Word Count without A/N: ~2,643 words
I am both proud and disappointed in this chapter, writing is something I enjoy but not something I do often, meaning when it comes down to it I don't know what to expect of myself. As I continue to write, I expect this to slowly change, for now I expect I'll find myself coming back through and revising this chapter soon. For now, it's one of those things that I need to get it out or I'll be stuck trying to perfect it for a long time.
To provide a bit of context for this chapter, I likely won't have Harry dealing with Wizengamot, but want to leave the option open. The story will focus more on Harry rebuilding the Peverell family and just trying to find a place in the new world. Finally the romance between Harry and Bellatrix will be slow growing, however, I do plan to have her be a prominent character starting with the next chapter.
If you notice anything wrong, or have suggestions, I'm happy to hear them. The main story thread is largely planned out, but happy to adapt and add to it as the story evolves
Harry was frozen in place, staring around the familiar manor. Everything felt just like the dream, except for the ring that now adorned his right hand. "Have I found you?" He said quietly, unsure of whether this was real or if he was dreaming. I could be unconscious in that cellar, he chuckled at the image of him laying face down on the stone floor. With a slight grin he shook his head, fighting a war didn't leave him much time to delve into magic like this, and he definitely wasn't going to pass up the chance to explore a mysterious decaying manor. Heading into the hallway beside the stairs, his attention was immediately pulled to the portraits hanging along the walls. Despite their faded pigments, the family's resemblance to him was obvious. Are we related? "That'd certainly explain why I'm here," he said scratching the stubble on his chin. As he pondered these potential relatives, a groan reverberated through the house as a gust of wind smashed against the structure, snapping Harry out of his thoughts. Tightly gripping his wand, he frantically turned to face the non-existent threat, but when he realized he was alone, he ran his hand through his hair and let himself fall against the wall. As he landed, a door at the end of the hallway creaked open. Watching the door open out of the corner of his eye, he gave an exhausted chuckle, unwilling to let this bout of paranoia spoil the journey he found himself in. He rolled off the wall, ready to face whatever secrets the manor held. Pushing the door opened, a wave of magic knocked him back through the door behind him, sending him tumbling into the dining room. He groaned, wheezing from the pain in his back. "That could have been worse I guess," his voice straining, unable to contain his laughter at the absurdity of being thrown through a door. Standing up, he crawled through the shattered door. Pulling out his wand, knew he needed to figure out how to get into that room.
With a grunt, Harry kicked the wall beside the door. For thirty minutes, he'd tried to figure out the magic he detected from the room, but with no success. Whatever the magic pulse was, he wasn't too keen on testing if it would activate again, but he had to get into that room. Casting some cushioning charms on the floor around where he landed last time, he stepped into the room, fully expecting to be thrown backwards again, but nothing happened. "Glad I wasted my time," he muttered, looking around the room. He found himself standing in a library, or at least a room that once served as a library, but all that was left was a single, leather bound journal sitting on a small wooden end table. As he approached the table, the cold magic radiating out from the journal felt unnaturally comforting to Harry. "The Last Peverell," he murmured, running his fingers over the title of the journal. Opening the journal, he began to read:
To whomever is reading this, know you are the last Peverell. As I write this, the year is 1740, and I am the lord who watched my line falter. My son and my wife are dead, killed by those who still fear what the family was. I leave this journal to explain what I can about the family and to apologize for the legacy that's been foisted upon your shoulders. The Three Brother's may have gotten the Hallows from death, I don't know, but what I do know is they were nothing but a curse. The Peverell's have nothing to do with death, and I can only hope that association has faded by the time you wear the ring that currently occupies my finger. I will be honest, I am struggling with writing this. For generations the fall of our family was a story fathers told their sons, how the family would fail and be picked up by another, I never expected I'd be the one to experience it, but if the story is true, listen to the ring. I wish I could tell you more, but you are the first since Cadmus to wear the completed ring. I know you will do us proud.
This was not the secret he thought he'd find in the manor. "At least I know where I am now," staring around the ancestral home of the Peverell's. Transfiguring one of the book shelves into a cot, he decided to set up camp in the library for the night. Tomorrow was going to be a busy day for him. The Order was probably looking for him, and he was hoping someone would be able to help him make sense of everything he'd learn. The last thing that crossed his mind as he drifted off to sleep, was how he was supposed to listen to a ring?
