With Fire and Blood
Description: VERY AU! Sirius Orion Black, Heir Primus of the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Black, never imagined himself as a father, much less the father of his dead best friend's abused son who was rescued by squibs of the family. Watch as he finds himself the unwilling paterfamilias of the Black family, deals with the muck that is wizarding politics, and fights with fire and blood, to keep his godson safe from all who wish him harm.
Rating: T
Disclaimer: Do not own.
Hey everyone, happy belated holidays/new years! Thank you all again for sticking through this with me. In other news, I have retconned some things in the prologue and first chapter after some very helpful suggestions from Teufel1987 (many thanks to you sir). This is a bit of a filler, but it's all necessary information. Regardless, hope you enjoy the new update, and please remember to review! :D Onto the story!
o.o.o.o.o.
Chapter 2: Family Council
June 27, 1985 – Drawing Room, Black Manchester Townhouse
Sirius Black sat down with Harry on his lap after finishing his celebratory dance. Looking around, he inclined his head in greeting to the other adults. "Uncle Marius, Aunt Magaera. I can only assume that you must be my cousins Artemisia and George. Nice to finally meet you."
Artemisia smiled, "Yes indeed, Cousin Sirius. Looks like Great Uncle Arcturus was correct in his assessment of your intelligence. And yes, this is my husband, George."
Sirius nodded in thought. "Alright. Now that the pleasantries are over, I believe I an correct in assuming this is not a social call? What's happened that Grandfather had you summon me back from Florence besides Prongslet?"
"My name's Harry," Harry said in a childish voice as he pouted cutely. Then he yawned loudly.
Sirius offered a non-committal hum. "Perhaps. Why don't we tuck you into bed for now. Your name is a touchy issue and you parents spent long hours thinking it out. It certainly isn't anything so common as Harry. But that is a conversation for tomorrow. Okay?"
Harry nodded sleepily rubbing his eyes as Artemisia moved to lead him to his room for the night.
"Promise you'll be here tomorrow, Padfoot?" Harry asked voice solemn as if this was the last time he would ever see him again.
"Promise," Sirius said just as solemn. "Now be a good lad and get off to bed."
Harry hopped off Sirius' lap and went with Artemisia, albeit reluctantly. Seeing this, Magaera spoke up. "Wait, I'll come with you. Perhaps I can sing a lullaby to help the boy sleep."
Artemisia smiled, "That would be wonderful, mother." It was a little known fact outside the Black and Flint families, but Magaera was once a professional opera singer and had performed in every famous venue from Sydney to Vienna in her prime. Even retired, she maintained a almost religious passion for music and the arts. The atmosphere of the room became increasingly tense and brooding as the women left with Harry.
Pinning George and Marius with a piercing glare, Sirius spoke. "So, what's happened? Apparently, I've been kept out of the loop as of recent events."
George sent a nervous glance to Marius, who nodded.
"Before we begin, you need to promise to not do anything rash without Great Uncle's approval. Just know that everything is under control and being handled." Marius started.
Sirius narrowed his eyes as his face went expressionless. Everything about Sirius shifted from the usually warm, jovial, goof into a colder almost ruthless state. He suppressed all emotions and iced his mind over until it resembled a large frozen tundra, removed from all emotion. Here, he could objectively weigh and consider all options and decisions. It was an occulumency technique all Blacks were taught. When you need to survive, go cold not hot. For before there was anything, there was the cold, and there will always be the cold. In the cold, you do anything to survive. Every action is judged and no energy is wasted. The concept of mercy does not exist. There is no room for error, only instinct in its basest form: survive. At all cost. With something like the circumstances of his godson being discussed and given that Marius had warned him, he could surmise that the story was not one he would like at all. He went cold to have better control of himself. He wasn't going to risk it. That isn't to say he was very good at it, but he was good enough for this.
Weighing his options, Sirius nodded once, still iced over and solemnly swore. "I, Sirius Orion Black, Heir Primus to the House of Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Black, do so solemnly swear on my magic to not act on any information given to me on this day without the approval of my Lord Grandfather, Arcturus Sirius Black, Lord of the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Black." There was a flash of light as Magic accepted his oath before the room returned to normal.
"Now you were saying?" Sirius asked Marius, one eyebrow raised.
"Perhaps I should let George begin. He was, after all, directly involved. More so than I, in any case."
