with the ambush far better than he had, he'd even taken the time in the week between their arrival and when he had sworn fealty to speak to Harry and offer some words of advice and comfort. Over the years, Harry had heard how he was sweet on a woman in his Household Guard and how they had planned to marry.
Of course, Harry had given his blessing and had even attended the ceremony – it was a short, intimate affair, and it was not long until Harry was congratulating the man once again. The babe must have been a year old by now – had so much time passed so quickly?
"Felix!"
"My Lord – always a pleasure to welcome you home." The man smiled, his eyes twinkling in the light of the blue flames.
Despite Felix having been a relative stranger when the ambush had happened, there had been a bond forged between the four of them. Sirius, Remus, Felix, and he would often talk late into the night, and Felix was often assigned as his personal guard in their stays, along with a number of others if they left the castle.
The sound of Sirius and Remus stepping through the mirror behind him caused him to briefly turn his head. There, walking between them, and loaded with their belongings, was Arlan. The slate coloured stallion nervously looked around the room at the assembled humans before letting out a puff of air into Remus's face, causing Sirius to chuckle.
"Ah, I see you brought a new visitor – are you collecting creatures, my Lord?" Brandon chuckled, winking at Harry. He found himself chuckling as he stepped up to the horse and rubbed between its eyes gently.
"Not yet, Brandon – maybe one day. Will you be able to get him to the stable? Truth be told, I can't quite remember how wide the stairs are."
"Aye, we'll get him there. Smyth, get to it." Brandon said to the other guard. The man nodded and stepped up to Arlan and took him by the reins while Sirius and Remus unloaded the few bags from his back.
They had brought a few personal items with them, such as their own saddles, books, and other such things. The first items Harry had stowed away had been his sword and his armour – not to mention his schoolbooks. Sirius had teased him a little, though Remus had commended him for his dedication to his studies. Truthfully, he simply hoped to one-up Hermione when term started again, but they didn't need to know that.
"I'll summon some of the staff to have these taken to your chambers, Lord Potter." Brandon smiled before stepping out of the room for a moment. In his brief absence, Arlan was unburdened of the rest of their property, and was quickly led through the large doorway, his hooves clip-clopping against the stone floor.
Not a moment after Arlan was gone, Brandon entered the room once again with a handful of the castle staff in his wake – no doubt the man had them waiting nearby to assist them. They offered short bows and curtsies to the three of them, which he returned with a small smile, and quickly gathered their belongings and left.
With the room now empty, Brandon stepped to the side and gestured to the still open doorway. "The castle desires to welcome you home, my Lord."
Harry let out a small sigh, Sirius and Remus joined Brandon in chuckling quietly. He led the way through the door and out into the corridor. The halls were empty as they wound their way through the castle, climbing a number of staircases as they went.
While the castle ran deep into the cliff it was perched upon, the Ro'rim chamber wasn't anywhere close to the lowest level, and for that, Harry was eternally thankful. Not only did it mean that Arlan would have an easier time of getting to the stables, but it also meant he wasn't climbing hundreds of steps.
They came to the main entrance to the castle in short order, and the two guards pulled the doors open at his short nod. He squinted a little as the sun momentarily blinded him, but he would not shield his eyes. He stepped onto the top step and looked out at the courtyard as the breeze ghosted its way across his skin and caused the hem of his doublet to ripple a little.
The courtyard was silent as everyone knelt and bowed their heads in his direction. He heard Sirius and Remus step to the side quietly, Brandon took his position at his right, and Felix hovered a little behind.
"Rise, my friends!" Harry called into the yard, smiling as everyone stood. He barely waited a moment before moving down the steps to the closest congregation of people – he heard Remus chuckle quietly and say something to Sirius but couldn't make out the words.
The first group he approached were all servants by the look of them – though it seemed they were all wearing their best clothes, not that he would ever allow anyone employed by House Potter to want for anything. They looked after his home – they made his food, washed his clothes and guarded him with their lives – the very least he could do was pay them well and make sure their own needs were taken care of.
"Tarner – I trust you're well? How are your sons?" He asked, grinning at the oldest among them. He was a grey-haired man with a wild beard that was a few inches long and still spotted with the occasional patch of red. Harry clasped his hand and shook it.
"Hale and hearty, Mi'lord. Jasper continues to manage the farm, and Ulric hopes to move his family to the Capitol by the next harvest." Tarner replied with a proud grin as his chest puffed out ever so slightly.
Harry had taken the time over the years to get to know each of the residents of his castle. He had decided early on to treat them as if they were family, and they had loved him for it – many, it had turned out, had been sceptical of a Potter raised by Blacks. He did it, not out of a desire to prove he was who he was, or to gain their love and loyalty, but because he cared.
He had heard Arcturus once describe being a Lord as to being a father, and each man and woman sworn to him were a child. Harry had decided to live by those words.
"And you, Martha, you're positively glowing!" Harry grinned at the young pregnant girl with blonde hair and a beaming smile. She gave him a deep curtsy and bowed her head.
"Thank you, Mi'lord – it's sure to be a strong child, we've no doubt of that."
"Where is the lucky man? I don't see Osgood in the crowd." Harry frowned, sweeping his eyes around the courtyard.
"He left last week to patrol the southern border – there've been rumours of raiders in the area." Martha replied as she began to worry at her grey dress between her fingers with her free hand, while her other held the large swell of her stomach.
Harry looked over to Brandon, who nodded with a grim face. "The reports came in two days before I dispatched them. I sent a score to deal with them – more can be dispatched immediately if you think it prudent, however."
