Key:
"Words."
Thoughts / "emphasis" / Title of Books or spells used
~~Parseltongue~~
¬¬Foreign Language¬¬
"Magical language."
A Ball to Remember
Harry froze the moment he stepped through the Sight UnSeen's back entrance. Between his wards and his instincts, he knew something was going on with how many people were in the building.
"Come on in, kid," Patricia called out. Harry did so, stepping into the kitchen to find a sight he never expected.
Someone had expanded the room to fit everyone, with everyone having a drink while they sat at the equally enlarged table. Harry knew most of the faces staring back at him, even if only through his extensive Occlumency memories of his first year.
"That's not the body of a third year, no matter what the Daily Prophet says," Merula Snyde declared, her lavender eyes racking in his form. "But I am not complaining."
"Mer, please, not now," Dora pleaded with a wince.
"The Circle of Khanna's core group," Harry named the group. Between what Trish had told him of her experience dealing with the Vaults and the blanks Master Sal filled in, he knew pretty much everything the group had done during their years as students. His hard gaze moving to the oldest of the group. He noted that despite the majority having graduated at the end of his first year at Hogwarts, he was effectively the same age as them. "Which makes you Cecil Lee. I've met your brother, Duncan."
"I know," the tall man sneered and the thought of his (now former) Death Eater brother Harry had de-Marked. Cecil, like said brother Duncan and his nephew Barnaby, was a bulky man built of pure muscle. Harry suspected some type of magical creature's blood way up in the family tree gave the Lee family their powerful physiques. "What you did is the only reason I'm willing to talk to him."
Harry nodded at the man before glancing at the frowning Barnaby beside him. The Lord of Magic's sharp gaze travelled around the table until they met hazel eyes that slammed shut as the owner grabbed his head in pain.
"Don't do that again," Harry warned, his frigid tone promising more than a headache if the man did.
"Jacob!" Lita Scamander snapped at her older brother. "They warned you!"
Jacob Scamander was a man named after the muggle his great-aunt had married and who had inherited said aunt's natural Legilimency. Many muggle-borns saw Legilimency as the fictional ability of telepathy. It was both more and less than that, but those born with a natural skill in the Mind Art were the closest to that fiction that mages ever got and could read the thoughts of those around them on a par with almost any fictional character. Jacob's ability had allowed the Riddle's soul shard once hidden in Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem to control Patricia during her time as a DADA professor, and Harry had no patience for any attempt by the man to wander through his thoughts.
"My patience really isn't the best today, people," Harry warned them. He still hadn't relaxed his posture, and both the Rakepick sisters and Dora both knew things were escalating. "So someone had better start talking."
"We're here to help you against the Flamels," the only blonde stated in her Cockney accent. Penny Haywood was a beautiful woman whose younger sister was a Hufflepuff in Cedric's year. Just like Penny had been, Beatrice was the girl all the boys wanted to get with. According to Harry's eldest apprentice, she was a smart, caring, and forceful girl that everyone not thinking with their hormones still wished to be friends with. The definition of a true Hufflepuff. The declaration froze Harry, giving the woman enough time to continue her explanation.
"You obviously know about us," all bar Cecil cut eyes to the coffee-drinking Patricia standing against the kitchen unit. "We started the Circle to fight against R. Dora came to us when she heard how you think the Flamels have taken over the Unspeakables. From everything we know, R is nothing like what Rowena would have wanted it to become and there's a solid chance the Unspeakables aren't either."
Harry understood their general story. Children thrown into events the adults should have dealt with, forced to mature early, and who realised they couldn't look away when they found similar problems elsewhere. Even if those problems involved the nastier side of their society. And the one member who this didn't apply to had done his best to keep his nephew free from the influence of Voldemort, even if it meant fighting with the boy's father. These were the everyday people who did what was right, not what was easy.
"They aren't," Harry confirmed. He still hadn't moved beyond the turning of his head. "Even though Miss Snyde's contacts with R have been less than forthcoming with information."
"Just call her Verruca," Merula sneered, deliberately twisting her aunt's name. "I do."
"And that's why you have a shitty relationship," Dora pointed out.
"Enough," the only member of the group standing snapped, stepping out of the corner of the kitchen to glare at Harry. Victor Ketsueki's brown eyes shimmered and glow with supernatural power. "I've been all over the world, man. I've danced and shared drinks with beings that'll surprise anyone, but I've felt nothing like you. I won't let my friends tie themselves to something I can't identify."
"Your scent is..." the silver-haired Chiara Lobosca said, trailing off as she struggled for the right words. The werewolf had been eyeing him ever since he stepped into the room. "There's something about it. I don't know."
"Little Eagle?" Cassie's voice filled the room with her worry. The younger Rakepick had been watching the group throughout the conversation and only now was turning to face him. Her eyes reacted as her Sight showed her his true appearance and she stepped forward, mimicking what they had gone through the first time he walked into her shop.
"Oh, Little Eagle. I'm so sorry," Harry tilted into her palm, letting its soothing touch run against his cheek, and never looked away from her knowing gaze. "There's always something with you."
"I am my mother's son," the joke fell flat as they shared a look before moving to the group. He reached out to his wards, trapping everyone in the room as he released his glamour. "I am Lord Danu, emissary of the High Fae. Be very careful what you decide to do today."
His new features had the large group slamming back in their seats. There was no escaping the fact that the game had drastically changed. Both Trish and Dora closed their eyes at the new twist in his life.
Victor, a vampire since the summer before his seventh year, just nodded. Harry knew his condition, title, and what they meant would spread across the vampire grapevine faster than gossip through Hogwarts.
Chiara was the next to react, shaking herself down with a hard shudder. "You created the Lycan ritual. I can't walk away."
One by one, the group confirmed their willingness to side with him, despite Harry being damn sure even he didn't understand the danger the famed alchemist and his wife would pose. All bar Merula, who stared at Harry with a hungry look the Lord of Magic had grown far too used to seeing from those around him.
"I want a betrothal," the good-looking woman declared, causing a wave of complaints and outrage to rise from the group. "My talents for the Danu name."
Given the woman was the reigning British Duelling Champion who had wiped the floor with everyone that she faced during the Convention over Yule, that was saying something. Merula had had entered multiple competitions every day and didn't just decimate them all, but won the major trophy in a landslide demolition of everyone she faced. Cassie had spun to snarl something at the younger woman, only to stop when Harry's fingers laced around the Seer's wrist.
"My Danu wife has to be a half-breed at least," he explained. "Humans need not apply."
Rather than being disappointed, Merula sat back with a frown, as though he were a puzzle to be solved. Dora's jaw dropped, and the metamorph couldn't stop herself from speaking. "You can't be considering this."
"Dora, do you really think I'd get away with choosing all of my wives and concubines out of love?" He hadn't looked away from Merula and so missed Dora's blush. "Think of my titles and tell me you honestly think I won't have to make some political connections with them."