Sirius turned to George, who needed no further prompting before launching into a horrific tale of abuse, dinner negotiations, rescue, and finally meeting the Black family. At least a few of its more prominent members. Marius and the ladies, whom had returned after seeing Harry off to bed, injected every now and then, but mostly left the telling of the tale to George.
At the end of it all, the Blacks sat in silence as Sirius processed and took in this information. Still cold as ice, he nevertheless managed to give a façade of a smile and nodded in thanks to both Artemisia and George for the information and subsequent rescue.
Artemisia finally broke the silence. "It was awful, Cousin Sirius. My heart broke when that sweet little boy thought his name was 'Freak.' Thankfully, I knew at least part of his name from the Prophet."
"Yes, thank you for that Cousin Artemisia. Though since you brought the topic up, I will tell you that his full name is Hadrian James Potter. As you know, he cannot claim Heir status until he reaches eleven years of age. However, that still leaves several questions unanswered. Namely, Hadrian's estate, including his Gringotts vaults and heirlooms, specifically, a cloak. Also, what a certain mangy wolf was doing for all these years." Sirius and Remus had a falling out with Remus still believing Sirius to be guilty and Sirius unable to convince him otherwise. Even so, the werewolf should have still checked up on Prongslet. He was deep enough in Fumbledore's pocket to know where to look, Sirius mused bitterly. Oh, would they have words when next they meet.
"That's a good point Sirius. I don't think Arcturus even considered that issue. You'll have to meet with him tomorrow. Though you lost me with the wolf comment." Marius looked quizzically at Sirius.
Sirius waved him off. "Nothing. Just a passing thought. But I'll be sure to mention the rest tomorrow." Sirius returned to his thoughts, going over everything he knew in minute detail. "That Grandfather authorized the use of the Memoriam Dolor curse is a satisfactory punishment. Though, perhaps not the full obliviation. A memory mirage may be more appropriate. They may still be useful."
Magaera spoke up just now, "What exactly is that curse? I've never heard of it."
"It's a curse that forces its victim to personally experience all the pain, both physical and emotional, that they have caused others, whether directly or indirectly. You can see why its appropriate here."
The others in the room nodded dumbfounded that such a curse existed.
Sirius continued, "You wouldn't have heard of it, Aunt Magaera, because it is located in the Black Family Grimoire, and you were not born a Black. And even if you were, well, you're a squib. Black Family Magic only allows those born into the family with magic to view and study the Grimoire. Every Black Lord, dating back to Scorpio Antares Black, the founder of our family, has added their personal repertoire of spells to it, and quite a few auxiliary family members have done the same. The curse itself was originally created by then Heir Primus Castor Mercury Black in the late 15th century as revenge for the rape and death of his 16 year old twin daughters Venus Lavina Black and Aphrodite Regina Black at the hands of the magical French warlord Maximillian Jaques Roquefort, a cousin of the then Lord of the Noble House of Roquefort, who had believed the House of Black shortchanged him in a lucrative business deal in India. The curse was apparently quite successful, as he ended up just about insane from the pain and emotional turmoil and ended up living out the rest of his life in the long term spell damage ward of St. Germaine. To this day, healers there tell stories of the 'insane Roquefort' and how he did nothing but drool and scream 'make it stop!' all day."
"Wholly appropriate. But the thought is… terrifying…" Artemisia succinctly summed up the combined thoughts of the squibs and half-blood muggle. "Regardless," she continued on with a visible shudder and suppression of that train if thought. "We should let Hadrian know about his name first thing tomorrow morning. It's too bad, he seemed to like Harry," she mused.
Sirius snorted. "Oh yes, a Heir Primus and future lord of the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter named 'Harry.' No one would take him seriously, loathe as I am to admit it. I normally don't buy into all this formal house crap, but I can't very well let my godson be burdened with this disadvantage in the Wizengamot if and when he takes his seat. They'd eat him alive."
"Harry is a bit… plebian… for a Potter." Interjected Marius. "I imagine he is named after Hadrian Odysseys Potter? The famous magical Roman general that virtually singlehandedly subdued the magicals of what is now Britain and Spain?"
"The very same," replied Sirius.
"Then he has big shoes to fill. I hope he's up for it. The poor lad."
Sirius simply nodded and continued his previous train of thought. "Speaking of the Wizengamot, do any of you know who is acting as the Potter Regent in the chambers? Because we will have to announce Hadrian's adoption sometime to them."