Harry was silent for a moment and rubbed at his jaw before he sighed. "We'll await word – you were wise to send them." He turned back to Martha and took her hand in his own. "I'm sure he'll return to you, my Lady – Osgood is one of the finest warriors we have."
"Thank you, Mi'lord."
Harry continued down the line and made sure to spend some time conversing with as many as he possibly could. By the time he reached his Household Guard, who were all standing in their armour proudly, the sun sat high in the sky.
"Captain!" Harry grinned, clasping the man's gauntleted hand firmly. "Your leadership has kept the Guard looking as strong as ever."
"It's my honour to serve, my Lord." Ewan Fulmer, Captain of his Household Guard smiled, inclining his head a little.
"And Marshal Sulyard – your continued training of the men, as always, continues to impress me." Harry grinned at the tall woman with auburn hair. She returned his grin and inclined her head slightly at the praise.
"I do my best, my Lord." Sulyard replied humbly.
"I was hoping to make use of your skills, Marshal. I wish to continue my martial training and learn to duel." Harry glanced back at Sirius and Remus, who were standing patiently on the stairs leading up to the main keep. "There was an… unfortunate situation this year, and I found myself not knowing a way to adequately defend either myself nor my friends."
"You wish for me to train you?" She questioned, shifting from foot to foot slightly, causing her armour to shift and clank a little.
"Aye, if it doesn't interrupt your other duties. Anything to give me an advantage in the future, though I understand three weeks isn't a long time-" He began, finding himself rambling a little as the woman eyed him carefully.
"My Lord, training you isn't a problem – if you were raised here, you would have been under my instruction from the day you could walk." Sulyard smiled, and for a moment, Harry was sure he could hear a number of the men and women behind her snickering. "The problem is, I have no idea of the current level of skill and knowledge you possess."
Harry frowned and chewed on the inside of his cheek as he mulled the thought over in his mind for a moment. It was an issue, yes, but there was often a solution for everything. He pursed his lips for a brief moment before he began speaking again. "What if, for the first day, you may test my abilities and knowledge however you deem fit?"
"That is acceptable to me, Lord Potter."
"Excellent – I look forward to learning from you, Marshal Sulyard." Harry grinned, feeling the urge to bounce on the spot. Suddenly, he had far too much energy – he had been hoping for this opportunity since Neville had gifted him the book on combat spells for Christmas.
He continued down the line and greeted the rest of his household warmly. By the time he had finished, he had walked the entire perimeter of the courtyard and returned to the steps of the castle where Sirius and Remus smiled at him proudly.
There was a brief burst of flame above him, and he looked up to see Clara's arrival. Her wings beat strongly, and he could feel her joy at returning home when he closed his eyes. He basked in the feeling, revelling in Clara's emotions as the heat from her feathers ghosted over his skin.
He opened his eyes and beamed at the bird as she landed before him, her song happy and free as it echoed around the quiet castle. He knelt down before her and scratched her chin with his index finger while his left hand smoothed the feathers on her neck down to her back.
"Didn't give you too much trouble, did she?" He whispered, just quiet enough for only his familiar to hear.
He had left Hedwig in the care of Arcturus – she was faster than any of the other birds House Black owned, and while he loved the Snowy Owl, he knew she enjoyed her independence – something he wouldn't be able to offer her at Arpton.
There was something to be said about the safety she experienced at Blackwall and at Hogwarts. He knew she didn't hunt in the Forbidden Forest and preferred the open grounds near the mountain on the far side of the lake – he knew she was safe there. Even the grounds around Blackwall were fairly open and a good hunting ground for her, however, the grounds around Arpton had much larger creatures than the occasional fox.
"Why don't you go and get yourself some food, hm?" He whispered as Clara nipped at his thumb playfully. She blinked slowly and tilted her head before leaping into the air and flying towards the Owlery to take full advantage of the entire floor she presided over.
"She took longer to get here than I thought she would." Sirius said after a moment, placing his hand gently on Harry's shoulder and giving it a squeeze once he'd gotten back to his feet.
"Maybe just a lazy morning – you know how she can get." Harry shrugged, turning to look up at the man.
Sirius nodded slowly. "Aye, we know." He chuckled before turning toward the entrance doors. Harry turned to check the courtyard once more, smiling as everyone began to return to their duties. Already, he could hear the regular clanging of the Blacksmith, and the calling of various men and women as they went about their duties.
He turned to join Sirius and Remus as they re-entered the castle, Brandon already patiently waiting for them – no doubt to give a full breakdown of the events of the castle and his lands in his absence.
It was good to be home.
Harry stepped into his chambers with a contented sigh. It had been a long day – arriving early and having made sure to greet all that he could. Then, once the greetings were done, he had been in meeting after meeting with the various heads of his household. Sometimes, Sirius and Remus would join him, while others had been solely himself and Brandon.
The meetings had been as they usually were, truth be told. Extraordinarily little in the castle needed his direct intervention, and when it did, he made sure to consult those who had more experience in such matters than he.
Roaming bandits on his lands were one such matter for which he had sought advice. His initial reaction had been to send out more of his men, he was also highly aware of just how much longer it would take a larger force to scour the countryside. More men meant more resources, and more resources made the men slower – it was better to travel fast and light. With the council of his advisors, it had been decided to send out another score of men in a week's time if they hadn't heard anything – that, at least, helped put his mind to rest a little.
