July 1, 1988

"May I… help you?"

Dung straightened his collar, trying to look a bit more respectable to the bloke who answered the door. "'Ello, guv, maybe you can 'elp me out. I'm looking for the Demidov family. Rumours back east say they relocated 'ere." 'Crikey! Even their butlers are posh!'

"The Demidovs? In Bucharest?"

"I'm guessin' this ain't their 'ome, then?"

"I'm afraid not… sir. There are no Demidovs in this city; if there were, the masters of this house would know."

"Right. Well… guess I was misinformed, then."

"I daresay you were," the butler shut the door, precluding any further questions. Mundungus quickly left the property, just in case they had guards - or worse, magical creatures of some sort - that they'd sic on him.

It was starting to become more and more apparent that Sirius had good reason to send him searching for Blackriver's former owners. He'd been on the trail of the most well-known of that group, a prestigious noble family. The Demidovs were wealthy aristocrats that dabbled in both muggle and magical affairs. It wasn't all that surprising for a wealthy family to flee Russia, but it was much more unusual for that sort of elite to disappear entirely.

The seller told Sirius they relocated to Budapest, but no one in Hungary had heard word one about them. Dung made the obvious leap, that perhaps it was just a translation issue, and traveled to Bucharest in hopes of sorting all this out. Apparently, though, it wasn't so innocent.

But what was the misdirection for? What was he missing?

Tugging his hat forward to block out the Romanian sun, Mundungus set out for the nearest tavern, to buy a few rounds and see what the locals had to say. Maybe after a few pints for himself, he'd come up with some ideas on where to go next.

"I still don't understand. Isn't it all just magic?"

The transfiguration tutor ran a hand over her face, rubbing at the crow's feet around her eyes. "Different schools of magic require different styles and execution. Transfiguration is no more like charms than runes are."

Harry leaned back, setting down his quill and rubbing his hands. "How? You speak the incantation while moving your wand a certain way, and the thing you want to happen happens."

"It just- there are rules to this sort of thing! Transfiguration doesn't use the standard formula that charms do. Wand movements are negligible. Incantations are standardised. To transfigure, you must deconstruct and reconstruct. Will matters far more than intention."

"But you're still pointing your wand and doing magic."

"This is why children start school at eleven," the woman muttered. "I think that's all for today. Why don't you go find that great brute and go outside? Maybe some exercise will quiet all the questions filling your head."

"Okay!" Harry ran to his room, changing out of his school clothes into something looser, then hurried outside. He found Jakub Kowalczyk where he always seemed to be - in the converted ballroom, lifting weights. The former keeper for Lithuania's Goroduk Gargoyles was an enormous, hulking man, easily six and a half feet tall and close to 275 pounds. Despite his size, though, he was as limber and flexible as a gymnast following years of training to perform acrobatic maneuvers while guarding the rings.

"Hello, Harry! Were you upsetting your teachers again?" Jakub asked. A Pole, he'd been brought to Blackriver to coach Harry in physical training, and to begin teaching him Common Slavonic, the linguistic root of Eastern European spells.

"They don't like questions very much," he said, eying the weights attached to the bar that Jakub was raising up and down. "If I lift things like that, will I get muscles like yours?"

The bar clanged into the frame, and Jakub sat up with a broad smile on his face. "Not for a long time, no. I think it's better for us to do your normal exercises, instead."

Harry made a face, but nonetheless began the lengthy series of stretches he began every session with. Once those were finished, Jakub led him through a series of rolls, tuck jumps, and cartwheels.

"This is how you started out, before you played quidditch?"

"Remember, no English," Jakub chided. "But no, I didn't begin acrobatic training until after I signed my first contract. If I'd started earlier, I would probably still be playing today!" Harry pushed himself into a handstand and he held his ankles lightly, steadying the boy. "Do you want to play quidditch someday?"

"I don't know. Maybe," Harry replied noncommittally, breathing heavily.

"Plenty of time to think it over. Now, are you ready to run?"

Harry groaned, but obediently pulled himself to his feet, keeping to the pace set by the burly quidditch player as they ran around the grounds. As they approached the banks of the Volga, though, Jakub slowed.

"What is it?" Harry asked, hands on his knees.

He peered out over the water for several seconds, before eventually grunting and saying, "Nothing, I guess. I thought I saw something in the water, but perhaps not." Offering the panting boy next to him a glance, he smiled. "Come, pick up the pace or your legs will not forgive you!"

They finished their run, ending the afternoon with cooldown stretches like always. Smelly and sweat-soaked, Harry prowled through the manor until he found Hilde, latching onto her and hugging her tightly.

"Get off of me, smelly boy!" she cried out, before they both dissolved into giggles. "Go take a bath and get ready for dinner!"