"I believe the senile fool has it. Though as Chief Warlock, he can't vote so it was proxied to Elphias Doge, the brother of the Lord of the Ancient House of Doge and a staunch supporter of Dumbledore's."
Sirius frowned. "That… complicates matters… But regardless, perhaps Aunt Cassiopeia and Grandfather Arcturus have some suggestions on that particular situation."
"A sound suggestion. I'm sure we're all tired after the day we've had. We should probably join Hadrian in sleep. After all, we are going to a Black family war council tomorrow." George opined with a smirk. The others returned the smirk. After all, the Black family reputation didn't come from nowhere.
Slowly, the house darkened and quietened as its occupants fell into the open arms of Morpheus and Hypnos.
o.o.o.o.o.
June 28, 1985 – Antechamber, Blackstone Hall, Wiltshire
Sirius had arrived at the family manor just after breakfast with Hadrian, Artemisia, George, Maegara, and Marius through the floo. Hadrian had been informed of his full name earlier at breakfast and had taken to it like a fish with water after Sirius regaled him with endless tales of his parents arguing back and forth over it. Exiting the Antechamber behind what Sirius explained was a House elf, Hadrian and the adults moved through a dizzying array of corridors, hall ways, rooms, and stairs.
"Welcome to Blackstone Hall, the Ancestral Manor and Seat of the Black family, Hadrian. Take a good look around as this will one day be yours." Sirius said ruffling the boy's hair. Hadrian nodded, eyes turning every which way in an attempt to see everything.
From ornate carvings of obsidian and gold, to spun silk tapestries decorating the walls shining and flowing like water, to statues and busts of famous Blacks, to wizarding portaits, to original art from Raphael to Picasso, and everything in between. The sheer ostentatiousness of it all took away his breath. But it somehow worked. The décor was tastefully arranged, making full use of alcoves, ornate frames, subtle lighting, and large bay windows for natural light. This was no mere manor. It was the seat of power of the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Black and reflected their status. For some reason Hadrian did not understand, dragon's featured the most, followed closely by artistic expressions of winter or ice, and even some combination of the two.
They finally arrived at a pair of solid mahogany doors stained so dark it was almost black. The door was intricately carved with a large standing dragon. The dragon was so large, his head barely cleared the top of the doors , which was a good eight or nine feet above Sirius' head. It seemed almost alive with the flickering torch light and dancing sunbeams shining on it. In the center of the dragon's forehead was a large clear diamond that seemed to glow with an inner light. The door itself radiated a snese of magic, of an almost ancient presence.
The party paused as Sirius raised his hand presenting his Heir ring. A beam of light left the ring an struck the diamond, which flashed for a moment before returning to normal. The group waited for a moment before suddenly the carved dragon shifted. And lowered its head to look more closely at the party.
"Well, well, what have we here? The runaway, a few squibs, a muggle, and a half blood brat. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. Tell me, why should I let you pass?" The dragon rumbled.
Without flinching, Sirius responded, "You are bound to the will of the Black family, Favnir. Despite your personal feelings, you will let us pass. We are expected by his lordship."
The dragon snarled and lashed his tail before returning to his previous position. "Be that as it may, you would do well to watch your back. My imprisonment lasts only so long as there is a Black Lord. And as you well know, you will be the last, unless you can procure an heir. Now enter."
The dragon solidified back into wood, and the door slowly creaked open revealing an almost spartan study compared to the rest of the house. But that still wasn't saying much considering the massive bookshelves filled with all manner of books, scrolls, and manuscripts. The was alos a massive desk placed infront of the large bay window, as well a various upholstered chairs and tables. Lord Arcturus and Cassiopeia were sitting at one such table.
"Ah, Sirius, I see you've made it." Arcturus commented. "Favnir didn't give you too much trouble?"
"No more than usual, Grandfather."
Arcturus snorted. "That dragon. Sometimes I think it's more trouble than its worth keeping him imprisoned and guarding the House of Black's most important assets."
"Not like you have much choice, Grandfather. Scorpio made sure of thatwhen he bound the dragon to our bloodline."
"You're right, Sirius." Arcturus sighed. "But enough about that old beast. How is everyone else? Do you like the manor Hadrian?"
The group exchanged the obligatory pleasantries as Hadrian shyly nodded and asked Sirius what the dragon was.
"Hadrian, that was Favnir, a guardian of sorts for the House of Black. It is actually his likeness that the Dragon of the Black sigil was based on. You will learn more of him in your lessons."
