Important note:

This chapter is still a really light read in the grand scheme of things, but I just wanted to remind you guys that this story is rated M and not for language reasons.

Also, not completely unrelated, I really do love animals, especially dogs.

Premonitions I

Seven days in the future...

Daphne smiled as she stared outside, bathing in the sun that shone through the scattered clouds with their faint promise of snow, squinting involuntarily as the rays of light were reflected by the brumal scene of tranquillity that played out behind her window.

London was a picturesque dream of winter, heavily buried under two feet of snow, adorned with icicles and steaming chimneys. A few children were playing outside, their playful laughter pervading the house like a dozen warmth-giving hearths. Her smile grew a bit as the sudden scent of freshly baked cookies reached her bedroom, and she could hear Tori's whining pleas for an early taste even up here.

She was glad they were in their small house in the city. Despite its modest dimensions compared to Greengrass Mansion (and its virtual non-existence compared to the Black Estate), she much preferred their current location. Mostly because she didn't have to suffer her grandmother stalking the corridors like a nagging zombie-rug come alive, but also because she had some very fond memories of the place. The Blacks too had a smaller abode in London, and she and Harry would often meet when they were both younger, either before that day, or later, when she was still enviously ignorant of the increasingly messy political disaster her family had become.

Daphne's eyes glazed over.

'Why do you call him Uncle Arcturus?' she remembered a young girl asking the reclusive, frustratingly shy boy with his big, jade green eyes, almost ten years ago now.

'W-what?' the boy had said, watching her warily, panting from exhaustion.

'Mummy said he's Lord Black!'

The tauntingly adorable eyes stared back, slightly frantic under her scrutiny. She had been told to be very, very patient with him, and this had been their first time 'playing' alone and without the supervision of either her father or Uncle Sirius. And she had managed to be patient – for about one minute. But the frail and diminutive boy just looked so cute with his giant, mesmerising eyes of vibrant green and his unruly black hair. And so, following her desire to hug everything cute, little Daphne had chased the boy around the nursery until they'd both slumped down, worn out after a few dozen laps.

The boy arched an eyebrow. So cute! 'I-Isn't he your grandfather?'

'Grand-grandfather!' Daphne declared proudly. 'But isn't he yours now, too? Mummy said so!'

Nervously, he returned a look. 'I...It feels better to say Uncle.'

'Really?! Then I'll try it too!'

Daphne couldn't help herself and burst out laughing, jumping on her bed and hiding her head under her pillow in embarrassment. It was strange, but for some reason or another, she'd never stopped calling her great-grandfather Uncle even long after Harry had finally dared to address the man appropriately. He simply was Uncle Arcturus now.

Still giggling, she poked her head out from under the pillow, her eyes resting on the three dozen dresses that had managed to be short-listed for the ball. This time, she'd started early looking for the perfect raiment. She couldn't, of course, wear the same dress again so soon. No, that was sadly out of the question. She'd even tried to enlist unwilling help again, but Tracey was apparently busy helping her mum and Tori started wailing that she, too, wanted to go to the ball whenever Daphne asked her for advice.

Her grandmother had sent Daphne a very angry letter, reminding her of the deal she'd made a few months ago. But still, she thought with a playful grin, even classmates were allowed to share a dance, weren't they? Her gran couldn't possibly protest about one or two measly dances – just as friends, of course.

And Granger had, in her back-stabbing way, brought up a relevant point; some Ravenclaws really did seem a fair bit more open towards Harry nowadays. Or maybe rather curious? Perhaps even interested?

Suddenly, she sat bolt upright, sending her pillow flying across the room where it collided with a bookshelf holding a complete and still shiny collection of The Weekly Potioneer.

Hadn't even that cow Parkinson remarked that she'd be glad to receive an invitation this year? They couldn't be trusted, of course, that much was perfectly clear to Daphne. Maybe they'd try getting close to Harry to satiate their curiosity, maybe to ingratiate themselves or maybe, Daphne felt her throat go dry, because they thought Harry wouldn't resist a more straightforward advance.

And it was true that Harry was weak to women – just not that kind of weakness, hopefully. Surprisingly, and to her great elation, Harry also seemed to have made a bit of peace with some terrors of his past, generally being more indulgent and accepting of her presence, company, and even casual contact between them. Would that also mean that he'd be susceptible to scrubbers like Parkinson?

