Harry's laughter echoed away on the wind as it whipped through his hair. He crouched low and leaned forward as he moved his body with the motions of the creature below him. Arlan's panting breath was almost drowned out by the thundering of his hooves in the green grass.

He had never ridden Arlan as he was now – his destination clear as the treeline approached rapidly. Harry sat back and lightly pulled on the reins as he directed the Stallion to slow and turn. He laughed once more as Arlan broke into another sprint and the two of them tore past both Sirius and Remus.

It was moments like this that reminded Harry why he preferred riding Arlan to riding his broom. There was no give-and-take with a broom in the way there was with riding a creature. He could feel Arlan's muscles flexing between his legs, the huffing pants as he breathed out – Arlan was a powerful horse, but that meant nothing if Harry couldn't work with him.

He chanced a look over his shoulder and saw Sirius and Remus not far behind him, both sporting large grins of their own and urging their horses onward.

He turned back to watch where Arlan was racing to and couldn't help another giddy laugh when he sped past Felix, Brandon and the half-dozen guards that had accompanied them on the ride. The weather had been poor for a few days – the overcast sky making the days dull and grey. Today, the sun had broken through and after his training, he had declared he was to go riding and experience some of his lands.

They had only ridden a few miles of course, and Arpton Keep was still firmly visible atop the cliff with the twin waterfalls on either side of it. It was certainly was an impressive sight from below – its tall, square towers reaching high into the sky almost like the fingers on a hand.

Arlan slowed to a gentle stop and shook his head with a small prance, causing Harry to focus back on his mount. On either side of him, Sirius and Remus came to a stop, both laughing merrily.

"Did you sneak off and pray to Koris while we weren't looking, pup?" Sirius asked, panting slightly as he ran his fingers through his hair.

"It was all Arlan – I simply told him when to turn around." Harry grinned, patting the Stallion on his neck, and giving him a little rub. Arlan tossed his head back playfully as he stepped past the two Mares Sirius and Remus were mounted on.

"I think he's showing off." Remus chuckled, patting his own mount's neck.

"Makes sense why Sirius picked him then, doesn't it?" Harry grinned cheekily as their companions cantered over to them.

Sirius huffed his disagreement and rolled his eyes.

"Excellent riding, my Lord!" Brandon said as they came to a stop just before him. Harry bowed his head slightly before grinning wolfishly.

"I think I could get used to beating Sirius – next time I think I may just add a wager." He chuckled, swinging his leg over the saddle and dismounted. Their little race had finished close to one of the rivers that cut through the area – courtesy of the waterfalls some three miles behind them – and set about watering his steed.

Behind him, he could hear the others move to do the same – the guards' armour clanking slightly as they hopped onto the soft grass. Harry, meanwhile, took the opportunity to sit on the bank and watch as a flock of Hippogriffs flew through the air.

On the far side of the river, a herd of wild Aurochs grazed among the grass without a care in the world – their large horns glinting in the sun. He found himself smiling a little as he lazily picked at the grass as Sirius and Remus joined him on either side, while Brandon murmured to the guards behind him.

"If I didn't know you were happy you just beat us in a race, I'd say you look like you're brooding." Sirius began with a wink.

"I was watching the Auroch." Harry replied with a roll of his eyes, splitting a blade of grass in half absently.

"Magnificent, aren't they?" Remus asked after a moment, his eyes also seemingly trained on the wild cows opposite them. "Hunted to extinction in Britain, but here they thrive. Magic will never be denied, I suppose."

"Remind me to have another one slaughtered for Clara." Harry sighed, thinking briefly on the bird that had barely left the Owlery in the past week and a half. Had it already been half of the trip? There was still so much to do, and it had passed by so quickly.

Clara had remained in the Owlery for the most part, only leaving when the slabs of Auroch meat were delivered to the tower. Harry knew she enjoyed feeding herself, shredding the meat with her talons and beak – and the meat was far too large to carry up the narrow steps up the tower. Not to mention all of the Owls that would no doubt attempt to steal a bite or two.

As a result, it was placed on the floor at the back of the tower, and Harry would call her when it was time to feed. She would appear in a brilliant burst of flame and attack the meat as if it had personally offended her. Afterwards, when she was sufficiently sated – and the meat completely devoured – only then would she hop over to him for an affectionate pat or scratch.

She had been remarkably recluse in the time they had spent at Arpton, and he wondered if a part of it had been caused by delivering a letter to Hermione. He closed his eyes momentarily and reached out to his bond with Clara – he felt joy, contentment and little else. She was at least happy – so probably wasn't too angry with him.

"Why are you feeding her Auroch meat?" Sirius asked with a frown. "Surely that much of it can't be good for her – you stuffing her for the next feast?"

Harry snorted and leaned back against the bank, resting on his elbows as he crossed his ankles. "It's a thanks for something she did for me, that's all."

"And what would that be?" Remus asked as he mimicked Harry's pose on the grass. Harry glanced at him and saw the amused look on his face.

"I never thanked her for getting everyone out – it seemed the best opportunity to do so." He answered after a moment, ignoring the twinkling in Remus's eyes as he looked away. Sirius was easy to fool, why was it that Remus would always see right through him?