Hadrian nodded as he considered this information. The depictions of dragons in the Manor now made sense. Once everyone settled into the grandiose study, with various magical toys being provided for Harry on the floor, the adults then began to hold the second clandestine family council in as many days. Marius took the initiative to tell Arcturus, Melania, and Cassiopeia about the previous night.
Arcturus nodded and took the moment to catch Sirius up on the plans so far. "We have decided it would be best for you to blood adopt the child. You are his godfather after all, and Hadrian seems partial to you, if the events of the last night are anything to go by. I have called a mandatory family meeting for August first at the manor, before the Wizengamot session. It would be best to have the adoption performed by then. I don't need to remind you that best results are achieved on a name day. I don't need the French peasantry challenging us on it. I shall reveal this change at the August Wizengamot during the House Announcements."
Sirius nodded. This was all what he had expected so far. "In the meanwhile, you will bring the child with you to Florence, Britain is much too dangerous, and we can't risk Dumbledore finding out before we're ready. Cassiopeia will go with you to update the wards, and bring them up to a level where they will easily hold against hostile attackers. While there, I expect you and Cassiopeia to start teaching Harry what it means to be a Black, specifically, what it means to be a direct Heir of the Black Lordship. Artemisia has already started him on this path, it may be a good thing if she can arrange to go with you." At this, Arcturus paused and looked at Artemisia.
Taking the hint, she replied, "Of course, Uncle. George and I shall make plans as soon as we return to Thornfield Heights."
Arcturus nodded in satisfaction, and continued. "At present that is all we have planned out. I suggest we get on with planning the repercussions for after the Wizengamot reveal. Dumbledore will not take kindly to these actions. We also must arrange for the Potter proxy to be yielded to Sirius Black, as well as the silence of the muggles. Let's get to it."
Cassiopeia broke in here, "I think the most pressing of these issues is the muggles. The Memoriam Dolor curse is a good place to start, but perhaps only a memory block instead of a full obliviation? After all, who knows when something they know would be of use. They could easily be moved into an out of sight hovel in the middle of nowhere after that with new memories."
Sirius nodded at this and agreed with her. "I think that would be wise. Perhaps a mirage memory? After all, distraction and misdirection is by far more useful than outright destruction. Is that not the way of the Blacks?"
Arcturus mused for a moment before nodding slowly. "Indeed it is. Do as you will Cassiopeia, however, I want them dealt with within the week."
George frowned, bust stayed silent. This talk of essentially mind wiping muggles at will did not sit well with him. Still, he mused, at least it's for a good cause. Perhaps I can get my brother to cover the legal bases for us. He spoke up, "Hold on just a minute. We don't want some small legal loophole to allow someone else, namely Dumbledore, to remove him even with the blood adoption."
The rest of the group paused and considered the quandary.
Magaera spoke hesitantly to George, "If memory serves, your brother, Hector Crawley, is a law wizard and founding partner of Crawley, Drummond, and Tonks, correct? Perhaps he could help us?"
George nodded, "That's exactly what I was thinking. I can send him an owl later today, and we can see what he has to say."
"Alright, do it." Arcturus confirmed. "In the meanwhile, I think that's all we can do on the Dursely front. Moving onto other matters, Sirius, I'm adding a trust vault for Harry in Gringotts. It shall have 50,000,000 galleons, with 5,000,000 galleons backdated for each name day, and a further 5,000,000 will be deposited on each future name day up until he reaches his majority, as is traditional for a Black. Get him a wardrobe, as well as a Familiar if he is able to find one. I leave it to your choice whether you wish to shop in Italy, Britain, or elsewhere. I hear Milan and Paris have had excellent quality robes for sale as of late. While at Gringotts, do try to find out what happened to the Potter vaults and Harry's trust vault."
Sirius nodded again, "Those were my thoughts exactly from last night. And believe me I shall. There are some other… items… of his parents I shall try to track down as well."
"Do as you will. Just get him attired and outfitted properly as a Black should. As for lessons, Cassiopeia, nothing too harsh. Just the basics, until we have an idea of what he can handle. Artemisia, you will primarily instruct Harry on etiquette and Black history. You always were good at that, despite being a squib."
Artemisia's face soured at the reminder, but she nodded in acquiescence anyway.
