He breathed in deeply through his nose, concentrating on the swirling magic he felt within his breast before exhaling just as slowly; in and out, in and out until it became a mantra. His magic swirled around him, ghosting every surface of his room, from the large canopy bed, to the ink-stained desk, and even the large, open doors to the stone balcony.
His senses pushed past the room like a wave, cascading out into the cool air that surrounded Arpton – all around him, he could feel those men and women that lived and worked at the castle. He could feel the Men-At-Arms in the training yard, and Marshal Sulyard as she drilled them in combat.
He could feel Clara as she soared between the towers of the castle, trailing yellow-orange flames in her wake. He grinned as he brushed her mind and shared her joy and exhilaration in his joining her. He stayed with her as she climbed higher and higher into the clouds before diving down.
From his place in the back of her mind, he could feel the air whistling through her feathers, and the small tears that pooled in the corners of her eyes as the cool air buffeted her face. He laughed as she spread her wings and she slowed down almost instantly, soaring on the gentle breeze that came from the mountains to the south-east.
With her heightened sense of smell, he could also smell the nearby city of Cochenwaith – the musty scent of human sweat and grime and the wonderful aromas of cooked meat and fresh bread. He continued with Clara for a time, revelling in how simple life was for his companion – there were no greater cares than his own safety, that and where the next meal would be found.
He withdrew from Clara, giving her mind a gentle caress so as to not startle the magnificent bird, and pulled his senses back to his own body, keeping his eyes closed. Rather than pushing and reaching out with his magic, like he did to reach out to Clara, he withdrew into himself, burrowing deeper and deeper.
His magic welcomed him, and while he was wary of it, he accepted the invitation with barely a moment's hesitation. He allowed his magic to lead him, guide him down paths that were familiar, and yet, at the same time, weren't.
Images flashed through his mind – some were fresh and clear, while others were hazy from the passage of time. There was no organisation to the white, ethereal wisps as they wafted by him on a breeze he couldn't feel; occasionally, he'd reach out and brush his fingers through them, shivering as his magic danced along his spine.
Yet, his magic continued to move on, winding this way and that as it led him on a merry chase. For how long he continued, he couldn't say, only that when he did eventually stop, he found himself staring up at a familiar canopy, with a Phoenix and a Snowy Owl bickering over who got to sit on the thick branch high above them.
A laugh escaped him as he raised his fingers before him and pointed at the two birds high above. The grass tickled his cheek as he turned to look at the person beside him; they were so close that their shoulders were almost touching. She wore a high-necked, sleeveless black top that was tucked into high-waisted jeans that hugged the figure of her legs, which were rolled up to her mid-calf. Plain, white trainers were on her feet, and the laces were tied neatly – perfectly, even. Her hair was tied back in a neat bun at the back of her head, with the occasional strand having come loose to frame her face. Small, silver earrings dangled and swayed lazily with each movement she made, and a thin, matching silver necklace pooled at the hollow of her neck.
He blinked as she looked at him, the light dancing across her face as the leaves high above swayed this way and that, and the steady trickling of the nearby stream provided a constant background to their incessant giggling.
For a moment, he was struck entirely dumb – his mouth worked, but no sound escaped. He could feel his cheeks warming, and he quickly looked away. A hand wrapped itself around his wrist – the fingers were soft, delicate, and warm. He breathed out slowly and looked back at her; Hermione was smiling at him. It wasn't a toothy smile; her lips were pressed tightly together, and her eyes and nose were crinkled. It was a small, private thing, just for him, and it made his stomach do uncomfortable things.
"Harry!" The voice called, and he pushed himself up to his elbows; he glanced down at himself and spotted the familiar, well-worn baggy tunic that had come loose of his trousers and had pooled in his lap – his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and little clumps of grass and moss covered his forearms. His eyes darted to the owner of the voice – it was Astoria.
Astoria was perched atop a root of a nearby tree, Piper curled up at her feet and watched him with his curious, amber eyes while his nose twitched this way and that. His mouth opened wide as he yawned, and Astoria scratched him under the chin, which set his thick, bushy tail wagging. Astoria, like himself, was dressed in a simple grey tunic, and black trousers, though her long, dark hair was free, compared to his own, which was tied back. "Neville is being silly again!"
"What's he done now?" He asked, glancing at his best friend and quirked an eyebrow. Neville rolled his eyes and threw his hands up in the air. Neville was dressed in a brown leather doublet, with black trousers and brown-leather boots.
"I didn't do anything!" Neville protested before pointing at Tracey. "She's the one that threw the moss!"
Harry looked to Tracey, who had the audacity to put on an air of innocence. She wore a long, ankle-length summer dress that hung from her shoulders by two thin straps, and her hair was pulled over one shoulder in a thick, dark mass. "I have no idea what he's talking about." She huffed, tipping her nose in the air.
"The picture of innocence, Tracey." Daphne sighed, flicking the page of her book absently without looking up. Daphne was dressed in one of her many long dresses, though this one was emerald in colour and had small, glistening silver threads decorating the bodice in geometric patterns that made him feel a little dizzy. Her hair was tied high up on her hair, and the long, thick tresses fell past her shoulders and flowed in the gentle breeze.
"Are we really throwing moss?" Harry sighed, rolling his eyes as he glanced up at his two Familiars up in the high branches. "You should know better than to start something with Astoria – she'll turn it into an all-out war."
"I'm undefeated." Astoria grinned broadly, sitting a little taller on her root.
"I think Harry could do with some moss." Susan said, from the far side of Hermione – he barely had a moment to react before he was pelted from all sides by clumps of moss. Tracey and Astoria were the loudest, with their cackling giggles, and he was shocked to feel some having pelted him from both Neville and Daphne's directions.
"Hey, hey, cut it out!" He cried, falling back onto the grass, and covering his face with his hands. Despite himself, he couldn't help but laugh and toss a few blindly back at his attackers. An outraged cry made him briefly freeze and peek out through his arms at the clump of moss that had struck Daphne in the forehead. He swallowed and quickly got to his feet, holding his hands up between him and the irate Greengrass heir in the ensuing silence – even Astoria, in the corner of his eye was ashen faced and still as a statue.
He backed up further when Daphne stood slowly and carefully lay her book down next to where she'd been sitting; her arctic blue eyes were narrowed in his direction as she stalked forward, like a predator closing in on her prey.
"Daphne, let's just think about this for a moment." He stammered, backing up and almost tripping over a stone that caught his heel. "Use your words here – you started it."
She dove at him then, and if it hadn't been for his years of training and his Quidditch reflexes, he'd have surely been at her mercy. As it was, he managed to duck beneath her hands and dart behind a nearby tree; his hands on either side of the silver birch that was almost as thick as he was wide, and ready to dart in either direction.
His friends were laughing now, cheering on the two of them as Daphne lunged at him once more, snarling as he sprinted through the middle of their little group; Piper yipped excitedly while Astoria cackled and cheered him on. He leapt over the stream, nearly slipping on the far mossy bank, and glanced over his shoulder with wide eyes.
Daphne had her wand out and had cast a quick spell – his own wand snapped into his hand and he was just able to mutter a quick Protego that saved him from getting soaked through by a steady stream of water. "Daphne!" He cried, backing up slowly as she hopped over the stream herself. "It was just a bit of moss, come on!"
"You pelted me with moss, Potter." She hissed, snapping another pair of spells at him – he ducked the first one and batted the second into a nearby tree-trunk. He knew none of the spells were deadly, or even harmful, but he knew an upset Daphne when he saw one, and he wasn't risking a single one touching him. His friends were quickly making their way across the stream, quietly taking bets on who would win – Hermione, it seemed, was the only one that seemed to actually be worried for him.
