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Chapter Note: Some sibs stuff in this one (Ginny x Ron). Just be aware. Believe it's the second 'scene' if you need to skip it.

Chap. 67: Consequence Rising

Dumbledore frowned as the slate of pure basalt carved with faintly blue-green glowing runes along each edge of the disc vibrated. The ivory rod capped with silver on one end that hovered above it began to rotate slowly left, then back, moving clockwise and then anti-clockwise. He took a single step forward, and it began to spin wildly. That behavior continued as he spun slowly, the group of teachers, borrowed Aurors, and a few members of the Order of the Phoenix as well, who had followed him gave him a quizzical look. He turned to his second, "Minerva, all the students still at the castle are accounted for?"

She nodded once, her expression stern and unamused, much like his own, "Yes. The entrances to their common rooms were locked by their Heads of Houses with all of them inside. It's only twelve students this year."

"I see. There is still one living person in the halls outside from our group, either above or below us."

"The Astronomy Tower and the... Divination classroom for the odd-numbered years are both above us, Headmaster," she reminded him unnecessarily, "but there are a number of classrooms and halls below us."

"Then we know our area to search. I should like us to break into teams of four or five, seal off each entrance to the halls below this one and above. We will take a lead from Mr. Potter's searches, and do a top-down examination of each room within those boundaries."

So they did, quickly moving into place. There were just enough people present to assign a team to the four lower hallway floors, and the one above it that held the entrances to both towers that McGonagall had mentioned.

Meanwhile, he, his Deputy Headmistress, and a pair of Aurors he trusted, Kingsley Shacklebolt and Nymphadora Tonks (not coincidentally Order members as well), began searching the rooms, one at a time, as methodically as possible.

Six hours later, they finished their search, from the towers to the dungeons, and found absolutely no sign of an errant student. Even the instrument he had used, designed specifically to find any human life-signs in case of an emergency, revealed nothing except a possible vertical line. He had used it again on each floor, and gotten the same results.

The person it was detecting was not him, the students in their rooms, or any of the other searchers. It was an anomaly, and the only reasonable conclusion he could find was that it was Mr. Nott, or perhaps the missing Vicky Frobisher. But while the traces it was picking up were definitely there, and the device was working as it should as far as he could tell, it was unable to pinpoint the exact location of that person.

Which meant that, Dumbledore then concluded late that night, they were behind powerful protections indeed. The sort of thing that only a personage like himself, Voldemort, or another truly powerful witch or wizard could bring about. That, in turn, narrowed the list of suspects greatly. No student could have done such a thing, but he knew well that Voldemort was not in the school grounds.

As the choices and options continued to narrow, Albus Dumbledore was left with only two possible conclusions. Either the missing girl or escaped suspect were hiding behind some sort of protections they had smuggled into the school, created by Voldemort himself, or they were in the one place in the school Dumbledore could not go.

"The Chamber of Secrets," he whispered quietly. On his perch a dozen feet away, his familiar, Fawkes, squawked and chirped quietly. "Yes, I understand, old friend. We will have to wait for Mr. Potter to return, it seems. It shan't be much longer."

The mythical bird warbled again, and Dumbledore chuckled, "No, I'm afraid I don't want that sort of ability myself. I am fine being able to understand you, my friend. I don't mind serpents, of course, and I would never blame an animal for being controlled or influenced by a witch or wizard. I just prefer the freedom that comes with flight, rather than being earth-bound."

"If Mum finds us, we're dead," Ginny whispered to her older brother as her lips brushed along the red stubble on his jawline, and her hands fished for the fastening of his pants in the dim light of the chicken coop.

"Be quick and she won't expect anything," Ron hissed, his hands sliding up his sister's waist, underneath her shirt, to circle both of her perky breasts, then slid his thumbs over her rapidly hardening nipples. She sighed in response to his touch, then suddenly leaned up on her toes and kissed him on the mouth.

He jerked in surprise. They'd been flirting with that sort of thing for weeks, but never actually done it. The pent-up frustration of not being able to be with Lilith or Hermione had gotten to Ron within a few days, and it hadn't been a week back at the Burrow, shortly after Boxing Day, when he'd first asked Ginny to go down on him. He had been embarrassed and nervous at the same time, and worried that, without the Succubus' influence or Ginny's own desire to show Harry just how amazing she was, that she would laugh and turn him down. Or worse, report the request to their mother.