Blackriver wasn't so bad, Harry thought to himself while he waited for the water to warm. It wasn't anywhere near as interesting as Kitezh, but it's what Father preferred.

For now, that was enough.

July 29, 1988

"How does this feel?"

Lily came over, rolling the dough on the wooden countertop, kneading it once or twice to get a feel for the dough. "It's perfect. Would you like to do the honours?"

Hannah hopped off the stool she was perched on, reaching up and taking hold of the pan. After plopping the uncooked loaves onto the greased surface, she walked over to the oven and set it inside. "Okay! How long until it's ready?"

"Not very long," Lily assured her, feeling the raised numbers on the mechanical clock to set an alarm. "You're sure you're not neglecting your assignments, coming here?"

"Nope! I just study real hard after dinner. Auntie made me promise not to fall behind in my lessons." Hannah had been coming to the PPP after lunch almost every day for the whole summer. Something about seeing Miss Lily never failed to make her feel better. "Besides, I'm learning a lot about baking! I made Susan a batch of muffins the other day, and she said they were as good as our elves'!"

"I'm glad you're having fun, but you won't need to bake like I do once you're older."

"Why not?"

"Because you'll have magic," Lily said in a patient voice.

"That doesn't mean I won't want to make delicious things!" Hannah didn't see what the big deal was; if anything, Miss Lily's creations were that much more special because she made them entirely on her own. "Besides, you said I could come by whenever I liked!"

Her sass brought a genuine smile to Lily's face. "I did say that, but that doesn't mean you have to work here! Doesn't Susan miss having you at home?"

"She's over at the Macmillan's today."

"And you didn't want to join her?"

"I don't like Ernie. He pulled on my pigtails the last time I went to his house." Plus, he and Susan always ran around the grounds of his manor getting dirt and grass stains all over their clothes. Hannah didn't want to act like a boy.

"Alright. I won't lie and say I haven't enjoyed having you here with me. I just want to make sure you're not missing out on time with your friends to see me."

The smell of fresh bread slowly filled the kitchen. "Do I have time to make you a cup of tea before the bread's done?"

"Only if you pour yourself a glass of milk, too. Oh! And make sure you-"

"Smell the bottle, I know."

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to nag, I just worry."

Hannah filled the kettle and lit the stove before pushing the stool over to the cabinet, to climb up and pull out a glass for herself. She didn't tell Miss Lily that she wasn't the only one who worried.

After that day, after learning it might not have been only bad luck that took her parents away, Hannah asked Miss Vance about the Potter family. She learned all about how her husband and son died, how Lily was hurt and You-Know-Who was destroyed.

"Would it be okay if I spent the night tomorrow?"

Lily blinked. "What? No, I don't think Amelia would approve-"

"She already said it was okay. Please?"

"But- why would you want to? There's not much to do once I close the shop. And I don't even have a sofa for you to sleep on!" Lily sounded flustered, fumbling for excuses.

"The loveseat by the window is plenty big. You can show me your books again, the ones written in bail."

"Braille, sweetie," Lily corrected softly.

"Right. And I'd like to learn how you do your hair, so it stays close to your neck like that."

She touched the auburn braid wound against the base of her skull. "My plait? I only wear it like this to keep it out of the batter and flour."

"Susan really likes it. She wants to start wearing her hair like that, too." It was obvious even to a child that Lily's resolve was weakening. "So, can I stay?"

"Okay, sure," Lily said quietly, her colourless eyes blinking rapidly.

Mission thus accomplished, she nodded in satisfaction even though she knew Lily couldn't see her.

Hannah wasn't about to let her spend her son's birthday alone.

"I can't believe I let you drag me all the way out here. This better be good, I'm supposed to be preparing for Harry's party."

Dung bobbed his head, falling into step behind Sirius. "I've run 'ead-first into a brick wall. Yulia Demidov married Martin z'Boskovic back in '48, passed away in '82. One daughter, Yelena."

"And what did she have to say?" Sirius asked, increasing his pace. Thanks to the time difference, it was already past dinner in Prague. It would be a mad scramble to get back before Harry's birthday.

"Place is like a blasted army barracks! Somebody like me ain't getting past the front gate, not on invitation, anyway," Dung chuckled at the last part. "Figured you might 'ave better luck. You two can compare 'ow blue your blood is."

Sirius rolled his eyes, but as the mansion came into view, he understood Dung's point. The place looked more akin to a fort than a home. It was surrounded by a barred iron fence, tipped with barbed spikes. Two men were visible behind it, patrolling the grounds, and the magical protections were palpable even from where they were standing. The home itself looked to be constructed of solid stone, the lack of windows making it an intimidating structure.

"Wow. They must not be very fond of visitors," Sirius whistled. "Well, let's get on with it." He sent an announcing charm into the wards, then pocketed his wand.