"You pelted me first!" He retorted, leaping backward over another spell, tucking his legs into his body as he arced through the air. He landed amongst a small gathering of fallen leaves and grimaced as he stumbled. "Don't you think you're overreacting just the slightest bit?"
"That was my copy of Morgana's Exploits you got soil and moss over!"
"Oh, shit." He cursed, slapping a trio of spells to the side with a wince. That was her favourite book – if he'd so much as marked it…
Another spell came at him, and this one he ducked, but he didn't see the follow-up that she'd cast. A full blast of ice-cold water struck him in the chest, and he found himself thrown back against the tree, his teeth chattering and his limbs trembling from the sudden cold.
Daphne spun away primly, with her nose in the air and a stomp to her steps – their friends parted quickly before hurrying over to him. Neville was the first to him, hoisting him up and patting him down, even as his limbs continued to shake violently. "Come on, you'll be alright – we'll get you some warm clothes."
"Honestly, it's like you forget you have a wand." Hermione huffed, putting her hands on her hips. "Just use a drying charm."
"Oh yeah." Neville said after a moment. "I'd forgotten about that." Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes as his best friend picked up his wand and cast the simple charm. A warmth spread out over him and he breathed a sigh of relief as his clothes dried.
"Are you alright?" Susan asked, frowning.
"Yeah – didn't see that last one is all." He muttered, shaking himself and blinking rapidly. "Come on, let's see if she's calmed down. I might need to buy a replacement if that book has so much as a mark."
Astoria nodded solemnly. "It's her favourite. I caught her going to sleep with it when she bought it." She said with a whisper and a cheeky grin. "You can't tell her though!" She added, eyes wide as the possible consequences of that revelation dawned on her. Harry chuckled and wrapped his arm around Astoria's small shoulders.
"We won't say a word – Neville, Tracey." He promised, looking pointedly between the Slytherin and his fellow Gryffindor. He led them down the back and through the shallow stream, hopping from small stone, to small stone and picking a giggling Astoria up over the bank.
Hermione was the last up the bank, and he turned to offer her a hand up. His skin tingled as she gripped his hand, and his stomach twisted and knotted itself when she stumbled on the slippery bank, her other hand, which had been held out to the side for her own balance, snatched at his arm and he chuckled quietly as he helped her up onto more stable ground. When both her feet were firmly planted on the dry, soft soil that seemed perfect for the soft grass and small clumps of moss and clover, the two of them broke apart awkwardly, finding any excuse not to look at one another.
Harry found it difficult – it seemed, outside of school, and the regular day-to-day of Hogwarts, Hermione had transformed. He had always thought she was pretty, and he enjoyed her smile most of all, but it was in Muggle clothes that she always seemed the most comfortable; the most, well, her.
He knew that, despite his own, private opinions on how nice she looked in her large, warm jumpers, she never really cared about her appearance; her wardrobe was sensible and practical – reflecting their freezing cold Scottish locale. Fleecy jumpers, warm cardigans, thick scarves, and hats, with matching mittens, and a multitude of hoodies were her usual garb – he thought her pretty before, but now…
He felt a tug, and suddenly the entire scene disappeared in a silvery mist – he knew the memory; it had been the day after his birthday, when he'd taken them all down to the stream that he often took Arlan to. The horse hadn't joined them then, but once everyone had left, he'd been sure to let the stallion out for a ride and to eat in the field by Remus's bunker.
His magic continued to lead him around and around, until he found himself in a dark area, surrounded by little pinpricks of light that twinkled pleasantly as his eyes darted about the space. Below his feet, there looked to be nothing, but as he shifted one booted foot, he could see a shimmering surface. It wasn't quite liquid, but it also wasn't entirely a solid either.
High above him, a large, swirling mass of violet, cyan, and deep orange formed – he knew what it was, of course; if he didn't, then Professor Sinistra was likely to string him up by his innards. The nebula was constantly shifting, this way and that, and lighting the area up more and more the longer it remained. Its soft light was relaxing, pleasant and felt warm – he dropped to his knees, slowly, placing his hands flat on his thighs as he continued to look around the space.
How long he remained in that place, he couldn't tell – his magic swirled around him, building up to crescendo, only to recede like the tide just before it became too much. His hair whipped around his face; it wasn't tied back like he knew he'd done before settling into his meditation – it was loose, wild, and free. It swatted against the sides of his face as his magic created a tempest around him and hung limply across his shoulders when it receded to nothing more than a faint breeze.
All the while, he felt the world around him – he could feel his bedroom, the people milling about the castle, and the guards that steadfastly remained in the corridor, their staves thrumming with magical energy as their owners quietly murmured to one another.
He snapped his eyes open, only this time he wasn't in that fantastic, calming place within himself, and he wasn't reliving a memory of a week past – nor was he even with Clara, soaring through pillowy clouds, ad banking this way and that on the breeze. He was in his room, settled into a similar position, kneeling on the floor with his feet tucked under him and his palms laid flat against his thighs.
His eyes darted around the room – the loose objects orbiting around him like miniature planets stilled, though they spun lazily in the gentle breeze of the room. The door clicked open, and Felix entered, his blue eyes darting around the room much like his own had, but for the amused quirk of his lips behind the full, sandy beard and the crinkling of the corners of his eyes.
"I hope I haven't interrupted anything, my Lord?" Felix asked, pursing his lips as he clasped his hands before him.
Harry let out a slow breath and drew his magic back into himself – all around him, the furniture of the room, from his canopy bed, to his wardrobes, came to rest of the floor with dull, resounding thuds. The small objects that had been floating around him flew back to his desk – they were little knickknacks, quills, ink pots, envelopes, parchment, and the like.
He pushed himself to his feet with a bit of a grunt and winced as the muscles in his thighs cramped for a moment. "I was just finishing up." Harry smiled, stretching with his arms above his head.
"I just came to let you know that they've finished mounting the skull with the other trophies – I thought you might like to inspect it for yourself?"
"That's not a bad idea. I could do with the walk anyway." Harry grunted, feeling his back pop as a brief wave of euphoria swept over him. He held his hand out to his side and smiled to himself as his wand-holster slapped into it. He wore only a thin tunic, and the baggy sleeves were comfortably rolled up around his elbows, so it took barely a moment to strap the holster to his forearm while Felix led the way out of the door.
They walked down the corridor to his personal quarters in silence, only nodding politely to the two guards that he'd sensed toward the end of his meditation; both of whom snapped to attention and returned the nods with a clear, "Mi'lord."
The steps took no time at all to traverse down, and before he knew it, he was walking out of the main doors to the castle-proper, and approaching the smaller, squat building that housed the trophies of Lords and Ladies past. On the right was the familiar hall of the honoured dead, which led to the Potter crypts – he'd paid his respects upon their arrival a few days ago, and as much as he was tempted to visit his parents again, he knew he shouldn't. It would do him little good to drown himself in the past.
The building across from it was his intended destination; it was taller by almost two floors than the one across from it, and lush, pale green ivy grew along it interspersed with gorgeous white flowers trailed up along the stone bricks. "Here we are." Felix said, glancing over his shoulder at him as he pushed open the door.
With a quiet creak, the large oak door swung inward on its steel hinges, and Harry got to see the long, well lit hall once more. Along the right wall were large glass windows, while along the walls were white-marble plinths that held various trinkets and trophies.
Harry stepped into the room first, with Felix holding the door open for him. Unlike the rest of the castle, the floor was tiled with large, smooth, grey marble slabs that soaked up the warm sunlight and reflected it into almost every dark nook and cranny within the room. Above, winding around the edge of the room, were two similar floors, with thick, oak handrails and regular support beams holding them all up.
