Harry pursed his lips as he stared down at the skeletal maw of Ruhxu – the midday light catching the thin bands of Mithril and making them almost glow. He was on the first floor of the trophy room, leaning against the smooth oak handrail with his chin resting on the backs of his hands.

He tapped the toe of his right boot against the floorboard beneath him and ran his tongue over the front of his teeth. Staring at what remained of Ruhxu brought conflicting thoughts. On the one hand, he was genuinely grateful to be alive, and glad that she couldn't be forced to harm anyone else ever again – on the other, there was still the lingering anger that she had attacked those he cared about.

Would he be able to manage the same thing if something similar were to happen in the future? He hoped so – he was young, brash, and even foolhardy at times; especially if Sirius offered his opinion, something he thought was rich, coming from him, but there was little he wouldn't do to make sure everyone around him remained safe. He'd lost too much in his short life already to do otherwise.

He lifted his chin slightly and pulled the chain around his neck free with a gentle tug, the silver metal warm to the touch as it brushed against his magic. It was strong, steadfast, and most of all, everything he'd ever associated with Arcturus. With it in his hand, with his thumb tracing the shape of the wolf and serpent, he felt taller, stronger, and most of all, braver.

It didn't take much to be able to feel exactly what Arcturus had thought of him – if he'd ever doubted it, the proof was right there in his palm, pulsing gently in rhythm with his breathing. He could feel Arcturus's love, his pride, and his belief in him. Sometimes, he thought it enough to make him cry – it was unfair that the man had been stolen from them; kidnapped and murdered.

His hand clenched into a fist around the pendant as he briefly felt his shoulders tense. There had, apparently, been no sign that Arcturus had been tortured before his death, and so all Harry could do was hope that it had been quick. That his body had been displayed so grotesquely in Diagon Alley had been the ultimate insult to a man that was so powerful, so kind, and so… so brave.

He knew that the absence of Arcturus still bothered Sirius, for all that his godfather tried to pretend otherwise. He'd heard the late night, whispered conversations between the man and his wife – the quiet sobbing as Sirius would weep for those he had lost. Harry had gotten used to them over the years, and when he was younger, he'd charge into Sirius's room and wrap his tiny arms around the man, and they'd cry for his parents together.

Now, with the loss of Arcturus, it felt like he was intruding – not that Sirius would ever let him think otherwise if he knew. He also knew, from those quiet, whispered conversations, that the investigation into Arcturus's murder had gone dry back in March; there was simply no way to determine who had murdered his grandfather, let alone where.

Harry had tried to ask, what he thought, was the occasional subtle question, but the adults saw through him instantly – Amelia was the worst for it, though he couldn't fault her; it was her job to discern the truth from people. It was more than a little annoying.

He snorted quietly in the emptiness of the building – Felix was perched against the bannister just behind him, but other than that, he was completely alone. In the week since House Trevelyan's arrival at his castle, he'd been nothing but annoyed in one fashion or another; it was exhausting, hosting so many people.

It seemed that, no matter where he went in his castle, or what he did, there was always someone that wanted his undivided attention over some trivial bullshit that he could care less about. Lord Trevelyan had taken up most of his days, though, thankfully, Sirius was gracious enough to keep the man occupied, and, hopefully, entertained.

Alara Trevelyan wandered the keep with her entourage like a silent ghost – he hadn't seen her smile once in her time within his walls, and she was often quiet while the women around her gossiped and laughed with one another. He didn't know if it was a façade or not, but a small part of him couldn't help but feel sympathy for the woman who was old enough to be his mother.

He'd heard little things around the castle; gossip from his Household when they didn't know he was around. Some were more fanciful than others, but there were all sorts. Some claimed Alara a jilted witch, abandoned at the altar by her childhood sweetheart – others said her lover had been poisoned, or killed in an honour duel in the most brutal of ways for her hand.

He pinched his top lip between his teeth absently as he continued to stare at Ruhxu and nothing at all at the same time. There had been Jaime, who would often walk with his sister through the garden, and there had been the behemoth, Elbert Crane that would accompany her the most, when he wasn't following his lord around.

Now, there was a man that confused him. He'd spotted the large man watching him during his training on most days; though thankfully Sulyard had made sure they did nothing other than the basics, and Felix did the same. He was thankful, in a way – his spells felt more powerful than ever before, and he had even been able to knock Felix off of his feet once, though that hadn't stopped the man from planting him in the dirt ever since. His technique had improved with Sulyard's instruction also – his footwork was cleaner, and he was able to spar for just that little bit longer before Sulyard would, like Felix, toss him into the dirt.

Jaime Trevelyan was a less confusing man – he spent all of his time either in the sparring yard, swinging his sword and shooting off spells at any willing challenger, or flirting with one of his household. Jaime was an impressive warrior and a formidable wizard; it was little surprise that the women giggled as he passed by.

He had watched a number of duels that Jaime had taken part in during the week; his eyes watching for every tell that would prelude an attack: A twitch here, a subtle shift there, and so many minor details that most would miss, and he was sure that he missed even more than he saw. Jaime had an arsenal of spells that he used in conjunction with his sword-work. If he was on the defensive, he would use his wand to bat the weapon away and counter with his sword – if he was on the offensive, he would strike with his sword and follow it up with a spell. He was like a whirlwind, and not a single person had bested him.

The door below him opened with a quiet groan, and footsteps of someone walking across the marble echoed throughout the room. Harry glanced beneath him as he heard Felix turn to watch the new visitor and spotted the familiar golden hair of Jaime.

The heir of House Trevelyan walked through the hall with naught a care; his hands clasped at the small of his back, and he hummed a quiet tune. He ignored all of the treasures and made a beeline for the remains of Ruhxu, coming to a stop with a snap of his heels.

Harry pushed off of the railing and moved towards the stairs that led to the ground floor – his own footsteps, and those of Felix, drew the blonde man's attention and it was only a moment later that the same lopsided, playful smile was on his lips.

Jaime was dressed as he often was around Arpton; in a beige leather coat with black gloves, and a dark, studded belt cinched at the waist with a simple scabbard held in place. His hair was loose, falling around his shoulders and his facial hair was a little darker along his jaw.

"Ah, Lord Potter – sorry if I intruded." Jaime said, bowing politely, though the smirk still remained. "And Felix Cale, correct? I remember you from the Capitol – I seem to remember you wearing different colours back then. My, how far you've risen."

"Heir Trevelyan." Felix answered stiffly.

"You didn't intrude." Harry said, glancing between the two men thoughtfully. "I take it you got curious about Ruhxu, considering you passed everything else."

Jaime turned to look at him and grinned before spreading his arms wide. "Who wouldn't be curious, hm? The largest Basilisk ever recorded; over a thousand years old, killed by a twelve-year-old boy. Has a certain ring to it, does it not?"

"That twelve-year-old boy is the lord of the castle you're in, Heir Trevelyan." Felix snapped, taking half a step forward.

"My apologies, of course, Lord Potter. I assure you; I meant no disrespect – I wonder, are you perhaps considering fighting in a tournament when you're older? I'd love to see just what you can do in a few years if you can accomplish this now." Jaime said with a grin, hooking a thumb at the gaping maw over his shoulder.

"Possibly." Harry shrugged as he stepped up to the skull of the deadly creature; his fingers traced the smooth bone lightly – the bone was warm to the touch, thanks to the large windows along the wall. "We don't have anything like that in England – there are duels, though."