Instead, his little sister had gone about it quickly and efficiently, sucking him off in her bedroom while he leaned against the door. Then she'd stood up, pulled him around, and then pushed down her own pants, which were dripping and moist.

Since then, they had traded turns, making sure that neither had gone unsatisfied for too long, at least every few days. Only once had they come close to being caught, which had left Ron trying to hide an erection for more than an hour until they could sneak away and she could finish the job.

They were due to return to Hogwarts now in two days, which meant this might be the last time they did this at the Burrow. That was why he'd risen quite earlier than normal, and 'volunteered' to 'help Ginny with her chores'. His sister, of course, knew full well what was going on. Their mother had only thanked him for wanting to help out more around the house, given the large number of guests they still had. Six other students were still there.

Bur just then, Ron didn't care about that. Between their wands, which they had snuck out inside their clothes, gathering the necessary eggs had taken about three seconds. He estimated they had about ten minutes to get each other off before their mother noticed, and maybe two past that before she actually got suspicious. Which meant that, as he looked down at Ginny's lightly freckled face, he saw her lips, raising up again.

This time, he met her kiss eagerly, briefly, then pulled back "Let me see your tits], sis."

She lifted her shirt immediately, letting him feel them for only a few seconds while her breathing made them rise and fall rapidly in his palms, then sank to her knees. He groaned again, letting his weight fall against the wall of the coop as she started bobbing on him at once.

Ginny had gotten a lot better, he decided, just in the last few weeks. She was no Hermione, who seemed truly gifted in cock-sucking, but her skill and technique was improving every time, and she was better able to take his whole length without gagging. He watched as her face buried itself against his body again and again, only faint gagging noises coming from her as she slid half-way off of him and then back down, forcing his erection to bend uncomfortably, but in a way that still caused indescribable pleasure as it forced her throat to rearrange itself, too. "That's it, Ginny... deep-throat your brother's cock, you dirty slag."

Ginny began to hum while she did so, the additional vibrations spiking his pleasure again, and sped up, while her hands sank to diddle her cunt and massage his balls gently. Only her mouth and throat on his cock were rough, the other touch was gentle and slow. But Ron wanted just a bit more. They had to hurry. So he grabbed his sister's head and held her in place, then started thrusting with his hips. She could take it, and as he looked down, he saw Ginny smiling around his cock, her tongue extended past her lips and swirling from side to side while he skull-fucked her as quickly as he could move.

Not once did she actually gag, but just as he started to climax, she wrenched herself free of his grip and leaned back, leaving her mouth wide open to receive his seed as her hands switched to jerking him rapidly while he came. Several thick ropes jetted out against the palette of her mouth and teeth, and a few squirted over Ginny's cheeks, with one covering her left eye with a thin strand that hung on her eyelashes, but she never flinched or stopped until he was finally spent. Then she scooped the load up hastily, shoveling the lot into her eager, open mouth as he dangled, slowly stroking himself down, and swallowed the lot in three great gulps.

Then she climbed up onto the railing that separated the two halves of the coop and opened her legs, "My turn, brother. Lick my cunt like the man-whore you are."

Ron grinned at her for returning his comment in her own way, then leaned in and kissed her again. He still wasn't quite used to tasting himself (or any man), but it wasn't as bad as he'd feared the first few times, and kissing his own sister after she'd gone down on him was still erotic enough he didn't care. He mauled her breasts a bit more, making her mewl as he kept slipping her the tongue, then latched onto each nipple and suckled it briefly before going further down.

Ginny moaned as he slurped and lapped at her pussy, her hand fisting in his messy, long red hair. He wasn't as good as Ginny herself at eating a girl out, but he'd still had a lot of practice and some very good teachers, so it didn't take Ron long to make her gasp and moan his name several times. As he inserted one, two, and then three fingers and stroked her g-spot, she gasped and cried out once, her climax already crashing over her, "Ron! I'm cumming, Ron!"