The clicking of his heels echoed throughout the room, and the dull thud of the door closing behind him preceded the heavier footfalls of Felix as they walked past the various artefacts of his House. His eyes, despite all of the glory and wonder that surrounded him, were glued to the far wall, where the gaping maw of Ruhxu hung.
It took only a minute to traverse the large room, and it was with a clenched jaw and an uncomfortable tenseness in his shoulders that he came to a stop before the large skull – the Dwarves had gilded it in Mithril, and carved their various protection runes into the metal, which would keep it in almost pristine condition for years to come.
He stared up into the empty sockets and let out a deep sigh as he folded his arms across his chest – Felix appeared at his side; his hands clasped behind his back comfortably. "They've worked day and night to get it mounted – took a little bit of work because of the size of it, but it's up." His favourite guard said quietly. It was just the two of them in the large room, but still – it felt appropriate to keep their voices low.
"I'm not sure how comfortable I am with it all." He sighed, running a hand down his face tiredly. "I was lucky."
"Aye, my Lord – you were." Felix grunted.
"She was insane."
"You still defeated her – many couldn't say the same, were they in your position."
Harry pursed his lips and chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment. "I didn't want to kill her. I mean, I did, before I was down there – she'd hurt a… friend." Harry paused, clearing his throat as Felix looked at him with a raised brow. "I wanted to make her pay, but when I was down there; she didn't want to attack me. Truth be told, I've felt quite sorry for her since."
"It does little good to pity the dead." Felix sighed, gently clasping his shoulder, and giving it a gentle squeeze. "I always find it does more good to pity the living – after all, they're not the ones with the Gods."
"Snakes don't go to the Gods, though." Harry huffed, shooting the older man a withering look from the corner of his eye.
"Who knows – maybe they have Gods all of their own. At the end of the day, she's under nobody's control any longer, and the students and staff of your Hogwarts are safe; is that not what is most important?"
"I suppose." He huffed, taking a slow step forward until he could brush his hand against the smooth bone of her chin. "It's just, I don't know – a shame?" He glanced over his shoulder at Felix. "Don't get me wrong, I'm glad she won't hurt anyone ever again, but… It's a little tragic, don't you think?"
Felix shrugged. "No more tragic than a twelve-year-old facing a Basilisk – I thought we'd had an agreement about your penchant for danger, hm?"
"Hey, this wasn't my fault – I wasn't supposed to know the entrance would seal behind me. Besides, you've made me eat the dirt every day since."
"I suppose I have, my Lord." Felix chuckled, rocking on his heels as his own hand moved along the bleached white bone alongside his own. Harry rolled his eyes.
"When are you going to get it into your head to call me Harry when we're in private?" Harry sighed, his fingers lightly tracing a thin band of Mithril before dropping to his side.
"Oh, I would suspect at least once more." Felix grinned, his blue eyes roving the skull – the many wicked-looking teeth in particular. "Especially now that I'm Head of your Household Guard – thanks for that, by the way." He added with a displeased grunt.
"You were the best choice." Harry shrugged, wandering to the plinth beside Ruhxu's mounted skull. Like all the others, the plinth was smooth, white-marble, and atop a plush, velvety cushion, was a banded crown, adorned with pale sapphires.
There had been a time when it would have been worn with pride – indeed, many of the oldest of the statues in the Potter Crypts had the very likeness carved onto them, and there were many portraits of distant ancestors that had worn it with pride.
He was the last of an old and powerful family – there was something about being in its presence that unnerved him. He had long ago learned of the wars the Potters had waged, mostly in Wales, quelling insurrections, conquering neighbouring lands, and expanding their domain of influence until it was what it was today. The Potters had been kings of their own little kingdom, until one day, they weren't.
With a deep exhale, Harry stepped away from the crown and gazed about the room as he slowly licked his lips. "Tell me about how he died – nobody's explained it to me."
"Who?"
"Ewan Fulmer – your predecessor."
"There really isn't that much to tell; he got cursed in the back while we were dealing with a pack of outlaws – I saw it happen myself." Felix sighed as Harry looked at him, Harry noted his eyes briefly darting to the crown on the plinth. "He was a good man – firm, fair, and good. The Guard is less for his loss."
"I didn't have much to do with him." Harry shrugged, pressing his lips together. He pointed a finger at Felix and glared at him. "You are to watch yourself if you're ever required to leave the walls of the castle, is that understood?"
"My Lord?"
"I'll not have to bury you, Felix. You're both my new Captain, a father, and a friend. I've had to deal with death far too much in the past year."
"I'll do my best." Felix smiled, clasping Harry on the shoulder. "You'll not lose me so easily – I plan to see you grow into old age yet; despite your insistence of putting yourself into the ground well before then."
"You'd like Hermione." Harry snorted, rolling his eyes.
"Your Muggle-Born friend?"
"Aye – she appreciated me defeating Ruhxu and making it safe and all of that, but she gave me the worst Hell before we left for the summer."
"Sounds to me like she's a smart witch." Felix chuckled, falling into step as Harry began to wander around the room absently. There were all sorts of trophies, from bleached skulls, to various weapons, and even the occasional piece of armour – usually helmets, but he did recognise a particularly fine Mithril gauntlet, though he had no idea why that piece in particular was valuable as a trophy.
"She is – Daphne and Tracey are too. I think Tracey would like you." He grinned, glancing at the man that was at his side. Felix chuckled quietly under his breath and shrugged his shoulders.
"What's not to like?"
"Your habit of beating me into the dirt, for one." Harry scoffed, bumping his shoulder playfully into Felix's side. "How's your wife, and your daughter?"
"Satine is fine, and Alyis just turned two – strong and healthy as always." Felix chuckled, clasping his hands at the small of his back. "Her magic is beginning to manifest."
"Anything noteworthy?"
"Too early to tell, but I think she'll take after Satine than myself – she'll be fierce and strong."
"You realise that I'll spoil her rotten every chance I get?"
"That is your prerogative, my Lord – we'll just have to make sure you don't spoil her too much."
"Speaking of spoiling people rotten, I was thinking of travelling to Cochenwaith tomorrow – I was hoping you'd be able to join us?" Harry asked as they meandered toward the door.
"My entire purpose is to protect you while you're here – wherever you go, I'll follow, my Lord." Felix smiled with a slight bow, while Harry huffed.
"I'd rather you joined us because you want to, not because it's your job." He sighed, placing a hand against the metal-studded door. "You're my friend, Felix, and I enjoy you and your company immeasurably."
"My Lord," Felix began softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You drive me to madness with your lack of care for your own safety but believe me when I say that I have never been prouder to serve you."
Harry grinned and bumped his shoulder gently into Felix's side. "I'm glad – now come on, we should get things sorted for tomorrow."
Harry yawned as he rocked side-to-side in the saddle atop Arlan's back as they travelled the road from Arpton to Cochenwaith – it was cobbled and relatively empty, but for their party. They had set out early, shortly after breakfast, and they'd already been travelling for an hour.
The sun had slowly risen higher and higher in the sky – it was warm, and the sky was dotted with pleasant, white, fluffy clouds that provided momentary shelter. A complement of guards rode around them in a loose formation, their weapons sheathed, or held as casually as they could be, but all close-by and ready to be used at a moment's notice should there be need for it.
Felix rode to his right, his staff held loosely in his right hand, with the base resting on the top of the stirrup, while his reins were clutched loosely in his left hand; his eyes scanned the treeline on either side of him, and to the east, beyond the trees, Harry could hear the rushing waters of the river that fed the waterfalls around Arpton.
Sirius and Amelia rode ahead of him; Sirius was dressed in a fine leather doublet, and his hair was neatly tied back, and his goatee freshly trimmed. Amelia wore a dark grey dress, with the serpents of House Black adorning the bodice and skirt – it was sleeveless, though she wore a thin shawl around her shoulders; her hair was loose, but for the small braids that kept her hair from her face.