They were quiet for a time, simply content to look out on the open fields and to enjoy the fresh air. The wind was blowing from the direction of the treeline they had raced to, and the smell of pine tickled his nose. The sound of an approaching rider broke the peace, however.

Harry stood slowly and watched the cloud of dust carefully. It was too far away to make out the colours of the rider, or if there were more than one. He found himself quickly surrounded by his men, though he did flick his wand into his hand and pull his sword from the scabbard on Arlan's saddle.

All around him, the men and women with them readied their various weapons, magical power pooling into staves and grips tightening on sword hilts, while Harry switched his wand to his left hand and his sword to his right. He'd been practicing duelling with Felix and a number of other guards in duelling – something he had found Marshal Sulyard wasn't as adept at teaching. She had handled his physical instruction, while Felix managed his magical.

He had learned a number of spells in the short time he had been here – the most important, in his mind, was a spell called Oblecto. It was unique in all the spells he had learned since purchasing his wand, in that it wasn't an incantation – rather, directed intent. It had the ability to deflect physical and magical attacks – it was perfect for when he was using his sword.

It hadn't taken him long to begin using it in his spars, snapping it into existence as needed, though it was still rather weak. The more he practiced, the stronger it would become – already he had felt it improve by leaps and bounds.

His fingers flexed against the hilt of the sword in his hand, and he shifted his grip on his wand nervously. He felt Sirius and Remus step up on either side of him – Brandon and Felix just behind them. There were four guards in front of them, though they left enough of a gap between them all for him to watch.

Minutes ticked by, and still none of them were any closer to seeing who it was that was riding toward them so quickly. Were they friend or foe? Judging by the nervous shifting from foot to foot, or the slightly adjusted grips on various weapons – most of his guard had staves – it wasn't just him who felt ill at ease.

"It's a rider from Arpton!" One of the guards – Morcan Wren, announced with a sigh. They all relaxed a little, though the formation didn't change. They were all prepared to act on a moment's notice.

Harry watched as the dust cloud grew closer, and a rider he recognised from Arpton became visible – a woman named Cati Evan. The horse came to a halt a few feet from the group as she looked at them.

"Lord Potter, Osgood and the men have returned – they have a number of the raiders in their custody for you to pass judgement over."

Harry glanced over at Sirius and nodded his head at the look he was giving him. Immediately, Sirius went about mounting his horse while Harry pointed at two guards and Brandon. "Sirius Black will preside over them – Steward Aves and two of my guard will return with you to see justice carried out."

Cati nodded and watched as the men mounted their horses in short order. Harry remained where he was, with his sword and wand in hand as he watched Sirius ride back to the keep. As much as Harry wished to fulfil his role as Lord of the Keep, as was proper and right, he knew that Sirius only wanted the best for him.

He blinked a little as Remus placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Come Harry – Sirius has this well in hand."

Harry nodded absently as he returned to the bank and sat back down – his wand returned to its holster on his wrist, while the sword lay in the grass, glinting in the sunlight.

"Now, why don't you tell me why you're really feeding Clara Auroch meat, hm?" Remus murmured, loosening his doublet at the collar at little.

He couldn't have stopped the sigh that whispered past his lips if he'd tried. "I bribed Clara to deliver a letter for me."

"You bribed a Phoenix?" Remus chuckled, cocking a brow at him. "And what did it cost you?"

"A new perch – no doubt taller than Hedwig's, and half a dozen Auroch." He replied, rolling his eyes, and tugging on a patch of grass absently. "She's ruthless when it comes to negotiating – Arcturus could probably learn a thing or two from her."

"Oh, of that I have no doubt. I assume then, this letter is why she was so late in arriving at Arpton?"

"Aye – she brought a reply and left it in my room before coming to the courtyard." He shrugged, tossing the few blades of grass in his hand in the air absently.

"Remarkable creatures, Phoenixes. I assume, from the private nature of the letter, it was from the young Miss Granger?" Remus smiled, leaning back on his elbows, and crossing his ankles as they enjoyed the warm sun.

Harry nodded. "Of all my friends – she's the one I've heard the least from. She's brilliant, Remus – best in the year, in fact – but you know how Sirius and Arcturus can be; they think Muggles are quaint."

Harry saw Remus wince out of the corner of his eye. "I'm certain that she is what you say she is. Sirius was raised a Pureblood heir to an old family, Harry. Your mother wasn't just good for your father, but for Sirius also – he just doesn't know enough. Arcturus is, well, he's set in his ways."

"I know, it's just…" Harry paused and picked at the grass a little more. "I want to bring them here – I want to share this with my friends. I could bring Neville and Daphne, but it wouldn't be the same without Hermione. And Tracey."

Remus nodded slowly as Harry spotted an Auroch Calf run playfully around a few of the adults. "One day, you just might be able to. You're at a difficult point in your life, Harry."

Harry turned to look at the Marauder next to him, a frown on his face.

"You're still a child – but you have the responsibilities of an adult. Perhaps there are things we could have done differently over the years, or maybe there aren't. At the end of the day, you are who you are, and none of us could be prouder – that you've surrounded yourself with clever witches just proves you are your father's son." Remus grinned with a wink. Harry felt his cheeks burn.

"It's not like that, and you know it."