"How many titles do you have?" Penny asked.
"Enough," Harry replied, still holding Merula's gaze. "And I'm the last of my line, so concubines would be a bonus. If you're all siding with me, then you'll find out which ones when you come to my debutante ball."
"Slytherin, then," Merula finally decided. "Not only do you get my skills and my family's financial power -"
Trish's snort interrupted the offer, getting everyone's attention. The Curse-Breaker knew Harry's financial muscle exceeded everyone else's already. The former green-tied student eyed the older woman and had obviously worked out what the noise meant.
"I'll even make nice with my aunt. It'll get her to use more contacts than what she'd tell you she had otherwise."
"Why?" He demanded.
"I hate my name," Merula told him with a shrug. "And I'm a Slytherin with all the ambition that comes with."
Harry withdrew two of his mother's divination dice from his pocket and flicked them into the air. He caught them with his other hand and everyone saw his eyes flash a tri-tone grey as he read them. He sighed, causing the woman to smirk.
"Give us a year from my ball to get to know each other," he countered. "And if we're half-way compatible, then I'll agree."
"Deal."
Harry sighed again before conjuring a chair and sat at the table. "Then you lot might as well introduce yourselves properly. First year memories will only go so far in knowing who you are."
The other members of the group turned out to be the former Ravenclaws Andre Egwu, a tailor of exceptional skill, Badeea Ali, a Muslim woman attempting to make her name in magical paintings, Talbott Winger, a Ministry Hit-Wizard whose name Harry recognised from his Daily Prophet published poetry, Tulip Karasu, the Turkish-Japanese daughter of members of the DMLE who worked for Zonko's creating and enchanting prank items, and the former Hufflepuff and now world explorer Diego Caplan.
The eclectic group talked long into the evening to get to know each other. They eventually split close to midnight, with Dora the last to leave. The girl's nervousness telling Harry she had a reason for being the last.
"Hair-bear..." she started, visibly struggling to find the right words. "Would you really marry Merula?"
"Dora, how old will I be next month?" He asked in a soft voice. "And don't say fourteen. We both know that's nothing but an accounting trick my uncle would have used with his company to fiddle the books."
"Twenty-two?" she guessed with a frown.
"That's what my calender in my bedroom in the Room of Requirement says," he admitted, running a hand through his hair. "I try to split the difference and see it closer to seventeen or eighteen."
"What's your point, Harry?"
"Master Sal warned me," Harry explained, catching her eyes that shifted to their original colour in response to the emotions she saw in his own. "He warned me I'd lose connections with my peers. I'm their teacher, Dora. I don't regret any of this, but they aren't my peers. They haven't been since I returned to the Chamber last year. Yet I know they all expect me to marry at least one of them."
"Will you?" She asked in a low voice.
"Most likely," he admitted. "But only once they're adults and no longer my students. Today was the first time in a long time that I've felt like I was talking to equals."
She snorted at his words, getting a wry smile in return as he continued. "I don't mean in power or knowledge. You're the first person I connected to who was close to my age. They're the others."
Fleur didn't count, although she came close. The half-Veela had tried over Yule, but she hadn't been able to work past him being a Lord of Magic. Their sporadic letters since the Convention had helped the girl see him as more than a mythical figure, but it had still been a refreshing take to have such a large group effectively ignore who and what he was without being disrespectful over it.
"What are you trying to say?" Dora needed to know.
"Don't get me wrong, I haven't given up on finding love," he admitted. "But I know what I am, Dora. I know the legacies I carry and the size of the threat I'm up against with Flamel. And I know what that looks like to outsiders..."
He trailed off, shaking his head with a heavy sigh. Her eyes widened as she realised what he was trying to say.
"You want someone to see who you are beyond all that," she guessed. "To see who you really are."
"Exactly."
Nymphadora Tonks looked at the man in front of her. She'd attempted to embarrass him during their brief metamorphmagus lessons, stripping down to skin-tight underwear to show him the full-body changes someone of their level of the ability could perform, only to be one-upped when he stripped naked without a blink. She'd been debating doing the same by the time Madame Bones had taken her on as her own protégé, ending the lessons before Dora could do so. Being seen as who you were despite everything else was the dream of a metamorphmagus, and she now understood far more than she thought Harry meant her to.
"I get ya, hot stuff," she promised, shifting her body to its natural form. She leaned in to kiss his cheek before apparating away.
Harry wasn't dense. Despite the mental scaring it caused, Sebastian the Sorting Hat had been his guide in all things young love and attraction. He knew the kiss promised something more than the friendship the two distant cousins had formed over the months. He shook his head, refusing to think about the subject for now, and turned away from the floo. Only to find a smirking Trish watching him from the doorway.
"Don't say a word," he growled, getting a smirk in reply. Harry did the mature thing and lightning flashed himself to his bedroom.
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OoOoO
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25th June 1994 – Room of Requirement
The first Saturday of the summer break saw Harry back at Hogwarts. The pair of Slytherins were in the Founder's study, with the Founder running his expert gaze over the items that came with some of Harry's titles that the living Lord had placed on the desk.
"I can obviously teach you how to use my own weapons," the dead man said, sending a nod to the jian and flamberge they had put off to one side. "I would suggest only using the Peverell dagger for necromantic rituals and my own for any blade fighting. Unless you want to accidentally raise anything you kill."
"I'd rather not," Harry commented, getting a smirk from his ancestor.
"I'm surprised the Grymm title came with this sword, if I'm honest." Salazar mused, running his finger above the blade in question. "I would have expected a seax or a side-axe."
"Why's that?"
"As you've noticed, your sword has no distinguishing markings. I could show you copies of near-enough a hundred such blades I saw in my lifetime. And that is without the memories of the others I have access to. As I've told you, Rowena and Morgana grew up within the Grymm Coven. Yes, they used such swords, but they preferred something with a different handle."
Here Salazar pointed at the difference between the Grymm blade and his own Chinese weapon. "See here? The guard and pommel size, along with the smaller grip, restricts the hand into what is now called a 'hammer grip.' You use this blade in chopping motions with the elbow bent, limiting your range of attack. They're cut and slash blades that are perfect to use with a shield, but are restrictive without one, as it hurts the wrist when thrusting with them."
"How would that work in magical battles?"
The Founder lifted his off-hand and a magical buckler appeared to protect his forearm. "A shield spell I will teach you this summer. But the only choice is this or a wand, not both. Trying to cast with the same arm that is shielding you is counter-productive and will get you killed. And using such a sword as a focus is also limiting, as the grip restricts your wrist movement. That is why the Coven taught all their members how to use other weapons."
Salazar stepped back from the table and conjured a small war axe that he expertly twirled in one hand. "The top weight of this weapon keeps the momentum going, making it perfect to focus protective magic through it."