Granger's bossy voice, once again, drilled into her mind. 'I somehow don't think Padma would reject your offer...'

With a frown, Daphne inspected the dresses she'd laid out once more, ignoring the cheerful squealing of the children that fought an epic battle in the snow outside.

Good thing she'd been able to persuade Tracey. She, at least, was a safe bet – someone Daphne could trust. Why, Harry and Tracey had only ever met in her company before Hogwarts, and he'd never even attended Tracey's birthday. Now that she thought about it, Daphne was sure he'd never been at the Davis residence at all!

Yes, Tracey's a safe bet, she thought again. She seemed particularly reluctant to go with him. All the better! I'm sure when the evening gets late, there won't be too many prying eyes, and then we'll see...

This time, her wandering eyes lingered on a few dresses she had decided to label mature. Absorbed in thought, she walked over to the giant mirror that hung next to her wardrobe, inspecting all the important bits of her reflection critically.

Well, maybe it wouldn't hurt to be a bit bolder this year...

With a mischievous smirk, she twirled around. She was just about to dismiss a few of the more respectable dresses that had managed to survive the selection process until now, when she felt a sudden shiver running down her spine – like a deliberate wrong note during a symphony.

Frowning, she let the precious silk run through her fingers, listening with all her might to identify the strange tone that dared to mess with the serenade of her daydreams.

But it was dead silent.

Neither Tori's incessant begging, nor her mother's calm but amused admonishment could be heard, not even the children outside. It was as if the world was holding its breath.

Confused, Daphne looked around, trying to ignore that feeling of ice sliding down her back. As she walked over to the window, she saw that the sky was pitch black, with faint purple light flickering between the clouds.

Then, a blindingly bright bolt of lightning struck the street below and with the following thunder, the world came alive like a corpse rearing its ugly head...

~BLVoD~

Present time...

The Black estate in Wales was buzzing with the sort of organised chaos every looming major event might induce in staff and servants: elves frantically scurrying about; flocks of owls coming and going by the minute, leaving a general mess and blankets of feathers in the corridors; the master of the mansion receiving visitors and notes hourly; packages, supplies, gifts, and provisions arriving in heaps and heaps. And yet, the worst of it – or so it seemed – befell the one person who was not participating in the preparations in any way.

Harry could be found in the duelling chamber, books about runes, potions, blunted chisels, and half-empty magical cleaning solutions forming a magical circle of their own around the hunched figure that sat in the middle and repeatedly hit the cold marble in frustration after his latest failure. The dark circles around Harry's eyes were a thing of nightmares; he hadn't slept in about two days.

In his increasingly desperate state of mind, Harry had tried everything, from brute force to a delicate academic approach, all with the same crushing result. The runes on the floor, the blasted runes he'd drawn so many months ago in the spur of the moment, refused to yield.

Once more, Harry stared at the softly glowing scribble on the floor. It hadn't taken him more than a moment to draw them, and the spell... Harry had known, of course, that the spell had never been perfect. Not without reason, their progenitor had apparently halted his experiments. But the book had been there, hadn't it? Innocently lying in wait for him to try his hand. He couldn't have been the only Black in a few hundred years to be overcome with curiosity, could he?

Harry stared with red eyes at the runes, tearing at his hair. How could such a simple thing go so wrong?

The spell he'd used to surprise Aenor back then – it seemed like an eternity to Harry now – hadn't been all that difficult, truthfully speaking. But that, he reminded himself with a sinking feeling, was probably partly due to the...special circumstances involved. He'd just taken the author's word for it and come up with something simple to direct his creations. And now?

With a cry of frustration, he jumped up again, levelling his wand at the floor in front of him.

'Reducto!' he cried.

His reward was a few splinters of marble cutting his face, and, to make matters worse, when he hesitantly turned his head to have another look, the only place that didn't seem to have suffered any damage to its surface at all was the very place he so desperately wanted to vanish for good.

'Merlin, help me!' he prayed, his voice unnaturally high pitched. 'Why won't they go away!?'

But there was no answer – only the soft glow of the deceptively innocent runes that hummed peacefully, merrily doing their work of sustaining the horrors Harry had unleashed.

He stood up, kicking the can of Mrs Cower's All Purpose Magical Mess Remover with all his might, feeling some amount of satisfaction as he watched it soar through the hall and crash into the wall on the far end. The notion of suing Mrs Cower for fraudulent advertisement seemed rather inviting.