It was not just for Martha that he was worried, but of the countless number of innocents who lived and worked on his lands. He had a large population to look after, and while his Bannermen helped to alleviate that burden somewhat, he still felt responsible.
In the quiet of his personal study – a room he only used currently for the meetings he held when he visited – his Steward had given him more details on the reports. The bandits, or raiders, or whatever people wanted to call them, were moving from hamlet to hamlet in a small group of a little over a dozen men. They would strike fast and strike hard, and he'd even heard of some women having been taken.
It was the taken women that worried him the most. He knew that they could defend and look after themselves. So far, they hadn't been able to save a single one that had been taken. The criminals had strung them up in the trees after they were through with them and hung them by their necks. By all accounts, they had all died quick deaths – there were some small mercies, at least.
The sooner the savages were captured or killed, the better. He would bring all of his and his House's strength to bear against anyone who would think to harm those he was responsible for, and for the first time in his life, he found himself contemplating just what that would entail.
The concept of taking a life, even as a punishment for a crime, did not sit well with him, but he knew it to be one of the responsibilities he held as a Lord. The law of the land was remarkably simple, if medieval – while most crimes were punished with jail or a hefty fine, there were others that the punishment was the loss of a hand, or the loss of life.
He'd had to judge some of those cases over the years since his first arrival – a thief here, a drunken brawl there – nothing too drastic. He'd learned from Arcturus, Sirius, and the vast collection of records of previous Lord Potters in the Arpton Library that House Potter kept to The Old Way, from a time before the King, and before the formation of their society as a whole.
Apparently, it wasn't just his family either – House Gryffindor, House Black, House Avery, House Serrett, House Ruccall and House Goodridge to only name a few. All were old, powerful families and held to the belief that 'He who judges, executes'.
He understood the meaning behind it – if you judge a man and sentence him to death, you should be able to look him in the eye as you do it. It was pragmatic, simple and terrifying. It placed the sole responsibility of the accused's life squarely on his shoulders – if he couldn't look the criminal in the eye and hear their final words, did they deserve to die?
Harry looked around the room that was by rights, his. It was well furnished, just as he remembered, and he noticed the changes he had requested had been made. His bed was placed against the inner wall, raised a little off of the floor on a small wooden platform, barely a step high and covered in fur rugs. This allowed the large glass windows, which led to the balcony to shine directly onto the bed as the sun rose. It was a magnificent view to wake up to.
Between both of the windows, however, was a section of the outer wall that had previously been adorned with a large tapestry. Despite the spell-work that was woven into the very threads and fibres of the tapestry, it was faded and old – and Harry hoped to one day use the section of the room as his own little writing nook. Nothing extravagant, but something his.
As such, he had requested his House Words to be engraved into the stone with white marble. He reached up and traced the calligraphy: Under The Moon, We Howl, and just below it, We Watch The Way.
He had found the two mottos in his grandfather's journal in the Rosestone Library in Wales not long before he had departed for Hogwarts – it was a link to his family, one that he hadn't told anyone about, for there was no real way of bringing it up in casual conversation, he had tried to live by and understand those words.
It had been a challenge. How did one interpret Under The Moon, We Howl? The wolf imagery, he understood – it was the Potter sigil. The words must have meant something to his ancestors at some point, surely. His first assumption was Lycanthropy, but no Potter had ever been so afflicted, not even a rumour of such, whenever he had tried to research the topic.
Perhaps the founder of his house, Rickard Potter, had a wolf familiar – after all, wolves didn't go extinct in Britain until the sixteenth century, so it was entirely possible it was an homage. As for the second motto? We Watch The Way? What did that even mean?
The only thing he could even vaguely link to that was the locations of Arpton Keep and Rosestone – perhaps, House Potter had once guarded the coast of Wales against invaders? And now they watched over those they cared for? If that were the case, they were strong words to live by.
Harry turned as the door to his chamber opened slowly, and saw Sirius standing there with a small smile on his face. Harry gestured for him to come in as he sat on the end of his bed, looking up at the words in the stone.
"Ah, got them done, did they?" Sirius grinned as he sat down next to him and stretched his legs out.
"I just saw them before you came in." Harry grinned in return.
"Still trying to work out what they mean?"
"How do you know I haven't already?" He replied with a smirk.
Sirius scoffed and rolled his eyes. "I know you better than you know you."
Harry rolled his eyes, though he had to give the man credit – he had been correct each time he made a guess as to how he was feeling and what he was thinking over the years. There was nothing he could get past Sirius – well, maybe the occasional thing.
"It's a connection." He sighed after a moment. "The meaning might have been lost, but I can interpret them as I understand them, at least."
"And how do you interpret them?" Sirius asked, leaning back on his elbows slightly.
"Under The Moon, We Howl – I have no idea, besides our sigil, if I'm honest. I still have hundreds of journals to read through." Harry sighed and rubbed a hand down his face tiredly. He still had the Welcome Feast to get through. "We Watch The Way – I'll look after all of those under my charge as best I can. I'm responsible for them, and it's my duty to make sure they're happy and safe."
"Admirable." Sirius said with a slow nod, before he reached out and pulled Harry into his side, pressing a soft kiss into his hair. "When did you grow up, hm?"
Harry smiled as he wrapped his arms around the father he chose. He did feel rather grown up, if he were honest with himself, but he didn't want to be. He wanted to be able to play with other children, to only have to worry about his exams and Quidditch – maybe becoming the top of the class.
He had always been mature – Arcturus had made sure of that, though Sirius had given him a playful side that he kept under firm control most of the time. Though, if Sirius pranked him, all bets were off – he was a Marauder's son, after all.