The meeting continued for several hours, breaking only for lunch, after which, Harry was settled in a guest room for a nap. They agreed to reconvene in a week to discuss any further issues and Hadrian's progress.
o.o.o.o.o.
June 28, 1985 – Offices of Crawley, Drummond, and Tonks, Diagon Alley, London
It was late in the afternoon on a muggy, humid summer day. Rachel, Hector Crawley's secretary, sat at her desk, mind numb with boredom, and sweating profusely from the tepid warmth lazily swirling around the room. Waving her wand, she liberally reapplied the cooling charms, as she had done just about every half hour since that morning. There was virtually no effect, as the summer's heat defeated even the most powerful of her cooling charms. She knew she should just stop, but the thought of going without that small comfort was unbearable in the almost suffocating heat, so she continued in vain in an attempt to tame the summer sun.
Suddenly, she heard a pecking on the window. With a long suffering sigh, and fighting off the flies buzzing around her head, moved slowly to the window. Opening it slowly, she was momentarily startled by a eagle owl swooping in to land on her desk. The owl glared at her haughtily, seemingly upset at the wait to be let in.
She sighed again and moved back to her desk, muttering all the while about, "great big, bloody, useless, egotistical birds."
The owl stared back impassively as she reached for the attached missive on its leg. Removing it, the owl quickly took off, but not before showing its displeasure at its treatment by vomiting a half eaten mouse on the carpet.
Grimacing in disgust, she quickly vanished it and looked back at the missive. It was a thick, creamy parchment with the Arms of the House of Black clearly embossed into the wax sealing it closed. It was addressed to Hector Crawley in the handwriting of his brother, George. It was clearly important, that much was obvious, even without the blatant "Urgent" scribbled under the name of its intended recipient.
Rachel quickly made her way to her boss' office and knocked on the heavy doors.
"Come in," came the call from inside.
Rachel opened the door. "Urgent owl for you, Mr. Crawley. It appears to be from your brother."
"Oh?" replied Hector, looking up in interest from the mess of papers on his desk. "Wonder what he's up to now. Best get this over with, just give it here." Hector held out his hand as he grasped his letter opener with the other.
Swiftly cutting open the envelope, he removed several sheets of high quality, creamy parchment topped with the Black Arms. He spent the next several minutes reading the letter in depth, and then reading it again. And then again.
He was shocked. That his brother had found the wizarding savior was amazing! Hiding the boy away with his parents' will sealed just never sat right with the law wizard. That this same boy had been abused so badly was heart wrenching, and further emphasized how right he was to doubt Dumbledore then.
He wanted to shout his exhilaration from the rooftops. He wanted to scour the law books and take Dumbledore and his fried chicken cohorts to court on every charge he could throw at them. The last few sentences of the letter cautioned him however.
I know how upsetting and shocking these events are, and believe me, I experienced it all first hand. However, I must urge you most strongly to keep this information to yourself and I entrust it to you in the strictest confidence, my brother. Do not tell a soul, not even your partner, my cousin, Andromeda; she will find out in due time. It would not do for the wrong ears to hear, and this is a delicate situation as you may appreciate. If you have any advice to offer, I shall be at the Blackstone Hall in Wiltshire tonight with all those who know and wish to keep the boy not only alive, but more importantly, happy and healthy.
Your brother,
George Matthew Crawley
P.S. It would be highly advisable to destroy this parchment when you are done with it.
He resolved then and there to be there that night.
o.o.o.o.o.
June 28, 1985 – Drawing Room, Blackstone Hall, Wiltshire
Hector had gone over every scrap of information he had on the case with the help of the indomitable Lord Black and his family. Spending several minutes in silence going over his notes, and summarizing it into a legal brief.
Slowly, he spoke, tone measured. "A blood adoption is wonderful idea, and ties up most of the legal issues, especially given his close family connection. In fact, it would seal this case closed and give the House of Black undisputed guardianship over the boy. But there reamins a loophole due to the War Orphans act of 1819. Essentially, it states that all changes of guardianship for a War Orphan, of which Hadrian most definitely qualifies, must be approved by the Director of Wizarding Child Services and the Minister. And however much we may protest it, Dumbledore's appointment of the Dursleys as guardians was legal and thus would require us to go thorugh Minsitry chanels. No doubt, you can surmise, as well as I can, that if we went through such channels, Dumbledore would show up that very same instant to recalim his savior for the light."
Arcturus frowned. Then swore. "The bloody bastard son of a troll!"