Remus was dressed in his usual clothing; a simple doublet with the sigil of House Black on it, and he rode to Sirius's left; the three adults talked amongst themselves, murmuring words that Harry couldn't quite make out, nor, did he find, did he particularly want to.
Susan rode at his side – she wore a steel-blue dress, though it was highlights with accents of lighter shades, and a matching shawl wrapped around her shoulders, much like Amelia's. The two of them hadn't spoken much, outside of Harry pointing out the occasional landmark as their journey progressed quietly. Her eyes were constantly darting about, taking in the sights, which were mostly just the tall trees of Potter's Wood on either side of the road.
He was excited to visit the nearby city – it was almost as large as the Capitol, though it wasn't quite so tightly packed. It had sprung up with the construction of Arpton, and he'd only briefly passed it by on his first journey between the Capitol and his ancestral seat the first time he'd visited.
It was surrounded by large, thick walls, and there were a dozen gates, each with their own dedicated Barbican and garrisons. Cochenwaith didn't have a castle or keep of its own; instead, it fell under the guardianship of Arpton itself, though other cities, like Wolfbury, and Redbrook, which were just a little further south, fell under the protection of Enith's Hold, the ancestral seat of House Llewellyn.
"You look like you're thinking too hard." Susan said, inching her horse a little closer to Arlan. She was a sand-coloured mare, and had a white stripe running down the centre of her head.
"Just thinking about Cochenwaith and a few of the other nearby cities." Harry said, smiling slightly as he leaned back in the saddle. He glanced up at the familiar cawing of Clara and couldn't help the grin that split his face.
"She looks like she's having fun." Susan giggled.
"Aye, she's the Queen around here." Harry chuckled, shifting in the saddle slightly.
"Has my Lord ever told you about what she was like before she matured?" Felix asked, casually, from Harry's right – Susan leaned forward and raised a curious brow as she looked between the two of them.
"Never." She smirked slyly as she hooked her loose hair around an ear.
Harry rolled his eyes but smiled nonetheless as he settled in for Felix's tale, though, he had to give the man credit; not once did his eyes stop sweeping the nearby treeline. "Oh, she was about the size of a mouse – hideous, ugly little thing that was always perched on his shoulder. A few other guards and I were tasked with accompanying Lord Black, Remus, and my Lord to Arpton – I don't think she ever let go of his shoulder."
"That sounds positively adorable." Susan sighed, grinning at him.
"Oh, shut it." Harry muttered with a pout.
"She was a hideous little thing – barely any feathers, her eyes were too large for her head, and her beak was all stunted." Felix chuckled, and Harry couldn't help but laugh along with them, though he ducked in the saddle slightly when Clara dove at them playfully – she was far too clever for her own good. "Looks like she heard me." Felix breathed, his eyes darting to the sky for the slightest fraction of a second.
"Proud as a peacock." Harry grunted, glancing over his shoulder as he watched her bank on the breeze before lazily catching up with the small party. "She matured not long before we got to Arpton." He said, looking at Susan. "She's not had a Burning Day since – though, the Chamber nearly forced one."
"What do you mean?" She asked, with a frown.
"Did Sirius or Amelia not tell you?" Harry blinked, surprised, before he awkwardly cleared his throat. "I took a fang from Ruhxu through the arm, just here." He said, shifting his arm so he could tap the doublet sleeve where she had caught him. "Clara healed me – Phoenix Tears can heal just about anything, but they take a lot out of the birds."
"And they won't cry for just anyone." Felix added quietly as Susan gasped, a hand leaping to her mouth.
"Harry, you could have died."
"I was – dying, I mean." He shrugged, pressing his lips tightly together. "It's not something I'd recommend."
"You're an arse." Susan huffed, scowling at him. "How did the others take it?"
"Pretty sure Daphne wanted to punch me." He chuckled, rubbing his jaw while Felix snorted quietly. "Tracey too, actually. Neville definitely wanted to. Hermione gave me a stern talking to."
"I bet she did." Susan snickered, and Harry went bright red at the teasing look she shot him – he ducked his head, staring at a positively fascinating piece of leather at the front of his saddle.
"I could do without your laughing, Felix." Harry harrumphed, glaring at his guard for a moment.
"Of course – sorry, my Lord." Felix chuckled, and Harry sighed and tipped his head back as he stared up at the sky.
After a moment, and when his face felt decidedly less hot, he glared at Susan. "You're an arse."
Susan shrugged, though the grin remained. "I know it's true, what happened in the Chamber, I mean – Merlin, the skull is in your bloody castle – but there were so many stories about it all, you know."
"There's usually stories about me." Harry sighed, dejectedly. "Hardly anyone actually asks if they're true or not, and even fewer believe me when I say no." He scoffed, humourlessly.
"What happened to your sword? Merlin, I didn't even know you had a sword!"
"Did you know Basilisk blood will ruin steel?" Harry asked, shrugging his shoulders. "I didn't, before I went in there. What about you, Felix? Did you know?"
"No, my Lord." Felix chuckled, his eyes darting to meet his own with the faintest glint of humour twinkling in them.
"But you had another – we all saw it."
"Oh, that was the Sword of Gryffindor. I found it in a painting, just before I went in there – Ser Cadogan showed me where it was; I returned it to him before the ceremony with all the awards." He shrugged, desperately wishing the ground would swallow him whole when Felix looked at him sharply, while Susan's jaw fell open.
"You found the Sword of Gryffindor?" Felix blinked. "That blade has been lost for centuries; since Godric himself."
"Cadogan thought it might help to have a bit of backup against the snake."
"I'll bet – the sword is supposed to have been spell-forged by the Goblins, but none knew where Godric placed the blade before he died. Lord Gryffindor would pay handsomely to have that blade."
"I don't think it'll be leaving Hogwarts any time soon." Harry muttered with a frown, shifting in the saddle as Clara cawed once more above them. Beyond the clip-clopping of the hooves on the cobbled road, the distant sounds of Cochenwaith reached his ears, and the faint aroma that he could recall from sharing Clara's mind the previous day tickled his nose – though, thankfully, not nearly to the degree he'd smelled them through his Phoenix.
"What makes you say that?" Susan asked, cocking her head curiously.
"I couldn't grab the sword after I put it back in the painting, and I can't remember where the room was. I think Hogwarts protects it."
"Hogwarts?" Susan asked, dubiously. "That's a bit of a stretch, isn't it?"
"Not really." Harry shrugged. "It doesn't feel that different to Arpton; and after all of the magic that's been used there? Over how many generations? It's bound to have an effect sooner or later, I guess."
"He's right." Felix sighed, shrugging as the two of them looked at him, though Susan was practically leaning over Harry and Arlan to do it. "Places like Hogwarts soak up the magic over time – it's not unusual for a place like that to develop, something, over time. You're a Bones, my Lady?"
Susan giggled, but nodded. "That's right." Harry rolled his eyes.
"I'd not be surprised if your own home were similar – sometimes you just need to know where to look. The Citadel was like that."
"Do you miss it?" Harry asked after a moment, frowning. "The Citadel, I mean. You were a guard there, before, well…"
"Sometimes." Felix nodded, slowly. "I miss the people, but I was never sworn to defend the place – none of us were, actually; we had nobody to swear to. I much prefer my life these days, though. I have a beautiful wife, a daughter, and you, my Lord. I couldn't be happier."
Harry huffed as his cheeks warmed, and he narrowed his eyes at the guard beside him, who was busy looking into the trees to their right, though he could feel, through Felix's magic, his amusement. "It's decided, you're both arses."
"Oh, stop pouting – you'll give yourself wrinkles, and then what would Granger think, hm?" Susan smirked. Harry pulled a face at her, just as they rounded the final corner on the path.