The morning sun flooded the library, rousing Harry from his sleep. He sat up on the edge of the cot, rubbing his eyes and gazing around the library. He knew he needed to get in contact with the Order, the guilt of vanishing felt overwhelming. He hoped they'd at least hear him out, but he knew that was wishful thinking. Sighing he apparated to an alleyway in Muggle London, carefully checking his surroundings for the ambushes that had become more and more common as the war progressed. Cautiously, Harry made his way through the backstreets towards an old Order safe house, but as he passed a cafe that most wouldn't give a second glance Harry froze. It can't be, he thought remembering the cafe he'd spent so much time at.
It was a day he'd never forget. He'd just turned 19 and the Order tried to tighten his leash even more. Looking back, he knew they meant well, but they never understood how much he yearned for even the illusion of the freedom adulthood brought. It had been the first of many fights with Mrs. Weasley, who refused to view him as anything but the child she'd helped in Kings Cross all those years ago. He'd stormed out of the house mid-argument, heading to the one place that helped him forget about all the things going on in his life, but this time everything had gone wrong. The Death Eaters had been waiting for him. They had killed the muggle owners in front of him, and in turn he killed them, burning them alive, unable to stop the tears from flowing down his cheek.
Now here he was, staring at the cafe that had briefly served as his last and only escape from the horrors of his life. He gulped, and slowly approached the cafe as if he was approaching the ghost of an old friend. The door jingled and he was nearly overwhelmed by the familiar smell. "Just take a seat anywhere and we'll be right with you." A woman's voice called from the back. Shrugging, Harry slid into a nearby table. The Order can wait a bit longer. Harry felt his breath catch as he heard the door from the back open and he saw a familiar face. It can't be, he thought reading her name tag. Elaine Ellis. His mind flashed back to the bodies of Elaine Ellis and Marie Flear, he had seen the life leave their eyes as the Death Eater's laughed. The guilt of getting them killed still cost him the occasional nights of sleep. This Elaine was much younger than the 50 year old lady who he'd often so often talked to. "Sir? Are you… alright?" She tapped him on the shoulder, worry in her eyes. Raising one hand to his face, he felt the tears on his face.
"I'm fine, you just looked a lot like someone I used to know." He said, rubbing his face and smiling, doing his best to force the joy to reach his eyes. "Caught me off guard." Not technically a lie, but he still felt the guilt eating at him.
Her eyes softened, "I'm sorry." Her tone sincere, and he had another flash of the Elaine he once knew.
"Don't worry about, you can't help how you look." He laughed, raising his arms in an exaggerated shrug. Not wanting her to dig, he continued, "Can I just get a coffee for now, and you wouldn't happen to have newspaper I can borrow?"
"I'll see what I can dig up," she gave a little chuckle while walking away. Harry already knew what the newspaper would say, and he wanted nothing more than to sprint out of the cafe and get to Diagon Alley, but he'd already worried Elaine enough with his little outburst of tears. I can hold it together just a little bit longer. A slight grin played on his lips, as he took in the cafe. He knew he was going to have to face whatever had happened to him eventually, but for now he didn't want anything to ruin this moment. "Here's your coffee, and you're in luck, my girlfriend left hers here this morning." She gave him a soft smile, laying the coffee and the newspaper in front of him. "Let me know if I can get you anything else." With that she walked a way, returning to whatever had held her attention before he walked in.
"I really appreciate this," he whispered, taking a sip of the coffee, glancing at the date on the newspaper, July 25th, 1972. Unable to swallow the coffee he held in his mouth, he finally began to fully understand he was never going to see his friends again.Does my time even still exist? Even him walking into this cafe could have drastically changed the future. He tried to think back, remember if Elaine had ever given even a hint that she recognized him in the future. "Fuck," he whispered, rubbing the ring on his finger. Just as he was pulling money out to leave for the coffee, Elaine came from the back mop in hand.
"Leaving already?" She was looking at his half empty coffee.