"No – you're right, of course." Remus chuckled, and Harry swatted him in the shoulder lightly. The older man glanced over his shoulder and cocked a brow at Felix when he heard the quiet chuckles. "Did you know, Lily never knew she was Lady Potter?"

Harry's head snapped to Remus. "What did you say?"

"She never knew – James, your father, refused to tell her."

"Why? Is that why they hid in Godric's Hollow?" Harry frowned, pursing his lips in thought.

"I have no idea, Harry. I suspect it had something to do with the deaths of your grandparents – your father was never quite the same after. Perhaps, if they had lived, you could have asked them yourself. Sadly, life is never quite that fair."

"No – it isn't." Harry sighed, picking at the grass with a little more fervour.

"I like to think he did it to protect you – and your mother, of course. He was a great man. Flawed, of course, but great." Remus said after a moment, his eyes staring off into the distance beyond the Auroch.

"Me too." He whispered, smiling sadly.

"It's why Sirius was so adamant about you not passing judgement, you know." Remus added, turning to look at him. "James and Lily's shoes are quite large – we want you to remain innocent of the world a little longer."

"But-"

"Is it so terrible to remain a child? To laugh and play?"

"Well, no-"

"You live too much in the shadow of your family legacy, Harry – you're missing out on living." Remus said, placing a hand on Harry's back. "You're only a child once, pup. Be a child."

They were silent for a time, simply enjoying the peace and quiet. Harry watched as the Auroch grazed quietly. Overhead, a flock of birds danced through the air – their high-pitched song a pleasant change from the comfortable silence.

After a while, Harry pushed himself to his feet and picked his sword up from the grass. "I suppose we had better get back." He sighed, sliding the weapon into the scabbard on his saddle.

Harry watched as Remus nodded and got to his feet – within moments, all were mounted and looking at him expectantly. He turned back to Arlan, placed his foot in the stirrup and climbed into the saddle.

They walked the horses at a comfortable pace, but as they passed a treeline two miles from the riverbank they had been on, the horses became spooked and nervous. Harry frowned and gripped the reins and held on tight.

"Woah, woah – it's alright." Harry murmured, gently stroking Arlan's neck as he looked into the treeline through a break in the trees. Immediately, his men closed ranks around him, their eyes scanning for danger.

"Gods be good…" One of his men murmured, gaping at something within the trees.

"Merlin – me Ma' told me about them, but I never thought…" Another said.

Harry peered around them curiously before he spotted the group of creatures lazing about in the shade around a grouping of large boulders. They were huge – easily the same size as Arlan was, and their coats were magnificent.

Some were white, some were a smoky grey while a few of the smaller ones were the colour of the night, which only made their yellow eyes even more vibrant.

"I don't believe it," Remus muttered, grinning wolfishly. "They've been extinct for centuries."

Harry found his eyes struggling to move from the largest of the creatures, who was currently sprawled on its side and yawning widely as two pups wrestled around it. "What are they?"

"Dyre Wolves, Harry – Dyre Wolves." Remus grinned, and not for the first time, Harry saw the wolf inside Remus bubble to the surface in the yellow flecks in his eyes.

Harry glanced back at the largest, and for the briefest of moments, it felt as if it were staring back at him. "They're beautiful." He whispered, grinning. "Absolutely breath-taking."


"You're mad – you've completely lost it." Harry muttered, looking down at the floor below him. How he'd been roped into something as stupid as this was utterly beyond him, but here he was.

It was two days until they were due to leave Arpton, and coincidentally, the day before his twelfth birthday. Though, as he continued to look down at the courtyard below him, he couldn't help but wonder if he'd make it that far.

He glanced over his shoulder at the grinning Felix behind him. It was to be his last magical lesson while they were here. He'd learned so much – a number of combat spells, tricks to throw your opponents off, and not to mention all the martial skills Sulyard had been able to pass on to him.

Despite the year he hadn't been able to train regularly, he was quicker, stronger and so much better than he had been – he'd even managed to strike Sulyard once!

She'd punched him into the dirt right after, but it counted, damn it.

And now, he was standing atop the roof of the Barracks staring down at the cobblestone of the courtyard and the small crowd that had gathered to watch his imminent demise. He had learned a number of things over the last few days – such as how to use his magic to increase his strength, and how to jump higher and further than otherwise possible. He could move quicker and feel everything around him just that little bit easier.

But this was just stupid – he was going to die!

"You have to trust your magic, my Lord. Use it the same way I've taught you and you'll be fine." Felix said from behind him.

"That's all well and good, Felix – but I never managed it on the first attempt for any of the other things!" Harry said through clenched teeth as he swayed from side-to-side in the breeze.

"There's a first time for everything – besides, you'll just break your legs at this height."

Harry shut his eyes and clenched his fists at his side. He could hear the bloody grin. "I fucking hate you."

"You'll get over it." The man chuckled before stepping off the side of the building. Harry watched in horror as he tracked Felix to the floor, expecting to hear the tell-tale snap of the man's legs and the screams of the on-lookers.

Instead, Felix landed in a low crouch and stood before squinting up at him. Harry began to pace back and forward, muttering to himself.

He took one last glance at the ground before stepping off of the roof. Immediately, he began to plummet to the ground, though it took longer than he thought it would – the wind whistled around him, and time seemed to slow.