"Calm yourself, Arcturus!" exclaimed Melania from beside him. "There must be an alternative. We can't just leave that poor boy there, or have him returned to such abhorrent conditions."
Hector nodded. "There may be a solution. Tell me, have you heard of an Escrow Agreement?"
o.o.o.o.o.
June 31, 1985 – Number 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey
A silent pop echoed street as two forms appeared in the twilight shadows. The man and woman paused for a moment to regain their bearing before striding imperiously towards the house.
They silently knocked on the door, the woman sniffing and generally dismissing the area.
The door opened and a gaunt, stick thin face appeared. "Yea? Can I help you?" the woman, asked disdainfully. Now really, what respectable person would be out and about at this time of night?
The man replied brusquely. "We have business with your family tonight regarding your soon to be ex-nephew Hadrian James Potter."
Petunia paled as she saw them both subtly draw their wands. She tried to quickly close the door, but the man was too quick for her. The door banged open, and the two strangers strode in making themselves comfortable on the living room couch.
All the while, Vernon's face became increasingly red and increasingly resembled a grape. Idly, Cassiopeia wondered what would happen if she popped it just like a pimple.
"Petunia. What. Is the meaning of this?!" Vernon acerbically asked his wife, spit and foam flying everywhere. She remained mute and pale, looking quickly between the strangers and her husband.
Schnick. The sound caught Vernon's attention as he turned to the strangers and saw what they grasped in their hands. He paled, but continued to maintain his bravado. "GET OUT! GET OUT OF MY HOUSE! I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF YOUR FRE –" suddenly he was silenced though his mouth continued to spout off spittle.
Suddenly realizing his silence, he snapped his mouth shut.
"Now, isn't that so much better Mr. Crawley? We can't let the muggles ruin our night, now can we?"
"But of course not, your ladyship. In fact I think it's time we continued with the point of this appointment. We've wasted enough time as it is."
"Oh, too right. Well, do continue Mr. Crawley. It is after all, as the muggles say, your show." Cassiopeia let off a bone chilling laugh that made the Dursleys pale even more.
Hector Crawley, nodded, and reached into his suit to pull out a sealed sheaf of parchment. He began to speak in a severe clinical tone, as if he was merely discussing the weather.
"Five days ago, George and Artemisia Crawley visited your house for a business dinner whereby they found the War Orphan Hadrian James Potter, your nephew, living in squalor and thouroughly abused. They removed the child from your care, and intend to raise it within the House of Black. However, they wish this to go unkown to the authorities who placed him here, as they would undoubtedly insist he return to your care, which have demonstrably indicated you do not find acceptable. Therefore, an Escrow Agreement has been drawn up between yourselves, the House of Potter, and the House of Black. Do you understand what this means?"
He paused for a moment and seeing the clear looks of confusion explained further.
"An Escrow Agreement is a contract whereby a item, propety, or money is held by a third party until certain specific requirements are met. This particular Escrow Agreement is between the House of Potter and yourselves, with the House of Black acting in trust as the third party. It proposes that Hadrian James Potter's guardianship, currently residing with yourselves, falls to the House of Black until he reaches his majority as Lord Potter if he proves to be magical. It is unconventional, I admit, but in this manner you would never have to see the child again. All you would have to do is sign these papers where indicated. The other relevant parties have already signed. Do you agree?
Something in Vernon's face must have given Hector the impression he would, because Hector flicked his wand once removing the silencing and binding spells on him.
Vernon quickly signed the parchments. The parchments glowed gold and quadrupled. Two were sealed by the Potter and Black crests respectively before disappearing. Another was topped with the crest of Crawley, Drummond and Tonks. This one floated to Hector, who replaced it within his suit. The final copy floated to the coffee table in front of Vernon, who eyed it as if it was the devil incarnate.
"Well done, Hector. Ahead of schedule too. I can see why Cousin Arcturus keeps you on retainer. But, we must get a move on, you had another stop after this I believe?"
"Yes, your ladyship. As you say." With that parting remark, Hector disapparated out leaving just the Dursleys and Cassiopeia.
It was time to play with the muggles and her wand itched to let loose all the archaic and esoteric magic she knew.
The Dursleys would only hazily remember the pain and the interruption of their evening by a door to door salesman later. Cassiopeia's greatest talent had always been mind-magics, inherited from her Bulstrode mother.
She smirked and apparated out, leaving everything just as it was.