Unfortunately, her pleasure was slightly marred by a human-sized shadow moving past the slits in the chicken coop, rapidly vanishing through the early morning sunlight. Somehow, as much as she enjoyed being watched, this particular circumstance made her rather nervous. So, on trembling legs, the moment her orgasm subsided enough to do so, Ginny hopped down, right over her brother's head, and hiked up her pants.

"Someone heard us," she hissed, trembling fingers struggling to fasten them.

Ron paled, his own half-down trousers coming up quickly, "You sure?"

She nodded, pointing one finger at the wall, "I saw a shadow, someone was just there- they moved toward the house. It was right after I said- after I said your name, and that I was cumming."

"Shit," he swore, face darkening, "We're in for it, now."

They scooped up the egg-baskets, red-faced and still breathing heavily, to return to their mother in the kitchen. Perhaps, if they stayed around her all day, whoever had heard them wouldn't have a chance to tell the matriarch what they'd heard and possibly seen before they returned to school, at least.

Maybe.

The creature that had once been the human Theodore Nott Jr. sighed as the the corpse of Vicky Frobisher was crushed beneath his foot, which was now as big as her whole body had been. The remains of her had already been broken and bruised, room-temperature and unsatisfying. He'd been hoping to get one last fuck out of what was left of her pussy. It'd been fun the first dozen times. The night he'd taken her virginity, Christmas, had been most pleasant for him. But once the ritual had taken effect and his body and grown larger and larger, things changed. They'd been, if anything, better at first. He'd stretched her out so well, and her cunt had been very tight, always wet with either magically-enforced arousal and joy as her conditioning took effect with his own pleasure, or blood. But once what was left of his morality faded, and he got bigger and bigger still, she had only screamed in pain and rapture at once, her mind shattered by the conflicting feelings. By that point, every time he hammered home into her deliciously tight twat, he could tell he was damaging organs, and she only hung there, limp, while he slid her up and down his shaft.

Later that same day, he had met the vampire his master had sent, and she had given him even more pleasure. Her dead body was larger, could fit even his massive size, though it tore and ripped to do so. But this vampire loved the pain, she said, got off on it. And she healed so quickly! As long as he fed her his own blood, of which he had plenty, she healed within seconds from whatever damage he inflicted as he used her again and again. A little cooler than a human body, but she was still alive enough, active and eager to copulate.

A good tool. Now that she was under his control thanks to the collar's conditioning, she literally did nothing but suck or fuck him, and feed. Usually, the two activities were simultaneous, her own undead strength enough to keep her doing it even as his massive body hurtled through the increasingly narrow tunnels beneath Hogwarts as he worked at his master's bidding. It wouldn't be much longer, now. A few weeks, at most. So long as the vampire could satisfy him that long, which he suspected she could, there would be no reason to suspect the plan would fail. Or that it even could.

No... Nott grunted as another orgasm ripped through him, but didn't stop his loping, four-limbed run down the halls, nor did the climax that filled the vampiress stop her. If anything, her efforts redoubled as his pleasure fed back into her through he collar she so easily wore, as if born to it. No, they would not fail. They were too close now, even if the aged fool of a Headmaster came into the Chamber itself now, it would be too late. They had no more need of the room, she could fuck him while on the move, and he never needed rest again.

He was beyond that, beyond needing to eat (though he liked to), or even drink. He was beyond anything but sex, pleasure, and killing.

Nott was, in his own opinion, nearly perfect. Just a few more days, as the last elements of the trap were put into place, and his evolution continued. That would be enough.

Tonight (at least, he assumed it was night, but it didn't matter anymore), they would put a piece of the trap in Hogsmeade. Perhaps he'd find a human body to fuck for a while, perhaps not. He didn't really care, because again, the vampire was enough for now.

For now.

Dawn on the last day of the Christmas Holidays found Harry James Potter sitting at the desk in his bedroom at Sirius' house, Fleur and Hermione entwined in his queen-sized bed without him, and Lilith happily slurping at his cock under the desk. But for all he enjoyed her oral ministrations, he wasn't focused on that task. He was pouring over the responses to a few letters he had sent out a few days before, after returning from touring the manor.