Following a soft click, the heavy grandfather clock near the door announced the new hour with a morose melody that did nothing to lift his spirit.

Sparing the circle of runes one last hateful glance, he walked towards the door, taking great care to lock it up both manually as well as magically. True, both his grandfather and the elves wouldn't be kept out by these flimsy half-measures, but the elves would respect his wishes and Arcturus was much too busy to wander around the house for now. Thank Merlin!

Just the thought of confessing to his grandfather seemed to turn his legs into lead, so it wasn't at all surprising that Harry slouched towards the entrance of their estate in a particularly bad mood to meet with the visitor he knew to expect.

'There you are!' called Bellatrix Lestrange, standing next to a little crate. 'I was just about to go to the library!'

''lo Auntie,' he responded lugubriously.

Narrowing her eyes, his aunt took a few steps in his direction, inspecting his pale face and the still raw cuts from earlier. 'You look dreadful,' she declared conversationally.

'I'm not feeling so well. Do you think we could-'

'Not happening!' she cut him off. 'Follow me! I've got something special for you today.'

Harry watched her with some amount of concern as she levitated the crate not towards the first floor but towards the left. After all, some of Bellatrix's special lessons had haunted his dreams for months when he was a child.

'Er, where are we going?' he asked, resigning himself to the worst.

'The cellar!'

'The...cellar,' he repeated, feeling more apprehensive by the minute.

'Oh, yes. This isn't something to be done with windows in sight – no matter the wards.'

'Oh,' he responded glumly. 'Great!'

He followed her lead, down the worn stone steps that had been carved into the bare rock. The mansion was ancient, that Harry knew well, and the cellar was the oldest bit left standing. A grizzly place by any standards, where many a research more malevolent in nature had taken place. He could smell it in the air – curses, blood and bones.

Regrettably, that bit of information would likely only serve to encourage his aunt, so he kept his mouth shut as he followed her down the narrow descent, careful not to slip on the steep, rough steps, and inwardly grateful that it was quite unlikely Bellatrix knew of the second level underneath the cellar.

Their shadows danced to the dirty light of Bellatrix's torch like shabby dancers in a derelict theatre, the uneven texture of the rough stone sometimes squeezing their shadows to half their size, sometimes ballooning Harry's half-light brother to a threatening, menacing giant that stalked his steps like a predator biding his chance.

Bellatrix looked around as if she were trying to remember something, until, with a triumphant cry, she entered what Harry knew to be the ancient 'guestroom'.

'Yes, this will do nicely,' she said, nodding happily, directing the crate to land at the far end of the cave-like room where the remains of a few chains still dangled from the wall and the low ceiling.

'What are we doing here, Auntie?' Harry asked, desperate to instil some amount of reason into his relative, his eyes lingering over a few spots that, in the torchlight, looked eerily cupreous in colour for simple stone.

'Well, I know we've only had that one lesson, but I've had enough already,' she answered fractiously. 'I just don't get it; you learned the Patronus all by yourself and created your first Portkey almost offhandedly. You're not trying to fail, are you?' she asked dangerously.

'What? No!' he protested angrily. While it was true that he considered some, or possibly most of Bellatrix's curse arsenal way overboard and unnecessarily cruel and bloody, he didn't as such deny the necessity to have a few aces up his sleeve that could end a fight instantaneously. Not to mention that, even though this was something he would deny every day, the feeling of helplessness had always left a particularly insufferable taste in his mouth ever since Potter Manor. No, he definitely did want to learn, but the spells just refused to work.

Thankfully, Bellatrix seemed to believe him. 'Good. So I thought maybe you're actually not challenged sufficiently.'

Following a sweeping motion of her wand, the wooden panels of the crate fell over, revealing a large cage with about two dozen bouncy, happily barking but silenced golden retriever pups.

With terrible comprehension, Harry gaped first at the poor pups, then at his aunt, who didn't seem to notice or care for his pity. 'So,' she continued ruthlessly, 'I thought we'd start with the Unforgivables a bit early.'