Ahead of them, were the high, white-washed walls of Cochenwaith, reaching seventy feet into the air, with the banners of House Potter hanging from the ramparts proudly on either side of the closest Barbican. Even from as far as they were, Harry could see the dark, glinting metal of the three portcullises as men, women, and their animals travelled in and out without a care in the world.
As Clara swept over them, beating her wings excitedly, many stopped and stared at her in awe – it was well known among his lands that he had a Phoenix Familiar, and so, it wasn't at all surprising when many began to point in his direction as the city bells began to ring and tiny faces began to appear along the high walls.
The travelling party shifted seamlessly – Harry manoeuvred Arlan around Amelia, who dropped back with both Sirius and Remus, to travel alongside Susan, while Felix joined him at his side. Arlan nickered excitedly, and his ears twitched this way and that; not once did the party slow down, and Harry felt more than a little pride at that.
He glanced down at himself, double-checking that his leather doublet was presentable, and his fingers of his free hand briefly ghosted the wolf stitched across his breast. It was his first visit to the city, and while he absolutely intended to purchase some gifts for his friends, he still had to be presentable. Sometimes, he wished he could just be a normal thirteen-year-old; someone like Hermione, or Tracey, or any of the other Half-Bloods and Muggle-Born he'd see around Hogwarts in jeans and a hoodie – they all looked so comfortable.
The city inched closer, and Harry found himself sitting a little straighter in the saddle – like Arcturus had shown him. At the thought of the man, Harry's hand reached for the pendant that was nestled between his tunic and his breast, tucked away out of sight, and as close to him as he could possibly get. He'd do Arcturus proud, and then he could get back to the promise that he'd made Sirius at the start of the summer; one day of being the future Lord Potter, then tomorrow, straight back to Just Harry.
The crowds parted on either side of the road; men and women offering happy greetings and blessings of the Gods on his family and friends. Harry smiled at each of them, taking the time to reach down and shake the occasional hand that was offered, despite the grimace he could see on Felix's face each time he did it.
The sound of marching drew his eyes toward the Barbican, and Harry chuckled to himself as a contingent of guards marched with the banner of his House held proudly aloft; a man walked before them, bedecked in fine clothes and expensive-looking jewellery that glinted in the late-morning sun. Harry eyed him with a single, raised brow and pursed lips – he'd never met a man that dressed himself with such gaudy jewellery that wasn't an arsehole. He'd lost count of how many did the exact thing in the Wizengamot. Lord Dondarrion sprung to mind – as did Lucius Malfoy.
The marching halted, and everyone knelt as Clara swooped down and came to rest on his shoulder – he'd never been gladder for the leather doublet than he was when he felt her talons flex while her wings precariously balanced her for a moment.
Harry peered at the men and women before him for a moment, his eyes sweeping the hunched figures as they kept their eyes on the ground. "Rise!" He called, leaning back in the saddle comfortably as he laid the reins across his lap.
The men and women all around him did so as one, and the man with the gaudy jewellery was the first on his feet, approaching slowly with a benevolent smile on his face. His lips were thin, and his eyes as dark as the thinning hair on the top of his head – he was clean-shaven, which, in Harry's mind, only served to highlight just how pale that man's thin lips were.
"My Lord Potter, we weren't expecting you." He said, his voice was deep, and had the cadence of a man that was used to bellowing at the top of his lungs.
"I didn't send word ahead for a reason, Seneschal Durant." Harry replied evenly, running the tip of his tongue along his teeth as he peered at the man from atop Arlan.
"Of course, my Lord, I simply meant to say that we are caught unprepared to host your party – it will take time to arrange rooms, and-"
"We aren't staying for an extended period – just to enjoy the city, and we'll leave for Arpton before sunset. Though, I should remind you, Seneschal; I'm not beholden to announce myself to you should I wish to visit my city, on my lands."
"Of course, Lord Potter, I-"
"Would I suggest moving your guard back into the city walls, and allowing the fine men and women on this road to go about their business, then? No doubt they would rather go about their day."
"Yes, my Lord, as you say." Seneschal Durant bowed once again, spinning on his heel, and making a sharp gesture to the men and women he'd brought with him – as one, they bowed once more to Harry, and turned in place before marching back through the gates. "My Lord, is there anything I can do to assist you during your visit?"
"No, though I appreciate the offer." Harry answered, inclining his head slightly as they made their way towards the Barbican. All around them, people returned to their everyday lives, and Harry couldn't help but stare up at the various murder-holes that peppered the inside of the Barbican as they passed through.
Once inside the city, Harry grinned at the sight of all the people going to and fro, store to store, stall to stall, and cart to cart. It was like an ocean of colour, for it seemed like everyone wore a different colour; not once did he think he could make out the same colour twice, though, realistically, he knew he must have.
He breathed in deeply, and the warm, mouth-watering aroma of freshly cooked meats, tangy spices, and freshly baked goods left him an almost drooling mess in his saddle. Sirius appeared at his side, hands resting comfortably in his lap as he looked around the entrance to the city. "Welcome to Cochenwaith, Harry." He grinned, clapping him on the back, while Clara squawked in protest. "Come on, let's get the horses stabled."
Harry watched as Seneschal Durant bowed once more before hurrying down one of the many streets that branched off from the large courtyard they'd entered. He shared a look with Sirius, and the two of them shook their heads before moving toward the nearby stables.
Felix was the first off of his horse, and was the one that approached the Stable Master – Harry chafed at having to take a backseat and not do it all himself, but he knew the many, many reasons it had to be this way. He huffed out a breath, and Amelia looked at him rather bemused.
"We'll get to it soon enough, Harry." She said, smirking at him. "You're almost as impatient as Sirius."
"I'm not sure which of us should be offended by that one." Sirius frowned, nudging Harry's knee with his own. "Don't worry, we'll be off the horses in a few minutes."
"It's not that." Harry sighed, trying not to pout. "I'm just a bit tired with the whole 'guard' thing. I just wish I could deal with it myself."
"When you're older, you'll understand why they're so protective. Try not to think about it – it'll drive you mad, otherwise. Just remember that you don't have to suffer through it at home, at least."
"That's true – I couldn't imagine shopping in Diagon Alley like this." Harry grinned as Felix beckoned him forward. A small pouch of Galleons was exchanged between Felix and the Stable Master, and only a few minutes later, everyone was on their feet and looking at the tall, white-washed brick buildings of Cochenwaith, all of them capped with dark slate roofs.
"Where to first?" Susan asked, brushing down her skirt as she stepped up to him, tugging the thin shawl around her shoulders a little tighter – Clara was still perched on his shoulder, her dark eyes darting all around them.
"How about we just start wondering and see what happens?" Harry suggested, narrowing his eyes at Felix as he caught the man shaking his head wearily out of the corner of his eye. "We're not in a hurry, after all."
"Just remember to pace yourself." Remus chuckled as Harry began to lead the way, Felix falling into step at his side comfortably.
They wandered the streets for a while, not going in any particular store, nor did they give more than a passing glance to the various carts that lined the remarkably clear streets. Every now and then, they would pass a group of men and women, bedecked in armour and his House Sigil as they patrolled the streets. Clara flew high above the city, weaving between the tall towers that ringed the city, with bright orange flames trailing in her wake – she always did enjoy showing off.
The press of bodies was a nice, strangely comforting change from the openness of Arpton, and how solitary it could often become. Harry had made a goal, two years ago, just before he'd left for Hogwarts, to visit each town, city, and village on his land – to meet the men and women he was responsible for. He'd been too young to begin any sooner, but now – now he was only three years from claiming his title; Cochenwaith would be the first of many.
