Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter in any way or form.
AN-1: Finally getting back to typing slowly, and we might see another update this month for either of my works, so fingers crossed for that one.
Also, apologies for the delay in the update.
AN-2: I have a P*T*R*N, where you can read the NEXT FOUR CHAPTERS right now!
AN-3: A big thanks to LordLexx, Rezurex and Kaladin for the edits and beta work!
"Faster! Don't drag your feet! You think someone flinging reductors and lethal curses at you is going to give you a reprieve?! A child could hit you with the shit you are calling dodging!"
Arcturus sighed as he put down his tea, looking up at the sight of his sister training their grandchildren. The populace might think he was the brutal, cruel boogeyman of the Black family, but really, it was his sister who was the insane one—at least, relatively. It showed even now, with the way she was launching blood-boiling curses and reductors at the twins. Though, given that he was ready to apply the counter curse at a moment's notice—and it was motivating them quite effectively—he could let it slide.
It was the last day of their holidays, and the last session they were going to have with either of them. Watching Persephone twist her body to evade a spell while Harry barely jumped away in time, he sighed heavily. Both had progressed tremendously over the month, and having personally trained Bellatrix, that was high praise. But he knew that shit was going to hit the fan soon enough. While on one side, he was slowly reclaiming bits and pieces of what had been taken from him while he had been away, on the other, he also had to think about the twins.
Powerful children they may be, but they were children all the same. While he knew that Augusta, and the Ministry in turn, would not make any moves on them, or at least for a time being, the same couldn't be said for the students of Hogwarts. Dozens of them had their parents and various relatives in Azkaban for being Death Eaters, or in the ground for opposing them. Already, Persephone had suffered an attack from two second years, and there was no telling what the other, higher years were thinking of doing. And thus, they were harsher on them both, demanding results higher than anything they had themselves achieved or seen before.
"All right, that's enough dancing around," he grunted, making the children pause in their tracks as Cassiopeia stopped the spells. He placed the teacup in the air beside him, knowing one of the house elves would take it as he stood up, his wand appearing in his right hand, "Now I just want you to shield and do nothing else. No dodging, no ducking, no moving."
"I am missing them already," Persephone smiled as she waved at the broadly grinning Cassiopeia through the window, their grandfather standing with just a small smile beside her. The Express started moving a second later, and as they disappeared from her vision, she turned towards Harry…and sighed heavily, "Couldn't you have waited at least a second more?"
"Wut?" His muffled voice came from behind that chocolate frog as his eyes flicked towards hers. He nibbled on it gently, before he rolled his eyes at her, "And you don't get to scold me now. I am the older one, remember little sister."
"Don't you start now you smug little midget," she scoffed in turn, pushing him lightly, and Harry shrieked with laughter as he fell to his side—and the door opened at right that moment, revealing Daphne and Tracey. The redhead smiled at them brightly, waving her hand as they walked inside, while her brother hurriedly sat up, "Hey Tracey, Daphne. How are you guys so late?"
"Someone wanted to buy sweets before even finding you," came the dry response from Daphne as she sat down by the window, sending a glare at Tracey. The brunette unrepentantly stuck out her tongue at that, "Tracey's stunted mental growth aside, why was Harry raising himself up from the seat? Was he sleeping before she decided to barge in loudly?"
"She is just miffed about the fact that I am the older one between us," Harry rolled his eyes, once again going back to nibbling on the chocolate—and this time he sat out of her reach. Tracey gasped at that, her hands freezing midway through taking out the sweets she had in her pocket, and amazingly, Daphne mirrored her actions for once. The next second, the brunette squealed loudly and threw herself on Persephone, and Harry silently shifted to Daphne's seat, "She isn't going to suffocate Seph, is she?"
"You have felt her 'Elder Sibling' hug before," she responded, taking note of how Persephone seemed a lot more comfortable with Tracey's hug than Harry had been. He chuckled next to her, and she stared at him quietly, finding nothing remotely amusing about the situation. However, her mind quickly returned back to the thing which had started it all, and she quirked an eyebrow at him, "When did Lord Black tell you both about it?"
"During the start of the holidays," Persephone gasped out, her face reddening with laughter and lack of breath both as she squeezed Tracey back just as tightly, "I guess we kind of forgot to tell you about it when we came to your house."
'Forgot? They…forgot?!' Daphne blinked at them dumbly, her mind whirling through thoughts and scenarios at a breakneck speed at this new revelation. Harry being the heir changed things drastically than what she had thought when everyone had assumed Persephone to be the Heiress, 'Although, I and Astoria are certainly safe from a betrothal with him. Whatever his skills and power may be, Father won't take the blow of uniting the Greengrass name with the Potter and Blacks—not with Lady Longbottom and Lucius still in power.'