He focused inward and reached for his magic, feeling it respond eagerly to his call. He willed it around his feet and legs, wrapping them in layer upon layer of it – he'd let his magic take the impact and protect him.

His feet slammed into the floor, and the world snapped back into motion just before he landed on his arse. He groaned as he rubbed at his tailbone, glaring at Felix as those around him clapped eagerly. "Well done, my Lord." Felix grinned as he helped him stand slowly.

Harry took the opportunity to dust his arse of the dirt. "You're still an arse." He muttered half-heartedly.

Felix laughed loudly and clapped him on the shoulder. "Speaking of, I believe you landed on yours."

Harry scowled at that, still rubbing his tailbone as the crowd dispersed. "Did you really have to get me to jump off of a building to learn that though?"

"It's how I learned to do it." Felix chuckled with a shrug. "Did better than me too – took me a week to learn to do it."

"So, you kept breaking your legs for a week?" He gasped incredulously, his eyes immediately falling to his guard's legs and seeing them in-tact.

"Oh aye – this isn't taught to just everyone, you know. You've got to be a Battlemage or a guard to learn it – supposed to give us an edge in combat."

"How is jumping from a building useful in combat?" Harry asked as Felix began moving to the same training area he used with Sulyard.

"Well, all sorts of things can happen in a fight. Plenty of spells will throw you through the air – best you know how to land properly." Felix shrugged, glancing over his shoulder as he did.

"That makes sense, I suppose. So, what, you taught me how to do it because you think I'm a Battlemage?" He asked after a moment. He knew the term, of course – but he didn't think he was one. Although, the idea did fill him with a certain amount of excitement. After all, he knew both Sirius and Arcturus were Battlemages.

Felix was quiet for a moment as he glanced at Harry, his eyes sweeping from top to bottom. "No – I think you're something else, though it isn't my place to make that assessment. I'd rather you have the skills to look after yourself when I'm not around."

"Well, I think with everything you've taught me in the last three weeks, you've more than handled that." Harry grinned, hopping over the fence – a moment later, Felix joined him.

"I taught you a few spells – some drastically different from what you would learn at that school of yours. That doesn't mean you're invulnerable."

Harry nodded slowly and flicked his wand into his hand, though before he could say anything else, Felix was upon him and clasped Harry on the side of the head and knelt before him. He liked Felix, he truly did – their relationship was different from the others of his Household – they were closer, friendlier from their shared experience when they met. Felix had seen something in Harry, he had said, and he had wanted only to protect it as best he could for the rest of his life.

What that was, Harry would never know. Each time he had brought it up, Felix would refuse to speak on it and change the topic.

"You have the makings of a great Lord, Harry – truly. If I could, I would guard your back and offer my counsel while you studied at Hogwarts. As it is, I can't. Sirius and Remus told me what happened this year – you came closer to death than I'm comfortable with." Felix sighed, briefly glancing at the floor.

Harry had expected Sirius and Remus to mention it to Felix – besides the two of them, it was Felix with whom he had spent the most time with while at Arpton. It made sense. It also meant they both trusted him enough to share the details – though he didn't know what details they were.

"So, while you're there, you'll keep your guard up and remember everything I've taught you, hm? Or when you next visit your castle, I'll ring your head like a bell."

Harry grinned and couldn't help but throw his arms around the man. There were few he would permit such familiarity with, but in the nights after the ambush, he had spent many an evening on the balcony with Felix – just the two of them – talking about anything and everything at all. Anything to keep the dreams away.

A friendship had been forged between the two, and while Sirius and Remus were initially wary of the man, Harry had the utmost faith in him. Sometimes it was nice to have an adult to confide in that wasn't a Black or a member of the Hogwarts staff. Someone that just saw him as Harry – just Harry.

He felt Felix pat his back after a moment's hesitation and they remained that way for a moment. He was glad that the training area was out of the way of the daily goings on in the castle – it afforded him privacy, and, in that moment, he couldn't be gladder for it.

"Come – we'd best get some practice in. Perhaps you'll still be on your feet before we're done." Felix chuckled, standing after a moment.

Harry rolled his eyes and got into a ready position as Felix erected a silver-white barrier around the area. The first time, he'd been confused as to what it was, though the following explanation had made sense. Nobody wanted to be hit by a stray spell, and the barrier would ensure that.

"Remember – you need to reach me and strike me in the chest for this to be over." Felix called from the far side. Harry nodded and bounced on his toes a little, feeling the adrenaline flood his system.

Felix's staff levelled at him, and Harry was off before the first spell shot from the end of it. The entire training area was a large circular space that was eighty feet in diameter. His training with Sulyard used only a small area for their training, Felix had made sure to make use of all of it.

Harry pumped magic into his legs, feeling the world streak by him as he conjured the Oblecto shield with his wand, quickly batting aside a spell before changing direction. He'd learned early on to keep Felix guessing – the direct route always ended with Harry's arse in the dirt.

Another spell he had been taught by Felix, was the Reium spell. It wasn't lethal, but it did hurt like nothing else. Like Oblecto, it was all about intent, and therefore silent. He pointed his wand at the man across from him and willed the spell into existence, grinning as the violet sparks the size of his fist erupted from the tip of his wand in a wide cone.