"Yeah, I uh… I didn't realize the time." He turned to leave, but stopped and turned his head to face her, hand on the door. "Thanks for the coffee, I can't wait to try the food." He gave her a half-grin, before disappearing into the street. Wandering around, he felt lost, for the first time truly in control of his next move. As he spiraled, worrying about his non-existent past, he gasped, the ring on his finger sending a blast of cold through his arm. Grimacing and unable to move, he felt an image of Gringotts being forcefully pushed to the forefront of his mind. After what felt like hours, but in truth could have only been mere moments, the cold subsided and Harry found himself leaning against a wall for support. "I guess that's what he meant about listening to the ring," he grumbled to himself, but now with a goal in mind Harry disapparated, preparing to face the Wizarding World of the 1970's.
As Harry arrived in Diagon Alley, he had to quickly step back to avoid a child sprinting past excitedly holding their new wand. He smiled as he watched the parents chase after the kid who was now waving his wand in the air. As he walked, he couldn't help but notice how lively the Alley was. The last time he'd been was right before the Ministry had fallen, and most of the shops had already been closed. He shook his head, stopping himself from remembering any more. He needed to focus on the task at hand. Walking into the Gringotts, he made a beeline for the nearest open teller. Watching the teller who was currently ignoring him, Harry cleared his throat, doing his best to hide his nervousness. "I'd like to make an inquiry related to the inheritance of a supposedly extinct family."
The goblin stared at him for awhile before letting out an irritated huff. "Well, which family?"
"Oh, um... The Peverell's?" Showing the goblin the ring on his finger.
"Well well, you may actually be worth my time wizard." The goblin smiled, staring at the ring on Harry's hand. "Follow me, we keep some private rooms for business like this." Gesturing for the goblin to lead the way, Harry followed unable to contain the excitement from the Goblin's reaction. "So, you wish to claim the Peverell family, Mr?" Harry panicked, unable to use his actual name.
"Just Harry for now." The goblin looked unimpressed, but eventually acquiesced, inclining his head. Hopefully soon I'll have a name I can actually use.
"Let's not waste our time. The Peverell's have been gone for over 200 years, which makes you either confident or have a death wish if you think you can waltz in here and claim the family." The goblin slid a small silver knife and a piece of parchment forward. "Just a drop of blood on the parchment." Harry could barely contain his annoyance as he pricked his thumb and wiped it on the parchment. After a moment, a golden symbol of the Deathly Hallows appeared on the parchment. "Lord Peverell, I am not too prideful to admit when I was wrong." The goblin's demeanor had changed almost instantly, the impatient annoyance gone. "On top of seat in the Wizengamot, the remaining Peverell assets are on the lighter side: 15,000 Galleons, a small vault of various books and artifacts, and an island located somewhere off the Northwest coast of Cornwall."
"Oh, um thanks, I'm gonna make a withdraw and I think that'll be all for now." Harry Peverell wasn't sure what to do about the manor, but that will have to wait.
Having left Gringotts, Harry found himself wandering the alley. Lost in his observations and thoughts, he never saw the black haired witch stepping out of a nearby bookshop. The collision sent her books flying, but before she could follow them, Harry quickly grabbed her by her waist. "I'm so sorry," he began, pulling his hands off of her and using his wand to summon the books. "I've got a lot going on, and let that get in the way of looking where I'm walking." He smiled at her, taking in her appearance. Her shoulder length black hair and gray eyes strangely familiar. She's quite pretty, he thought, before realizing she was starting at him, amusement dancing in her eyes. "Here's those books?" He held them out, doing his best to distract from getting caught staring.
"It's fine," She laughed, taking the books. "Just make sure my uncle never catches you with your hands on my hips." She winked before walking away. Watching here as she left, he felt himself grinning like an idiot. Dating had never been on the agenda for him before, but now there was not dark lord after him specifically this time around. Maybe being stuck in the 70's wasn't going to be the worst thing in the world
"Hey," He called before she could get too far, "Can I get your name?"
Her smile turning into a slight frown, she looked over he shoulder and said, "Bellatrix Black." With that she disappeared with a slight pop. Harry could only look at where she had been standing. Of all the people to run into, it had to be her.