The axe head glowed and left an after-image. Harry extended his magical senses and discovered it was more than just an optical illusion. The constant twirling was weaving a protective web in front of his mentor. Salazar stopped the display with a harsh slash that released a cutting curse three-foot wide that tore into the far wall that the Room healed.
"And of course, the greater freedom of your wrist allows for more detailed spell-work," the Founder continued after banishing the weapon away. "It's the same with the seax. Those could be small daggers from the size of a palm to the length of a side-sword, each bonded to their mage owner."
"Why do you think it was this?" Harry asked with a wave of his hand at the sword.
Salazar stared at the weapon in question. Harry saw a familiar look cloud his mentor's eyes. The same look the Snake Lord had whenever Harry had done something that brought him closer to the Danu title.
"To honour the king," Salazar answered after a long pause, waving his hand to produce a floating image of a rotating blade. The Carolingian sword had a blade of almost thirty-four inches and shone with its own inner light. Its gem-studded guard was a convex curve, and the pommel held a blood-red stone at its base. "Caledfwich. Caliburn. The sword that united the people and which was broken before the fall of Camelot."
In moments like these, Harry witnessed a hidden side to his mentor. A side with far too much knowledge of things before his time. But given that he was seeing a sword of legend, he let that thought go. Salazar stared at the blade for a moment before waving it away and returning to the conversation. "The Grymm Coven never forgot where it came from. I believe the blade is more a symbolic tie to their links with Arthur than meant to be used in combat by the Lord."
"That doesn't mean you won't teach me how to use it," Harry remarked.
"It doesn't mean I won't teach you how to use it," the Founder confirmed. "Along with other weapons. You have a busy summer ahead of you, apprentice, and so I will focus on finishing your physical combat training and sharing the Peverell Family Magic. And then there is the most important skill you will ever need."
The smirk Salazar sent him had Harry groaning even as he asked. "And that is?"
"How to fool the world into believing you enjoy political balls, of course!" Salazar grinned, getting an eye roll from Harry. The humour vanished from the Founder's face as he waved a hand again, this time causing a near-naked copy of himself and Godric to appear, with each body having specific blood runes showing. "But first, I want you to study these arrays. Mine are 'instinct' arrays tying my balance and movement together. Once activated, they allowed me an exceptional sense of spacial awareness of both my body and the world itself. I could pluck a loose hair off a vampire and the only reason they knew I did was from the movement of the air. Or I could move to where only an exhale of breath was the reason a spell missed me."
Harry blinked at the second example. "That's some serious psychological warfare, Master."
"Exactly," Salazar smirked. The man sighed and turned to the echo of his long-dead friend. "Godric's, on the other hand, was something much less subtle. Consider it the pinnacle of the berserker state. A channel of magic through his physical form to make him an equal of any threat. Once activated, he could be as fast as a vampire, as strong as a giant, and as impervious to damage as a Nemean Lion. For as long as the boost lasted."
"The candle that burns twice as bright burns half as long," Harry mused, staring at Godric's runes.
"And even short uses could leave him weak and exhausted," Salazar confirmed with a nod. "I want you to study these, Apprentice. Use your talents to redesign them. They saved our lives multiple times and I won't have you found wanting."
Harry nodded and began moving around the frozen images, studying each rune and how they interacted with the whole. He shook his head and glanced at the watching Salazar as he realised the two systems were almost the same array only expressed differently for each Founder's style of fighting. Harry knew this meant Salazar was expecting him to work out how to create both effects with the same system, rather than brute-forcing the two to work together.
No rest for the wicked, he thought.
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OoOoO
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8th July 1994 - Constantinople (modern day Istanbul), ICW building
One of the hardest truths muggle-borns of any country face was the reality of the Wizarding World being its own thing that overlapped the world they knew. And it only rarely took more than a superficial notice of muggle borders. Case in point, the British Ministry had no interest in recognising a difference between Northern Ireland and its Republic sister, and many who worked in the Ministry saw such distinctions as frustrating red tape that was easier to ignore than deal with.
At least the Iberian Peninsula paid lip-service to its Muggle countries. Portugal, Spain, Andorra, and Gibraltar might have their own 'Ministries,' but they were nothing but sub-departments of the Ministry of the Iberian Collective.
Incidentally, MACUSA's rigid connection to America's borders came about from the New World Ministry being formed a century prior to the country itself. The original ministry was a jointed effort of the British, French, and Iberians to police the land their muggle compatriots were fighting over.
Geneva was a global city to the muggle world and the home of the United Nations. However, the Wizarding World's equivalent, the International Confederation of Wizards, had its home in the city that many mages still called Constantinople. There, in 1453, amongst the backdrop of the sacking of the city by the Ottoman Empire, mage representatives of Europe, Asia, and Africa came together to ratify the Treaty of Constantinople declaring freedom of expression of magic for all. While future laws could, and did, restrict magical practises, the Treaty guaranteed no continent could force their magical or cultural beliefs on the others. The muggles could drag the people of the three continents together under one banner with their endless wars of conquest and expansion, but the mages would not let that destroy their individual practices. The second part of the Treaty promised that should any of the three continents face an existential threat, the other two would aid them.
The foyer of the ICW's main building had contained a plaque celebrating the Treaty ever since. In five-and-a-half centuries, only one other treaty was elevated to such a status: the Statute of Secrecy.
Into this hallowed location portkeyed a large group of hooded British mages met by the waiting Gabriel Delacour and his most trusted Aurors. Said Aurors went to take custody of two of the group, only for the tallest to make a move to step between them. Two of the other members put a hand on his arms, and the imposing figure deflated with a nod. Crisis averted, the French Aurors took their charges away while Gabriel led the still silent group past the security checkpoints. The sight was familiar to those watching. The ICW buildings had long been declared neutral ground and many clandestine meetings had taken place beneath their roofs. Some even led to official announcements.
Non-press observers of the ICW meetings might have been few and far between, but the organisation still had protocols in place for groups even as large as Harry's extended family. Viewing boxes lined the main meeting hall, each having their own personal privacy wards. Visitors could keep their wands and even add to the protections. Said protections were also ready and eager to take action should a visitor attempt to use their foci for offensive magic.
Harry's senses had finished tested the magic of the box Gabriel had shown them to just as the Malfoys and Patricia put up the last of their own protections. The group threw off their hoods and the Lord of Magic held out a palm that sparked with electricity. "It can't pick up wandless magic."
"Are you suggesting there is a ward to stop wandless magic?" Lucius drawled, raising an impeccable eyebrow at his Lord. Harry blinked at the man's question, and the others chuckled even before he spoke.
"Huh, good point."
"Not every weakness has an answer," Cissa reminded him, taking her seat with all the elegance of a queen.
Dora reached out to take the sparking hand, trusting him not to hurt her. "It'll be okay."