It forced Felix to pause and erect a shield around himself with a quick spin of his staff. The sparks continued on their outward journey for a second before suddenly darting toward the Battlemage with an incredible speed, tracking him all the while. When the last spark struck the shield, Harry was half-way to the man.

When Felix next levelled his staff at him, Harry felt a moment of panic well up inside him at the sight of the smirk on his face. A bolt of yellow magic streaked toward the floor just in front of his feet, and Harry barely had the chance to push more magic into his legs and leap over it as he conjured the shield once again as he slapped another spell away mid-air.

Harry landed with a roll, firing a low-powered Diffindo at him as he did – that had been something he wished he knew before facing Quirrell. He'd had no idea it was possible to over-power a spell. Felix had shown just how useful such a spell was, and the poor training dummy had been left in pieces in a matter of moments. Unlike the other two spells however, Harry still had to say the incantation out loud.

"Diffindo! Diffindo! Immobulus!" Harry called, darting from side to side as more spells struck the dirt around him. He grimaced as he watched Felix bat each of them away as if they were nothing. He was just about to try a Reducto at his feet when a cerulean bolt struck his chest and launched him through the air.

He landed in a heap, gasping for breath in wheezes. The clouds above him spun chaotically and were out of focus. After a moment, he saw Felix step into his vision, grinning down at him.

"What in the Gods was that?" Harry moaned, clutching his chest.

"Just a little stunning spell. If you'd been more focused on what came after your spells, you might not have ended up in the dirt." The man laughed, reaching down and lifting Harry to his feet.

"You enjoy this far too much." Harry moaned, doubling over and spitting the dirt out of his mouth.

"I do – I haven't had this much fun in years." Felix chuckled, slapping him on the back lightly. "Now, again?"

"Again."


There were two entrances to the crypts. There was the entrance by the garden, and there was another just off from the courtyard on the western side, flanked by two wolf gargoyles standing in their silent vigil.

It was through this second entrance that he stepped through, gently sliding his hand between the ears of the gargoyle on the right as he opened the door. The door, as with all others in the castle, was well-maintained and opened on silent hinges.

Just inside the stone entryway were a number of sconces, though only one had the pale blue flickering flame of Magefyre. He pulled one of the empty ones from its socket on the wall, shifting his grip on the large metal handle before dipping it toward the flickering flame.

The original didn't dim any, but it did share itself with the now empty sconce, giving Harry a source of light as he looked at the staircase before him with a heavy heart. It never got any easier.

It was early morning, and the air was still cold and damp, and so he was dressed in in his usual doublet with his cloak draped over his shoulders, the wolf pelt ticking his cheeks as he pulled it tighter around him.

The flickering blue flame illuminated the small passaged way as the staircase wound further down into the bowels of the cliff, the dark rock slick with the early morning damp.

His boots scuffed the flagstone steps as he travelled down, his breath fogging before his face and tickling his nose. Above him, he thought he could hear the first sounds of the day coming from the courtyard – the ringing of the anvil, the calls of those going about their business.

Today was going to be a hectic day for all in the castle – today marked the end of the three week visit to Arpton Keep, and later on, Harry would return to Blackwall Manor with Sirius and Remus. Where had the time gone? It had felt like he'd blinked and he'd missed it.

He was thankful, though. He had learned more in the last three weeks than he had over an entire year at Hogwarts – though that was likely due to the gruelling regime he'd been put through. If he wasn't practising with his sword, he was practising with his wand and magic – Sirius and Brandon had seen to his duties, both more than happy to allow him his freedom for now.

He knew, as he got older, he wouldn't be able to train and practice like he had done, and a part of him felt guilty over it. Was it not his duty to run the castle while he was here? Was it not his privilege to care for those under his protection? To a degree, he felt he was cheating them.

Here he was, spending three weeks doing nothing but playing with a sword and magic, while Sirius and Brandon were swamped in petitions, running the castle and managing the lands. He was glad though, that Sirius had dealt with the raiders on his behalf. He knew, by their laws, any survivors of that band of criminals would be sentenced to death, and Harry, despite his bravado to Sirius and Brandon, had no desire to take a life. He still felt sick to his stomach over the incident with the Troll.

Harry came to the first chamber – the uppermost floor that was available to all denizens of the castle. It was the hall of the honoured dead, the wands of each Lord and Lady Potter atop small marble pillars with plush, velvet cushions. They were all arranged the same, with the wands crossed over one another – symbolising the everlasting bond between their owners.

He stepped over the threshold and smiled a little as the sconces of Magefyre lit up as one, almost as if the room itself recognised the visitor. He closed his eyes as the Potter Family Magic swept over him, leaving his skin covered in goosebumps and his breath shaky.

He opened his eyes slowly and swept his gaze along the rows of alcoves the pillars were in. He was here for one in particular. It had become a ritual, of sorts, to look at the wands before delving further into the crypt.

The pair of wands were where he had placed them himself. His father's, the eleven-inch, mahogany with a Thunderbird feather core. His mother's, willow, ten-and-a-quarter inch with a Griffin feather core. Both were sat just as he remembered them – though it had only been three weeks since his last visit.

