Fake It Till You Make It
The Complete Histories of Lord Hadrian James Potter-Peverell-Black of Gryffindor-Slytherin and Lord Ronald Bilius Weasley-Prewett-Dumbledore of Hufflepuff-Ravenclaw
Ancient Pureblood Betrothal Magics
Part 1
Hermione made her way to the Great Hall, bracing herself for what was sure to happen. Much had changed in the past year. Somehow, what had (she assumed, though she'd never brought herself to ask) started as an attempt at levity for a school under the shadow of the Dementors, had truly taken on a life of its own, such that much of the student body could talk about 'Lord Potter-Peverell' or 'Lord Weasley-Prewett' without so much as batting an eye. Even the Quibbler, an admittedly already nonsensical publication, occasionally ran stories about various figures from Cornelius Fudge to the Gringotts Goblins denying any involvement of her 'Lordly' best friends being involved in the Crumple-Horned Snorlack resistance movement, and that there was absolutely no truth to the rumors that both boys were secretly engaged to the muggle princesses of Sweden and the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth.
Lavender had been rather put out by that, until Hermione had explained that the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth no longer existed let alone had any marriageable princesses. That, she had apparently had been willing to accept, thank goodness for small mercies.
A smile twitched at her lips though as she sat down at the Gryffindor table, pulling out The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4 a moment later. Even stranger than Harry and Ron getting away with their more and more outlandish claims was the fact that somehow in the process, Lavender and Parvati had become her friends. The boy's antics had impressed and amused her roommates and after Sirius Black's alleged 'attempt to ursurp the Weasley-Prewett line' last Halloween, had become almost inseparable from them.
At first, Hermione had been piqued; both at the boys' clear approval of this unexpected development, and having to hang around two gossips with almost no interest in things that in Hermione's humble opinion, mattered. However, after 'the broomstick incident', they had reached an accord of sorts, and the three girls, united in their desire to keep in Harry's and Ron's good graces, had kept things civil and boundaries had been set. Since then, the girls in the third dorm of Gryffindor had slowly developed an actual friendship.
And now, there was this Yule Ball. And so almost certainly today would be the day, when Harry and Lavender, Ron and Parvati stopped dancing around things and finally accepted they liked each other. And Hermione was... she was okay with that, really. She knew her boys wouldn't abandon her.
"Oh my god, can you even believe it," the bubbly blonde said without taking a breath as she sat down with Parvati on the other side from Hermione. She paused and wrinkled her nose as Nearly-Headless Nick flew past. "I'm so glad they held off until we were fourth years, I think I'd die if there was a Yule Ball and we were too young to attend."
"I know, right? Did you see Penrose? I saw her coming up from the greenhouses and she looked sooo mad." Parvati rolled her eyes, then turned to Hermione. "Do you want to look at dresses with us afterward?"
Hermione didn't really want to look at dresses with them afterward. But half-answering questions about dresses while writing her Herbology essay and letting Lavender and Parvati have their moment, she supposed she could manage that.
"Sure."
Parvati beamed and then her face fell like a stone, she immediately nudged Lavender and pointed behind Hermione. Hermione turned around to see what had happened, assuming it had something to do with either Peeves or – her hackles rose - the French Champion.
But no, Harry and Ron had just come through into the Great Hall. Today, Harry was wearing a lavender-coloured robe (Hermione mentally rolled her eyes at that, apparently what he lacked in subtlety he made up for in knowing school-wide announcements ahead of time). Across his chest was a Green-and-Gold sash with a band of silver lions along it, and instead of the increasingly absurd neck-pieces he and Ron had taken to wearing, today the only thing around his neck was his normal tie and his Order of Merlin, Second Class. A replica of the Sword of Gryffindor hung at his side.