"Well, I'm sure you'll take them by storm. If you ever decide to compete, of course." Jaime nodded, turning to face the maw himself. "I am curious, however, as to how you defeated this creature."

"With a sword." He shrugged, pointing to the hole in the roof of the skull. "Through the top of its mouth and out the top. Clara kept its mouth open for me."

"Ah, your Phoenix, yes? A remarkable thing, that – and she seems so loyal."

"There's no better companion I could ask for."

"Just give it a few years." Jaime chuckled before leaning forward a little and peering inside the mouth. "You'll understand what I mean when you're a little older."

"I'm sure." Harry sighed, raising a single brow at the man before him. He glanced, briefly, at Felix, who shook his head minutely before tuning to look at the Trevelyan heir. "Was there something in particular you wanted to know about Ruhxu?"

"Ruhxu? You named it?"

"That was the name she called herself by." He shrugged, stepping around the skull and looking up into the empty eye sockets. "I'm a Parselmouth."

Jaime was quiet for a moment out of the corner of his eye and pursed his lips. "The first in House Potter, it would seem. My, you are full of surprises."

"I like to think it keeps Sirius on his toes."

"Good man." Jaime chuckled. "If I may – this fang here, the tip is snapped off; your doing?" Jaime asked, pointing to the fang closest to him. At the sight of the broken fang, the phantom pain returned to his arm, and he sucked in a low hiss as the muscles in his arm briefly felt like they were being torn apart once again.

"The tip of the fang went through my arm when I killed her – Clara cried into the wound and saved my life."

"Indeed? Even more impressive." Jaime murmured, nodding slowly. "You're not at all like I thought you to be, Lord Potter."

Harry frowned and absently chewed on the inside of his cheek as he looked up at the blonde-haired heir. "And just what were you expecting?"

"Oh, I don't know, truthfully." Jaime sighed, turning away from the skeleton, and wandering past Felix, who gripped his staff a little tighter. "I thought you arrogant, of course – a puppet of House Black, perhaps."

"My Lord-" Felix scowled, but Harry held his hand up and slowly followed the future lord of House Trevelyan.

"My, you do have your hound on a short leash. Impressive." Jaime chuckled before coming to a stop just before the plinth with the ancient crown of House Potter resting atop it. "To think that this would have ended up atop your little head if things had gone differently." Jaime murmured, briefly glancing at him.

"A lot of things went differently than most people thought they would, I imagine. I might have had parents, for example."

"Indeed – what was his name? Voldewart? Vulpethought?"

"Voldemort."

"What a stupid name." Jaime sighed, glancing at him with a thoughtful look on his face. "Tell me, if you faced him here, today, and killed him – would you think it justice? To cut down the man who killed your parents? Who maimed your face?"

"I'm not sure what I'd feel." Harry answered neutrally as he stepped around Jaime, Felix barely half a step behind him.

"Ever killed a man?"

"Not consciously – they say I killed Voldemort when he hit me with the Killing Curse. I don't remember it."

"It's a strange thing, you know." Jaime said, quietly, leaning over to him and reducing his voice to a whisper. "To think we're all just sacks of meat. Poke a man in one spot, and his innards will fall all across the floor. Poke him in another, and he might walk it off."

"Is there a point to all of this, or did you come in here just to try and intimidate me?" He sighed, levelling his eyes at Jaime while his jaw clenched.

Jaime chuckled and leaned back as he straightened himself and ran a hand through his hair absently. "The last time you met with my family, my father offered to join our bloodlines – I'd know why you turned him down so rudely."

"Rudely?" Harry frowned, cocking his head to the side. "I don't recall being rude once – I could have been, of course. It's considered poor taste to try and bully a child."

"You refused the hand of my sister." Jaime said, folding his arms across his chest. When Felix shifted, just behind Harry's shoulder, he watched as Jaime's eyes grew hard – dangerous. "Careful now, Cale – I wouldn't want to open you balls to brains in front of your precious lord."

"Felix – it's fine." Harry said, just as his favourite guard was about to open his mouth. He turned to look back at the man opposite him and frowned. "As for your sister – she's old enough to be my mother, and I'll not have my lands and people threatened in the same breath. I will choose my wife when the day comes. I would suggest, Heir Trevelyan, that you remember whose home you stand in, and treat your host with more respect."

"You continue to impress." Jaime murmured after a tense moment as he drummed his fingers on his bicep. "Very well – you refused the hand of my sister; I can accept that. Truth be told, I wished to know the young man before me – you'll be a strong Lord someday, and I'm looking forward to seeing you in the future."

Harry eyed the hand Jaime offered warily before clasping it with his own, only to be gently tugged forward as a hand clasped his shoulder in a firm grip. "But understand this, Lord Potter – if the day comes when we're on opposite sides of a tournament ground, I won't hesitate; do you understand me?"

Harry could only nod as he looked up into the green eyes of the Trevelyan heir, and a shiver ran down his spine as Jaime released him. "I'd expect nothing less – I've been watching your spars. If the day should come, it'll be one I look forward to."

Jaime smirked as he began walking away, offering a short bow and a smirk as he did so. "Until that day, Lord Potter." He called as he turned his back on the two of them.

Harry watched him leave silently before glancing at Felix as the door to the building shut with a loud, echoing thud. "Merlin, that man's a twat." Felix muttered, leaning on his staff tiredly. "Not changed a bit."

"I would assume, after all of that, that you know him."

"Fought in several tournaments against him over the years. The man's an artist with his sword and knows his spells – his personality could always do with some improvement though."

"Tell me about him. All I've heard about both of Trevelyan's children are rumours and gossip and it's been a week." Harry sighed, running a tired hand down his face.

Felix shrugged, and his armour rattled from the movement. "Not much to tell. He's Lord Trevelyan's heir, grew up in the Capitol and enjoys fighting and women – though it's always been hard to tell which he enjoys more. Arrogant prick to boot."

"And Alara? Do you know of her?"

"No, my Lord – but there were some rumours going around the city a few years before you turned up. I don't know how true they were, but…"

"But?" Harry asked, looking between Felix and the door to the rest of the castle as he crossed his arms across his chest.

"There was a nobleman murdered – his head removed and placed against his arse. The rumour was that the man was Lady Alara's lover. How true that is, I couldn't say, but it ran rampant at the time."

"Was the culprit ever caught?"

"Not that I'm aware of – the Trevelyan Household Guard saw to the investigation, not us."

Harry was quiet for a moment before letting out a long sigh. He glanced over his shoulder and into the vacant sockets of Ruhxu. "Merlin, things were simpler at Hogwarts."

Felix chuckled and clapped him on the shoulder comfortingly as the two of them walked toward the door to the building. After all, he still had guests to play host to – at least for a little while longer.


It had been something he had been looking forward to for weeks now – ever since he had arrived at Arpton for the summer. It had been an order he had placed the day of his arrival, and as each day passed, the more his excitement – and his impatience – grew to barely controllable levels.

The requests he had made for it had been specific, though if were being honest with himself, there was one that he hadn't thought would be possible – it had been an incredibly last-minute thing, and he hadn't had the opportunity to read about anything similar being made before.

His armour had been replaced first, by the castle Armoursmith, Traven Ridman – he was a large, bear-like man with long, blonde hair shaved to the scalp on the sides and back of his head, while a long braid trailed down his back. His chest was broad, and his arms thick from swinging his hammer day in and day out.

The first time Harry had met the man, he'd only been nine, and had reached only to the man's waist – at the time, Harry had thought him the largest man in the world, and he didn't think his initial fear of the man was unjustified – for a child.