There was one defining moment that stood out to him, of course – it always stood out to him… The Ambush on the road. That feeling of helplessness, seeing people die to protect him – sometimes, he could hear Clara yelling at him to hide behind the rock, other times, it was a muffled, muted command he could barely hear. When the nightmares came, and they always came, it would always end with her vacant eye staring up at him in surprise.
He'd vowed never to be so helpless again – and, to a degree, he wasn't. He'd learned how to properly use the dagger he always kept on his belt, or in his boot at school, and had learned how to fight with a sword. He hadn't felt that helplessness until he'd gone to Hogwarts and had stood toe to toe with Voldemort.
Even now, safe in the confines of Arpton Keep, where he knew he was safe, he still felt a little on edge. His only hope was that the feeling would dissipate as the years trickled on.
"The Ambush… And Quirrell." Harry murmured as he tightened his arms around Sirius. He felt Sirius squeeze him back.
"I'm so sorry, Harry – I should have noticed something was off about him." Sirius sighed.
"No, you've nothing to apologise for – he fooled everyone."
They were quiet for a moment, and Harry simply closed his eyes and basked in the feeling of the man who had raised him. The window was slightly open, and the sounds of Arpton's courtyard filtered through, even as the sun began to fall beyond the horizon – the soft, melodic song of Clara as she roosted in the Owlery, the perfect accompaniment.
"I'm so proud of who you're becoming, Harry. So proud." Sirius whispered eventually, squeezing him a little. Harry sat up after a moment, smiling as he looked down at his Dogfather.
"Did I ever tell you about after the Ambush?" He asked after a moment, fiddling with the hem of his doublet nervously.
Sirius sat up and shook his head slowly and gently rubbed Harry's back.
He drew in a shaky breath and glanced at his lap. "I'm Harry James Potter – son of James Charlus Potter and Lily Rose Evans, future Lord to House Potter and the last of my line." Harry began, watching as Sirius nodded slowly. "I don't remember either of them – they're my parents, of course and I love them, but despite all the books and stories, I don't know them."
"We can find more-" Sirius began, but Harry held up his hand.
"That's not what I'm trying to say – I'm thankful for anything related to them, really. I've been raised by four wonderful people, Arcturus, Remus, Lispy, and you. You are my family, Sirius – the family I chose." Harry sniffed as his throat constricted. He took a shaky breath and blinked away the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes. "After the Ambush, there was a moment when I was watching you in front of the pyre – I wanted to make you proud. James Potter is my father by blood, but you are the father I chose."
Sirius engulfed him in a bone-crushing embrace instantly, and Harry threw his own arms around his chest, trying to squeeze just as much. The two of them shook with silent tears for a moment as they rocked side to side. He heard Sirius murmur incoherent things into his hair as he pressed light kisses to his scalp.
Eventually, Sirius pulled back and moved to kneel before Harry at the foot of the bed. "I could not be prouder of you, Harry. You're a fine young man, and you'll be an exceptional wizard one day. From the day I first held you in Hogwarts, to the day we both pass from this world, you will always be my son."
Harry leapt forward and threw his arms around Sirius's shoulders and buried his face in the mans neck, thankful that Sirius wasn't wearing his armour today – they had stayed a night at Rosestone before arriving here, so there had been no threat of danger. "I love you, Sirius."
"I love you too, Harry." Sirius murmured back, gently stroking his back.
They remained together for a moment before Harry finally decided to pull back and the two of them cleared their throats. Harry finally stood and rubbed his face with his hands before moving to the large balcony glass doors, Sirius close behind as they stepped onto the balcony.
"I can't imagine you came to my room for a heart-to-heart." Harry chuckled as he leaned against the stone railing, picking absently at one of the leaves from the ivy that grew along it.
"No, no I didn't." Sirius chuckled as he leaned on the railing next to him. "I came to talk to you about the bandits."
"What about them?" Harry asked.
"It's a hard life here, despite all of our magic and spells. In some ways, a lot of ways, it's better than Britain – here, we don't have to hide and can simply be ourselves." Sirius began, nodding at the bustling activity below them. "But in other ways, it's far more dangerous. I know it seems rather backwards to us – medieval, even – but it's been this way for centuries."
Sirius sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose slightly. "Morgana, I'm saying this all wrong." He muttered. "Look, what I'm trying to say, is that there are aspects of life here, that no child should have to deal with – like it or not, son, you're a child."
Harry, who already had his mouth open to protest, snapped it shut with a roll of his eyes. "These people are raiding, pillaging, and killing those I'm sworn to protect." Harry began, feeling his magic momentarily flare along his fingers as he thought on them. "If I can't protect them, how will they trust me when I do take my place?"
"They will trust you – but you need to trust them as well. You try to do too much yourself – you have Bannermen. Use them."
"But these are on my lands – not my Bannermen's lands. Is it not my responsibility?"
"It is, but you need to learn to share burdens. Make the Bannermen feel useful – it'll play dividends in the future. Not to mention, they may have raided their land before your own. It's common knowledge you're attending Hogwarts most of the year and thought themselves free of retribution." Sirius answered, placing a hand on Harry's left shoulder, and giving it a light squeeze.
Harry continued staring down into the courtyard. "If any of them are captured, it'll be on me to put them on trial and to swing the sword." He said, flatly.
"It doesn't have to be that way." Sirius said after a moment.
"It's our way, Sirius – He who judges, executes. You taught me that."