Ron on the other hand wore a black and yellow open robe with a blue vest beneath it, bare except for a black outline of a raven that flew across it as if it were a vast expanse of sky, stopping occasionally to perch on a button. Like Harry he also wore an Order of Merlin, Second Class, and though he had no sword, placed atop his right eye was 'The Monocle Heirloom of House Ravenclaw'.
Both wore the same ridiculous shoes they had worn since the beginning of third year, with tips that curled round and round like muggle Christmas elves. Today, both sets of shoes were a dark maroon, and – Hermione counted – seven gold-and-silver bells at the end of each tip. That was apparently An Ancient And Noble Tradition for signifying events of only the greatest of importance.
Both boys looked like someone had just murdered their owls in front of them.
They sat down next to Hermione without a word, the only sound being the cheery tinkle tinkle of their shoebells as they otherwise made the very picture of misery.
"My Ladies," Harry said after a moment as he reached for the peas. "Please forgive our poor company this afternoon. I am afraid Lord Ronald Bilius and I have had the broomstick pulled out from under us, as it were."
Hermione's heart lurched. Had this ridiculous charade finally caught up with them. It would be...somewhat nice to go back to normal, but she hoped they weren't in too much trouble.
"Oh no, Harry – oh what happened!" Lavender cried out, grabbing his hand and pulling it towards her. Parvati was already up and moving around to sit next to Ron, offering words of comfort as she did so.
"Where to begin?" Ron bemoaned, helping himself to the roast potatoes. "I – we – had hoped that even with the burdens of our Ancient Pureblood Customs thrust upon us, that in our own small ways we may have at least found some solace in determining for ourselves how we handled our private affairs."
Hermione had to appreciate that if nothing else, both boys had really gotten the hang of spewing this nonsense and making it sound as if they could just naturally run with it."
"As you may know," Harry continued, "Yule Balls are an important Ancient Pureblood Custom, one that not only allows the Ancient and Noble Families to mix and mingle without the formalities of the Grand Wizengamot Solstice Observances, but one that traditionally marks the beginning of the Ancient Pureblood Courtship Traditions."
Hermione, Lavender, and Parvati did not know that, because of course it was complete rubbish. Still, even Hermione almost forgot that for a moment at the gasps that came from the other two girls, and the sudden tension that overcame them as Harry and Ron did not appear to be about to follow up with anything that might resemble good news.
Harry squeezed Lavender's hand, his thumb making soft circles on her knuckles.
"Lady Brown, speaking for myself it was my intent to seek you out and invite you to the Ball that we might formally begin the Ancient Pureblood Betrothal Custom. I know my ally Ronald intended the same with you, Lady Patil." Both girls waited for the wand to drop. Harry let out a deep self-suffering sigh.
"Unfortunately, we are bound to the Moste Ancient Contract Magics weaved deeply into the House Magics that we serve. In those ancient, more ruthless and barbaric times, magic sought to strengthen itself within Family Magics as best it could, and in all things seven is the most magically powerful number."
Harry looked away. "I'm sorry, speaking of these uncouth things before Ladies... we must come across as brutes."
They very well might have, if anyone had the first clue as to what they were talking about.
As if only now seeing their apparent confusion, Ron added.
"Harry and I are required by the Ancient Pureblood Magics of Lordly Albion to form seven bonds."
It was like a bucket of ice had been poured over her. Oh, even for them this was too much.
"You need seven girlfriends!" Hermione shrieked. Clarity reached Lavender and Parvati's eyes. Good – maybe this would backfire enough that the boys would be forced to see reason once more.
"Please do not use such a frivolous term when discussing the bonds of our Ancient Pureblood Betrothal Magics, my Lady Granger. But...well, yes. Ideally," Harry replied, looking back up at her once more.
"We think we can get away with just six, to be honest. Ourselves being the 'seventh' in our respective Betrothal Bonds, so to speak. It's risky, but we would prefer not to be forced to bind ourselves to witches who care only about our Lordships," Harry added with a hint of sadness in his voice.