Harry shook himself. He was older now, more confident, and most importantly; he knew Traven – he liked to come across as intimidating, but the moment any of the children of the castle rushed over during one of their games, he wouldn't hesitate to pick them up and throw them around as they laughed and squealed.

Traven was a good man – serious about his work, and talented when it came to crafting armour; it had only made sense to commission his replacement chainmail and gorget from the man – the leather gambeson was far more easily replaced.

The armour had been completed the day before and had fit perfectly. Traven had moved around Harry with such a look of concentration on his face, he'd thought for a brief moment, that the gorget would be punctured by his sharp eyes, dark blue eyes. Harry had remained steadfastly still before him, watching bemusedly as the Armoursmith tugged on straps and adjusted the steel around his neck until it fit better than his old set – frankly, he couldn't wait until he was old enough to commission a Mithril set.

The chainmail had been far easier to try on, though he fully expected having to replace it within a year or two – Traven had muttered quite a few choice words about exactly how annoying it was that his Little Lord, a phrase which always threatened to throw him into days long-since-passed, was growing far too quickly.

Their time together had concluded shortly after that, with Traven laughing heartily as he'd peered around the forge, searching for Korb, Traven's brother, who was, coincidentally, the castle's Weaponsmith, and the reason for his excitement.

Korb was much like his older brother, only more athletic in build. While Traven had blonde hair and a blonde beard, Korb had brown – though they both styled their beards and hair the same way. Korb also had his brother's eyes, though his were brighter, like two glowing, ethereal orbs in the sometimes quite dark building.

It was that brother that Harry now grinned at from across the table, just outside of the forge and under a small canopy propped up against the exterior wall of the building. The canvas above them whipped and cracked as the wind picked up suddenly and died down just as quickly. Storm clouds had, in the time since his discussion with Jaime Trevelyan earlier in the day, made themselves visible on the horizon to the north.

He watched with bated breath as the man pulled what was unmistakably a sword, wrapped in a bolt of thick cloth, from beneath the table before placing it down with a dull thud that made the table sway from side-to-side slightly.

"It is done." Korb said, the left side of his face twitching into a quick grin of white teeth for a brief moment before disappearing.

With trembling hands, Harry gently unwound the cloth from the weapon. The material was surprisingly soft and thin, and while it looked like it had received use before, it didn't stop him from taking the utmost care with it. When there was only one last piece to remove from the covered weapon, he inhaled shakily before quickly removing it.

There, resting on the table in the mid-afternoon light, was his new sword – a blade crafted specifically for him. It was sheathed in a fine scabbard – black, with fine silver, no, Mithril wolves chasing after golden Phoenixes up and down the length of it. His fingers traced them lightly while his lips pressed tightly together, and his breath caught in his throat.

His eyes travelled further up, to the gleaming Mithril crossguard and the dark leather handle – the leather, as he peered closer at it, was scaled; no doubt a darkly-dyed dragonhide from the visible quality of it.

The pommel was the most gorgeous feature. On his old sword, he'd gotten used to the wolf's head – he'd pulled it from the armoury, and it hadn't been any different from any of the blades used by his Household Guard; but this one… this one was perfect. There, at the base of the handle, was an exquisite bust of none other than Clara, in gleaming Mithril – her feathers around her face were beautifully chased, and her gleaming, emerald eyes stared back at him as his fingers traced her features.

He picked the scabbard up with his left hand and wrapped his right around the grip, grinning as he felt the connection from within the handle. With a short, sharp pull, the blade became visible as he slid the scabbard halfway down. His eyes traced the blackened runes, etched into the surface on either side.

It had been why he had wanted the Basilisk venom in the first place. It had only been an idea – something he'd mentioned offhandedly to Sirius before meeting the Goblins. The runes would keep the blade sharp, strengthen the metal, and prevent it from chipping – similar to what all the sword in the castle had, only the Basilisk Venom made them hardier; that's what Remus had assured him of, at least.

"How does it feel?" Korb asked, quirking his brow in such a way that it made the small, dark runes tattooed down the side of his face twitch.

"It feels…" Harry frowned, feeling his magic rushing to meet the familiar feeling in the hilt. "It feels perfect." He said after a moment as the feeling subsided and the sword became to thrum in his grasp.

"She'll be smug now, you know." Felix muttered, and Harry grinned over at the man that was leaning against the thick wooden support beam. "You've nobody to blame but yourself."

"I didn't think it would work." He admitted, pulling the blade entirely from the scabbard for the first time. It was a bastard sword, the same as what he had always used, though the Mithril was much lighter than the steel.

"It wasn't easy to put her feather in the grip, but I managed it. You won't be able to cast anything with it, but you'll at least find it easier to channel your magic while swinging it." Korb shrugged, leaning against the table on his forearms as Harry backed up a few paces.

"I appreciate you having tried to do it in any case. I know it couldn't have been easy. I know I've said this already, but Gods, it feels amazing." Harry laughed, looking around him carefully – there was plenty of space around him – before taking a few practice swings with it; it sliced through the air with such ease, that for a moment, he almost lost his balance.

"The Little Lord has a new favourite toy, hm?" Korb grinned, pushing himself up and resting on his hands, his braid falling down over his shoulder. "You just make sure you're careful with that thing, eh? Traven would be furious if he found out you nicked yourself with something I made."

"You sound more concerned about yourself than me." Harry retorted with a roll of his eyes as he slid the blade back into the scabbard. "It almost hurts."

Korb wagged a finger in his face from across the table, while Felix laughed heartily. "You don't have to deal with Traven – you get to go off to Hogwarts and slay impossible creatures. I'll be the one having to deal with the grumpy bear."

"Could you let Traven know that I love the armour he made for me?" He asked, glancing into the forge where he could just make out the large, blonde man hammering away at an anvil while the apprentices were hurrying around him, scurrying from workbench to workbench.

"Aye, I'll tell him – his witch will be pleased; she threatened to house him with the horses if he messed it up." Korb winked, and Harry snickered. "Personally, I think the horses suffer more with that outcome, no?"

"I wouldn't want Arlan to suffer through his grumpiness." Harry smiled, shifting his grip on the scabbard. "I should get this up to my room – again, thanks. You've no idea how much this means to me."

"It was my pleasure, my Lord." Korb nodded before gathering up the cloth and moving over to the forge. Harry glanced at the still grinning Felix before ducking his head against the strengthening wind and heading back toward the castle.

He took the steps to the main doors two at a time, dancing up them deftly before shouldering open the large door. On either side of the entrance, the hanging cloth banners of his House snapped against the stone under another strong gust – his hair blew across his face one last time as he ducked into the quiet warmth of his castle, and Felix closed the door behind him.

The two of them stood in the entrance for a moment as Harry straightened his hair with his free hand, while Felix straightened the cloth of his armour and brushed the sandy-blonde hair back from his face. "I remember," Felix began with an amused huff. "When you avoided those two like the plague."

"Yes, well, they get less intimidating when you watch them get out-drank by Sirius." Harry retorted with a snicker. He had been ten when that had happened; it had been during a feast, celebrating the harvest during one of his visits that year to the castle. The two men had been the loudest in the hall, singing their songs and dancing with their wives – Sirius had wandered around the hall, leaving him in the capable hands of Remus, Brandon, and Felix.