His attempt at a smile turned out more like a grimace as he sat next to his fellow metamorph. The group watched the tense Lord who hadn't let go of Dora's hand. Recent events had put Harry on edge, and the sense of control over his life that he had worked so hard for was slipping through his fingertips. Fawkes had more than once appeared to Harry to use his song to calm the young man.
Everyone breathed a sigh of relief when the ICW meeting began and the Supreme Mugwump – one Albus Dumbledore – looked towards a representative's box. "Our esteemed French friends have requested a trial of political asylum. I open the floor to you, Eric."
"Thank you, Supreme Mugwump," Eric Fontaine, the French ICW representative, said as he stood. "In fact, my country brings two trials before this body."
Dumbledore raised a bushy eyebrow at the announcement. A far more measured reaction than the rest of the assembly as their murmurs and excited chatter filled the air.
The term 'trial' was a misnomer. While the accused could bring as much or as little evidence as they wished, it would only be supplementary to the mandatory Veritaserum questioning by the country the accused had requested asylum of. There would be no cross-examination, nor would its result dictate what the accusing country did. Rather, the trial of political asylum allowed the accused to get their side of the story out to a world who then decided on a country-by-country basis whether to side with the accuser or accused. The accused would then have the freedom to live and work in any country that accepted their plea. An accusing country killing the person after a trial of political asylum had caused two wars after the person had become a key part of another country's society.
To undergo a trial of political asylum was the last roll of the dice for the desperate. The accused had to trust that what they said under the effects of the truth serum would be enough in the dangerous world of intercountry politics.
The reaction of the ICW increased tenfold when Gabriel, his Aurors, and two other men led the Azkaban escapees onto the assembly floor. Dumbledore's jaw had dropped at the sight of the pair, but it was the reaction of the British ICW representative that drew all the attention.
"What is the meaning of this?" A man with a toothbrush moustache screamed.
"Bartemius Crouch, Senior," Lucius sneered. "The fool must have heard of the trial. He's never missed one yet, despite Belby being our actual representative."
Harry's free hand crackled and sparked as he stared at the man.
"You should know," Sirius called up to the man as the Aurors conjured chairs for him and Bella to take. "You threw me into Azkaban without a trial!"
The one positive thing Harry could say about politicians is that they had the uncanny ability to move their necks as fast as a snake's strike when looking for weakness, and the bulk of the ICW members all saw the Department of International Magical Co-Operation Head pale at Sirius' words. Harry's gaze cut to Dumbledore, and he saw a far too familiar look cross the old man's face. He was thankful the men on the floor noticed Dumbledore gearing up to protest.
"I am administrating the Vertiserum," the man in the Healer's uniform marked with an ICW patch declared. Harry suspected the assembly floor had some type of amplification charm on it given how clearly he heard the words, even with the chaos going on around them.
Politicians will be politicians, he mused, remembering the loud arguments of Britain's Vernaculi parliament he had seen on TV the previous summer. The announcement shut the rabble up as they watched with bated breath.
"My name is Thierry Wenger, an internationally recognised Law-Wizard -"
"The best Law-Wizard there is." Ted Tonks murmured, getting hushed by his wife.
"Monsieur Black, are you or have you ever been a follower of the Dark Wizard that called himself Voldemort?"
"No," Sirius' voice sounded hollow, as though the man was barely awake.
"Did you betray the Potters to the Dark Wizard that called himself Voldemort?"
"No."
"Were you involved in the deaths of the Potters at the wand of the Dark Wizard that called himself Voldemort, or one of his supporters?"
"Yes," Sirius' voice cracked at the answer, and everyone heard the emotions pushing through the serum's effects. "I came up with the idea to use Peter Pettigrew as the Secret Keeper while making everyone believe it was me."
Dumbledore paled at the words, something many caught even as they too were reacting. The serum couldn't force anyone to elaborate on their answers, and an investigator often remained suspicious of those who only gave one-word answers. The more a person willingly spoke under the effects of Veritaserum, the more others believed their story.
"Did you kill the wizard known as Peter Pettigrew?"
"No. I found the Potters after the attack and knew he had betrayed them. I hunted him down and tried to kill him, but he tricked me and got away. He cut off his finger and changed into his animagus form of a rat."
"Did you explain any of this during your trial?"
"I never got one. The Aurors showed up after the explosion Peter used to kill the muggles. I wasn't in my right mind and was rambling. They stunned me, and I woke up in Azkaban."
"Administer the antidote," the Law-Wizard told the Healer, only for Dumbledore to call out.
"Wait! I have questions!"
"Supreme Mugwump!" Fontaine snapped. Harry watched as the Aurors waited until the antidote had taken effect before dropping the localised privacy charm around Sirius. "You know the procedure of the trial."
"You're right, Eric, but there are some things I wanted to clarify," Dumbledore smiled benevolently at the man who sent a scowl back.
"Then perhaps you should have made sure the body you head in Britain gave him his legally required trial."
"The French are making a move," Cissa said as Dumbledore jerked back in his seat.
"Fontaine lost a lot of family to Grindelwald," Trish explained while the two politicians stared at each other. "Just as many people haven't forgiven him for taking so long in taking the monster out as worship him for eventually doing so."
"France offers asylum to Monsieur Sirius Black!"
Harry released an explosion of breath at the pronouncement. The rest of the group did likewise, with many smiles forming as the offers came from close to every member of the ICW. The Lord of Magic cut a glance towards Crouch and his grin turned savage at seeing the man's shaking form.
The positive mood vanished when it came time for Bella's Veritaserum statement. This was their tightrope move. The woman had already had her trial and had found guilty. Sirius pulled out her marriage contract from an enchanted pocket when she declared she hadn't been a willing follower of Voldemort. Wenger read the disgusting sections detailing the liberties Rodolphus could and did take with her – the Blacks' paranoia certainly helped as their contracts always had self-updating sections detailing what the other party did with the control they'd been allowed. It had been a harrowing read, and Wenger was grim-faced when he copied the important sections for the representatives to read.
Harry sighed with relief when Wenger's last question was if she had anything to do with the Longbottom attack. He'd wanted the truth on record for both Bella and Neville. That she named Crouch's son as a participant of the attack while the pale man raged in the British box just added to the moment as far as he was concerned.
The result wasn't as clear-cut as for Sirius. Many ICW countries saw the contracts as preemptive consent. It would have been down to House Black or even Bella herself to make sure she wasn't tied to a monster that made her do monstrous things. That the contract was signed meant she deserved the punishment for her crimes, even if she hadn't wanted to perform them. Harry gave those who denied Bella asylum a sneer. "And this is the body that declared the Imperius an Unforgivable."
"We won, Little Eagle," Cassie reminded him from the seat behind. Her slender hand squeezed his shoulder and Harry sighed at the truth.