"Plus, so many wizards and witches these days are ignorant on the realities of Ancient Pureblood Betrothal Magics, if we went around seeking out six witches of appropriate beauty and charm, we'd probably just be labeled a pair of perverts."
Hermione would have snorted if not for the sheer audacity of that.
"It's appalling." Ron summed up. "But that's Ancient Pureblood Betrothal Magic for you." He said so dryly as if everyone would take such a statement for granted. He turned towards Parvati, taking her hands into his own. "I had hoped to make you Lady Weasley-Prewett-Hufflepuff-Ravenclaw but... could you accept me simply as being my betrothed Lady Weasley?"
There was absolutely no way-
"Oh. My. God!" Lavender's hand pulled back from Harry, fluttering rapidly by her face as her cheeks went pink. "Harry. Harry." She whispered in a way that still seemed to roar in Hermione's ears.
"You want me to be Lady Potter!"
Harry nodded. "The very first of my Ancient Noble Houses, yes."
Lavender looked like she was about to faint. But then, against all reason, her face took on the same steely resolve that Hermione had only seen once before. Lavender stood up.
"C'mon Parv, we've got a lot of work to do," she turned back to Harry. "I accept of course, of course! And don't you worry about a thing. You neither, Ronald. Parvati and I will take care of this for you, and we won't let some slag trick you into anything, I promise!"
The two girls were off like a whirlwind of chattery determination, and Hermione barely had time to blink before looking gobsmacked at the two boys, who now appeared less devastate and more fighting to keep from looking too smug.
"Sometimes, I really hate you both. You know that, right?"
"Fair," Harry replied.
"I'm not going to be Lady Hufflepuff or Gryffindor or whatever, I want to go ahead and make that clear. I'm not having any part of this nonsense, and not only because they don't exist."
"As you like," Ron admitted.
"Well... good."
Lavender Brown was not a stupid witch. She knew that she did not take her schoolwork perhaps quite as studiously as some, and that her parents were at times exasperated at her wondering eye for the newest Sleakeazy potion or Madam Goose's Beauty Charms. But she had smarts to spare where it counted.
Harry liked her. She had known this for some time, first as a simple awareness and then this term year, as something she hoped would become something more. Of course, she had been very reasonable about it – she new that Harry wasn't just her Harry, but he had all the responsibilities of four separate Ancient Lordships. Something he carried extremely well, if she did say so herself. And there were all the things that he got caught up in outside of that, like having to slay the Basilisk or having to re-establish the Arcane Academy of Ancient Sorcery, a school of magic so ancient it had been entirely forgotten about until rediscovered when the Goblet of Fire had recognized Harry's birthright to it.
And now, her patience and support were paying off, and Harry was showing his trust in her. She was going to be Lady Potter, and she was not going to make him regret that decision! After all, until Harry had more time to explain it, she wasn't really sure what these Ancient customs really entailed.
So... Harry needed five more dates to the Yule Ball, so that he could complete the Ancient Yule Ball Customs and have his six necessary betroths as required by the Ancient Pureblood Betrothal Magic. Well, she could do something about that!
The girls would need to be pretty. It would reflect badly on a Lord of Harry's position to have ugly betrothds, and it would reflect badly on her for picking them. Plus, it was a long way away but she didn't want to see any children one day who were like, half-Harry and half-Edgecomb. Gross!
But they couldn't be too pretty. Less pretty than her. They should compliment her as Lady Potter without overshadowing her. That would help keep everything and everyone in its proper place.
Ideally, they should understand the significance of what Lavender was offering them, and be willing to help her and not be jealous that she was going to be Lady Potter.
Honestly, finding the first girl was only as difficult as waiting for Parvati to leave the common room and wait for the rest of the Gryffindors to return from lunch.