The first was perhaps the least important to Harry emotionally, but the key to all the rest, and therefore of great value. The letter itself was not long, but the sheaves of parchment and paper both that had accompanied it were something he would have to look over in greater detail, probably several times and with Hermione's (and other's) help.

Mr. Potter,

It is with respect that we received your letter. Per your request, our accountants have summarized your holdings, both liquid and asset, in the following report. This is all of the properties, both real and intellectual, and total worth of the Potter House, to the best of Gringott's Bank's knowledge. It may not be complete. These only include properties, assets, or cash amounts that Gringott's Bank is aware of or has records pertaining to, which is itself limited to the British Isles and their extant colonies.

Gringott's Bank cannot, unfortunately, acquiesce to your request for a further audit. Our accountants and financiers are Goblins, and thus subject by treaty to act only in Goblin interests. In lieu of that request, we have included a list of reputable Wizard-kind accounting firms, several of which have done business with your family in the past. If you truly wish for such an accurate account of your family's wealth, we recommend you seek out an accountant from one of those firms to keep on retainer going forward. We estimate it will take years for a single person or small team to make that full accounting.

Here is the (abridged) summation of your currently-known assets:

Assets:Estimated Value in Galleons(G):

Real Holdings: 24274,234,435

Rights, Loans, Shares: 4235,236,326,854

Liquid Assets: 2,351,846,236

Estimated Annual Interest:42,326,279

Total Estimated Worth (minus income):37,904,733,804

For your consideration, this puts your family's wealth in the upper echelon among Wizard-kind in the British Isles, and among the 'average' wealth for what your kind call the Sacred Twenty-Eight. There are approximately nineteen families with more known wealth than your own. We include this information as a courtesy, given how your kind like to measure their wealth against others.

Gringott's Bank wishes the best for you and yours, and is happy to answer any questions or clarify any matter within our purvue as the Wizarding Bank of the British Isles.

I am respectfully,

Razoreye the Seventh, Head of Accounting for Gringott's Bank.

Harry sighed as he looked at the numbers again. He'd once estimated how much wealth was in Vault 687. It wasn't accurate at all, he was sure, but it was nowhere near what he was looking at on the fine vellum sheet at the top of the stack in his hands. The liquid assets, coins he guessed, in the vault might've totaled two million Galleons, maybe. That was a high estimate, though, and he figured it was closer to just over one million. Still quite a penny, enough to live out his life quite comfortably but this... it was staggering.

The next page had delineated the meaning behind some of the more confusing terms. Real holdings referred to actual properties. Buildings, land, homes, shops, that sort of thing. The manor, he had checked, was included in that... and it was worth only about ninety-four thousand galleons, as large and well-appointed as the property was. Which meant that somewhere out there, in the United Kingdom, were twenty-one other properties he owned worth a total of around three times the manor itself. It was... well, ludicrous might be a good word, but somehow Harry found it inadequate. In the sheaf of papers, after all, were an itemized list of each and every one of those properties. He'd glanced at it, read the title, and put it back.

It would take some time to process.

The next line, Rights, Loans, and Shares was a bit more confusing, and the numbers far more impressive. Rights referred to copyrights, patents, or other such things. The stupid books that bore his name, written when he was a baby, after the fall of Voldemort the first time? He owned those rights, and (to his surprise) he'd been collecting money on all of them, which had built up his wealth by a not-insignificant amount. Perhaps a tenth of the total, in fact, and all without any work at all on his end. But he was shocked to see more patents and copyrights that his family owned. Skele-grow, Sleekeazy's Hair Potion (a thing of his own grandfather's creation, he was even more shocked to learn), and a large number of other Potions, both medicinal or vanity-related, had been created by his family in ages past. They still had the controlling rights to several apothecary manufactories and Potions laboratories, too, the ones who made those potions for general use.

That, at least, explained how they'd built up that money, and the popularity of Sleekeazy's had, Harry learned as he leafed through the sheets, more than quadrupled an already impressive family fortune over the years when his grandfather had sold the company on his retirement.

Loans were the value of, well, people that owed his family money. It was the smaller of the categories, but still totaled more than his liquid assets several times over, more than twelve million galleons. Among them, he was surprised to see, were the Malfoys (though the loan was small), dating from around the time they had first come to England, centuries ago. Unfortunately, it wouldn't be due in Harry's lifetime. But it was still something that made him smile.