Both looked immaculate and pristine – not a mark to betray the violent deaths their two owners had suffered. He sighed as he glanced up at the wall behind the pillar, smiling a little at the photograph of his parents in a park, dancing and laughing in their endless loop.

He felt his mouth split into a grin – the same grin he knew he'd inherited from James Potter. They both looked so young. His mother, in her dark coat and hat, with her red hair dancing in the wind as his father spun her about while she grinned. His father, with his wild hair and his Gryffindor scarf around his neck.

It was a sobering thought, that in only a decade, he would be older than either of his parents had been.

He took in another deep breath and turned from the plinth and began his journey further into the crypt. To go lower, one had to open a mahogany door, and then traverse the spiral staircase into the bowels of the cliff.

He had walked this route many times before – sometimes alone, other times with Sirius or Remus, though both had said they felt unwelcome in the bowels of the Potter Crypts. Yet, to Harry, it brought a sense of calm and a peace he couldn't find anywhere else.

He stepped off the stairs at the familiar landing and shouldered open the heavy door, and once again, the room burst into light. The familiar blue lights of the Magefyre lit the stone effigies up in their dim light, just enough to make out the features.

From having entered the crypts from this side, Harry had entered on the far side to his parents, as their tomb was the closest to the garden entrance, between the tomb of his grandparents and where his own would one day rest.

It was a rather morbid job, he thought – having to prepare your own tomb. He knew that his likeness wouldn't be taken for many more years yet – no doubt until he was of a similar age, or even older, than his parents, but to see the place where he would be entombed forever? It made everything feel remarkably final.

He walked among the many statues in their alcoves, some holding weapons in their stone hands, or with their familiars by their feet. Others just standing or sitting staring blankly ahead – it was these that he always tried to hurry past if he could.

He made it to the effigies of his parents, both frozen in time from the dancing picture from the hall above. He placed the torch, with its flickering blue flame into the sconce on the wall beside the recess. At his parents' feet, running along the base of the statue were a number of yellow candles – he'd brought them down when he'd visited at the start of their stay.

It was a strange sort of habit he'd developed, lighting the candles before he'd leave. He supposed a small part of him imagined that as long as the flame remained, he was still there with them, that there was some small link between the living and the dead. It was stupid, he knew that, but it still made the nights easier when they returned to Blackwall each time.

Harry pulled the cloak around him a little tighter as he stood looking up at the statues. They were twice the size of him, and he couldn't help but smile a little as he gazed upon their stone faces.

What would they say to him, if they were with him? It seemed, the longer time went on, the less his assumptions about his parents were true – was that not the case with his mother? He had assumed she had always known, but Remus had told him otherwise. He had thought his father was the proud Lord Potter, but he'd stopped coming to Arpton years before his death.

He frowned a little and shifted from foot to foot. What did that matter to him? They were his parents, and for the year and a half they had been with him, they had loved him unconditionally. He had lived, while they had not. They had given their lives to protect him – him.

Would it be nice to feel his mother's fingers run through his hair, to feel her kisses on his brow and her soft, encouraging words? Of course. Did he wish each night that he could hear her tell him how much she loved him? That went without saying. Most of all though, he wished for the comfort he saw the other children got when he'd disembarked from the Hogwarts Express.

He'd seen children, from his fellow first years, to the graduating seventh years, rush to their parents, their mothers sweeping them into their arms, placing gentle kisses over their faces and whispering soft words to them as they checked them over. There were few who knew the absence of a mother, and those that did – they didn't want to talk about it.

Neville was the only one he could confide in – the two of them sharing a bond that went beyond friendship. They were brothers, and as such, their bond was stronger for it. Never would the other suffer in silence, though there were some things that not even brothers could compare to.

A huff of air shot from his nose as he felt his jaw flex involuntarily. He'd been off balance for a long time now – the year at Hogwarts having done more to shake him than he'd readily admit. The Troll had been the first, but the Mirror of Erised

He'd recognised the magic as something similar to Arpton, so at least he knew of the origins – but to have shown him everything he could have had, only for it to have been taken away so suddenly. In the months leading to the confrontation with Quirrell, he'd found himself yearning for it, desperate for the relief of slipping back into that dream-like state. He'd fought it with everything he'd had – but who could blame him for what he'd seen?

He'd wanted to hate Hermione that first night when she'd pulled him out of it. He'd lain in bed, his entire body trembling with the need to visit the mirror. If it hadn't been for Clara, and her tears, he'd have been unable to get any sleep, so violent was the raw need. Despite the soothing balm the tears had provided, he'd felt guilty beyond compare at how exhausted it had made his Phoenix.

He had learned that night, that Phoenix tears utterly exhausted the creatures – particularly if used for healing. There was a reason they were so rare, of course – he'd just never considered it. Seeing her laying on his chest, curled into herself as best she could, with her small chest barely rising and falling had terrified him.

And so, his anger at his bushy-haired friend had evaporated in a single instant, replaced with immediate concern for his companion. He gathered her into his arms, propped himself up as best he could, and held her the whole night. When he'd awoken the following morning to her nudging his cheek, and she had looked like she was back to normal. Taking her down to breakfast in the Great Hall was the least he could have done.