"What'd you get the kid for 'is birthday?"

"A broom, and a set of quaffles."

Mundungus nodded. "Never too early to get 'im into quidditch. The game of games!"

"His dad was a chaser," Sirius said distractedly as one of the guards approached the gates.

"Who goes there?"

"Baron Sirius Black, of the English Blacks. Is the lady of the home present?"

"Lady Boskovic has already retired for the evening. Please return tomorrow."

Sirius stood straighter, squaring his shoulders and allowing the guard sight of his outfit. He'd deliberately worn his finest clothing for this trip, every inch of him screaming 'nobleman!' "I'm afraid it's quite urgent. We've travelled all the way from the Volga. I must speak with the lady about the Demidovs."

The guard paused, then said, "Wait here for a moment. I need to consult with the majordomo." He set off for the main home.

"The what?"

"It's like the head butler. The person who oversees all of the servants and employees in a noble house."

Dung looked queerly at him, but thankfully didn't pursue the topic. He wasn't interested in explaining the ins and outs of high society to him. The guard returned, accompanied by a man dressed in a tunic and trousers every bit as fine as Sirius' own. The gates opened at their approach.

"Milord, please, come in and be welcome."

"Thank you," Sirius said, taking off his cloak and handing it to the guard. Dung tried to do the same, only for the guard to pointedly not accept it.

"I ask that you be respectful when speaking with Lady Yelena. Though the events in question took place long ago, they remain sensitive to the Boskovic family."

"Of course."

The majordomo led them into a parlour, where Yelena z'Boskovic awaited them. She was a frail, spindly woman, perhaps forty or fifty years old. Her hair was still dark, though hints of gray were present at her temples.

"Milady," Sirius greeted.

"Please, be seated. How do you take your tea?"

"One sugar, if you would." Sirius took a seat, shaking his head at Mundungus when he tried to join him. It wasn't until the majordomo served Sirius his tea and took his place behind Yelena that he figured out where he was supposed to stand.

"You come from Russia?"

"I do. I recently purchased a home there, on the banks of the Volga, near Dzherzhinsk."

Yelena nodded. "I am familiar with that particular estate."

"You've been there?"

"No," she shook her head. "But that home cast a shadow over my entire life."

Sirius squeezed his teacup a little tighter. "Please, explain."

"My mother grew up in Russia following the revolution. It didn't take the Bolsheviks long to learn about magic. There were plenty of magicals ready to subscribe to their ideals, for just like how the Tsarists ground the serfs beneath their heel, a well-established aristocracy among witches and wizards had existed for centuries. What was worse, once the revolution came to an end, the Soviet system made hiding accidental magic from those born to Mudla next to impossible."

"And your family was one of those eager to climb the social hierarchy?"

Yelena shrugged. "No one expected the anarchy to spread as far as it did. The Royal Ministry demolished itself to prevent the Mudla from gaining control over its surveillance devices, the Akademiya iz Koldun shut its doors and sent its faculty abroad, libraries and bookstores were burning their books… It was a time of madness."

He cleared his throat. "And the estate on the Volga?"

Yelena blinked, as though coming out of a trance. "My grandfather accumulated a vast fortune using magic to speed metallurgical processes for Mudla manufacturing. He was not of noble birth himself, but the Demidov name became well-known thanks to his efforts. A former royal home, he thought would convey… prestige, yes? And with Kitezh nearby, standing only as the only magical settlement in the country not abandoned, the location was too tempting to resist."

"Milady, please. What happened?"

"My mother was but a girl. There is a tunnel, an escape route the Tsarists constructed in secret, leading to the opposite side of the Volga River. No one knew it was there, and so the wards did nothing to protect them."

"Her family was killed?" Sirius whispered, feeling the blood drain from his face.

"Yes. She was small enough that she was able to hide beneath an armoire. For an entire day, they ransacked everything, stripping the home of anything of value. That estate, it is nothing more than a trap to lure the wealthy to their deaths."

"Excuse me, milady, but we have to leave. Urgently." Sirius stood, offering Yelena a brief nod of his head before turning to his associate. "Ready the portkeys, we're heading back right now."

"Are you excited for tomorrow? Your father has a big surprise for you!"

Harry almost dropped the handful of utensils he held. "You know what it is?" he excitedly asked. "Tell me!"

"Now where would the fun be in that?" Hilde asked, scooping the ice cream into bowls that she balanced with one hand, a cup of coffee held in the other.

"What if I guess?"

"You think I should tell you if you get it right?" Setting his bowl in front of him, she tucked a napkin into the collar of his shirt, and gave him a kiss on the top of his head before taking her own seat. "Thank you for setting the table."

"Is it-" Harry never got his first guess out.

An explosion ripped through the side of the house.