Most of all, it put Persephone in more danger than she had been before, she realised, watching the redhead giggle as Tracey pulled back and sat beside her. Even though it was currently more degraded than the Weasleys, the name Potter was a powerful one, magically as well as financially. With the re-emergence of Arcturus Black and him taking the twins under his aegis, various open threats against them had stopped for a while, but Daphne had no illusions about what was going through the various seniors' minds, and the people who had nothing to lose.
Persephone was a key to the Potter family vault, and the magical library said to be older than the foundations of the Council of Merlin. While Harry was much safer with how the girls of Hogwarts were…his sister was very much not. The upper years, especially those in Slytherin and Gryffindor would stop at nothing to take their revenge on the Potters, and destroy them even further than they had been. Hell, Line Theft was the best way to do it, especially with how only Harry and Persephone were the last remaining people from the Potter family—and according to her father, both Dorea Potter and Lily Potter had been amongst the most beautiful women he had seen…and Persephone took heavily after both of them. She could easily imagine Marcus Flint, Adrian Pucey, or Terrence Abbot committing a parchment full of crimes to get what they want. At least there would have been a measure of protection from the laws if she would have been the Heiress. However, a girl that was the last female of her still rich family, and was alone in the world besides her brother? Daphne was no fool. She knew that before Persephone even reached thirteen years of age, the sick, twisted bastards would try to…take her and her name both for themselves.
All it would take is a child from Persephone and Harry's removal…and the line of Potters would be forever gone. She had no doubt that as fearsome as Arcturus was, not many still considered him a threat—and in the confines of Hogwarts, he really wasn't. All it would take was five minutes, and everything would be done by the time the Scourge of Brittany would even know about anything. She could only hope that her thoughts were nowhere near true, and no one had the courage to commit such acts, especially before Persephone actually learned to defend herself.
"Whoever it was, they are still around here, Professor Snape," the wheezy, nasal voice of Filch hissed into the dark corridor as he bobbled towards the silent, stone-faced man. His damnable, flea-covered cat trotted at his feet, and Neville took a cautious step back as her eyes flicked at the spot he was standing in. However, it seemed like the cloak worked on animal senses too, for the cat quickly turned around and started rubbing itself over Filch's leg, who in turn, was speaking in hushed whispers to the Potions Professor, "They can't have gotten far, not without running in these silent halls—and Mrs. Norris would have heard them by now if they were making any kind of noise."
"Very well," he nodded, his wand flicking through the air, and Neville's heart froze for a moment, sweat beading on his forehead as he realized what Snape was doing. However, miraculously, he was left undetected as the man simply turned around and moved into the adjacent room. Breathing a silent deep sigh of relief, Neville pressed himself against the wall as tightly as he could. A moment later, Filch cursed loudly inside the room and followed Snape outside, both of them staring at the door…he was standing right beside, "Go ahead and check the toilets. I will check the rooms and the cupboards myself."
"Yes Professor," the squib nodded hurriedly and sprinted away, his lantern glowing in the darkness and his cat's meow echoing through the walls, "Where are ya, ye little runts! Ought to hang you from the chains!"
"Stupid squib," Snape muttered disdainfully, turning towards the rapidly dimming lantern for a moment before he turned back, his pale visage and oily hair somehow more terrifying than anything Neville had ever seen. He froze up completely, not even daring to blink or breathe as Snape moved towards the door. Neville almost felt his fingers itch towards his wand as the man stopped an inch away from him, so close that Neville could actually see the way Snape's neck tightened with anger before he whipped his wand to their right furiously. A powerful blast of wind flew through the corridor, stirring up dust and knocking over a couple of cupboards. A breathless gasp almost left his lips as his eyes widened, thanking his stars that he was not standing even a single foot to his right—that spell had knocked over cupboards that were anchored down by sticking and stabilizing charms, aligned with those suits of armor. Snape growled a moment later and stalked away, repairing the corridor to its previous state with a flick of his wand, his voice trailing away into silence, "Fucking Potter and his stupi…"
Heaving a breath of relief, Neville sagged against the cold wall of Hogwarts, a part of him that had accepted his death dancing in happiness. His closed eyes snapped open as the invisibility cloak he had been gifted ghosted across his nose, and an awed grin spread across his lips. He had read about invisibility cloaks, spun from demiguise and sometimes also made from Drameleon scales—Merlin's balls he had also owned the one his father had owned before the magic in it fizzled away, but that had been nothing like the one which had just protected his ass from Snape.
It did not even come close, with how light and…amazing it was. He had worn it every night since he got it on Christmas morning in his bedroom, an unknown signature telling him that it was a relic of the past, and he should put it to good use. The first night, he had walked around in his manor, exiting his room without tripping the proximity ward that existed on the door, and entered the kitchen without starting off the alarms or waking up the elves. The second day, he had entered the library too in the dead of the night, however, he hadn't been able to get past the wards on the restricted sections. But this? This was pure Goblin Steel! He hadn't ever thought that this cloak would be able to stand up to a cat's sense of smell, and a detection spell from a wizard of Snape caliber!