Harry stopped outside of a building with a large glass front – it looked like any other building along the street, but for the fine clothes in the window. They were traditional in design, but there was something that caught his eye – a cloak. It was thick, and it had a bear pelt wrapped around its shoulders on the mannequin.
He entered first – the store was empty, and Felix held the door open before following him inside. Everyone piled into the store, while two of the eight guards that had accompanied them on the tip to the city remained at the door in the street, their backs to the building and their eyes scanning this way and that. Harry shook his head as he glanced over his shoulder at them, but couldn't help the small, grateful smile that crept across his face.
As frustrating as it was to always be surrounded by guards outside of Arpton – sometimes even in Arpton – it was nice to see that they cared, and genuinely wanted to make sure he was safe. Something that had been sorely lacking over the last two years at Hogwarts.
Harry wandered over to the cloak and ran it between his fingers and thumb; the soft, velvety material of the cloak itself was of fine quality, and the bear pelt was rich in colour, and thick. When the door behind the counter opened, revealing a man dressed in a fine, sage-coloured doublet, with sandy-coloured hair, blinking at them all surprised.
"Oh, hello." He muttered, looking at them all before depositing the bundle of fabrics on the nearby counter. "Can I help you?" He asked, his eyes darting to the six guards and Felix.
"I was wondering – how much for the cloak?" Harry asked, stepping up to the counter, quickly swerving around both Amelia and Susan, who were murmuring between themselves over a pair of practical-looking boots. "The one with the bear pelt."
"The one by the window? It's five Galleons, I believe."
"Would you be able to shrink it so that it fits someone about my size? Maybe a little taller and broader though."
"Of course – just a simple bit of wand-work." The man nodded, and Harry couldn't help the excited grin as he spun to look at Sirius, who chuckled and rubbed his jaw.
"I'll take it." Harry nodded, almost bouncing on the spot with excitement – it would make the perfect gift for Neville; they couldn't have too many cloaks in Scotland. "Do you have anything you might recommend for a girl? She likes to wear dresses a lot."
The man chuckled and scratched his chin absently as he pursed his lips. "Not myself, I don't think, but there's a store about five buildings down. They might have something."
Harry watched the man move through his own store for a quiet moment, taking great care to avoid the guards, and Felix in particular, who was watching him like a hawk as he removed his wand from the holster beneath his sleeve. Harry grimaced as all of the guards shifted their weight and gripped their weapons tighter as the store owner cast a quick series of spells over the cloak.
He watched in quiet fascination as the cloak shrunk to a more appropriate size – regardless of how often he saw magic performed, and how many spells he himself learned and cast, there was nothing more wonderous to him. The cloak was removed from the mannequin slowly, and brought back to the counter, where both Amelia and Susan had placed their own purchases down.
Susan placed a bone-white shawl down, folded neatly, of course. It was thicker than the one she currently wore, and, while her own complexion was quite pale, he thought it complimented her quite nicely.
Amelia, on the other hand, placed a pair of fine, black dragonhide boots with silver clasps – no doubt for her to wear if she needed to go in the field at work, which, he knew from Sirius's complaining, she still enjoyed doing.
Neither Sirius, nor Remus placed anything down, and Harry made sure that he paid for the lot before anyone else could – Amelia protested the most, saying that she was more than happy to pay for it all, but he waved her off. It wouldn't be much of a gift to Neville if someone else bought it.
They waved the proprietor off after that, and Harry made sure to remember where the store was – the man was friendly enough, and he didn't seem to have noticed the sigil across the breast of his doublet, or, if he had, he hadn't made a fuss over it.
The store they were previously directed to was one that catered to women, supplying dresses of fine fabrics, and modern cuts to all those that could want for them. Harry was well aware that he knew almost nothing about dresses, outside of the physical parts that made it all up, so steered well clear from those. What he did gravitate towards, however, were the gloves.
Along an entire wall of the store, were rows upon rows of gloves – some were short, barely reaching the wrist, while others were long, designed to travel wall-past the elbow, while some had the fingers cut out entirely. All were finely made; soft and silky to the touch as he carefully ran his fingers over them.
He was left mostly to his own devices while in the store – Susan had dragged Amelia off to the side, cooing over a dress, that, frankly, looked almost the exact same as the one she was already wearing. Sirius and Remus were in a corner, chatting quietly and occasionally glancing in his direction with reassuring nods and smiles.
Eventually, he found what he was looking for – it was a pair of black doeskin gloves that were possibly the softest things he'd ever touched. They weren't too long, perhaps half the length of his forearm, and so he paid for them quickly and placed them in the bag he'd brought with him for his purchases – something Remus insisted on carrying, despite his protests.
In the end, Susan didn't buy the dress for herself, and they continued wandering the streets of Cochenwaith, though they did stop at a café for lunch. He'd had a simple meal of some mature cheese, freshly baked bread, and some cold meat. It was simple, but filling – he'd been tempted to order something that he'd have at any other meal, but with all the walking and moving around, he'd thought it best to stick with simpler food.
As the afternoon wore on, they visited a number of stores all over the city, though to him, everything had passed in a blur. They'd entered so many shops, and he'd bought so many things, that it had all gotten more than a little overwhelming at times. Their spirits remained high, however, and they'd continued to laugh and joke all the while.
He'd bought a gift for each of his family members, making sure to grab something for Andromeda, Ted, and Nymphadora in particular – he'd spent the least time with them on his birthday; for Andromeda, he bought a sapphire necklace – it wasn't ostentatious; just a simple gem wrapped in silver that dangled on a fine chain. For Ted, he purchased a silver and gold dipping pen, and for Dora, he'd bought a pair of tough, knee-high boots.
It wasn't until the sun was beginning to set, and they found themselves by the same courtyard they'd entered the city at, that Harry found the last two gifts he wanted to buy. They were in a fine jewellery store, and many in the area had already closed up for the day, though the witch behind the counter didn't seem to be in a rush – in fact, she looked more bemused to his browsing than anything else.
His fingers traced a fine, golden bracelet that was shaped like a snake devouring its tail. There were no jewels inlaid into the shiny metal, but it was finely made nonetheless – perfect for Tracey. He picked it up and held it in his palm, his eyes sweeping over the fine, scaled surface carefully.
With a nod, he went back to perusing the wares – Sirius, Remus, Amelia, and Susan were all outside the front window, watching him curiously and talking with one another; only Felix remained in the store with him, his staff held in his hand as he stared at the witch cautiously. Harry rolled his eyes, though he made sure neither the witch, nor Felix could see.
His eyes went back to the rack, trailing over the various necklaces and other items on display – he dismissed them all. Not a single one was what he was looking for. He was about to turn around when something caught his eye at the back, tucked away behind the other necklaces.
He reached his fingers out curiously, brushing aside the various chains and such in his way before pulling on the piece that had so intrigued him. It was shorter than everything else – a bracelet, wrought of silver and gold, with just the faintest hint of Mithril mixed in with it all. It glinted in the low light of the store, and Harry found himself captivated with it, with the way it sparkled and hung between his fingers.
Licking his lips slowly, his eyes travelled the length of it to the centre – it was a wolf's head, with the chain attached between its ears, and beneath its chin. It was a fine piece of craftsmanship, with almost each tuft of fur clearly visible; tiny emeralds were in the eye sockets as it stared up at him unblinkingly. It was perfect for Hermione.
His jaw clenched as he nodded to himself before he made his way over to the counter – the witch, who had been leaning against the wood casually, grinned when he approached; her white teeth almost as bright as Mithril itself. He placed the two pieces on the worktop carefully and pulled a handful of Galleons from the pouch on his belt with a smile.
"Excellent choices, my Lord – special gifts for a special lady, perhaps?" She asked; her voice was kind, if a little teasing. She wrapped both gifts up in separate sheets of silk before tying them fast with a piece of ribbon.