Sirius had mentioned something about mingling and stretching his legs, and Harry had been tired. He'd watched Sirius for a few minutes before Remus distracted him with a story about some Marauder escapade that his father had gotten them all involved in, and the next time he'd looked to his godfather, he'd caught him downing a tankard with the two brothers as they chanted and slammed their hands on the table.

It had been funny to watch, and even funnier to see the two brothers slumped over the table fast asleep as their wives laughed and talked – Sirius had been little better, and Brandon had chuckled to himself and taken him off to bed, while Remus had practically carried him back up to the Lord's Chamber and tucked him in and kissed his forehead.

He turned and moved into the castle itself, quickly walking past the Great Hall, where it seemed many had congregated in, laughing, and talking the day away as the weather worsened. They passed a handful of men and women in the corridors – some guards, others were members of his Household; a pair of women he recognised from Lord Trevelyan's entourage.

Finding that Clara had taken up residence in his room hadn't surprised him – the Owlery was drafty, particularly on the upper-most floor where she preferred to hold her avian court. Over the years, on the nights where the wind was particularly biting, or the rain hammered the castle relentlessly, she often stayed the night, curled up on the desk between his balcony doors.

To see Clara snoozing there, with the two sayings of his House stamped into the wall above her, made something in his chest clench tightly. It had been the first time she'd stayed in the room since he'd had the words placed there, and it felt right. Perhaps, in visits to come, he could persuade her to stay in the room, like she did at Hogwarts.

After all, he hadn't had quite as warm a night all summer than he did when Clara was curled up against him. Hedwig too – he wondered, briefly, just what his loyal owl was doing; hunting and keeping to herself, no doubt. It was dangerous for Hedwig to venture to Arpton, but a small, selfish part of him wanted her with him; Clara would look after her, protect her from the dangerous predators in the woods.

He placed the sword down on his bed, gently, so as not to wake the Phoenix and quickly hurried from the room, with Felix closing it with a gentle click just behind him. There was only a single guard in the corridor leading to his room, and the two of them nodded politely to them as they returned to the more public levels of the keep.

"Do you think Hedwig would be safe around here?" Harry asked as they meandered down the stairs – there was no other pressing business for the day; at least, there wouldn't be if Sirius managed to keep Trevelyan occupied.

"You mean when you visit?" Felix murmured, frowning. "She's just an owl, right?"

"A Snowy Owl – she's smart, but that's about it. I use her for letters, mostly, but it still feels… I don't know, uncomfortable, without her here." He answered, tracing his fingers along the stone bricks of the spiral staircase. "I've always left her behind because of the predators in the woods – wouldn't want a Dyre Wolf to snatch her out of a tree if they're still about."

"Oh, they're still about – word has spread too, but seeing as they're on your land, none of the other Lords can hunt them."

"I'm glad – not sure how Remus would have taken them coming to harm."

"Not well, I'm sure. In any case, I think she'd be fine – but I wouldn't use her for messages and the like while you're here; just in case." Felix said, patting his shoulder gently.

"I think I like you more like this, you know."

"Like what?"

Harry smiled over his shoulder at him as they stepped onto a landing. "Like a friend, rather than the Head of my Guard."

Felix chuckled and offered him a quick wink. "I'm both, my Lord – but if you ever need an ear, I have two."

"Oh, knock it off." Harry huffed, though he couldn't have hidden the grin on his face, even if he had wanted to. He wandered over to one of the nearby windows and leaned against the stone archway as he peered down at the garden and the Oak.

"Something's been bothering you since you got here." Felix said gently, leaning against the stone on the other side of the window, propping his staff against his side as he clasped his hands before him. "I hope it's nothing important."

Harry blinked and looked away from the small bridge that connected the Great Oak to the rest of the garden and frowned as he pressed his lips tightly together for a moment as he glanced at Felix. "There's a few things, I guess." He sighed, rubbing his forehead with his thumb. "Ghosts aren't real, right? There's no way to communicate with the dead?"

Felix stood a little straighter and frowned deeply. "Of course not – the only thing that comes close would be Familial Magic, but that's only general impressions of those that came before you; and it's defensive in nature. It's there to protect you."

"I thought as much." He sighed, leaning his head against the cool stone.

"You'd usually be nose-deep in a book if something like that was bothering you – do you want to tell me the rest of it?"

"Not really." Harry muttered, closing his eyes as he breathed in deeply. "Maybe." He sighed, opening his eyes only as he whispered, "Yes."

Felix was silent, and Harry contented himself with staring out at the various flowerbeds beneath him, all arranged so that the garden took on the appearance of a heptagram around the tree. "I spoke to my mother, after fighting Ruhxu – Sirius assured me it wasn't her, but…"

"You wish it was." Felix finished. "Oh, lad." He said, just as he pulled Harry in for a hug. Anywhere else in the castle, and it would never have been permitted – he had to be the strong, powerful young man that in only three short years would be ruling and managing everything his ancestors had built. He would be responsible for thousands, no, hundreds-of-thousands of lives.

Harry buried his face in the soft cloth of Felix's brigandine and wrapped his arms around the man. He wouldn't cry – he'd wept the night he'd returned to Blackwall for his mother and father, and he refused to be the little boy crying out into the dark for his parents while at Arpton. He would be strong, brave, and someone that they would be proud of.

He felt the armoured fingers comb through his hair soothingly as Felix hummed quiet nothings to him. "I miss them." He murmured; his voice muffled by the brigandine.

"They'd be proud of you. Why don't you tell me what happened, hm?" Felix whispered, and Harry nodded shakily.

"It was after the fight with Ruhxu – I was asleep in the Hospital Wing, and I was dancing with my mother in a tent, like the one Sirius got married in, and…" He trailed off, squeezing Felix that little bit tighter. "We talked. She said she was proud of me and that she loves me."

"And I'm sure she does." Felix whispered, patting the back of his head gently. "We're all proud of you. It's not the life you should have had, I'm sure, but you've thrived regardless."

Harry smiled, though he was sure it came across as more of a grimace with the way his lips pressed so tightly together. He sighed as he leaned back. "Sorry – you probably think I'm being stupid."

"Never." Felix said, his voice strong as he laid his hands on his shoulders. "I've said it before, and I'll say it again – you're a remarkable boy. None of us could be prouder of you. Now, I'm not sure what happened, and I won't ask what the two of you spoke about, but it won't do to dwell on it too much. Take solace in what was said and use it to strengthen your resolve to be the man we all see in you."

He nodded shakily up at the Battlemage before glancing out to the garden again, though he wrapped a hand around one of Felix's wrists and gave it a thankful squeeze. "I will." He sniffed, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat. "I just wish…"

"I know." Felix offered, wrapping an arm around his shoulders comfortingly. "But if you focus too much on what if's and maybe's, you'll forget to live."

"You're not the first to tell me that, you know."

"Oh? Who else is as wise as I am?"

"Headmaster Dumbledore."

"I know that name." Felix muttered, and Harry looked at him, only to see his brow furrowed in thought. "An old family."

"Will he have any family here?" Harry blinked, genuinely curious – there was little that he'd been able to read about anywhere that had much information on the Dumbledore's. With the Headmaster, he seemed larger than life, mysterious and like a figure out of history.

"Not likely. I don't think there's been any record of the Dumbledore's here for hundreds of years – until that war a few decades ago, I don't think anyone expected them to be around."

"That's a shame." He sighed, chewing on the inside of his cheek absently. "He's probably the last of his family – like me. I think," He paused for a moment; his brow creasing between his eyes as he licked his lips. "I think I feel a bit sorry for him."

"Why do you say that?"