Harry followed as Hilde ran to investigate. The kitchen was on fire, blistering heat emitting from the massive room. Beyond that, though, nothing but debris remained of the servants' quarters.

"Mipsy!" Harry cried, but Hilde grabbed hold of him before he could charge forward. "No! We have to save her!"

"Listen to me! We have to escape, don't fight me!" Hilde said, the quiet urgency in her words bringing his struggles to an end. "Stay quiet!"

In her arms, Harry couldn't tear his eyes away from the destroyed section of the house. Mipsy had been his friend for as long he could remember. She was part of their family!

Strangely, though, the fires began to die down, then the smoke started to clear. Just before they turned the corner, making for the cellar, Harry could swear he saw a shimmering movement inside the ruined room.

"Hilde," he whispered. "I think there's someone here."

"I know," she replied. "We're going to go downstairs and run out the cellar door, do you understa-" She dropped him, tumbling to the ground half on top of him.

"Ouch!" he cried out, struggling to free his legs from her weight. "Get up, hurry!"

Hilde didn't reply. She didn't even move. "You have to get up! Come on, the cellar door is right there!" Harry shook her; still nothing. 'She must be knocked out!' he thought to himself.

Grabbing hold of both of her wrists, he started to pull. Physically fit as he was, Harry was still a child, and pulling a full-grown adult was hardly realistic.

Laughter rang out all around him. "Where do you think you're going?" a familiar voice called.

"Just kill him and let's get on with it," a different man said.

Yuri, from the inn they'd lived in when they first came to Russia, eyed Harry speculatively. "He could bring a hefty ransom. The Englishman would certainly pay for his return."

"Kidnapping is too risky. Better to just clean the place out and wait for his father to return."

"Hilde?" While they argued, Harry tried once more to wake her up. When he reached down to shake her, though, he caught sight of the handle of her wand peeking out from her robes.

"-came here on the run from something. Who is he going to turn to, the aurors? In Kitezh?" Yuri laughed. "They know not to mess with us."

"We do things the way we always have," the other man insisted in an authoritative voice. "It's worked so far, and we're not going to change it."

Pulling the wand free, Harry brought it to bear on the closest of the five men encircling him. "Get back!"

More laughter greeted his demand. "Little boy, you're more likely to hurt yourself than any of us. Now, come along quietly, and-"

"Stay back, Yuri," the other man ordered, raising his own wand and beginning an incantation in Common Slavonic.

Turning with Hilde's wand at the ready, he quickly ran through the best way to protect them both. While Harry lacked practical experience casting magic, he was in the midst of an intensive schedule of study. How hard could it be? 'Movement, incantation, intention, effect!' he chanted in his mind.

Only nothing happened, and Harry was forced to leap to the side to avoid a sizzling blue jet of light, falling flat on his stomach to dodge another right after.

"Look at him go!" Yuri called out, when he rolled to the side to avoid another spell, tensing his arms and legs to spring straight into the air when a fourth dug into the floor beneath him.

A faint light began to shine from the tip of the wand tightly held in his hand as Harry spun in place, dodging the next attack. A vibrant, purple glow flickered, gaining greater and greater intensity the more his desperation increased, leaving trails of light as he scampered back towards where Hilde lay.

"Alright, alright," one of the men said, withdrawing his own wand. "This is getting tiresome."

Harry knew he couldn't keep this up forever. He had to do something! Anything!

A rushing sensation followed his urgent resolve, and a massive wave of power poured out of him. All he could see was purple light, and then, as quick as it came, it was gone.

Harry sneezed. A cloud of feathers emerged, several sticking to the long white beard growing on his face.

"What-" he started to croak, but a scream from in front of him grabbed his attention.

Madness had fallen over Blackriver Manor. The man shooting spells at him was crying out in horror, staring at the third arm growing out of his chest, grappling for his wand. Another man was stumbling about, walking into walls like he'd been drinking Dung's special water all day. Yuri's skin was a bright blue, though he hadn't appeared to notice, too entranced by staring at his comrade's third arm in shock.

The fourth of the five men was leaping from side to side, everything he touched bursting into flame - including his wand, slowly burning to ashes on the floor in front of him, while the last was backing away slowly from the shining white unicorn huffing and stamping its hooves in front of him.

It was pure chaos.

And it was to this bizarre scene that his father and Mundungus charged into, wands ablaze with emerald light.

A/N: Mudla is the Czech term for muggle, per HonourverseFan on discord. Thanks for your help!

What's been going on with FFN? I didn't want to post this, because idk if it even going to show up. Website's a total mess these last few days.

Big thanks to DeadFish, Zugrian, and ThingsCanBeTwoThings offering valuable feedback.

Shorter chapters are easier to get out in a rush, i know it can be annoying to get little bits of the story like this. Hope you enjoy, and as always,

Stay safe, healthy, and happy! ~Frickles