"Let's go get them before they do something they shouldn't," he suggested, getting snorts at the impossibility of the last part.
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OoOoO
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No one knew Dumbledore had planned to end that ICW session with a call to arms against the return of Voldemort. Fontaine was leading a wave of political opposition to oust the old man from the Supreme Mugwump seat before the family had met up with Gabriel and the now free Sirius and Bella.
Fudge's administration had seen a large eroding of good will with other countries, and Lucius didn't even have anything to do with it. The man's blind belief in the power of his position as Minister fed his jingoism, and the superior attitude flowed down to everyone who dealt with those not considered 'the right sort.' Delores Umbridge's even more extreme version of the beliefs, along with her near-fanatic worship of the Ministry itself, had fanned the flames. Flames the arrogant and egotistical Barty Crouch Senior had done nothing to extinguish. Flames which led to the British Ministry waking up to a threat of major sanctions that would cripple the country on the international stage.
Scapegoats were needed. Dominos were pushed. Unfortunately for Fudge, he wasn't untouchable, no matter how much he pretended otherwise.
Amelia Bones had Barty Crouch Senior arrested the moment the report of Sirius' asylum trial hit her desk. The former DMLE Head had known his career was over and hadn't fought the arrest, even promising to point out the others he'd had thrown into Azkaban on the sly over the years he had been in charge of the department if only Amelia sent Aurors to get his officially declared dead son from their home. It was unfortunate that he made the request outside of an interview room, as someone had spirited away the hidden Death Eater and the Aurors found only a dead house-elf in his place.
Drunk of success that had nothing to do with himself, Fudge's next domino proved to be his undoing.
Dumbledore had raised the man's ire with the cemetery declaration and the follow-up end-of-year feast speech about You-Know-Who's return, and Fudged used the ICW's expelling of the wizard to attempt removing him from his Chief Warlock position. Fudge's hidden support vanished the moment the bowler hat wearing fool acted. The fact Fudge used the dementors to 'protect' the students of Hogwarts against two people who had proven to have the skills to escape their monstrous gaze was on everyone's lips again, as was his supporting Umbridge's attempt to arrest the heir who had saved the students from those very creatures. Despite being events everyone had known for almost ten months, they were now things the Wizengamot were crying out for blood over. Lucius leaked that Fudge and Dumbledore had made both Bellatrix's trial and Sirius' lack of one a state secret, marring both with Crouch's guilt. While Dumbledore's reputation remained strong enough that his single statement of having only agreed to do so out of respect for all the victims of the war was enough for most, Fudge had no such fallback reasoning.
The man who made a career out of being influenced and bought by the highest bidder lost everything he held dear and then his freedom when he became the worst thing imaginable. A liability. The moment Fudge lost his position, Narcissa's financial destruction plan went into effect. The goblins knew of her plan and were in full support, buying everything from her at cost. They then called in all loans and cancelled every deal every family who had been against Harry that year had with the banking organisation.
By the time someone leaked Fudge's long-running corruption to the Daily Prophet and DMLE, the man was penniless and homeless, almost welcoming his Azkaban sentence rather than face his new status quo. The Aurors who had sided with Umbridge and some of the Prophet's reporters who had written hit-pieces about Harry had also lost everything, with no one complaining when Rita Skeeter found herself arrested for using her illegal animagus form for espionage. The only surprise in Cissa and the goblin's mini-war was the survival of Umbridge, although the woman was only clinging to her job by her fingertips.
Many believed that Lucius Malfoy controlled the Dark Sect of the Wizengamot. The man had led the powerful part of the faction true, but not every Dark family supported the Riddle. Just like not every Light family supported Dumbledore. There had been no hiding House Malfoy's break from the Dark Lord's following, not after Riddle regained his body. While no physical attacks had yet taken place, verbal threats had become a common thing whenever one of the freed thirteen Death Eaters was near one of their former colleagues. Lords Selwyn and Rowle had taken over leading Riddle's Wizengamot forces. A change that couldn't have been hidden from the rest of the Wizengamot if they tried.
But Lucius Malfoy was a political animal raised by one of the infamous 'Four Kings.' His wife had grown up with a second of the Kings and between the two of them, they had merged the non-Riddle Dark Sect into a powerful force that equalled the one they had left. And with overtures to the Dark-Grey families aided by the support of Houses Greengrass and Zabini, their influence could even better Riddle's depending on what was being voted on.
Between Susan being Harry's secret apprentice and Amelia's confrontation with Dumbledore at the cemetery, House Bones, along with its allies, had moved to follow the Potter-Black alliance. Even without taking his seats, the Wizengamot was feeling Harry's influence. But in not taking his seats, all that potential political power managed was to help deny either Riddle or Dumbledore their choice as Minister.
It would take two months and numerous votes for a new minister to be declared. The three powerful men that had split the Wizengamot came to a silent acceptance. While every candidate any of the three sides backed were knocked down by a combined manoeuvring of the other two, all three agreed on the one man none of them had an interest in. The staunchly middle-of-the-road and utterly neutral Gordon Fawley.
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OoOoO
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31st July 1994 – Potter Manor (9 years, 6 days diluted)
The big day had arrived. Although unusual, even the most esteemed families sometimes had their debutant balls be private affairs. And no one in their right mind would object to Harry keeping his 'small.' The man of the hour was dressed to the nines. His basilisk-hide trousers were so dark to be almost black, while the knee-high boots of the same material lightened until the natural green coloured hardened toes. The effect made it appear as though the bottom half of his outfit was all one piece Harry had squeezed himself into. His acromantula-silk shirt was plum, the same colour as the Wizengamot's robes denoting his right to enter the political body, while his black robes were in the style of a tailcoat and kept closed with buttons made of stones representing the wearer's birth Houses. In Harry's case, this was an onyx, a turquoise opal, and an emerald for his Peverell, Potter, and Slytherin names, respectively. The trim of the robe had embroidery running along it, symbolising important aspects of both Harry's birth Houses and the Houses he was Lord of. Among the designs were a beheaded manticore, multiple raven designs, both the snake from Hogwarts' Slytherin crest and a basilisk, and three Deathly Hallows symbols put together in a triquetra formation. The back of the robe had a giant Welsh Red that glimmered in the light. Its tail encircled the entire form to form a large Ouroboros circle, and it held more than a passing familiarity to Cadwaladr.
But none of it mattered. Not when he was standing outside the bedroom that had once belonged to Sirius. The man himself was sitting on his former bed staring down at a lurid coloured top, and Harry could see his tears from the doorway. The lord of the manor knocked on the door, causing the animagus to jolt.
"Sorry, kiddo," Sirius sniffed, throwing the top onto the bed as he stood. "I thought I'd be okay looking at the old place."
"You never have to apologise to me, Padfoot," Harry promised, pulling his godfather into a fierce hug. "Thank you for doing this."