"Everyone deserves to have a family." Harry shrugged. "I think he can be a bit of an arse – especially with what happened with my father's cloak, but everyone can be." He flashed a cheeky grin up at the man beside him. "Even you."

"Harsh words, my Lord."

"I've got harsher ones for each time you've planted me in the dirt." He huffed as Felix chuckled. The two were content to remain quiet for a few minutes before Harry's eyes found themselves trailing back toward Felix once more. "There's… something else that's been bothering me."

"Oh?"

"It's something I got for my birthday – from one of my friends."

"What was it?"

"A statue of Ruhxu with a letter-knife through the roof of its mouth. I appreciated the gift, and that it's probably the only one of its kind, but…"

"You think it a bit tasteless?"

Harry nodded and chewed on his bottom lip. "I know she didn't mean anything by it, but…"

"Have you considered it's no different to you mounting Ruhxu's skull?" Felix asked, after a moment. "For most of the year, you're not here, and that building is open to any within the castle. To most, it's a display of your achievements – the boy who killed the feared Basilisk of Hogwarts. Only those close to you know you're honouring the snake because you feel guilty for what she suffered."

"But-"

Felix held up his hand, and Harry's jaw snapped shut. "You're a Parselmouth – you have a connection with serpents that not many witches or wizards can achieve. You spent a good deal of time wanting to kill the creature, correct?" Harry nodded, slowly. "It wasn't until after that you felt guilt. That is the difference between your gift, and those around you. They will only ever see a dangerous beast that you thwarted against impossible odds."

"But I told them how it made me feel."

"But they're not Parselmouths. I won't begin to pretend to understand how you feel about it all – I'm not one either. I can only speak as someone who knows you and is trying to understand your gift – just like your friends."

"I feel bad for not being comfortable with it." He muttered, glancing at the large stones in the wall – he picked at the edge of a brick absently with his finger as he traced the edge.

"You're well within your rights to not be comfortable with something, lad. Not every gift you receive will be perfect." Felix shrugged, smiling through his neatly trimmed beard. "What was your favourite by the way? If you don't mind me asking."

Harry pursed his lips and ran the tip of his tongue across the back of his teeth for a moment as he thought on all that he'd been given. It was too much, in his opinion. He'd received too much from friends and family, and far too much from his Bannermen and his Household – it had been overwhelming arriving at Arpton and being swarmed with gifts.

"My pendant." He nodded, tugging the small chain out from beneath his doublet. "From Arcturus."

"I'm sorry," A new, deeper voice offered quietly. "Are you speaking of the late Lord Black? I couldn't help but overhear."

Harry spun at the sound, and he watched as Felix straightened as his staff slapped into his palm and crackled with magical energy. Standing on the last step leading to the lower floor was none other than Elbert Crane – his large form barely fitting between the inner and outer wall. For the first time since his arrival, he wasn't wearing his spiked armour, instead, dressed in a simple, dark doublet with the sigil of his family on his breast.

"Lord Crane." Harry nodded, warily. "We didn't hear you coming."

"No, I suppose not – despite my size, I've always been told I'm remarkably light on my feet. I'm sorry to have startled the two of you."

"Can we help you with anything, Lord Crane?"

"Elbert, please, Lord Potter." Crane replied, placing a hand on his breast, and bowing his head. "I was just taking a stroll – I'm not anywhere I shouldn't be, I hope?"

"No – just as long as you go no higher than this floor. Were you looking for any part of the castle in particular?" Harry asked, keeping an eye on Felix out of the corner of his eye – the man had relaxed some, but still appeared tense.

"Not really." Elbert shrugged as he stepped onto the landing fully and made his way slowly over to the next window down from the one the two of them were stood by. "My, the weather looks like it's about to take a turn for the worst. If it's clear tomorrow, I believe we'll likely begin our journey back to the Capitol."

"Eager to return, I take it?"

"Not particularly, my Lord – though, I will admit, it can be quite interesting if given the opportunity."

"Oh?"

Elbert chuckled and clasped his large hands at the small of his back. "Oh, aye – take the Great Council just last year. There wasn't a man there more impressive than the Lord Arcturus."

"You were there?" Harry frowned, cocking his head to the side. "I assume as a Vassal for House Trevelyan?"

"I was – though, I'll admit, it didn't go quite the way I had imagined it would." Elbert said, turning to face the two of them. Harry leaned against the wall and folded his arms.

"I was accused of inciting rebellion, if I understand it all."

"Not quite, my Lord." Lord Crane chuckled, mimicking his pose. "There were rumours of a rebellion backed by yourself, though none particularly believed it – the Council was organised as a way to get to the bottom of it all without marching into your lands. Both Lord Black's assured us all that there was nothing nefarious going on – Lord Trevelyan himself was quite relieved."

"Indeed – well, if you wouldn't mind, I have duties I should probably see to before we eat this evening." Harry smiled tightly, bowing his head politely as he led Felix toward the stairs.

Elbert's voice froze him in his tracks. "I fought with Arcturus; you know. Only the one time, but it was… remarkable."

Harry turned to look at the large man, who had turned his head to peer down at the gardens below. "Where? During the war, I take it?"

"I watched Arcturus defeat twelve powerful wizards and witches. His magic was… awe-inspiring." Elbert murmured; his voice surprisingly soft in the quiet of the corridor. "At one point, he lost his wand – but he kept fighting. They had him backed into a corner, and not once did he let them get the better of him."

"Where were you in all of this?" Harry frowned, his free hand reaching up to curl around the pendant.

"I wasn't in a position to assist him." Elbert said, glancing over his shoulder at him. "To hear of how he died… well, I try not to think about it too much. I see a bit of him in you, however – I'm quite looking forward to seeing how you turn out."

"He was the best I could have asked for." Harry murmured, glancing down at the fist that clasped the pendant. He shook himself after a moment and cleared his throat. "Forgive me, Lord Crane – I really must get back to my duties."

"Of course." Lord Crane said, bowing in return. "Regardless, I'm sure we'll see each other again soon, Lord Potter. I look forward to continuing our conversation."

Harry bowed one last time before quickly turning on his heel and hurrying down the stairs with the pendant still clasped in his hand – the clanking steps of Felix right behind him the only comforting sound as he made his way back to the castle-proper and the guests and duties that awaited him.


The emptiness of Arpton had been something that, for the last two days, had been something that had stood out to Harry like a sore thumb. As much as he disliked having to host the Trevelyan family within his castle walls, there had been a liveliness to the fortress that had, in some ways, reminded him of Hogwarts.

In fact, for the week that the Trevelyan's had stayed at the castle, he had often caught himself sweeping his surroundings, looking for Neville's face, or Daphne's, or Tracey's, or even Hermione's. It felt like an age since he had last seen them all, laughing and joking with one another – like a lifetime, though that was most likely the stress of the past week talking.

The courtyard had become less busy, and in the evenings, the Great Hall felt much larger than it had before. With all of their guests, it had become constricting in the evening meals, trying to fit everyone inside. Now, with House Trevelyan gone, it felt like there was too much space. Each evening, he abandoned his position at the High Table, and settled himself among those that worked and lived at the castle.

He would listen to their stories and tales of monsters and heroes – he would laugh with them, and drink with them, though his was much more watered down than their own. The first night after House Trevelyan's departure, he had joined in with their singing, and banged his tankard against the table as Sirius and Amelia danced with the other couples.