The shares, though. Forty percent ownership in the Daily Prophet? And they still printed that shite about me? Oh... they're going to regret that.

There was more of course, but Harry found himself skimming over them quickly after that. The liquid assets were, of course, his coins, in whatever denomination (and not a small amount of older Muggle currency, he saw, no doubt inherited from his mother's side of the family, though it paled next to the Potter's fortune). And the interest was just that, interest gained from the loans, investments, and so on.

Harry sighed, setting the thick sheaf aside for later, still in the same order, and looked down between his legs at Lilith, who was back as herself for now. She looked up at him with his dick in her mouth, and thought, "What is it, Master?"

He spoke back softly, lest he wake the sleeping girls nearby, "It's just... there's so much about my family I don't know. That's all. They're far wealthier than I thought. Or, well, I am, I guess."

"Does that matter? I told you the Manor didn't take too much of your money, didn't I? I made sure there was plenty before I even started the project."

"No," he murmured, reaching down to pat her head as she kept bobbing on his shaft, "I'm not worried about that. It's just... there's so much. It'll support a large family, no question, but I feel like we can do... more with it. That... well, that the Potters would want me to use it. To... make the world better, I suppose. Not just let it sit there and accumulate."

"Then do that, Master. I'm sure you'll come up with something worthwhile. Also, how much longer are you going to make me wait for your cum?"

"I was enjoying the blowjob too much," he said back softly, then relaxed his tightly-woven control to let the climax he'd been holding back for half an hour explode into the Succubus' mouth with a relaxing sigh. "Ah, that's good... you're still the best, along with Hermione, Lils."

She swallowed him down, then cleaned him off again before replying, "Thank you, Master."

And she stayed there, sucking on him again. Harry shook his head, grinning down at her insatiable appetite (Not that he was any better), and leaned forward again, picking up the next letter.

Mr. Potter,

As an under-aged wizard (16), you are unable at this time to legally begin the process you described in your letter. However, once you reach the age of majority on, we understand, July 31 of this year, you will be able to begin that legal process. Our department here at the Ministry of Magic universally applauds the desires and goals outlined in your letter, and express our heartfelt appreciation for your willingness to assist those less fortunate.

We understand that it is through no fault of your own that you cannot, at this time, legally pursue this course of action. Thus, we at the Department of Relocation and Housing subset at the Ministry of Magic wish to inform you that all available paperwork will be filled out properly, in triplicate as required, and be waiting on July 31 for your signature. You may come in as early as office hours on that day, which are 9 O'clock until 5 O'clock.

We eagerly await your visit, and your support of our Department. Furthermore, we again applaud your stated wishes, and will do everything in our Department's (limited) power to make your goals happen as quickly and smoothly as possible.

I am humbly your servant,

Moira Wallside

That letter, Harry read again just for good measure, then set it atop the bank's larger group. He had known it wouldn't work, but hearing it stated so plainly was... unpleasant. Still, the letter sounded sincere, and he imagined the office, which his research told him was primarily responsible for the relocation and allotment of magical orphans with suitable families in the event of a Will not stating how a child would be cared for if activated, was in desperate need of some good funding and attention. Even if he planned to make their Department nearly obsolete.

Then again, they had told him they would have all the paperwork ready on July 31st, his birthday. That was good news, if it wasn't a trap.

If this Moira Wallside and whoever worked underneath her were truly willing to make things as painless and smooth as possible... Harry smiled at the parchment, then picked up the next.

He didn't read it for a bit, his mind still turning over vague ideas of what he'd asked the Department of Relocation to do for him, and how to make that work, for several more minutes before turning to the letter itself.

Harry,

It's good to hear from you. Gran says she's bothered that you didn't come to visit after the attack at the station, but she understands you were busy. She's... more annoyed about me and Hannah being together all the time, but once she found out about Lilith, I think she gets it. We've got some things to talk about on the train, if you don't mind. Gran says that's still how they're bringing the students back, but security will be a lot tighter. Checks for everyone moving between cars after the train starts moving, and there are watchers along the tracks, more Aurors on the train itself, things like that. They don't want a repeat incident, for sure.