"Two friends." He smiled, placing the Galleons on the table before he picked up the two small bundles.
"I'm sure they'll love your thoughtfulness. My mother made that wolf bracelet, you know – I'd thought I'd sold it years ago. If anyone deserved to purchase it, it was you, my Lord."
"It's beautiful – your mother is very talented."
"I'll be sure to pass on your words. Come, I believe your fearsome protector might start fidgeting if you linger at my counter any longer." She winked at him, shooing him away with a smile. He grinned as he moved toward the door, Felix close behind him. She offered one last wave as they stepped from the store and Sirius looked at him curiously.
"Got what you were looking for?" He asked, gesturing to the two packages in his hands.
"Yeah, I think so." He nodded, casting his eyes briefly to the sky above them; Clara had long-since returned to Arpton to feed and rest – it seemed even Clara had a limit for how much attention she could endure. "Come on," He said, glancing at everyone. "let's go home."
Harry sprinted out of the Great Hall when the horn was blown – they had been at Arpton for little more than a week, and as far as he was aware, there were none of his men out on patrol, nor had there been need for them to leave the castle.
He dove down the steps, three at a time as he pumped his legs to reach the courtyard – all around the open space, men and women were staring up at the Barbican above the main gate, frozen in their tasks.
The second horn blast blew, and he skidded to a halt, his Steward, Brandon, stumbling to a stop next to him. Harry frowned and glanced in his direction – two blasts signalled they were under attack, but even as he strained his ears, he couldn't make out any sounds of an approaching army.
More importantly, if there was an attacking army, why would they be attacking him?
The third blast echoed around the castle, and Harry felt the blood drain from his face as he stared, open-mouthed, at Brandon – the older man looked to be in a similar state of shock and surprise. Three blasts were only used if…
Harry took off across the courtyard once again, and Felix appeared at his side, his staff clutched in his hand and his armour clanking as the two of them took the stairs to the Main Gate two at a time. His legs burned, his thighs screaming in protest after the hard morning of training he'd endured, but still, he kept on going.
Once at the top of the curtain wall, Harry stared out across the long, thin bridge that provided the only form of access to the castle – it was pale in the early evening light, and the warm rays of sunlight seemed to almost make it glow between the rushing waters on either side of it.
There, at the far end of the bridge were a set of banners that he hadn't thought to see for another three years – he'd recognise the silver griffin clutching a wand in each talon; paired with the sage green field it was paired with, and the sigil was unmistakable.
House Trevelyan.
He swallowed, nervously and looked to both Felix and Brandon – the latter having followed after the two of them as they'd sprinted for the wall. What were House Trevelyan doing here, and why hadn't he known? They would have had to have passed through his lands, pass over a dozen castles and fortresses, and yet, nobody had sent word ahead to him; he had been caught unprepared – especially for what ammounted to a Royal Visit.
A lone rider set off from the party gathered at the far end of the bridge – even from where Harry was standing, he could tell that the man was young, and he had thick, blonde hair, flowing freely about his face. His horse was large, powerful-looking, and a deep brown colour.
"What do I do?" Harry asked, looking wide-eyed between the men on either side of him.
"There's nothing we can do, my Lord." Brandon muttered, his hands gripping the corners of the stone parapet so tightly, Harry thought he could see the bone of his knuckles beneath the skin. "House Trevelyan hasn't come to these lands in over two-hundred years."
"Why did we have no warning?"
"I've not a clue – they would have had to have passed your Bannermen; even been hosted by them at some point. It's possible they were ordered to remain quiet, but-" Brandon shrugged with a wince. "-there's no way to know for sure. Not that it makes much of a difference right now."
"I seek the Lord Potter!" The man down below called out – his voice was deep, rich, and masculine; there was an edge to it, not a threatening one, but something else – something he couldn't quite place.
"Go on, my Lord." Felix nodded, patting him on the shoulder. "We're right here with you."
Harry nodded before turning back to the man below him. "You have my attention, Ser – may I know the name of the man that comes before my gate?"
"Jaime Trevelyan, heir to Viscount Trevelyan – my Lord Father announced his intention to visit your keep some time ago; why do you keep your gates closed to us?"
Harry frowned and glanced between the two men on either side of him – both shook their heads, almost imperceptibly. If they said they hadn't received the message, then he trusted and believed them. "I'm afraid we never received notice of your intended visit, my Lord, and we're caught woefully unprepared to host you as your stations demand. We can provide what we can, of course."
"Messages are lost all of the time – if this is truly the case, I see no reason for there to be an issue. Will you open your gates to us?"
"Aye – you may enter the castle and enjoy what luxuries we can provide. Your horses will be fed and looked after, and Guest Right shall be shared with all." Harry replied, breathing heavily through his nose. He glanced at Brandon and added, "Make sure we have everything for Guest Right ready; use the freshest bread and open a fresh cask of honey – I count almost fifty in the party."
Brandon nodded and immediately took off, running down the stone steps to the main courtyard. Harry turned to look to Felix and let out a sigh as the sound of retreating sounds of the horse below them seemed to almost match the staccato rhythm of his pumping heart. "It's going to be crowded." Felix muttered, frowning as he continued to gaze down upon their unexpected guests. "I'd like to know why this message never reached us."
"So would I." Harry huffed before he clasped Felix on the arm. "Come on, we need to be in position before they pass through the gate."
Felix nodded, and Harry led the way back down to the courtyard, calling for the gate to be opened on the way. In the middle of the courtyard, were Sirius, Remus, and Susan, all frowning in confusion and looking around at the sudden, frenzied activity around them.
Spells were thrown this way and that in an effort to quickly tidy the space, pack things away, and even to freshen clothes. "What's going on?" Sirius asked, placing a strong hand on his shoulder before sliding it up and around the back of his neck. "Is everything okay?"
Harry frowned and chewed on his tongue for a moment as his eyes swept the three adults and Susan. "House Trevelyan is here – about fifty in the party. Jaime Trevelyan came up to the gate himself."
"Trevelyan?" Remus blinked. "Here?"
"Who are these people?" Susan asked, confused and wide-eyed. "Are they dangerous?"
"Lord Carth Trevelyan is the Viscount – he sits in place of the King in the absence of one of the royal family. Jaime is his son, and he has a daughter, Alara, who he tried to marry off to Harry when he first came here." Sirius frowned as he answered. "He's a dangerous man – powerful and dangerous. If it's really him at the gate, then everyone has to be on their best behaviour while he's here."
"The irony." Remus snorted, and Harry couldn't help the little grin that spread on his face. Sirius scowled at Remus, but his favourite uncle paid it no mind. "Come on then, we'd best get into position – no time to change into something more presentable now."
"Position?" Amelia asked, cocking her head as Sirius led her off to the side.
"Harry will be the first to greet them – then the two of us, then Susan, then Remus, and finally, the rest of the Household by rank." Sirius sighed, and Harry stepped into position and clasped his hands before him. He was glad for the earlier wash – he'd been beaten into the dirt all morning, and had gotten changed into a loose tunic, trousers, and comfortable boots after a long, relaxing soak.
Susan was similarly dressed, though her tunic was tucked into her trousers, while his own flapped loosely around his thighs in the gentle breeze. Her red hair was set into a loose, thick braid and pulled over her left shoulder.
Sirius and Amelia were also in simple tunic and trousers, though both of theirs were black. Sirius had his hair tied back, and Amelia's was loose, even if it was pulled over a shoulder in a similar fashion to her niece's – Remus, like always, was dressed in his doublet with the silver serpent on his breast. All around them, the Household arranged themselves neatly, with the most senior members following after Remus, and the rest behind them in neat rows.