Susan had tried to coax him into dancing, but he had declined – though when he saw her laughing and joking with one of the other children of the castle, a boy named Jacob, whose parents worked in the kitchens, he couldn't help but be glad. Sirius had spun Amelia around and around, their laughter ringing out above the chorused singing – Jacob had picked Susan up during a crescendo at one point, her startled squeak making him laugh and cheer with those around him.

Each night, he returned to his bed, bone-tired and weary from a hard day's work, and he'd sink into the sheets after stripping off his clothes, and he would dream of his own dances, beneath a large canvas tent and the warm, flickering light of candles.

Clara kept him company, having remained in his room each night rather than sleeping in her nest in the Owlery; she would curl up in the crook of her neck, the warm feathers of her wing spread languidly across his chest, and both mornings, he had awoken to her gentle nips along his ear. It was exactly what he had needed following the headache that had been the last week.

He had thought himself able to relax around his castle once again – to be able to breathe a little easier and prepare himself for the inevitable return to Hogwarts and normalcy; something which always seemed to elude him during his short stays at Arpton. There was always something.

And so, he found himself once more in the courtyard of Arpton with his hands clasped at the small of his back, and his brow arched as he watched the pair of riders enter on horseback. They had arrived with no warning, and frankly, he was getting tired of people turning up out of the blue.

He eyed the elder, atop a white mare – his hair was just long enough to skim his shoulders, which were adorned in hard, brown leather armour. His hair was black, though it held a unique blue tint when the light struck it, which was a stark contrast to the pale skin the man had.

The younger of the two had an oriental look about him, closely resembling Sue Li, though looking between the two, the two were obviously related – father and son, judging by the similar high cheekbones and strong jaws. On both of their breasts was the sigil of a leaping Kelpie – House Griffin, of The Rose Tower to the west.

That it was House Griffin – no doubt the Lord Arron, and his son and heir, Cai – made the unique blue-tints to the dark hair of both visitors make that much more sense. House Griffin was a House of Morgen; near-humans with an affinity for water, and by extension, the sea – House Potter had waged war against them almost two thousand years ago, and as a result, House Griffin had become their staunchest supporters.

He watched both father and son drop down from their horses – both glancing at one another as they made their way over to him. Sirius remained by his side, as did Remus, Felix, and Brandon. Upon reaching him, both dropped to a knee, bowing their heads.

"My Lord – forgive our sudden appearance." Arron, the Lord Griffin, said. His voice was deep and powerful. Harry gestured for them both to rise. Arron was of a similar height to Remus, standing proudly at a little over six foot, while Cai was a head taller than himself.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?" He asked, straining to remain at least semi-formal. At least, if the two of them planned to stay for an extended period, he could actually kick them out of the castle before returning to Hogwarts for his education – something he wouldn't have been able to do to the Trevelyan's.

"I come with an offer, Lord Potter – one that I didn't wish to convey through letter."

"Very well – be welcome to Arpton Keep, Lord Griffin. As one of my Bannermen, my castle is yours for as long as you wish to stay. Would you like to partake in Guest Right?"

"No, Lord Potter – we would never presume to feel unsafe within your walls." Arron nodded, his face stoic; as Harry's eyes swept over his face, not so much as a muscle twitched. Harry nodded once before gesturing for the two of them to follow him.

He hurried up the steps, taking two at a time, momentarily enjoying the breeze that whispered its way across his stomach and back as his loose tunic got caught on the gentle wind. There had been a time when Harry would only ever wear a formal doublet – he'd done it often, in fact, around Hogwarts, but these days, the simple pleasure of a thin, light, and most importantly, loose, tunic was much more preferable.

Harry led the way through the castle – they passed the Great Hall and hurried up the first staircase they came across to the third floor. He marched on, passing sconces of white balls of light and stone gargoyles of wolves – out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the Great Oak and the gardens below through the windows on the outer wall. He ducked into a room, unlocking the door with a simple wave of his hand, and held it open for all those that had followed him.

Sirius entered first, with Felix right behind him. The two Griffins came next, with Brandon bringing up the rear. Once everyone was inside, he closed the door with a quiet click, and turned to face the room.

It was the official study of the Lord Potter – the formal one, at least. It was darker than he liked it – the stone walls were dark, and the varnished floorboards were covered in beautiful, thick rugs of pale blue and grey. All around the room were motifs of wolves, and portraits of the most famous of the Potter's. In the middle of the room was a large table, rough from use, but well looked after regardless. Chairs surrounded it, though none compared to the high-backed, throne-like chair that sat behind the desk at the far wall, flanked by tall bookshelves.

He quickly sank into the chair and watched as everyone else in the room settled themselves in at the table – it was crescent shaped and made to force all those at the table to look to him, a bit of a subconscious show of power that one ancestor or another had decided to incorporate. He threaded his fingers together over his stomach as he looked between the faces of those before him – his lips twitched upwards in the corners as he spotted Dobby popping around the table and placing drinks before disappearing again.

"So, what's this offer that you came all this way for?" He asked, folding his legs as he looked to Lord Griffin.

"First of all, my Lord, I would just like to ask – the rumours of you having defeated a Basilisk with a sword; are they true?" Lord Griffin asked, glancing at the others around the table.

"They are." He nodded, once. "Her skull is mounted in my family's trophy room in a place of honour. I'm sure Lord Aves would be more than happy to show it to you after this meeting."

"And it happened during your school year, correct?"

"At the end of it, aye – within Salazar Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets."

Harry's eyes darted to Cai Griffin, who shifted in his seat nervously as he glanced toward his father, who, himself, was staring quietly at the cup he held between his hands. "In that case, I would offer you my firstborn son and heir, to guard your back in your time at Hogwarts."

Utter silence filled the room, and all Harry could do was blink as his mouth fell open in shock. "I'm sorry?" He asked, his eyes darting to the other adults in the room.

"Harry's at school, not marching off to war." Sirius frowned, tapping his finger against the wood of the table. "Your son is older, and there's no guarantee he would be placed into the same House."

"Not to mention I'll be there myself this year," Remus began, throwing a small glare at Sirius, who simply grinned smugly, before continuing. "as part of the faculty."

"Truthfully, my Lords, word has reached us that through both years at his school in Scotland, Lord Potter has faced mortal peril on more than one occasion." Lord Griffin looked his way, the muscles of his jaw clenching and unclenching as he swallowed. "My Lord, as your Bannermen, we are worried – if you should fall, then so too will the Family Magic we are bound to you by. House Griffin wishes to stand by our oaths and protect you where we can."

"I'll not be followed around school by a bodyguard, Lord Griffin – nor do I presume to think this is what Cai wishes." Harry answered him, breathing in deeply and rubbing the bridge of his nose with his thumb.

Cai stood as the feet of his chair scraped across the rug beneath the table. "My Lord, I wish to ensure your safety – there are none more important to House Griffin than House Potter."

"Are we even considering the logistics of this? Aye, it's all well and good you wanting to protect Lord Potter, but can you even get to Scotland?"

"We have our Ro'rim, and our lands remain maintained in Bangor – Cai has been well educated, though it's primarily been here. He's a strong dueller."

"Why you – why House Griffin? Why not House Lovegood? Aves? Hawke? Wass? Llewellyn?" Sirius asked, leaning back in his chair, and tracing a finger back and forth across his moustache. "Are you trying to curry favour?"

Arron's eyes went wide as he held up his hands. "Of course not, my Lord! We-" He said, breathing deeply and pausing for a moment. "We haven't had a Lord Potter since your grandfather, Charlus, and even then, he died young and with only the one heir. My Lord, your Vassals are concerned – rightfully so."