The pair held each other until the Marauder had pulled himself together. Harry had moved into his family home after the ICW trial and invited the two Marauders to join him. They'd declined. Harry thought it said everything that Sirius would rather live in the redecorated childhood home he'd run away from than the one he'd run to. Given his godfather's Mind Healer had agreed with the decision, Harry had no intention of arguing. The lack of portraits of James and Lily didn't stop the manor from being filled with haunting memories for the man.
"I wouldn't have missed it for the world," Sirius promised, pulling back to take a proper look at Harry. "They'd be so proud of you. I'm so proud of you."
Harry beamed at the words and pulled Sirius out of the room, leaving an arm over his godfather's shoulder as they headed to the ballroom. "That looked like an interesting top. I didn't know you were into tie dye."
The Marauder's barking laughter filled the manor's halls. "Merlin! That was a prank Yule gift from your grandfather. He'd got so fed up with me and James disturbing his brewing that he gave us both one. We refused to wear it, but Dad Charlus had cursed the thing. The longer we went without wearing it, the more it changed all our clothes to the same design. The only way to break the curse was to wear the original for a week straight. It turned our skin tie dye to match and then kept switching out the colours."
The two were in a much better mood by the time they reached the ballroom and found a stunningly dressed Narcissa attempting to calm an equally beautiful Bellatrix. While the former Azkaban inmates had physically recovered from their time in prison, their bodies had still suffered for over a decade. Under Andromeda's watching eye, Harry had put the two through a version of the first healing ritual he'd performed on himself. The two Blacks would be at their physical, mental, and magical peaks by the end of the summer, but it was still early days for the pair.
"Bella, breathe," the blonde sister told her. Minister Fawley had made a public announcement of Sirius' innocence, allowing the man his freedom in the land of his birth, but Bella's situation was far more complicated. Even though Ministry law should have also declared her innocent, too many people on both sides of the Blood War wanted her blood. She'd practically moved in with the Delacours and only came back to Britain to visit the family. The Dark Lord's former right-hand woman had been fretting over her presence ruining Harry's big event.
"It'll be fine," Harry promised as the two men approached. He knew what the feared woman was worried about. The witch was hell on wheels with a wand in her hand, but the Lestranges had stolen her body's autonomy for years, forcing her to use her magic in ways she never would have. PTSD was no joke, not even for mages. "I'll kick anyone's arse if they try anything."
"You sound just like Grandfather," the three Blacks said in unison, causing the young Lord Black to grin as they shared amused looks between them.
"My Lord," Lucius said as he appeared with the Rakepicks following. Harry turned to the man, whose eye only twitched once at his Fae features. The point of the Ball was for Harry to reveal himself to society and he couldn't do that by hiding himself behind a glamour, but the fellow Lord had not yet grown used to the changes. "It's time."
Harry nodded and held out his hand for the older man to take. "To the start of a better future."
"To a better future," Lucius repeated, shaking the offered limb. Cissa gave Harry an encouraging smile before taking her husband's arm and apparating back home to pick up Draco. The Rakepicks hugged him and the quartet lined up at the ballroom's entrance in readiness for the arrivals. A glaring Dobby chased a sheepish Remus into the room with Sirius eye-rolling at his brother in all but blood.
"Nerd."
"Slob," Remus snapped back, making Harry think it was an exchange from the pair's Hogwarts years. The werewolf had undergone the first Lycan ritual and declared he'd never felt better. The former DADA professor had celebrated the change by constantly locking himself in the Potter library and forgetting about the world. At least they knew the ritual didn't change the person's personality.
Kreacher led the Malfoys back to the ballroom, where the waiting Dobby announced them. "Lord Lucius Malfoy and his Lady Narcissa nee Black, along with their heir, Scion Draco, and guest, the rightful Lord Prince, Severus Snape."
Harry had shown his apprentices his changed appearance on the Express ride back to London, but Draco still stared upon seeing the Lord of Magic again. The teen was quick to pull himself together and had his game face on by the time the quartet reached them.
"We thank you for coming," Sirius spoke the lines James Potter would have said. "I introduce to you my godson and heir, Harold James Potter-Black."
Harry blinked at the addition to his name and almost missed the Lucius' reply. "It is our honour and delight to welcome your heir to our society."
"You can put the gift on the empty table," Trish said in place of Lily. The Curse-Breaker hadn't complained once about dressing up for the event. "And refreshments are available."
The trio thanked the group – Snape just gave them all a nod - and moved off as the Tonkses arrived. Unlike other balls, a debutante ball had no former meal before the dancing. Instead, a steady supply of filling finger food kept everyone energised. The Tonkses were just walking away when the first of Harry's apprentices and their families arrived. Even Amelia and her infamous ability to stay stone-faced against every situation stumbled on seeing Harry's new features, and many eyes ran along the high walls to look at the banners showcasing the crests of Harry's Houses. Harry had heard Amelia with the Abbotts and Diggorys doing their best to identify each crest.
Harry knew Neville wouldn't make it, not with the iron control August Longbottom had over his friend, yet his eyebrows rose when the Weasleys arrived, missing one and having an extra. Charlie Weasley filled out his robes with hard-earned muscle. The Lord was proud to see only a little shell-shock in Ginny's brown eyes as she took in the manor's wealth.
"Ron's taking one for the team while mum thinks we're introducing Gin to Lee's cousin," George explained as they shook hands.
"I'm grateful you could make it and I'll make it up to him." Harry promised, turning his attention to the Weasley brother he hadn't seen since the Norbert adventure. "Charlie."
"Heir Potter-Black," the dragon-fang earring wearing ginger said after a brief pause. The man bowed at the waist, even with how shaken he was at Harry's Fae looks. "Thank you for taking care of them."
The dragonologist's words caused Harry's eyes to narrow, but the family was off before he could say anything. Charlie gravitated towards a shocked Dora while the twins and Ginny moved to join their fellow apprentices. No one had missed how in sync the group was with each other.
The other former Death Eaters arrived next, putting some of the Lighter families on edge. Excusing the Malfoys and Bellatrix as extended family to Harry was possible, but the appearance of the Carrows, Parkinsons, and Bullstrudes along with Lords Nott, Burke, and Selina Rosier with their heirs caused uneasy murmurs. Not that Harry or his family cared. They welcome each as warmly as they had everyone else. The inner members of the Circle of Khanna followed as a single group, led by Merula Snyde and her aunt Verucca Buckthorn-Snyde.
"I'm delighted you're considering my niece's offer," the Dark witch said with a smirk, not batting an eye at his features. "She needs a powerful man to put her in her place."
Harry stared the woman in the eyes. He could taste the test in her words and refused to take the obvious bait. "Like how you would have accepted a powerful man to put you in yours?"
"Exactly, my Lord," the woman replied before walking away.
"Bitch," Merula snarled after her.