Romilda Vane was not a stupid witch. Granted, her admittedly short time as a witch at Hogwarts had already blown apart all her expectations, because while she had been somewhat ready to meet and befriend Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, not a day after the sorting hat had put her into Gryffindor when she suddenly found herself confronted with Harry Potter, Lord Potter-Peverell of House Gryffindor-Slytherin. Her parents had had no idea what to say when she had eagerly sent a letter home after the second evening about all the new things she had learned (also, almost turning a matchstick into a needle, but that wasn't what was so important). She had hoped they might be able to offer some insight into things, but alas, apparently not. Oh well, she was doing a fairly good job of things if she could say so herself.
And she could say so, because no sooner had she come back to lunch with Demelza, Emily, and Sarah that Lavender had pulled her aside and asked her to walk with her by the lake. And ok, yes, she expected that she was going to get an earful of something good, but she hadn't expected this!
"Lady Peverell?" she squeaked, feeling like she was enchanted with both a Cheering Charm and a Levitation Spell.
Lavender nodded. "Yes. Well, hopefully." She frowned. "I'm going to have to ask Harry more about the Betrothal Magic, but yes, it's definitely a big step in the right direction. Are you in?"
Was she in? Was she in! Was the giant squid, big? Were bludgers, heavy? Did Lord Potter-Peverell slay fifty dementors with a Golden Patronus?"
"Yes, yes, yes!"
Lavender let out a little breath. "Good. Okay so we have four to go." She paused. "Any thoughts?"
Romilda thought about it for a minute.
"Not Ginevra." She said as soon as the possibility crossed her mind.
Lavender nodded at once. "No, definitely not Ginny. That would... Harry thinks of her like a sister."
"Yes, that's for the best," Romilda agreed.
The two girls were uncharacteristically silent for a few more moments, looking over at the giant squit playing on the surface, both deep in thought.
"Demelza is sweet," Romilda offered at last.
Lavender contemplated that. Then slowly, as if testing out the words, "She is... but you know, Harry is in Gryffindor."
Romilda nodded.
"And you and I are in Gryffindor."
Another nod.
"And Demelza is in Gryffindor."
Another nod.
"Well... you know maybe it's best not to make things too crowded in our common room, or at our table."
Romilda didn't nod, but a definite spark caught in her eye.
"Lord Potter-Peverell is responsible for the Magics of both Gryffindor and Slytherin house," she replied after some time.
"So it would only make sense that Lord Potter-Peverell had some betroths from that house. Especially with Hogwarts unity being so important this year." Lavender continued, following this train of thought.
"Harry might not be able to spend as much time with them though, what with their class schedules and their common room being all the way down in the dungeons, and dungbombs like Malfoy always hanging around like vultures."
"Still, he is Lord Gryffindor-Slytherin."
An accord was practically met and signed in triplicate without an eye being batted.
"Something else, though" Romilda's delightful devious mind added as they were walking back to the castle. "With six betroths, that's a lot of outside families that could be marrying into Lord Potter-Peverell. Wouldn't it be better if there were less? That would protect him, right? Especially if they are from Slytherin."
Lavender sighed. "I think so, but Harry's Ancient Pureblood Magics require six betroths. We can't do anything about that.
"About that, no. But six betroths does not mean six families.
Daphne and Astoria Greengrass were not stupid witches. If anything, they were both considered to be quite bright by both peers and professors alike, and generally got on well with most of the school, a not inconsiderable achievement for the current generation of Slytherins. In so far as witches could be said to belong to the 'upper class' in a society that numbered a few thousand and where everyone more or less mingled with everyone, the Greengrasses exemplified the concept, and neither girl could be considered a disappointment in this regard.
Even so, Daphne and Lavender were not the closest of friends even if they were second cousins, though Romilda and Astoria had been friendly enough with each other for years.
"Harry Potter 'needs' six witches, why am I not at all surprised." Daphne said dryly, rolling her eyes. "Whoever could have seen this coming?"
"Do you think he'll let me ride his Firebolt?" Astoria asked.