He'd felt his anger rise back up at seeing Hermione, though that had vanished the second she had looked at him. There was something about seeing the smile on his friend's face, the crinkles in the corners of her eyes and the way her nose would scrunch up a little that utterly disarmed him. It was similar to how he couldn't ever stay angry with Neville, or with Daphne – but with Hermione

He sighed, glancing at his father's face. It looked so similar to what he had seen in the mirror, and yet, so different. There weren't the lines of age, or the stress of fatherhood on his face – instead, it was youthful and carefree. He was always told how he looked just like his father, but for his mother's eyes – would he one day look the same way?

He hoped so.

His wand jumped into his hand with a flick of his wrist, the thin piece of Blackthorn wood almost seemingly drinking in the light of the Magefyre, while the Vinewood handle looked like bone against it. Like his father's, it was eleven-inches – something he could share with the man. "Inflamari." Harry whispered; his voice far hoarser than he'd expected.

He moved the wand steadily over the candles, the small flames springing to life on each wick. There were twenty-one in total – one for each year they were alive. He breathed in a little deeper then, the action of having lit the candles lifting his melancholy a little.

He stowed his wand away, feeling the slight up-turn of his lips as he wondered what his parents would say to everything that had happened over the course of the year. First, the Troll – then the mirror, and finally Voldemort and Quirrell.

Would they have demanded he learn magic elsewhere? After all, even he knew that the security of Hogwarts had been… underwhelming. He loved it there, he truly did – but who chose a school to hide a priceless gemstone? It baffled him, but then, there were far more experienced and knowledgeable wizards and witches than he.

He liked to think they would have been far prouder of him than worried. After all, he was the youngest Seeker at Hogwarts in a Century, and he'd even caught the Snitch! Even now, as he closed his eyes, he could hear the roaring of the stands all around him.

Or, would they be prouder of the friends he had made? Harry was not a social person, he thought. He liked his friends few but oh so dear. He was polite, and would hold a conversation with anyone willing, but many didn't see him as Harry. They saw him as a footnote in history, and a way of pushing headlines.

He'd gone to Hogwarts with only two friends – Neville and Daphne, but had left with two more in Hermione and Tracey. Hermione, he thought, would have been adored by his mother – and her having set Snape on fire would have immediately had his father singing her praises. Tracey, it was harder to say. He liked to think his mother would appreciate her natural curiosity, and of all of his friends, Tracey was the most mischievous – something his Marauder father would enjoy immensely.

His eyes traced the soft smiles on his parent's stone faces. One day, he'd find a way of introducing his friends to his parents – as morbid as it likely was. He wanted to share them with one another.

Soft footfalls echoed through the chamber – Harry knew who it was, but he made no effort to move.

The soft blue glow greeted him first, and he found his head turning to greet the man before he could stop himself. He didn't want to leave yet – he needed to stay with them a bit longer. The soft smile on Sirius's face made him huff out a petulant breath.

"Thought I'd find you here, Prongslet." Sirius smiled, coming to a stop at his left shoulder as he held the torch up in his left hand – his right wrapped around Harry's shoulders.

"I'm where I'm supposed to be." Harry murmured, leaning into the embrace – his whispered reply sounding impossibly loud to his ears in the quiet of the crypt.

"Not for another century, at least. I'll make sure you have to suffer through old age, even if I have to drag you there kicking and screaming."

"Want someone to share it with, do you?"

"You're lucky you know I wouldn't make you eat those words in front of your parents." Sirius huffed – squeezing Harry despite his pout.

"Whatever helps keep your pride intact. Wouldn't want you going before the altar having had your arse kicked by a child – what would Amelia say?" Harry snickered, his shoulders trembling as he tried to hold in his amusement.

"Gods preserve me, you're definitely James's son." Sirius sighed, removing his hand to briefly pinch the bridge of his nose. Harry elbowed him in the side gently, rolling his eyes.

"Is it already time to leave?" He asked after a moment, glancing up at the statues once again. "I don't want to."

"I know, but we have to. We'll return soon, I promise." Sirius replied, squeezing his shoulder again. Harry glanced over at him and noticed how his eyes were locked on James's face.

"I think he'd be proud of you, you know?" Harry said after a moment, causing Sirius to blink as he snapped back to reality. "My father – I like to think he'd be proud of the men you and Moony became. Mother would still set you on fire, I think."

There was a beat of silence as Harry watched Sirius process the words before barking out a laugh. "Moony told you that one, did he?"

"When I was six." Harry grinned before bending and picking up the sconce he'd brought with him.

"Remind me to kick his arse." Sirius muttered. Harry rolled his eyes as he moved to follow Sirius out of the room.

"We both know he'd win." Harry sighed happily, "I remember you specifically telling me it was only Prongs that could get the better of him."

"And here I thought you were asleep when I told you that."

Harry paused at the doorway, turning back to look at the statues of his parents and the faint orange glow in the room as the Magefyre died down. From the door, it was impossible to see any but the closest of the statues, but the haze was enough for the general direction.

It felt odd, leaving them down here in the dark. Who would keep them company – tell them of the things he'd done? Absently, he noted that Sirius's steps had stopped.

"I'm going to miss them." Harry whispered, his bottom lip trembling. Leaving never got any easier.