"I thought you were going to work on your relationship with her?" he asked.
"Only once the contract is signed," the woman smirked back, proving she was her aunt's niece as much as she might pretend otherwise. Merula broke protocol to stand on her tiptoes to peck the corner of his lips before heading towards Dora, happily ignoring the chaos she'd caused among those watching.
"I'm glad this part is almost done," Sirius said quietly as Dobby announced Lord and Lady Greengrass along with Daphne, Astoria, and their uncle Corvinus.
"And no one has said anything overly negative about your features," Remus added. "It's more Dobby and Kreacher that have freaked them out."
"They wouldn't dare," Patricia snarled once the Greengrasses moved away.
"And we're not done yet." Harry's words cut the chatter off. He almost smirked when he felt more portkeys arriving through his manor's wards and Dobby got himself ready for the next announcement.
"Introducing, Lord Mikhail Rasputin, his brother and heir, Scion Piotr Rasputin, their sister Illyana Rasputina, and their guest, the rightful Tsarina of Russian, Empress Natalia Romanova."
The sound of someone's wine glass shattering as it hit the ballroom's polished floor was the only thing heard after once Dobby finished. Regardless of her exiled status, Empress Natalia was a powerful force in their world. She was also a notorious recluse as the Russian mages who had taken over the country after the Revolution continued to hunt her family down. House Rasputin was to the Romanovs as the Grymms were to the Pendragons, and to have both the Empress and her loyal followers at his debutante ball had just changed everything for those there.
Harry broke protocol to step forward to greet the quartet himself. The Empress studied his face, her stern features morphing into an honest smile as she curtsied to the Lord of the Magic. "It is an honour to be here for such a glorious event. I thank you for the invitation."
"My home is your home, Tsarina," Harry promised the woman, causing eyes to widen at the promise the words held. "For you and your comrades, for as long as friendship exists between us."
Natalia rose, and tears were obvious in her startling green eyes. Lord Rasputin stepped between them to offer his hand and protect his Empresses' embarrassment. "And you shall have it for as long as House Rasputin exists, my Lord."
The handshake was firm. Harry actually had to look up at the burly man who looked like he could bench-press Hagrid. Mikhail took his Empress off to the side for Harry to welcome Piotr and Illyana with wide smiles and fierce hugs.
"Life has been good for you, tovarisch," Piotr declared, gripping Harry's forearms as he examined Harry's face with open curiosity. "And perhaps good for the rest of us, yes?"
"We can only hope," Harry agreed. "Thank you for coming."
"You call, we'll come," the Russian promised with a firm nod. "For a celebration or war, we'll come."
Harry nodded back. He knew the other warrior was talking about more than just his own family. The friends and allies he made at the Duelling Convention continued to arrive, yet even the notorious John Steen arriving with a member of the legendary Hellstrom family didn't top the Russian surprise. It took the last of Harry's guests to do that.
"Introducing Warlord Zheng Zu, his daughter Zheng Bao Yu, and his son Zheng Shang Chi," Dobby's words broke the crowd again. This time, swearing filled the air rather than the sound of broken glass as the man who ruled the rulers of China stepped imperiously into the ballroom. Mages of the East only ever referred to the powerful man as 'the Mandarin,' yet the warlord's lips merely twitched as Dobby fearlessly spoke his true name. Dark eyes scanned the room's occupants and then up at the banners. Harry didn't bother wondering if the man recognised them. The two forces of nature matched gazes with the guest nodding. "I approve."
Harry nodded back and allowed Zheng to pass him by so he could welcome the warlord's children, smirking when he caught the siblings eye-rolling at their father's attitude.
The man of the hour turned back to his family once the two Chinese duellers walked away and got a mix of shock looks and glares at the surprises he'd dumped on everyone. Harry had deliberately kept his full gust list private, going so far as to even mention this in his invitations. He hadn't wanted to take the risk of anyone showing up just for the chance to see Chinese or Russian surprises. Although a glance to where Sue Li's parents were standing wide-eyed and pale-faced, it seemed some didn't appreciate the shock.
It took Cassie smacking the others around the head to get the ball moving to the next stage. Trish glared at her sister while both Marauders shook themselves down like canines. Sirius gave his godson one last look before turning to the expecting crowd.
"Lords and Ladies, heirs, and honoured guests, I thank you for coming to this debutant ball. I presented you to my heir, my godson Harold James Potter-Black, and now I present to you the latest member of our esteemed society. He is the Lord of Magic Harold James Peverell-Potter-Slytherin-Black, Lord to the Most Noble and Most Ancient Houses of Danu, Peverell, Grymm, and Slytherin, Regent to the Most Noble and Most Ancient Houses of Ravenclaw and Le Fey, and Lord to the Noble and Most Ancient Houses of Potter and Black."
As Sirius spoke the name of each House, its corresponding banner rippled in a non-existent wind as the crest shimmered to prove the man's claim. Romanova and the Mandarin raised eyebrows at Harry's title as a Lord of Magic, while the jaws of many steeped in the Wizengamot dropped at the political power he carried.
"He will now open this ball by dancing with Lady Narcissa of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Malfoy, born to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black."
The person who the debutant opened the ball with was almost as politically important as anything else to do with the event. Should a debutant dance with an unattached person, it would suggest that the two desired a relationship between them. Yet even dancing with someone in a relationship could bring suspicion to the dance partner's commitment to their significant other. A married dance partner was the usual way around that minefield, more so should they be a member of the debutant's family. Yet to dance with a mother, aunt, or even married sister suggested to many that the debutant wasn't ready to leave their family and stand on their own.
Personally, Harry and many others felt that the insanity over who opening dance partner was beyond even the norm for their society. A test by those who wanted to put early pressure on the debutant to assess how they handled it. It reminded Harry of something he had heard during his previous summer touring non-Magical Britain. A Kobayashi Maru no-win situation designed to remind the debutant that they could not come out on top of every social situation.
"The Dark Lord himself would envy what you've done," Cissa told him out of the corner of mouth, never looking like she spoke even once. "But don't think I'm not cross at the lack of warning."
Harry gave her a grin she was far too familiar with and spun her across the ballroom as the band played. He would spend much of the first hour on the dance floor and would have to explain to each new dance partner that only four of his families (Danu, Peverell, Slytherin, and Grymm) required Bloodline Rite vows to aid in the passing of Family Magic. A minor marriage ritual only developed in the last 1800s, it meant that his wife for each of those Houses were four-times more likely to birth a child with access to that House's Family Magic. Someone had developed it to stop wives from being forced into near perpetual pregnancy until they birthed a child with access to the Family Magic. It also meant that Harry's Slytherin bride wouldn't face the risk of her children not having the Slytherin-green eyes and Harry having to pass the Lordship over to the child of a different wife.