Lavender glared at the older sister. It didn't help that superficially they were very similar looking, with Daphne being just ever so slightly shorter and her hair slightly lighter. If Harry had good taste – and obviously, he did – then it was probably a fair bet he would find Daphne to be a little too pretty for comfort... but needs must, and at least this way they could catch two pixies with one offering.
"Lord Potter-Peverell was very upset yesterday, I'll have you know," Lavender sniffed. "But the Ancient Pureblood Betrothal Magics have existed since before Merlin, and Harry accepts that the magics he has been gifted with come with responsibilities to all of Magical Britain, regardless of his personal wishes."
"His personal wishes," Daphne snorted. "Yeh, I'll bet."
Lavender hmmphed. "Look, are you in, or not? I bet there are plenty of witches who would jump at this opportunity, not just make mean comments about it."
"Lav, Lav!" Astoria tugged on her robes. "Can I ride the Firebolt?"
Lavender looked down at the younger girl, who looked far less like Daphne than Lavender did. She was cute as a button though. She tweaked Astoria's nose, causing Astoria to scowl and swat at her. "I'm sure Harry would let you, yes."
Astoria's scowl melted. "Ok, I'm in!"
"Tori!"
"What? I'm not even old enough to go unless someone asks me, and I get to ride a Firebolt, and it's Lord Potter-Peverell!"
"He's not actually-" she did not finish the thought. Lavender, infuriatingly, rose an eyebrow at her, looking entirely too smug.
The annoying thing was that despite everything, she couldn't 100% say that he wasn't Lord Potter-Peverell. Okay, yes it was very suspicious and really, it was ridiculous. For thirteen years, nobody had said boo about Harry Potter being a secret Lord, and now all of a sudden, this!?
But...
Something really had happened with a Basilisk. Something really had happened involving that elf that Draco wouldn't stop griping about. Something really had happened with Sirius Black trying to murder Weasley, and something really had happened with the Dementors.
Harry Potter's name really had come out of the Goblet of Fire, and nobody had stopped him from toasting Cedric Diggory as the real Hogwarts Champion, and introducing himself as both the only student and Headmaster of the Arcane Academy of Ancient Sorcery.
Every week, the goblins were denying that Potter and Weasley had ever taken an Ancient Pureblood Inheritance Ritual in the Ancient Goblin Warhall. But as Tracy pointed out, they had not once denied that Harry Potter owned the Gryffindor, Slytherin, or Peverell family vaults.
And really, at that point Lord or not wasn't that enough to be getting on with? That Draco Malfoy hadn't been out of the hospital wing since Harry declared an Ancient Bloodfeud between Houses Potter-Peverell and House Malfoy so paled in comparison that it hardly even tipped the scales.
Daphne Greengrass stood on a precipice. And now, it was time to jump and let the magics have their say.
"Okay. Please tell," she swallowed down her pride and uncertainty, "please tell Lord Potter-Peverell that Tori and I accept his offer, and we will accept the Ancient Pureblood Bethrotal Magics as Ladies Slytherin.
Flora and Hestia Carrow were not stupid witches.
Whatever the specifics were, what really mattered was Lavender Brown, Romilda Vane, Astoria Greengrass, and Daphne Greengrass all thought it was a good idea, even if Daphne looked a little embarrassed about it. It wasn't like they needed to be told that Harry Potter was already stupid levels rich and powerful and magically capable. They'd literally just seen him outfly a dragon.
Granted, Ladies Gryffindor wasn't exactly the position that suited them, but they could work with it. If Lavender thought that her head start as Lord Potter's friend and fellow Gryffindor meant that she was the only one capable of learning about the intricacies of Ancient Purebood Betrothal Magics, then she had another think coming. On second thought, being Ladies Gryffindor might just be the fairy in the flowerpot they needed.
"Alright," said Hestia.
"Why not," added Flora.
Lavender beamed.