She turned around, her eyes strangely wide with anticipation. 'How about we start with the most delicious curse of them all!' She smiled, licking her lips like a gourmet preparing for a feast. Then, her eyes wider than ever, she whipped her wand at the cage, illuminating the shady basement with a flash of garishly green light for the briefest of moments before one life was snuffed out like a candle in the wind. 'And that,' she breathed, her chest rising and falling excitedly, her eyes on the madly yapping pack of pups that clawed at the cage, 'is how it's done. Let me talk you through the details, and then it's your turn. Don't worry,' she said, grinning as if she was doing Harry a great favour, 'I'll bring even more pups tomorrow.'

~BLVoD~

'Is Master wishing for some of the tea he so cherishes?' asked Minnie fearfully, hovering beside the huddled form of Harry.

'No.'

'Something to eat then, perhaps? Minnie will be happy to-'

'NO!' snapped Harry, his temper finally getting the better of him.

'M-Minnie is sorry, Master Harry. Minnie is sorry...' she apologised, her voice quivering a bit.

Harry groaned, looking up from where he had collapsed after his latest training session with his aunt. Minnie was kneeling in front of him, her red eyes laced with tears, her long ears drooping as she prostrated herself in front of the settee. He swallowed hard, feeling somehow even worse than before. 'I'm sorry, Minnie, but I'm not feeling particularly well right now.'

'M-Master Harry is not needing to apologise.' She hiccuped, gazing up at him with her lips trembling. 'But isn't there anything Minnie is able to do? She sees Master Harry withering away every day, but is unable to assist...'

'You cannot help me this time, Minnie.' He sighed, patting her head to calm her down a bit. 'I just...I really messed up this time,' he admitted in a whisper. 'I really messed up!'

Blowing her nose noisily, the elf looked up, abashed. 'Minnie isn't knowing anything about great wizards' problems, but when Minnie was just a tiny elfling, she forgot Master Sirius' cake in the oven. Oh, the shame! It was the first time Minnie was ever deemed old enough to do something important all by herself, and then she was messing up. Minnie was horrified!' she admitted, nodding with a guilty smile. 'Minnie tried to hide the cake and start anew, but there wasn't enough time, not enough time there was! But Minnie tried and tried so very hard, knowing that she must fail.'

'What happened?' asked Harry, smiling a bit at how conscience-stricken the elf sounded even after at least 30 years since her little misstep.

'Minnie made a huge mess of the kitchen in her panic, oh yes. And in the end, she had to confess everything to Cranky. He wasn't pleased,' she said in a very small voice, shivering slightly. 'Such a shouting Minnie never had to endure. But then-'

'But then?'

'Then Cranky just snapped his finger and everything was fine again – the cake, the kitchen, everything! Minnie learned not to try everything by herself that day, oh yes. Sometimes, it be better to fess up and get help from Cranky – much better! Though the shouting,' she added sheepishly, 'is being still just as bad.'

Harry finally gave a bit of a chuckle, reluctantly sitting up at last. 'Thanks, Minnie, I guess you're right. Well, it seems I'm better off to Grandfather then.'

The elf bobbed her head, looking at him with compassionate eyes. 'Just remember, Master Harry; the shouting is ending – eventually – and then it be all better.'

With a rueful smile, Harry waved at the elf, taking the first steps towards the larger of the two studies. The staircase seemed a bit bigger that day – or maybe he felt like seven-year-old again? For a while, he squirmed in front of the door, straightening his clothes, polishing his shoes with a flick of his wand until he couldn't think of anything more to delay the inevitable. With another sigh, he knocked.

'Come in.'

Arcturus sat behind the heavy oaken desk, the green light of the desk lamp evoking distasteful memories of his latest session with Bellatrix he really could do without for now.

'Please be seated, my son.' Arcturus didn't look up, his head bent over a long and official looking letter in some foreign tongue. 'What can I do for you? I apologise that I haven't had so much time, but the current political situation is keeping me quite busy, in addition to the ball, of course.'

'I understand, Grandfather,' Harry replied formally, bowing his head. 'I still beg to take up some of your time for a serious matter that has me preoccupied.'

This seemed to finally garner Arcturus' attention, and Harry could see him looking up briefly, the scratching of the quill ceasing for a second or two. 'Ah. Is this about your lessons with Bellatrix?'

'I-What?' Harry spluttered. 'You know about those?'

'Please, Harry, this is my mansion, ours, but for the moment I am still its master. Of course, I know. In any case, even if I didn't take an interest in Bellatrix for the sake of all of us, she approached me to ask for permission to teach you the Unforgivables.'