"So, you thought to offer up your son and heir." Harry sighed, tiredly. "I assume, then, that Cai is the only one of age from the families?"

"He is – the closest one was Xayvion Lovegood, heir to House Lovegood."

"I thought you told me there was one at Hogwarts?" Sirius asked, frowning, as he looked to him.

Harry shook his head slowly. "Luna – his cousin. Daughter of Xenophilius."

"Forgive me, but who is Xenophilius?" Arron blinked, looking around the room in confusion. "I wasn't aware Lord Xenophon had a younger brother?"

"He doesn't." Remus said, swiping a hand through his hair. "Xenophilius is the older brother. He renounced his lands and titles in the fifties, shortly after his younger brother was born – he runs a magazine in Britain, The Quibbler, and goes on expeditions to find creatures in his spare time."

"He… I'm sorry, what?"

"From everything Lord Black has said over the years, I think it's a good thing that Xenophon is the Lord we have, and not Xenophilius. Do we know much about his daughter?"

"A loner, usually, but I've noticed she has some friends around the school." Harry smiled, thinking of the distant girl with a little fondness. He hadn't often spoken to her beyond exchanging simple pleasantries as they passed in the corridor, but there was a way about her that left him feeling a little lighter after each brief meeting.

"Could she be enlisted to help protect you?" Lord Griffin asked, leaning forward in his chair, eagerly.

"She's the year below me, and frankly, I'm not sure what she knows and what she doesn't. I'm usually with my friends – Neville Longbottom, Daphne Greengrass, Tracey Davis, and Hermione Granger – most of the time. The other students are wary of me enough – walking around with a pair of bodyguards would just alienate me further."

"Wary? Why?" Cai asked, his brow furrowed as he tucked his hair behind an ear. At Harry's look, he bowed his head and offered a quiet, "My Lord."

Harry sighed and allowed his head to fall back against the back of the chair. "I'm a Parselmouth – it isn't a good thing in Britain."

"That's stupid." Cai muttered with a scoff, though it was loud enough that Harry heard it, which made him laugh, even as the dark-haired boy blushed as the adults around him chuckled. "Sorry."

"No, I think it's stupid too." Harry grinned, shifting in his chair for a moment. "So, why should I trust my safety within the castle to you? Regardless of what your father said or thinks."

The entire room turned to look at Cai, and Harry felt a little satisfied at seeing the older boy swallow nervously. "You're my future Liege Lord. The tragedy of your parents is known, even here – I grew up on stories of your ancestors and mine. It would be my honour to do what I could to protect you, and…"

"Out with it, lad." Felix said, when Cai hesitated and looked to his father.

"And my mother attended Hogwarts – it would be nice to see the castle."

Harry breathed out slowly and traced his finger absently along his jaw as he chewed on the inside of his cheek. He glanced at Sirius, who shrugged, Remus, who nodded, and both Brandon and Felix who, like Sirius, nodded. "If you join me at Hogwarts, I want you to focus on your studying more than me – is that understood?"

Cai darted around the table so quickly, Harry hadn't even seen him rise from his chair before he was kneeling before the desk with his head bowed. "Yes, Lord Potter – thank you."

"Don't thank me just yet." Harry scoffed. "Save that until after your first Quidditch match, though I'm warning you, if you end up anywhere other than Gryffindor, don't think I'll go easy on you just because." He grinned, standing, and stepping around the desk. Cai rose as he gestured for him to do so, though he looked a little bewildered when Harry held his hand out to him. "And please, call me Harry."

"Harry." Cai grinned, clasping it and giving it a firm squeeze. "Call me Cai."


His time at Arpton Keep had ended the day after the impromptu meeting with House Griffin – both Lord and Heir had returned to their own castle, and if Harry were honest with himself, he quite looked forward to seeing how Cai handled Hogwarts.

Returning to Blackwall had felt like the most relaxing of baths – the tension washed from his shoulders like a waterfall, and he had barely managed to make it up to his bedroom without collapsing from the relief.

Of all of his trips to Arpton, the most recent had been the most stressful. Arpton had always been like an adventure to him – an escape from the troubles of Britain and everything that came with it; the stress of being The-Boy-Who-Lived, and the scrutiny of the Wizengamot as the last Potter. Arpton, while he had always strived to fulfil his duties and responsibilities, had always been different.

Arpton was such a different place to Britain – not even Rosestone could compare with its like. Everything about that world was magical, from the smallest pebble, to the largest dragon, magic saturated the very ground they walked, and the very air they breathed. It was like something out of his favourite stories; like walking through Middle-Earth with Frodo, and Aragorn. He smiled to himself as his fingers traced the leather-bound spine of The Fellowship Of The Ring on the bookshelf by his bed.

Despite all of the stress, he did feel content with what had happened – Brandon had sworn to get to the bottom of the missing messages from House Trevelyan, and why none had alerted them to the party that had arrived at his gate.

House Trevelyan would have passed Enith's Hold, one of the castles that guarded the southern passes into his lands, and Redbrook city before passing Cochenwaith itself – that not one had alerted him had vexed him.

With a sigh, he turned from his bookshelf and wandered over to his bed, sitting on the edge of the mattress gently before collapsing back and staring up at the canopy above him while his arms spread themselves wide. As stressful and confusing as House Trevelyan's visit had been, it hadn't been a complete write-off.

One of the things he most loved doing while at Arpton was learning magic – the previous summer, he'd learned Oblecto, and Reium – this year, he'd been able to learn five! He still had to practice, but he was able to form each with his wand – the more he practiced, the stronger they would become.

Eviulsis was his favourite in his new arsenal – a spell he recalled Clara Appleton performing during the ambush along the road. With enough intent, he'd be able to blast forks of lightning-like-magic at his opponents – the more power he put into it, the more devastating the spell. After all, he'd watched Clara cook a man on the spot. He scrunched his nose as the distant memory of charred flesh clawed its way to the front of his mind.

He'd learned two other offensive spells as well; Leveous, which would shoot a ball of ice from the tip of his wand – a useful bludgeoning spell that he'd seen Felix annihilate training dummies with, and Decimori. He'd been subjected to Decimori on more than one occasion – it was Felix's favourite spell to use in their training sessions; it was a violent stunner, capable of shattering bones on impact if enough power was channelled through it – luckily for him, Felix had excellent control and never gave him more than a bruise.

He hadn't only learned offensive spells either – Morego and Sluaris were powerful shield charms that could be useful in plenty of situations. Sluaris was perfect for defending a group; something they could have used years ago, but it wasn't as well known as Morego, which was similar to Protego in use.

Sluaris was his favourite – it was beautiful! He'd watched Felix perform it, and he'd been left breathless by the shimmering, golden barrier that had formed around him, thrumming with magical energy that had felt intoxicating when he'd ghosted his fingers across its surface.

He closed his eyes with a contented exhale and threaded his fingers together behind his head. He was at Blackwall now, not at Arpton – he was in his room, not the Lord's Chamber. Everything was different around him. His room at Blackwall smelled of old parchment, and the heady scent of old oak – Arpton smelled of fresh flowers, pine trees, and that distinct, crisp scent that always came with a fast-moving river. It was like night and day.

Merlin, even his sheets smelled different!

He chuckled to himself as he felt the bed bounce just behind his head, and opened his eyes to see the wide, eager eyes of Dobby hovering over him. He laughed and reached up to scratch the little Elf behind his large ears, which made the little creature giggle uncontrollably.