I also have a bit of news regarding Susan Bones. Shewants to meet with you in February, to discuss that Contract you guys talked about before. That's sort of related to what I wanted to talk to you about, too, in fact. So if you don't mind, Hannah and I will be there. It's up to you, though, you can meet with her alone if you want.

I'd ask how your Christmas was, but as late as I've remembered to write this letter, I'll probably see you before I get a reply, so don't worry about it. We can talk on the Train. I don't know how to tell you this really, but I'm looking forward to, well, seeing everyone. Hannah's great, and I love her, but... I miss everyone else.

We'll talk on the train, I guess. Four hours might be enough. Looking forward to it, Harry.

Neville

That letter, longer than any of the business ones, made Harry grin as he read through it. "Miss everyone", sure. Miss the girls, he thought to himself and the Succubus both, misses the variety. Can't say I blame him, I miss Hannah's body, too, but he's probably got it worse. I at least have a few, and one is a Succubus. Still...

He looked at the last letter of the stack with some trepidation.

It was official-looking, and addressed to him using his whole name, with a company letterhead on the sender's note he recognized only the names of.

Cyrus Greengrass.

That wasn't all, though. Next to that was an official Ministry of Magic stamp, certifying that the letters inside had been reviewed, much like a Notary Public would certify paperwork, making them official and binding.

With a gulp, he opened the envelope, breaking the seal with his wand, as was required. No knife would be enough to make it separate, at least not a non-magical one.

The letter within flew out swiftly, unfolding much like a Howler would with little sparkles of magic surrounding it, then floated in the air for easy reading.

Mr. Harry J. Potter,

I hope this letter finds you and yours in good health. We have exchanged correspondence before, but never quite so directly, so allow me please to introduce myself more formally. I am your servant, Cyrus Martin Greengrass, father of your acquaintances, Daphne Ophelia and Astoria Helena Greengrass. I write this on my own behalf, and that of my wife, Carrina, and freely, of my own will. This is my word and vow, Mr. Potter. The contents of this letter are meant for your eyes alone, certified and avowed by duly-appointed employees of the Ministry of Magic for that purpose. If you are reading it, then no one aside from myself and my wife has seen this letter. Another reading it before you would have destroyed it.

My daughters tell me that you have treated them with honor and respect, despite the animosity that has long existed between our Houses at Hogwarts School. My younger daughter, Astoria, further tells me in her letters that she has been to some few meetings with muggle dock-tors and physicians. She also tells me that these muggles have some means of treating the Blood Malediction that has beset our family for generations. While her mother and I are still skeptical, treatment or outright removal of the Malediction is something we have not had hope for in some time. Any hope, at this point, is better than none at all when it comes to my daughters. So, we thank you for your aide in this so far, and beg your continued assistance in getting her whatever treatment these muggle healers recommend. You do not yet understand this, I think, as you are yet to sire children yourself, but their lives are worth far more to me than my own. We sent Astoria to your care out of desperation, prompted by a stray thought that Daphne, my elder daughter, had.

It was a fool's hope, but it has borne fruit, thanks to you and yours. For this, my wife and I will be eternally grateful. Know that if there is anything we can do to repay that debt, we will see it done.

Daphne further tells me that she wishes to enter a Concubine Contract with you.

Reading that last line, Harry's face paled as blood fled from it. He read it again and again, five times in all, before he could move on. Lilith, still blowing him, noticed his cock softening in her mouth and redoubled her efforts, but it did little good until the sudden fear Harry felt faded with the rest of the letter.

A year ago, our House aligning with yours would have been absurd. But your actions to benefit us with no thought of benefiting yourself have proven how wrong that idea would be. Know that the arrangement Daphne seeks to join into with you meets our approval, Mr. Potter. When that happy day comes, I pray that our two Houses join together as one in peace and joy, and continued hope for the future.

Yet, despite all of this, there is still one last thing I must discuss. One final thing that I must ask of you, Mr. Potter.