Harry stared at the desk, his head still lowered.

'I saw no reason to dissuade her,' Arcturus continued with a small shrug. 'You're fifteen, and – disregarding one lapse of judgement that turned out to be inconsequential – you've proven to understand that secrecy is paramount. In fact,' he chuckled lightheartedly, 'your potential mastery of the Unforgivables worries me far less than the mere thought of Bellatrix walking around town with her wand. How goes the lesson, then?'

'Not particularly well,' Harry answered hoarsely.

Arcturus didn't seem notably affected by the news. 'Do not let it worry you. Others will be able to cast the spells for you, should you ever truly find yourself in need of one of them. Your disrelish too I find perfectly understandable.'

'I'm not here because of the lessons, Grandfather,' admitted Harry slowly, still refusing to look up.

'Ah, I see. Is this about the Lethifolds, then?'

Harry's heart skipped a beat, and it seemed to him as if his own very personal universe was freezing up. For a few seconds, only the sound of Arcturus' measured writing could be heard.

'Y-you knew?' Harry whispered.

Arcturus chuckled, finally laying down his quill for good. 'Raise your head, Harry.' Reluctantly, Harry looked up. His grandfather returned his gaze, his expression demure but neither angry nor, to Harry's incredulity, disappointed. 'Of course, I knew. You should realise, there are exactly two people in the whole world capable of summoning Lethifolds, and they're both sitting in this very room, my son. Who else, I ask you, could be responsible for our tropical killers in the chilly mountains of Scotland. Oh, I knew – indeed.'

'And you're not furious with me? You didn't tell me?' Harry croaked.

'And why would I?' Arcturus returned evenly. 'I'm aware, naturally, that you're in over your head, my son, I know. But do you – perchance – remember the first and only rule I have ever established regarding magic in our household?'

Harry froze again. He remembered – of course, he did. Publicly as well as in private, the Blacks advocated the freedom of magic, all shades and all disciplines. Even the ban of the Unforgivables had been an affront to the family, back in the day, their argument being that magic could never be more evil than its wielder, that even magic to kill could save lives. This, of course, meant that Harry's education at the hands of his family had, no doubt, been a bit different in comparison to what most of his peers had learned.

Freedom and accountability – those were the stones upon which the Blacks had built their agenda in times past, and they still kept to it. And thus, Harry had been invited to study any and all magic he deemed interesting, once Arcturus had assured himself that Harry had enough knowledge to avoid many of the hidden pitfalls more dangerous magical knowledge held in store. But, always, there had been one iron, axiomatic condition.

In Bellatrix's uncomplicated words: 'If it's your spell, it's your mess.'

Harry gulped. 'B-but Dumbledore – the Aurors from abroad!'

'Oh, I bet Dumbledore suspects us alright,' said Arcturus with a chuckle, and Harry couldn't help remembering the headmaster's piercing gaze the night he'd announced the lock-down. 'But there is virtually no way to prove that you're responsible unless you get caught red-handed. Also, I did you a bit of a favour in that regard.

'The Black family is, of course, deeply concerned about the security of the students at Hogwarts. Seeing as the old wards of the castle are beyond even the headmaster, and since we can't be exactly sure if Lethifolds will be able to penetrate the defences, he's been ordered by the Ministry to remain on grounds at all times.'

'A...useful order, no doubt,' ruminated Harry, still desperate to catch up in the wily game his grandfather had only just informed him he'd been playing for months.

'Quite so. Why, I have been able to get some interesting laws through the Wizengamot only this week thanks to the absence of our esteemed Chief Warlock.'

'The Lethifolds are still following my directive to kill Aenor, aren't they?' Harry uttered in a hushed voice, thinking back on how the stormy weather had seemed to follow them, even abroad. And hadn't there been some trouble with missing Muggles back when Aenor had business on the continent? Even the attack on her person during the summer break – it all fit!

'Yes, I rather think so. Well, as far as I can tell she's perfectly happy being their target. She's declined not only your invitation but mine as well, arguing that she'll never again have the opportunity to study Lethifolds up close. She truly is a scholar at heart,' said Arcturus, nodding approvingly.

'And what if they succeed?' Harry heard himself say, his mind still desperately trying to catch up.