"Aye, I did, and I stand by that – but you can assign someone to judge them in your place. You wouldn't even need to be there. If I had my way, I'd have you never need to execute someone – stay a boy a little longer, hm?"
Harry looked at him for a moment before he slowly nodded his head. "If any of them are brought back, I'll leave it to you."
"Good – I'll not have you suffer this burden just yet. We all just want what's best for you." Sirius smiled a little as he clapped him on the shoulder.
Harry snorted and rolled his eyes. "I'm well aware." He huffed out a breath as the wind ghosted across his cheeks and a bird – perhaps a Swallow, it was too high to tell, flittered above the castle. "What's it like?" He asked after a moment, glancing at Sirius as the bird disappeared.
Sirius pushed from the railing and leaned his back against it and folded his arms across his chest. "It's easy – too easy, sometimes – and it's terrifying."
Harry blinked, not having expected the answer. Sirius shrugged and tucked a stray strand of his loose hair behind his ear. "It sounds cheesy, but you realise we're all just sacks of meat with some bone holding it all up. Sword or spell, when you kill, it's like cutting the strings of a puppet. Does that make sense?"
Harry nodded and swallowed as he watched a cart be unloaded below him.
"Do you remember your first?" He asked, after a moment.
"Aye – it was in the war. James and I had been ambushed somewhere off of Diagon Alley, just before you were born. Used my dagger on a Death Eater. After that, it all blurs together – I still wake up at night, thinking I'm in that street with James."
"How do you deal with it?" Harry questioned, feeling his brow furrow as he picked at a fresh leaf. "I keep seeing the Troll coming at me, or I'm standing in front of Quirrell just before the explosion brought the ceiling down." He felt a shiver run across his shoulders that had nothing to do with the cool breeze.
He saw Sirius shrug out of the corner of his eye. "You go on. Focus on the present and the future and try not to look back. If you look back, you're lost."
Harry snorted. "That sounds healthy."
The deep chuckle of Sirius answered him before he heard him lean in a little closer. "I think we both know I'm not the best when it comes to coping mechanisms – but I won't tell if you don't."
He snickered and flicked the remnants of the leaf into the breeze, watching as the small chunks flittered back and forth as they spiralled to the ground below. "How's Amelia? Will you survive without her for three weeks?"
"It'll be hard, but I'll cope – what do you think of her?"
Harry was quiet for a moment before he pushed off of the railing and leaned his back against the stone, mirroring Sirius, and crossing his ankles casually. "She seems nice – I like her. Less enthusiastic about Susan, however."
"What do you mean?" Sirius asked, confused.
He blew out a deep sigh and tapped a finger as he pursed his lips, thinking how he could word it correctly. "To Susan, I'm The-Boy-Who-Lived first, and Harry second. She's like a lot of the students at Hogwarts, honestly."
"Give it time." Sirius replied with a small nod. "You're both young – she'll come to know Harry in the future."
"Maybe." He shrugged. There was silence between the two of them for a few heartbeats, the sounds below them gradually dwindling. Harry admired the way the sunset made the stone almost glow – no doubt it looked breath-taking from the rolling plains below.
"You should get cleaned up – the Feast will be starting soon, and you're the guest of honour." Sirius grinned, pushing away from the railing casually. "Make sure you look pretty for all those eligible ladies down there."
"Arse." Harry grumbled under his breath, giving Sirius a little shove. He watched as the Marauder laughed to himself as he ducked into Harry's room. He took one last glance at the setting sun before following Sirius into the room. By the time he was fully inside, Sirius had already left, and the door was shut.
He sighed as he looked about his chambers and stepped up to the desk below his House Words. There, sitting among the few sheets of parchment littered across the desk was a neatly folded envelope.
It had taken some bribery on his part, but he had finally managed to get Clara to deliver a letter for him – he would have asked Hedwig, but he wouldn't have been able to get a reply. Clara, he'd found, had the unique ability to travel to wherever she wished – be that in Britain, or anywhere else.
As he hadn't brought Hedwig to Arpton with him, it made sense that Clara would be the next logical step – though, if Sirius or Remus heard about it, he didn't think he'd ever live it down. Years ago, when he'd first returned with Clara to Blackwall, he'd been adamant that he would never use Clara for sending letters – the fact she left a trail of flames in her wake as she flew only reinforcing his idea that it was stupid.
Now, she'd delivered not one, but two letters in less than a day. He hadn't expected a reply, if he were honest with himself, though he should have known better. She was going to be insufferable after this trip, and for not the first time, Harry was beyond thankful that Phoenixes couldn't speak, unlike some creatures he'd heard muttering to themselves in Diagon Alley's Magical Menagerie last Summer.
It would cost him a new perch and a half-a-dozen slaughtered Aurochs, the large cattle having gone extinct in Britain centuries ago but had thrived through the Ro'rim. Clara was a cutthroat negotiator. She'd be gorging herself in the weeks they were here.
Harry opened the envelope with a swipe of his thumb and smiled as he pulled out the parchment – even in a simple letter like this, she kept using a quill and parchment. The envelope was standard paper, he knew – but there was something about seeing her tiny scrawl on the page that made him chuckle.
He had heard from all of his friends in the two weeks since they had returned from school, and he'd explained to both Tracey and Hermione that he would be unreachable by Owl in that time – Daphne and Neville knew where he was, of course, but it was something he just couldn't share with the other two yet.