Astoria Helena Greengrass, my younger daughter, has been ordered by the Dark Lord styling himself Voldemort to appear before himself. Short of her death, I see only one way to escape that fate without further bringing doom to her, her sister, and our entire family. His predilections of late have lead me to suspect that he intends to use her not only for his personal amusement, but as a way to force my wife and myself, who have thus far remained largely neutral in the coming struggle despite the marks we both carry, to align ourselves with him in the hope of her safety.

I cannot abide the thought, for I know she would not be safe in his care. I suspect, in fact, that the idea was first proposed by Draco Malfoy. I have heard from reliable sources that he has joined the Dark Lord, a certain missing Hogwarts Student in his custody. He had always had a bit of an unhealthy obsession with my daughters. An obsession that I fear has only grown worse now that he has discovered his appetites, and that my dear Astoria is becoming closer to her majority as well.

This brings me to my last and final request of you, Mr. Potter. I do not ask this as a man influential in Wizarding society, nor as a vassal. I ask it only as a man who wishes to see his daughter's safety assured.

Please take custody of her upon your own majority, as Astoria's magical guardian. I fear that, at that time, we will no longer be able to care for her. Daphne, being older, could do so but I worry that the burdens of caring for her sister for two years while in school might be too much for her. You have proven yourself to be resourceful, strong, and capable. When presented with the same burden, I feel that you will be able to handle it. I know I have no right to expect or even ask this of you. If you decline, know that in the event of our passing, Daphne is also prepared to do what must be done. However, she will also be in your care in a way.

It is for this reason that I ask, one last time, with the knowledge that my wife and I will devote ourselves to your cause henceforth regardless of your answer for what you have already done for us:

Assume Magical Guardianship of our daughter, as outlined in our living and extant Wills, and by the intent outlined in this letter. Please care for her, when, if, and how we cannot.

Thank you.

Ever yours,

Cyrus M. Greengrass

He stared, and he stared.

Surely they couldn't mean that. Him, adopt Astoria?

Not adopt, he realized. Only assume Guardianship of. He would essentially be a foster caregiver, if they died. Even if they still lived, if he was seventeen, according to this letter. But...

He swallowed, feeling his heart swell and rise into his throat once more. This time, it was an odd mixture of tense anxiety, confirmation of what he already felt, and horrible fear.

Could he really do that? Would Daphne hate him, for it? Would it make their relationship (for all that it was mostly physical and meant to produce offspring) strained, if he almost-adopted her own sister, while still shagging her? Or would it be weird for Astoria herself?

How could the two parents give up their daughter like that?

But if what Cyrus had written was true, how could they not?

It was true, he had no children himself, but Harry had known for the last six years how his parents had died: literally giving their lives for his.

It made him profoundly grateful, even as he mourned their loss and all that had meant for him. But this... Astoria at least knew her parents. And it wasn't like, if they survived the coming conflict, he would forbid her from seeing them.

Harry shook his head, knowing his decision was already made. Behind that sheet of parchment was a single other. An official form, already filled out with all the pertinent information, and awaiting only his signature. Even the date next to it had been filled in with Cyrus's hand: July 31. His birthday.

Looks like I'm getting a pseudo-daughter for a present, he thought to himself, before letting Lilith have some more of his essence with another pleased sigh.

Despite the weighty decision he had just made, Harry felt oddly light after making it. When she climbed onto his lap and kissed him, Harry was smiling toward Lilith. "Good news, love."

"Mm... I was watching, Master," she murmured into his mouth, "Now, we should probably wake the others. Your Dogfather is nearly done with breakfast."

"Alright."

Glossary:

"Department of Relocation and Housing Subset": Basically a non-canon sub-office in the DMLE (related to CPS' division) primarly responsible for checking in and caring for orphans of magicals. The 'whole office' Mrs. Wallside referred to is 3 people, one larger than Arthur Weasley's office. They are also critically underfunded (no one cares about orphans, apparently), which is why they're so on-bored with Harry's proposal (he included a healthy donation / stipend for funding, as well as offered to bankroll the whole proposal on his end, rather than ask them for money instead, which others have done in the past).

Re: Mr. Greengrass' proposal: He is NOT telling Harry to just straight-up adopt her, despite what Harry thinks. He's asking Harry to take care of her, up to and including that, IF he and his wife are murdered by Voldy or other Death Eaters. Just for the record.