'Miss Rose seems fairly confident, so I wouldn't worry about that. Then again,' he said, leaning back and furrowing his brow as if appraising his memory of the woman, 'the pack you managed to lure out seems particularly vicious. She'll know not to push the issue. And even if...' Once more, he looked up contemplatively. 'Well, she's no family of ours.'

Harry shuddered, despite the heat of the coals not five feet from his seat. 'Why didn't she tell me?'

'Oh, she was afraid you'd figure it out sooner or later and deprive her of her little project.'

'So everyone knew it was Lethifolds and that it had been I who had summoned them?' asked Harry eventually, feeling both angry and ashamed.

'Well, everyone of importance, to be sure, meaning me, Miss Rose, and Dumbledore though, again, he has no conclusive proof. The Ministry is ignorant of our connection to your little pets, and I shall see to it that they don't burden themselves with that particular knowledge. I cannot completely exclude the possibility of some uniquely learned individual making an educated guess, seeing as our family has been linked to Lethifolds in ages past, but I don't see how that will present a problem for now. Curiously enough, even The League is completely in the dark about the mere possibility of wizards calling forth Lethifolds.'

'The League,' muttered Harry, feeling somewhat faint. 'Wait a moment! The old Defence Professor – didn't he quit to join the League hunting some pack of Lethifolds in the Caribbean?'

His eyes widened as he beheld his Grandfather's rather cheeky grin. 'Very astute, Harry. Professor Dilybbles is a fine wizard, so I'm sure nothing...unfortunate will happen during his travels. Eventually, I'm sure the situation down there will cease to be of concern.'

Harry nearly jumped from his seat, staring at his grandfather. 'So you know how to banish them again?'

'Naturally.' With a grandfatherly smile, Lord Black added, 'Not all of us try some of the most volatile magic the western world has ever seen during the course of a spar just to impress their teacher, or rather, I suspect,' he leant back, raising an eyebrow at Harry with palpable amusement, 'a beautiful woman.'

Harry looked away to hide the blush he fought with all his might. 'So you knew about that, too.'

'Yes, Harry.'

Harry coughed a bit, trying to regain a bit of posture. He failed. 'I feel like an idiot, Grandfather!'

'As well you should, my son. As well you should...'

'There's, ahem, there's more.'

'Yes?'

'I, er, may have,' Harry spoke faster now, each word following the last just a little quicker, 'offered myself up as their prize to pay for their compliance with the contract I wrote in the runes,' he finished, looking down, his head steaming.

'Really, Harry. And need I tell you what a brilliant idea that was?'

'No, Grandfather,' he responded meekly.

'Did you attack the Lethifolds in the forest?' Arcturus asked sternly.

'What?' blurted Harry, eyes bulging again. But then again, it seemed like his grandfather knew just about everything. With a sigh, he said, 'No, I...We just fled from the glade. I only cast a bit of light, we never even saw them.'

'Then you're still perfectly safe. Despite your rather dire lack of common sense, as long as you don't actively seek to harm them, the Lethifolds won't attack those of our name. And that,' he concluded, apparently aware of the surge of fear that shot through his grandson, 'includes you, as you are my heir. Nevertheless, precisely because the magic of our family and not our blood is the deciding factor in this very matter, there are only two other students at Hogwarts completely safe from their terrible wrath, as I surely need not remind you. See to it the rest of our family stays safe, will you?'

'Yes, Grandfather.'

'You have two months to remedy the situation, but it will always remain your highest priority to keep the rest of our family from harm, do you understand me, Harry?'

'Yes, Grandfather.'

'Good. Now off you go. Go get a good night's rest.' The sunken figure behind the desk gifted him a small but sincere smile. 'I do not wish to see you in that state again.'

'Yes, Grandfather.' Harry stood up, bowing deeply to the man in front of him. 'Thank you, Grandfather.'

~BLVoD~

The Lethifolds still haunted Harry's dreams, but, in the end, he managed to get a few hours of sleep before the elves woke him up. He dressed with a bit more care than the last two days, had his breakfast brought to him in the assembly room (Arcturus was entertaining some visitors from abroad), and even had a cursory glance at the Prophet.

The headline was: 'Winter Wonderland! The very best charms and potions for the snowy season.' Harry scoffed disdainfully. You would think there was something more important going on to print on the front page. Briefly, he scanned the margins and little articles cramped all around the idiotic article and its unnecessarily gigantic picture.