It wasn't that he didn't want to, but more he physically couldn't – the Potter Family Magic simply wouldn't allow it. He'd found himself stumbling on his words more than once during the year at Hogwarts, when he'd refer to something, or mention something in passing. He'd asked Sirius about it, of course, and wondered why Neville and Daphne knew, but he couldn't tell others. The answer had been remarkably simple, in hindsight.
Both House Greengrass and House Longbottom were tied to House Potter through vows. As Tracey didn't come from a house with lands and titles, she couldn't swear the same oaths – and neither could Hermione as a Muggle-born. It was a cruel twist of fate, he thought, that two of his four friends wouldn't be able to experience the other side of their world.
He smiled as his eyes took in Hermione's scrawl – she wrote as she talked, and he found it refreshing. Too many wrote formally for his liking, and he found it closer to having his friend there with him as a result. He had already received her excited letter the day after the Wizengamot, telling him how her parents had surprised her with a trip to Spain for a fortnight.
Incidentally, that was the driving force behind getting Clara to agree to taking a letter for him – there wasn't a chance Hedwig would make that journey. His letter had been short, simply informing her that he was leaving and that he hoped she enjoyed her holiday, which she was already enjoying in Barcelona.
Her reply, on the other hand, told him about all the fantastic things she had seen so far – the Sagrada Familia, which from what she described, was, apparently, a giant church. In her letter, she gushed over the history of the building, and how it was still under construction over a century later and wasn't planned to be finished for decades.
That absolutely baffled Harry – how could anything other than Castles and a handful of other buildings take more than a decade to complete? He knew for a fact that even Arpton had been habitable after only a year – the Potters had resided at Rosestone, or in Crochenwaith – the town that had sprung up a few miles down the cliff from Arpton.
The letter went on to describe other attractions, like a fountain that claimed to be magic – which they both agreed was less than likely, the beach, and a number of museums she'd visited. He smiled as she described each one and the weather sounded gorgeous. Perhaps one day he'd visit Barcelona for himself – ideally without his armour and his doublet.
His eyes read the last sentence before tracking back to the envelope on the table. He frowned and picked it up before peering inside. His fingers reached for the small, shiny square of paper and brought it into the light.
Was that… Hermione?
It was.
He blinked and shook his head – how had he not recognised her immediately?
He looked closer and he could see why; she was smiling so freely, so openly. Her eyes sparkled with mirth and humour as her father pulled a funny face – he'd never understand why she hid that side of her at school. Her bushy, chestnut hair was hidden somewhat by a large, floppy hat that looked perfect with the celeste summer dress that seemed to billow in the breeze.
For a moment, he expected the picture to move, but then remembered Hermione came from the Muggle world – it would make sense that she'd use a Muggle camera. He smiled as he placed it down on the desk with the letter.
He'd thought on his first year at Hogwarts a fair amount since the holidays had begun – though Neville insisted that he had been brooding. There were a number of things that he missed, of course. The interesting portraits on the walls, the smell of the Forbidden Forest in a morning if the wind was just right, the Giant Squid and the Black Lake. Merlin, he even missed the noisy Gryffindor Common Room. Of course, no matter what he thought of, the presence of his bushy-haired friend was the most pronounced among them all. Perhaps it was simply because he had seen Neville and Daphne at the Wizengamot and the following weekend.
He shrugged his doublet off after unfastening the straps and quickly lifted his tunic up and over his head. A quick glance down at his stomach revealed the long, thin scar on his side – it was still a harsh red, clashing violently against his normally pale complexion. Sirius and Remus had tried to make him feel better about it, claiming that as he got older, witches would love his scars. That he now had a small collection of three didn't make him feel much better. He grimaced as he traced the line with a finger – sometimes he could still feel the spell cutting him.
He moved to his wardrobe – a large, varnished mahogany piece with a mirror inset into one of the two doors. He had brought his own clothes from Blackwall, he kept a wardrobe at Arpton and Rosestone at all times. He quickly pulled a dark grey tunic and a doublet with his house colours and sigil on it.
He shrugged them on quickly and tied the doublet with a practiced ease. Ideally, he would have bathed and made himself feel more refreshed – however, he hadn't done anything particularly strenuous and had sat in various meetings all afternoon. It would do for tonight, and in the morning, he could go about having a bath after his first training session.
He found himself almost giddy with excitement, something that he had never quite been when training with Kina Parren. She had been ruthless in her training, and he loved her for it – but there was something about being taught by his own Marshal-At-Arms.
He had watched Sulyard train men in his previous visits and knew what to expect from the woman. She was without equal in the castle and had the unique gift of being able to pass that knowledge on. The possibilities of what he could learn in just three weeks gave him an energy that he hadn't felt all day. How he was supposed to sleep after the Feast was utterly beyond him – he wished Neville could have joined him to learn alongside him.
He pulled the door open and grinned at the two guards that were standing outside his door – one of them was Felix, of course. The man was almost as dedicated as Sirius and Remus were. "Felix – I thought I told you to have the night off."
Felix smiled down at him and ruffled his loose hair. "Aye, that you did, my Lord – but you're here, and so I'll watch over you."
"Your wife? Your child?" Harry asked, scrunching his face as he tucked his hair behind his ears.
"Will manage without me for tonight."
The other guard remained silent, his face stoic as he held his staff – like Felix's own, it was angular and had a geometric focus at the top, though this one had a scythe-like blade on the bottom.
"If you insist, I suppose. You'll both eat, however." Harry sighed, pointing a finger between the two of them, causing both guards to bow their heads slightly. "Excellent. Come, I'm sure everyone is anxious to begin."