"Hello you." He said after a moment, sitting up and crawling onto the bed a little more before folding his legs beneath him. "Bored?"

"No, Master Harry. Dobby bes having his hands full thanks to Lispy – plenty of work to do."

"You're hiding from her, aren't you?" He asked with a sly grin and a wink as he leaned back against the headboard. He patted the spot next to him, which Dobby scurried to with a little squeak.

"Dobby would never hide from such a little Elf." Dobby huffed, though his wide, darting eyes, and nervous glance to either side of him said something quite different. "Dobby just remembers how good Lispy bes with that frying pan."

Harry chuckled at the memory – almost a full year to the day of their return from Arpton, when they'd discovered Dobby battling the Elves of House Black to deliver a warning. He could still see Lispy on the Elf's shoulders, a thick, cast-iron pan in hand as she struck Dobby over and over. He wrapped an arm around Dobby's small shoulders and pulled him into his side.

"Oh, don't be afraid of Lispy – she's all bark and no bite." He grinned, only to jump at the resounding crack. There, standing with her feet on either side of his crossed legs, was an indignant-looking Lispy, with a feather-duster in one hand. She leaned forward and flicked him between the eyes before looking at Dobby with a huff and popping away again. Harry frowned and rubbed the spot tenderly. "She used to be nicer." He called, hoping she'd hear beyond his door.

Dobby giggled behind his hands before scooting into his side a little further. "Dobby be liking being yous Elf, Master Harry." The Elf said, after a quiet moment. "It bes… fulfilling."

"I'm glad." Harry smiled, giving Dobby another squeeze. "You're part of my family now – I couldn't imagine it without you."

Dobby sniffed suspiciously, but looked up at him with a watery smile, nonetheless. "Is Master Harry happy to be home, sir?"

"I don't know where that is." He replied, quietly, and with a shrug of his shoulders. "I grew up here, but I spend most of the year at Hogwarts. Arpton is where I'll probably raise my family, and Rosestone is… intimidating."

"Island castle definitely be intimidating." Dobby agreed with a nod so quick his ears flapped. "Arpton bes full of magic though – Potter Elves be very strong."

"Spend a lot of time with them, did you?"

"They welcome Dobby with open arms." Dobby grinned, clapping his hands happily. "They can't wait to bond with you. Very impatient."

Harry chuckled and leaned his head back against the headboard with a quiet thud. "I'll bet – only three years to go. Not long now."

Dobby fidgeted in his arm, and he glanced down at the Elf curiously. "Is Master… happy?"

Harry blinked at the question and opened his mouth to answer, only, nothing came out. He closed it, before trying again. "What do you mean?"

"Well, it just be that Master Harry Potter Sir has been quiet after coming out of the Cold Place." The Elf said, quietly. In the pause between Dobby's words, and his response, the curtains on either side of his bed wafted in the breeze from the open windows, just as Hedwig flew through.

The Snowy Owl landed on the bed with a flutter of her large, white wings and hopped up on his left thigh before walking the length of him, nipping at the few loose strands of hair she could reach from his lap.

He smiled and scratched her under the chin with a finger before sighing as he glanced down at the Elf snuggled into his side. "The Cold Place? I assume you mean the Potter Crypt?"

"Yes – Elves be calling it the Cold Place. Wes not be welcome down there – must be ever so dirty, but, Humans bes knowing best, I suppose."

Harry chuckled, and lightly flicked the least sensitive part of Dobby's far ear, while the little Elf grinned up at him, and Hedwig continued to preen under his attentions. "I visited my parents – talked to them. Happy isn't something I'd call myself after seeing them."

"It bes hard, to visit loved ones." Dobby nodded solemnly as the smile fell from his face. "They always be with us, though – it bes nice thought."

"I'm lucky to be surrounded by you lot then, aren't I?" He said, making his voice sound far more enthusiastic than he truly felt. "I've got you two, Sirius, Remus, Amelia, Susan, Clara-"

Hedwig barked and nipped the tip of his finger at the sound of the Phoenix's name.

"-all of the other House Elves here, and I've got my friends at school."

Dobby shifted in his arm and pulled out a handful of envelopes before placing them in his lap – they were tied with string, and already, he could see Daphne's neat, cursive scrawl on the top-most one. "That reminds me – Master Harry be wanting letters from friends. Dobby collected them from mean Kreacher."

He grinned as he gave Dobby one last squeeze before retrieving his arm, so as to untie the small stack. "Thanks, Dobby. Do you want to read them with me?"

Dobby shook his head and gave a little sigh as he got to his feet and wiped down his uniform. "No, Dobby best bes getting back to work – Lispy sure to wave pot as it is."

"Good luck." Harry chuckled, waving at the Elf as he popped away – Hedwig wasted no time in occupying the spot the Elf had just vacated, and Harry rolled his eyes and quickly scratched the feathers on top of her head. "Let's get these open, shall we?"

Hedwig barked and fluttered her wings and nipped at the string. He chuckled as he unwound it and quickly opened Daphne's letter. It was simple, filled with the things that she'd been up to during his extended trip – she'd attended a ball, and went on to complain emphatically about the fools she had been forced to suffer, which made him laugh.

Neville's was next – he'd spent the summer learning under Augusta about their family history and toured some of his lands. Neville lamented the number of times Augusta had cuffed him for falling asleep when she'd go on about the Wizengamot, which he made sure to read twice for Hedwig, which made her bob her head excitedly.

Tracey's came after, though this came with a photograph of the largest creature he had ever seen – it was the dragon from Cardiff – she'd visited it again, and in the photo, she could clearly be seen standing in front of the magical barrier surrounded the gargantuan beast, grinning and waving excitedly at the camera; in the background, two puffs of smoke shot out of the nostril of the creature while it slumbered.

Hermione's was last, and she went on about her stay in France, and how she had visited the magical districts in Biarritz, along the south coast, and stayed in something called the Radisson Blu Hotel – he assumed, from how she sung of its praises, that it was delightful.

Of course, there were half a dozen pictures of her and her parents, all in various summer clothing; though he nearly choked on his own spit at the sight of Hermione standing in knee-high water with her parents on either side of her – her hair was pulled up into a ponytail, and the sun behind them caught the droplets of water running down the front of her shoulders, towards…

His eyes darted back up, and he stared at the door opposite him, wide-eyed, as his breathing sped up. Hedwig barked quietly at his side as she inched closer. He frowned and held the picture away from her. "Hey, back off – this isn't appropriate for you!"

Hedwig fluttered her wings and bobbed her head. There was no way anyone else was ever seeing that photograph – Merlin, he could barely even believe it himself. He knew she must wear them, but to think that he'd gotten a glimpse of Hermione in a bathing suitat the beach!

His eyes darted to it once again, and he sucked in a deep breath through his nose as his eyes traced her once again – her skin was tanned from the sun, and the sunlight made the few loose strands of hair around her face almost glow golden. Her smile was wide, and he could almost hear her laughter, and for a moment, he felt like he was there with her. Gods, how long had it been since he'd seen the ocean himself?

He put the other photos down on his bedside table, and quickly stood – much to Hedwig's disapproval. He ignored her barks, and quickly opened up the box that contained all his most precious things and placed it on top of everything inside. Perhaps next summer, they could all do something, go somewhere, together.

But first, they had the coming year to get through – there would be classes, Quidditch matches, feasts, studying, and inevitably, exams to get through; not to mention the biggest privilege of those in third year and above…

Hogsmeade.