Unfortunately, for Harry's sanity, Most Ancient Houses and above were eligible for concubines to help stop the bloodline from dying off. Which meant more spouse opportunities for him to protect or negotiate during his ball. One such suggestion at a concubine came from the unlikeliest of directions.
"I'm sorry, what?" Harry asked, proud of himself for not dropping his glass as he stared at the pair in front of him.
"I offer my little moonbeam to be your wife," Xenophilius Lovegood repeated with the same blank smile he wore when he first said the words.
"I offer myself as a wife, daddy," Luna corrected. The girl wore a forest-green dress and one of Harry's green-tinted glasses she had stolen from him at some point.
"You're my apprentice, Lu," he reminded the girl, getting a smiling 'mm-hmm' in return. "And I certainly don't see you like that."
"Yet," she remarked with one of her unique smiles. A smile that vanished as Harry gave her a hard look. "I need a son to pass on daddy's name. I'd like another child to pass on mummy's family and I know you would be the best father any child could wish for."
Harry stared at the girl. Lily's journal had a section filled with a shocking theory of what bloodline she thought Pandora had belonged to, and he was now wondering how right his mother had been. Especially when her eyes held a too-knowing look, and she was nodding. "I can't claim the name on my own, nor could my children from someone else. But with you as the father..."
"Is that the only reason?" He asked. This level of political consideration was something he hadn't experienced from the girl.
"Not politics, my Lord," she corrected. "The old names are returning. Shouldn't the Wild Man's have the chance to? And I could not wish for a better father to my children."
"I will consider thinking about it only when you're of age and are no longer my student. That's all I can give you right now."
The pair thanked him and moved on. Before anyone could take their place, Harry felt his wards react to three unknown visitors and alarm surge through his bond with Dobby. The Danu ring flared to life as it translated what he was sensing, and Harry stormed towards the ballroom stairs. A wave of his wand had the room enlarge four-times its size and a soft nudge pushed everyone to the far wall. Harry's loyal house-elf appeared at the top step, wide-eyed, and struggling to speak.
"Introducing... Lady Siobhan of the Light, the... emissary of the Seelie Court."
The Aos si in question was a stunningly beautiful woman with a river of golden hair shot with silver moonlight, grey eyes, and an inch smaller than Harry when they were both without heels. Her power was like its own gravity well, distorting the senses of those who attempted to read her. She had a type of timeless beauty about her and stood tall and proud alongside her two compatriots.
"Introducing Lord Callis Dren, the emissary of the Unseelie Court," Dobby's voice strengthened with introducing the dark-purple skinned and dark blue-haired elf. Perhaps because the near seven-foot tall being was a more obvious physical warrior with his dark-grey armour rather than the magical powerhouse the first had been.
"And..." here Dobby took a glance at the third being that gave a disturbing grin back. While the Danu ring had been silent during the first two introductions, it was positively shouting to Harry about the third and what he should do. "Lord Puck, the emissary of the Court of Midsomer (K)Nights."
The elf cleared seven feet and had a dancer's supple body. That was if you ignored the hump on his back that pulled one shoulder down and forward. And ignored how the hand of the arm withered into a dangerous-looking claw. The Aos si hair was grey, his skin the faint yellow of old bone, and his green eyes, disturbingly close to the same tone as what Harry had inherited from his mother and Salazar, shone with mischief and insolence. At the Fae's temples were two raised nubs that might have been the start of horns, and the being wore a pelt of some animal whose fur melded uncannily to his own hairy form. Cloven hooves ending power powerful legs finished the imposing and frightening visage.
Harry looked at the trio and nodded once, as though having made a decision. His body glowed and the ghostly form of a dragon rose off him. Only when past his clothes did Cadwaladr take a solid form and grow to his full majesty.
"Stay behind the dragon," Harry demanded of the mortals behind him.
"Think to defeat us and defend the humans, do you, Lord Danu?" Dren mused, his long, slender fingers wrapping around a sword at his waist that hadn't been there moments before.
"Not at all," Harry answered truthfully. "But they are guests in my home. I will have no mistaken words or insults taken when I could avoid it."
"He speaks true, he speaks wise," Siobhan declared, her grey tri-tone eyes staring into the Lord of Magic's soul while his dragon familiar lowered his head in readiness.
"He speaks as a Danu," Puck, the being also known as Robin Goodfellow, declared. "But does he think as one?"
"This debutant ball," Dren spoke again. "It is customary to bring a gift, is it not?"
"It is," Harry confirmed.
"Then here is our gift," Siobhan spoke as the three High Fae raised their right hands. "A gift from all three Courts. Built by the Fae for the Lord Danu, for a home and castle is his right."
A small metal piece formed above each of their open palms. The pieces floated towards Harry, coming together and merging into a gold, silver, and bronze coloured key. He took it, for one did not turn down an offering from the Fae, and the key inundated him with images of the castle that both High and Low Fae had built for him.
"Prove yourself a Danu," Puck's dare broke through the images, and Harry opened eyes he didn't remember closing.
One did not not have a reply to a gift from the Fae.
Dobby and Kreacher popped in next to their Lord, each holding a crystalline flower. They had heard his thoughts and felt his need, and provided as was their role. Harry put two fingers against the frozen sunflower and moonflower that his Halloween offering had created. He listened to the Danu ring and spoke the magic it offered him. The flowers glowed, and the house-elves floated them to their respective Court representatives.
"Plant the flower where your Court has found its home," he told the Summer and Winter Fae. "Allow your power to pour into it until it takes root, and it will anchor your realm. For as long as the tree lives, so shall the Seelie and Unseelie Courts. For as long as the tree exists, a bond shall be between you and my family."
While Siobhan and Dren nodded their thanks as they took possession of the gifts, Harry stared into the glowing eyes of the third Fae. The being's lips pulled back into a sharp-toothed smirk. Puck knew Harry only had two offerings for the Fae, yet he needed a third. Lord Danu raised his hand to show his ring and gripped it with his fingers.
"Seven for his counsel lords." The words called forth a lesser ring of power. Harry raised his fingers up as though to remove the Danu ring, yet the object in question glowed as it released one of its echoes. While Tolkien had misunderstood the lesser rings of power, he was right about them existing. The seven attributed to the 'Dwarf-lords' were instead seven rings for social advisers to Lord Danu. "For the one chosen to represent the Court of Midsomer (K)Nights, I give to you the first ring of power to help guide House Danu."
Harry floated the signet ring with its deep blue stone over to the waiting Aos si. Puck's grin had grown until it near split his face by the time he took the offering and slipped it on a far too long digit. "He is a Lord Danu in action and name."
"Agreed," the other two declared, fading away to return whence they came.
Sirius' voice spoke into the heavy silence, and none could argue against his words. "I think we'd best end the ball there."
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OoOoO
SN:
Last Edited - 22nd January 2024
Word Count – 11,507
Previous Word Count - 11,424