"They'll miss you too, pup." Sirius answered him, just as softly as a comforting hand squeezed Harry's shoulder and drew him in close. "But it does no good to linger amongst the dead – lest you forget to live. They'd want you to live, Harry."

He nodded slowly, and pulled the heavy door shut, giving it a final yank to squeeze it into the stone doorframe. The noise echoed up and down the stone stairwell for a few seconds before the two of them turned to begin their ascent to the surface.

The walk was silent, though they both paused briefly to return the Magefyre torches to their brackets, and when Sirius stepped out into the daylight, Harry's breath caught in his throat. There, crowding every available space between the doorway and the main doors to the keep, was his entire household – all looking on at him with varying expressions of sadness. Some were silent, while others wept openly.

"What's this?" He found himself asking as he looked around. He found his attention pulled to Felix and Brandon as they stepped forward from the crowd.

"We wished to say our goodbye's, my Lord. Many of us have become fond of having you here, and it pains us to see you leave – even if it is only temporary." Brandon answered, his own face sad, though he did offer a weak smile.

Harry was at a loss for words as he looked around at the sea of faces as they peered at him. "I-", he began, only for his voice to crack and force him to clear his throat. "I appreciate it – truly, I do. It means more than I can rightly put into words."

"We know, Lord Potter." Felix smiled, bowing a little. "Just know we look forward to your return."

As if by some silent command, the crowd parted before the two of them, and they both walked towards the keep – a solemn silence draped over the castle. The household left them at the doors to the keep, and after traversing their way down to the Ro'rim, they came across Remus and Arlan – who was saddled and had their saddle bags draped over his back.

"Are you ready, Harry?" Remus asked with a sad smile – the regret on his face clear to see.

"Not really, but we should probably get going, I suppose." Harry sighed, stepping around the horse and man as he reached for his Family Magic, feeling a familiar tingle run through his body – though he was thankful he hadn't experienced the mist from his eyes again.

He placed his hand on the frame of the mirror and barely flinched as it sprang to life. Like always, the sooner he left, the easier it would become – it was like taking a vile potion to overcome an illness. It was better to pinch your nose and tip your head back than sip at it. He sighed and nodded to the two adults with him as he stepped through the shimmering surface.


They arrived back at Blackwall with little hassle, though the resounding dual cracks of Sirius and Remus's Apparition startled a number of birds. Remus immediately moved towards the stables with Arlan following just behind him, the clip-clop of his steps gradually fading away as the two disappeared around the corner of the building.

Sirius turned to look at Harry, a small smile on his face. "You did well today, Harry – I know I say this every time we come home, but I really am very proud of you."

"I know." He replied softly. He looked up momentarily to see Clara soaring through the air above the estate – he'd gotten her to return the day before. Why force her to return among all the chaos and pandemonium when she could return in peace and just make herself scarce for an hour or two while they got settled?

Sirius clapped him on the shoulder gently before opening the front door. "The Elves will probably be helping-" Sirius began, only to come to a dead stop as the words died on the tip of his tongue.

Harry, likewise, came to a stunned halt. He knew Arcturus was in Europe for a few days currently, overseeing a number of business matters for House Black, but he'd never expected the house to fall into such disrepair in so short a time.

All over the walls, there were various scorch marks – entire chunks of the wooden floor were missing, and there was even a hole in the ceiling. Immediately, the two of them had their wands in their hands as they looked about the entrance foyer – even the portraits were empty.

"What the-" Harry muttered under his breath.

The soft thuds of running feet and muffled sounds behind one of the doors had them both pointing their wands at the door. Harry fidgeted a little and narrowed his eyes as the sounds got closer.

The door swung open with a crash, and both he and Sirius drew in sharp breaths to begin their casting, but the sight that greeted them stunned them both more than any spell could have.

A small House Elf in a tatty pillowcase sprinted through the door in pure fear, quickly followed by the House Black Elves, each one with some form of homemade weapon in hand. Lispy was the closest to the intruder and threw herself at the helpless Elf, who's large green eyes were wide in fear.

Harry watched as Lispy landed on top of the intruder and clambered atop his shoulders – for it was definitely a male Elf – and began whacking him on the head with an iron saucepan from the kitchen. The other elves soon caught up and likewise threw themselves at him.

To his right, Sirius visibly shook himself. "What is going on here?" He demanded, his voice brimming with power.

The Elves all stopped and turned to look at the two of them in genuine surprise as they all collectively blinked – though Lispy, after a moment of silence, decided to get one last hit in on the Elf.

"Master Black, Master Potter – wes be catching a sneaksy Elf!" Woopy cried, looking between the two of them and the Elf in the pillowcase.

"Care to explain why you've intruded into our home?" Sirius growled, levelling his wand at the Elf. The Elf's eyes had remained glued to Harry, and slowly, he lowered himself to his knees – ignoring the protests of Lispy atop his shoulders.

"Harry Potter!" The Elf murmured in a high-pitched voice. "So long has Dobby wanted to meet you… Such an honour it is."

"Thank you – now, why did you break into Blackwall?" Harry repeated, narrowing his gaze at the Elf.

"Dobby has come to protect Harry Potter – to warn him! Harry Potter must not go back to Hogwartsies!"