The familiar caw of Clara drew his eye to the Owlery, where he spotted Clara dive from a window and snap her wings open. Her arrival before him was rather lazy, if he thought so himself, and her eyes blinked with the same lethargy that he recognised as her having just woken up – no doubt the three horn blasts had disturbed her.
She hopped on the spot, turning as the large, heavy doors were opened and the portcullis was raised. A Battlemage in the colours of House Trevelyan led the way atop a white stallion, followed by a pair holding the standard of the House.
Riding casually just behind the two of them was the same man that Harry had spoken to at the gate, though, obviously, he was much closer now than he had been just moments ago. His hair was thick and shoulder-length – straight as well, though parted in the middle. His jaw was strong, though his lips were thin and set into a comfortable, charming smirk as his eyes roved the women around the courtyard; some giggled as he passed, and Harry found his teeth grinding together. Sirius chuckled quietly at his side, and when he glanced at his godfather, Sirius gave him a little wink.
Men and women rode through the gate after that – of all different ages and sizes; he recognised none of them, none of their faces were familiar from his brief visit to the Capitol all those years ago, though he wasn't sure why he would have expected otherwise.
There were other Lords, minor, compared to his own standing, and Harry thought them to be courtiers, or Bannermen of House Trevelyan – he only knew they were minor Lords for how unfamiliar their own sigils were. Harry had all of the Ancient and Most Noble sigils memorised, and there were at least a hundred of those alone; there were thousands of Noble families.
A huge carriage came through the gate next, with a large, domed sage green canopy with silver decorations lining the fine canvas. All over the wood, Mithril studs gleamed in the early evening sun, and a pair of drivers sat on the front bench, their white hair dancing about as the carriage rocked side-to-side.
It was then that the familiar face of Carth Trevelyan appeared – while everyone else had veered off to the side, Trevelyan veered towards where they were all standing. Harry drew in a breath and pulled himself up a little straighter, his hands clasped firmly before him as his jaw twitched.
Carth Trevelyan was in his full armour, minus his helmet – the gleaming Mithril plates were etched with golden filigree and vicious-looking griffins; the sharp, beak-like visages stuck out proudly from his pauldrons, and a sage green tabard was wrapped around him, clasped to a large, golden buckle over his left breast.
Behind him rode the largest man, outside of Hagrid, that Harry had ever seen. His armour was dark steel, with vicious-looking spikes on his shoulders, elbows, and knuckles – he rode lazily, almost as if he had not a care in the world. Though, despite his posture, Harry could feel his alertness, even as his eyes passed over him. The man had a thick, dark beard, and his hair was long, handing down past his breast and styled in loose, simple braids that were clasped at the bottom.
Harry took a knee as Trevelyan dismounted his horse, and quickly, the entire courtyard followed, though none bowed their heads – to do so would be to say that Trevelyan was King. Harry kept his eyes firmly on the bald, severe man with thin lips and blonde, mutton-chop facial hair. He held Harry's gaze firmly, his piercing green eyes meeting his own, searching for something.
He rose only when the Viscount gestured for him to do so, the rest of the courtyard following in his wake, and inclined his head slightly. "Viscount Trevelyan." He said, clasping his hands before him; his thumb trailed across the edge of the wand-holster on his inner wrist.
"I am pleased to see your home, Lord Potter." Trevelyan said in his gravelly voice, looking down at him. "It's a shame that the message announcing my intention was lost."
"We shall get the bottom of it, Lord Trevelyan."
"Indeed, I should hope so – it truly would be a shame if other such vital information was lost now, wouldn't it."
Harry wanted to scowl at the man before him, but instead, he simply smiled politely and bowed his head. The sound of the doors to the keep opening just behind him drew his attention as he spotted the few members of his Household that hadn't been in the courtyard carrying a small table with a dozen plates of Bara Brith bread – something that Harry, personally, detested – a large tub of fresh honey, and over two dozen tankards balanced precariously on top of it. Finally, a man from his Household Guard carried a large barrel of cider that had no doubt been pulled from the cellars – Harry watched him place it down carefully on the ground next to the table and pop the lid off before joining the rest of the men off to the side.
Trevelyan led the way to the table, and Harry followed a step behind, as was expected of him. In the silence of the courtyard, not a sound was made besides the idle noises of the many horses. Clara hopped along at his heel, and he quickly dropped a shoulder and held his arm out for her to hop on, which she did without hesitating – though he was sure the marks where her talons were clutching onto him were going to be felt for the rest of the day.
The Viscount eyed him curiously, and his companion on his shoulder even more curiously before he broke off a piece of bread, dipped it lightly in the honey and tossed it into his mouth. Harry quickly did the same, though quickly broke a small piece off for Clara and hissed as her sharp beak caught the tip of his finger – she likely thought him deserving of it after she was woken up so abruptly by the bellowing horns.
Harry grasped a pair of tankards and dunked them into the open barrel, filling them with the cool, cloudy cider that lapped lazily at the sides. He offered the first to Trevelyan, and the two of them took a mouthful each before placing the tankards onto the table.
With that done, the two of them moved back over to the line, and the introductions began. The door to the carriage opened then, and the familiar, porcelain face of Alara. He only had vague memories of his brief, private meeting with both Lord Trevelyan and his daughter, but as she stepped into the fading sunlight, she seemed little more than a doll. She was pretty, of that there was no doubt, but her face was blank and devoid of any and all inclination of what she was thinking; a troupe of women followed in her wake, many wearing the same sigils as the men he'd seen astride their horses as they entered – wives and daughters, no doubt.
"My son and heir, Jaime – the two of you spoke briefly at your gate." Trevelyan announced as the handsome man approached; his armour, like his father's, was pure Mithril, though he wore his green cloak hanging from both his shoulders and trailing after him.
"Lord Potter – so good to see you on the ground, rather than peering over the top of your walls." Jaime said with a lopsided smile and a raised brow. "I thought you'd be taller."
"Heir Trevelyan – perhaps in a year or two I might match the height you seem to imagine me as." Harry replied carefully, though he bowed politely, nonetheless. Jaime chuckled and offered him his hand; Harry peered at it cautiously before clasping it, pumping it once before releasing it. Jaime moved off to the side to partake in Guest Right, though Harry didn't join him – he needed only to share the custom with Lord Trevelyan.
"My daughter, Alara."
Alara approached, seemingly floating across the cobblestone tiles of the courtyard as she offered him the back of her hand. He brushed his lips across her knuckles before quickly straightening. "My Lady, I hope you find Arpton Keep everything you could hope for and more."
"I'm honoured to be hosted by one so young and so charming – it seems we could use more men like yourself in the Capitol once you come of age." She answered, curtseying ever so slightly.
The next round of introductions meant that he met an ungodly number of men and women, all Lords and Ladies lands so far away, they felt little more than inconsequential – though a number of them remarked on the Phoenix perched on his shoulder, cawing every now and then when one of her wings would twitch. Harry could only thank whichever God was watching him for her good behaviour.
The Lords and Ladies of Trevelyan's court had all been met when the large man from before appeared before him like some great monolith carved out of a mountain. "Elbert Crane, Lord of House Crane." Trevelyan announced in the same voice he'd introduced everyone.
For a moment, Harry simply blinked up at the man as his mouth struggled to form words – he'd seemed large from afar, but up close, he looked even larger than Hagrid. "Lord Potter, it's an honour to meet you." He said with a bow, which snapped Harry from his stupor.
"It's both my pleasure and honour to host you, Lord Crane. I must say, if you don't mind my saying, I thought you the biggest man I'd ever seen from a distance, but to see you this close is something else. I'm sure you're a terror in a spar."
Elbert chuckled and clasped his hands before him as he rocked on his heels. "I take no offence, Lord Potter – in fact, someone you knew once told me he thought me half-giant."
"Oh? Who was that?"
"Arcturus Black."