Deciding to return to the common room before fawning over his cloak and testing his luck even more, Neville started moving towards the staircase. However, just as he was walking by an open door to his right, a glint of reflected moonlight caught his attention, and turned towards the source curiously…finding a large, ornate mirror of all things.
"Huh?" He whispered quietly, looking at the gilded frame that supported the mirror, jewels, and engravings covering every inch of the lustrous gold. The metal was shaped like vines, flowing and twisting in an elaborate manner, the rubies and sapphires acting as flowers while little runes were etched at practically every second inch of it. As he finally arrived in front of it, Neville blinked at his reflection, which was visible despite the cloak that was covering him, "Must be a magical mirror, a powerful one too if it is able to pierce through the enchantments on this thin-What in the name of Merli…"
His voice trailed off into a shocked whisper as the surface of the mirror swirled upon itself, distorting his reflection for a moment before it settled back, and Neville's face drained of color as he stumbled back in shock. He tripped over his feet, his back hitting a fallen chair, but the pain didn't even register to him as his breaths came shallower and faster. His eyes widened in fear as he beheld the sight in the reflection, Neville stared at the faces of his parents smiling at him, alive and well.
This was the first time he was seeing them properly, he realized with a jolt. He had seen their pictures before, but only in passing in the Prophet or in Ministry functions that were held in their honor. His grandmother had scrubbed every photo of them off the manor, with not even their rooms being accessible to him. He had raged at her about this years ago, wanting to know why he couldn't see and learn about his parents, but she hadn't budged. All she did was regale him with the tales of their bravery, their righteous mindset and how they were killed in cold blood due to treachery and deceit. And if that wasn't enough, everyone around him seemed to walk on eggshells whenever the topic even remotely turned toward his parents.
He crawled towards the mirror slowly as all those thoughts slowly drained away from his mind, drinking in the sight of his father's warm brown eyes and the gentle smile of his mother hungrily. Unblinking and unaware of anything but the image in front of him, Neville watched the surface of the mirror shimmer once more, before a new addition blinked into existence between his parents. It was him, he realized, a choked gasp leaving his throat as his parents leaned down to envelop him in a tight, loving hug. He turned around instantly, a phantom sensation of a warm caress over his shoulders making him jump to his feet…however, there was nothing but cold, empty air behind him.
His eyes snapped back towards the mirror, watching with anger and desire both as his mother ruffled his hair while his father presented a Nimbus to him, all three smiling and laughing merrily. Like a family they would have been…like a family they should have been. The surface shimmered again, the image within it changing to show a deathly pale man lying on the ground, and Neville blinked the tears in his eyes away as the blurred image came into focus. The first thing that caught his eye was the wizard standing above the body, and he gasped as he saw the face, and the coat of arms on the robe the man was wearing. It was him, maybe ten or twenty years older, but it was definitely how he had envisioned himself looking as an adult.
In the background, the Longbottom Manor stood tall and proud, its windows glowing and none of the structural damage from the Dark Lords rampage present upon its walls. And when his eyes finally dropped to the man lying motionless at his feet, Neville shivered and turned around, running away from the mirror as fast as he could, pulling his cloak over himself tightly.
Behind him, the mirror once again resumed its original state, everything upon it dissolving away to reveal the silver surface once again…including the dead and defeated Lord Voldemort.
"Do you think it is weird that Neville has suddenly stopped even looking at us for more than a moment?" Persephone asked as she watched Harry transfigure the chair into a small dog, a small frown on her face, "and Professor Quirell has also stopped our evening lessons."
"It is weird," he agreed with her and pointed his wand at the puppy, reverting it back into a chair with a quite Finite Incantatum. "But we can't really go up and ask him about it, now can we? It is best to focus on ourselves right now than worry about whatever caused the change in Longbottom's behavior. Besides, he came to us with the information on that…I doubt he would share something so sensitive if he didn't have a measure of trust in us. I think we will have to just wait for him to talk to us by himself once again."
She hummed in response and turned back to her homework, her quill moving across the parchment while Daphne and Tracey practiced the ignisarvus in the corner. Almost a week had passed since the break had been over, and they had once again settled into their old routine. Only this time, Harry and Persephone couldn't find the time to practice their wandless magic—both of them had agreed that no one should know about that particular skill. Currently, she was busy writing an essay on the usage of fire in defense against dark creatures, the seven-inch assignment already halfway done. Pondering whether she should mention the direwolves, since they hadn't been taught about yet in the class, Persephone was taken by surprise when Sgàile suddenly materialized next to her. Gasping with momentary fright, she glared at the seemingly smug-looking chick, her eyes falling to the scroll tied to his leg as the others stopped their activities to look at her.
"Professor Quirrell has called us to the library tonight," she muttered, reading the beautiful handwriting on the parchment before her eyes turned towards her brother. "He says that he has our final test prepared for us near the library."