They travelled through the castle quickly, with the heels of their boots echoing off of the stone floors and steps as they wound their way down. In no time at all, Harry entered the Great Hall to bellowing cheers, claps, and whistles.
Already Sirius and Remus were standing behind their chairs at the Head Table, and the aromas wafting from the many plates and dishes full of food on the trestle tables reminded him once more of Hogwarts.
Unlike a regular Feast, neither Sirius nor Remus would sit at his side. As it was a Welcoming Feast for the Lord of the castle, he would have Brandon at his right, and the Captain of his Guard, Ewan Fulmer on his left.
He climbed the few steps that elevated his own table above the rest and quickly stepped up to his chair – a wooden version of the Potter Throne that sat a little further behind him. As he looked down among the hundreds of eyes below him, all denizens of the castle and members of his Household, he grinned and clapped his hands loudly. "Let this feast begin!"
Harry groaned as he rolled onto his back, feeling the sheets tangle themselves among his feet. Despite the softness of the mattress and the sheets themselves, his entire body was sore, and he longed for nothing more than to remain in bed.
The sun still had not risen, and yet he could clearly hear Clara's song from the Owlery through the open window, accompanied by the many hoots, howls and barks of the birds that resided there full-time.
He rubbed his tired eyes with the heels of his palms and let out a sigh as he blinked groggily up at the canopy of his bed. It was the fourth day of the visit, and each morning so far, he had woken early and met Marshal Sulyard in the courtyard for his lessons.
They were everything he had hoped they would be. He wasn't a complete novice when it came to bladework – he'd been instructed for two years by Kina, and had developed his instincts well, despite his age, but the year away from her instruction had left him rusty and feeling tired quicker than he was used to.
It was to be expected – where would he train with a sword at Hogwarts of all places? He was barely allowed to keep his dagger in his boot as it was – that had been an uncomfortable conversation with Professor McGonagall after Halloween. Apparently such things needed to be announced to the staff, for safety concerns. Begrudgingly, he had to concede that point.
He sat up slowly and felt the sheet pool around his hips as he propped himself up on his hands.
He may not still have the same level of endurance he'd had, but his muscles still remembered what they'd been taught, as did his feet. Sulyard had immediately pointed out his weaknesses – his strength, his reach, and his timing. In time, his strength and reach would fix themselves. He was, after all, still only eleven years old and had a lot of growing left to do. The timing was simply practice.
Harry swung his legs out of the bed reluctantly, knowing that lingering among the sheets would only earn him a harsher lesson once he made it down there. He stripped quickly before tugging on a comfortable pair of breeches and a loose tunic before going about and donning his armour. It had been deemed safer to wear this for now – all of the padded armour for the Lords and Heirs hadn't been used in such a long time, it had become unusable and new ones had to be made and that would take time.
As he stood and reached for a leather tie for his hair, the first sounds of the castle filtered in through his window. Trystan, the castle blacksmith was already hammering away at his anvil while his apprentices got to work on the bellows and other such tasks.
He pulled the door open quickly and gave the two guards a polite nod before he made his way through the castle and down the staircases. Harry had all but ordered Felix to take time off, and to rotate a shift other guards he trusted – such as the two that currently followed in his wake; Alan Maddocks, a gifted Battlemage, and Seren Moss, a witch with an affinity for water magic.
Alan was tall and broad. He had a square jaw, and his nose was crooked, but he was pleasant enough. He always had a sword strapped to his hip and a wand holstered on his right forearm. Seren, on the other hand, was a petite woman with auburn hair, pale skin, and a smattering of freckles on the bridge of her nose and cheeks. She, like many of the Household Guard, carried a staff – it was made of a pale wood and had a large sapphire ball as a focus.
He stepped into the courtyard and immediately, his breath began to fog before his face, and the early morning chill made his nose twitch. Across from him, standing next to a rack of weapons in an enclosed area by the Barracks, was Sulyard.
He picked up the pace as he crossed the open space and quickly hopped the fence, landing on the soft soil, the two guards leaned against the wooden barrier and began murmuring between themselves – no doubt wagering how long it would take for him to end up on his arse.
"Lord Potter – are you ready to begin for the day?"
Marjorie Sulyard was dressed in similar attire to his own – a loose tunic and comfortable breeches tucked into leather boots. In her hands, with the tip pressed into the dirt, was a sparring sword.
"Aye." Harry nodded, moving over to the weapons rack for his own blade. His fingers skimmed the various pommels as he searched for the one he was most comfortable with. He found it slightly off-centre and grinned as he pulled it out. It was heavier than the actual blade would be, and not quite as comfortable in the grip as he would like, but it still whistled through the air as he gave a few practice swings from left to right.
His breath fogged in front of his face and he found himself grinning. His enjoyment of sword fighting had stemmed from his discovery of the Mithril armour and the beautiful sword, deep within the bowels of the keep, he had quickly fallen in love with it.
He considered himself a fairly athletic person – he loved to fly, be it for simple enjoyment or sport, and he loved to spend time on Arlan's back as the two of them raced around Blackwall. This had translated well to his sparring lessons. The familiar burn of his muscles as he worked off the pent-up energy, and the satisfaction of physical activity were two feelings he was intimately familiar with.
He rolled his wrist once, feeling the joint loosen up as he stepped in front of Marjorie. He bent his knees slightly and held the sword in a high guard to the right of his body with both hands, ready to slash down and defend himself at a moment's notice. Sulyard preferred to hold her blade horizontally at shoulder height, with the tip of the blade always pointed at him.