'Specialists researching weather … Danish Wizarding Parliament suspended … Head of Department facing inquiry about missing employees,' he read out. With a sigh, he handed Cranky the paper, who folded it nicely with a snap of his fingers.

'How long will Grandfather be hosting our guests, Cranky?'

'Cranky cannot say, Master Harry, but we are to prepare tiffin for you alone.'

Tiffin, Harry thought, wondering not for the first time just how old Cranky actually was. Hadn't he often enough told stories of his grandfather's youth? And Arcturus wasn't exactly in his younger days anymore, being 93.

No matter. So I somehow need to solve this whole mess as fast and safely as possible before Grandfather pulls the rug out from under me. Right...right! But two months is ages!

Harry stared at the pristine crystal glass next to the fine silver goblet with the crest of House Black, his right hand playing with the immaculately polished sterling cutlery. But maybe it wouldn't hurt to start early. Okay, so – realistically – I'll never get this done alone. I need help – and fast! But everyone who might actually make some worthwhile contribution as far as information linked to my subject goes is right out of the question. I won't be able to hide much of anything when we start getting serious, so it'll have to be someone I can trust explicitly.

It should also be someone who can work with me at Hogwarts, as I cannot help doubting that it'll be so easy to solve this whole affair within the fortnight. That would naturally all point towards Aenor but, considering everything Grandfather's told me, she's bound to decline as long as my personal health isn't in any danger, which, Grandfather seems to think unlikely.

But I can't just let it all unfold, can I? Someone is bound to blunder, eventually, and that someone will die – horribly.

'And it will be your fault,' a soft voice seemed to whisper in his ears.

The siblings? Harry mused with forced calm, supporting his head with his right hand, watching the silver knife being bending around the fingers of his left. No, I don't think so. Leo can be a bit reckless whenever his enthusiasm wins over, and Amy...just no!

For a moment, Harry entertained himself with the idea of opening up to Hermione, explaining how he'd summoned a pack of bloodthirsty nightmares in the forest with forbidden dark magic. He couldn't help himself and chuckled a bit, imagining her expression.

The idea of admitting Draco into my confidence is simply ludicrous. So that leaves two people...

With a groan, Harry got up, massaging his temple. 'Cranky, I'll be receiving a visitor today, so please prepare lunch for two.'

'As you say, Master Harry.' The elf bowed stiffly.

Right, no time like today. Merlin, this is going to be awkward...

Harry walked up towards his dressing room, selecting an unimposing but conservative robe of dark blue and a fine black cloak, making sure that the rest of his appearance was in order.

Eventually, he made his way, not towards the visitor's entrance, the foyer, or even the sitting room, but towards the only fireplace he knew to be truly safe. To his relief, the small study of his grandfather was empty, and so he entered, halting in front of the hearth, his hesitant fingers fumbling in the little box on top of the mantle.

He averted his head as the fire sprang to new life with emerald ferocity.

Closing his eyes, he dug through his memory until, with one last sigh, he mumbled a very special address, stepping into the flames.

And then the world spun.

A few moments later, he opened his eyes again, finding himself in a cosy lounge that had, for his personal taste, a bit too much Muggle influence. Harry dutifully removed the soot from his clothes and boots before he smartly stepped onto the bright orange carpet.

'I'll be there in a second!' a pleasant, female voice called from the room next door.

With a blank expression, Harry's eyes lingered on both the television and the stereo.

Hasty footsteps, and then a delicate woman in her mid-thirties wearing Ministry robes entered the room. Whomever she had been expecting, it definitely hadn't been him, and Harry couldn't blame her as she accidentally dropped the earring she had been fiddling with, her golden eyes widening.

'Goodness me, Harry! Is everything alright? Has something happened?' she asked in a hushed voice, shutting the door with a swift flick of her wand.

'I am sorry to disturb you like this, Amaryllis,' he greeted her formally, inclining his head. 'But I have need of your daughter.'

The woman – Amaryllis – blinked. Then, apparently overcoming her daze, she bowed deeply in return. 'Please, take a seat. I'll go get her immediately.'

AN: Oh yeah, if you're having trouble understanding Arcturus' reasoning, wait until you see how everything plays out, that's all I can say. Also, even if he might've seemed like your kind, old gramps now and then, you really might want to be careful with that assessment.