His sessions had begun this way in the short time since his arrival – they would warm up by facing one another, and afterwards, Sulyard would point out his mistakes and give him advice on fixing them. He was rather proud that he never made the same mistake twice – though Harry had yet to land a single hit on his Marshal.
This spoke wonders of her own martial prowess, and it chaffed the competitive side of him. He knew he didn't have the experience of his instructors, but he had good instincts and quick reflexes.
Sulyard moved first, stabbing at his left shoulder.
He brought his sword down quickly, redirecting the blade away from him, his arms shook from the impact slightly. With the sword knocked back, Harry went on the offence, bringing his sword back up and down in a hard swing, keeping his movements as fluid as he could. He could still remember Kina telling him to let the blade do the work, to direct its weight and to never fight against it – preserve his strength for when he needed it.
Immediately, Sulyard's blade was there, slapping his own away from her, as she twisted her body around his own. A moment later, he felt a kick on his arse, and he stumbled forward. He turned instantly and held his blade at the ready.
This time, he moved first, taking two measured steps toward the Marshal, hacking with his blade carefully as he probed her defences. Already, he could feel his muscles tiring, and he cursed not being able to practice at Hogwarts – not that he'd even be able to spar against anyone even if he could.
Sulyard backed up slowly before launching herself forward, forcing Harry to quickly move his blade to defend his body. He managed to fend off three swings before he had his feet swept from under him and the tip of her blade pointed at the hollow of his neck.
He groaned as he announced his yield, aware that he'd no doubt be feeling the ache from the fall for at least an hour more. He could help his grin as the Marshal offered him a hand and helped pull him to his feet.
"Better – your timing is improving, but you still take the offense far too much." The tall woman said, watching him as he swiped the dirt from his clothes.
Harry grinned sheepishly. "Aye, my instructor was a firm believer in offensive fighting."
"That will work in a duel, my Lord, but not in the real world. I take it she taught you in Britain?"
He nodded and moved to the side, where Alan offered him a mug of water he'd conjured with a flick of his wand. Harry smiled his thanks before taking half of it in his mouth and pouring the rest over his head.
"Aye. One of the Vassals of House Black. Lady Kina of House Parren – you'd like her, I think." Harry chuckled, swiping a hand over his face as the water cooled him somewhat. He passed the mug back with a nod and received a lazy salute from Alan for his trouble, causing him to roll his eyes.
"I take it that swords and other such martial weapons are not common there?" Marjorie asked after a moment.
"No – they're historical artefacts to most Muggles, and most wizards and witches there use wands over staves. Much easier to blend in with a wand."
"I see. Very well – again."
Harry adopted the same stance as he always began with, only this time he went on the offensive and already his muscles felt looser. He stepped up to her, his blade moving in quick, rhythmic hacks and slashes, bouncing off of her blade. He stepped forward with each attack, driving her back as he went – he knew she was allowing it, for even with his two years of practice, he was but a child and she was an experienced adult.
"Good, mind your footwork – press the attack!" Sulyard called, slapping his blade so wide, he was forced to turn with the momentum. With a grunt, he found himself kicked away once again, stumbling into the wooden railing.
His magic flared, and on instinct he ducked to the left, and not a moment later, Sulyard's sword embedded itself in the log. Harry spun away and held his sword at the ready as he watched Marjorie pull it out with a sharp yank.
He danced around her as she swung at him, her quiet grunts as she swung her sword the only tell-tale sign she was about to attack. He waited for his moment, feeling the blood pumping in his ears. He watched her every twitch and pursed his lips. He batted aside a swing of her blade and ducked under her guard, a grin on his face.
He was about to bring his blade against her thigh when all of a sudden he was staring up at the sky and blinking the stars out of his vision with a groan.
He rubbed at his jaw, wondering what had hit him – and then he saw Sulyard standing above him, her blade once again levelled at his throat. He spat the globule of blood and saliva off to the side before muttering. "Yield."
He stood and doubled over, resting his hands on his knees for a moment, spitting out a little more blood as he ran his tongue along his teeth, praying that nothing was broken or missing. He could hear the quiet chuckles of his guards at the edge of the enclosure. He narrowed his eyes at them for a moment, but it held no real heat.
"You take too many risks, Lord Potter." Sulyard said, placing her weapon back amongst the rack.
Harry could only nod – he knew he was more than a little reckless. It gave him a thrill when he was on his broom, and it translated poorly to swordplay. Reckless got you killed. He groaned a little as he stood – he could already feel the bruise forming on his back.
"Did you have to punch me in the face?" He asked with a grunt as he rubbed his jaw. The snickers from his guards a little louder now, but he ignored them. No doubt they had experienced something similar at the hands of the Marshal-At-Arms during their training.
Marjorie smirked and shrugged her shoulders casually. "It is the best way for the lesson to stick, I find. If you wish to avoid repeated injuries, you will lose your penchant for recklessness – it will see you without your head and the end of your House. Is this something you desire?" She asked, her face frowning.
Harry swallowed and shook his head quickly, feeling suitably chastised. He rubbed at his neck absently.
"Good – there may be some hope for you yet. Now, today we work on your defence and will continue to do so until I say otherwise, if that clear?"
He nodded and moved over to the enchanted dummies with his shoulders a little more squared – he'd make sure that he was the best swordsman he possibly could be. He owed it to Marshal Sulyard, the people sworn to him, to his family and most importantly – to Sirius.
