Ulrich remembered how nervous he had been at the prospect of taking Harry in. He remembered discussing it with Garrick at the time, his old friend assuring him that as long as he treated his ward with care and respect, their relationship would flourish. Garrick's wisdom had always been his greatest virtue, and Ulrich was relieved to find that his friend had been right once more.
Still, when the old Fawley had met Ophelia Merrythought for the first time, he had needed to ask more questions to the mind healer about how he could help a traumatised child like Harry. His ward was happy enough, but Ulrich was worried about his reluctance to ask for anything — except on behalf of his friends, like the time he'd wanted a book on anti-vampire wards to lend to Miss Davies' family –- and his insistence to pay for all expenses with the money on the Potter accounts, which his guardian had to fight him on multiple times. He still ate very little, never let any of his belongings outside of his room, and always looked startled at physical contact. Since Harry didn't exactly confide in him, Ulrich didn't know what he could do to make him feel safer.
Healer Merrythought had been extremely helpful on the subject matter, mentioning it was natural for abused children to be cautious, and that Harry would relax over time.
"You have to be patient with him. A change of guardianship is a stressful thing, and you barely have four months a year to spend with him. Stay attentive to his needs and make sure he is allowed to make mistakes," she had advised. "My job is to guide him as he processes what happened to him before he came into your care, yours is to support him throughout that process."
Ulrich had kept it in mind, but he could admit he was sometimes out of his depth. He felt a little guilty for it, but he was glad Harry's friend had elected to spend the winter holidays with them. Ulrich wasn't good at conversation and even worse when it regarded emotions, so he thanked the stars for Blaise's presence when they picked up Harry from a visibly difficult session with Healer Merrythought.
Blaise instantly embraced his ward's shoulders as the boy took off his glasses and cleaned them mechanically with a frighteningly blank face. Ulrich could see Harry was still reeling from the discussion. He was shaking off the remnants of the empathy magic the mind healer had employed during their meeting. Merrythought used it to establish a bond with a patient and monitor their mental state, and it induced an effect similar to the use of a mild Calming Draught when they became too agitated. It seemed that Harry had burnt through the spell too quickly, however, and his breathing was quickening at a worrying pace. The mind healer excused herself to get a more potent potion and advised them to stay with Harry. The boy's best friend was acting surprisingly level-headed for a twelve years old, and Ulrich found himself impressed by how quickly Blaise reassured Harry that he wasn't obligated to tell them what had been discussed and that he should take his time to clear his mind.
Ulrich sat them both down on the visitors' chairs outside Merrythought's office. The waiting room was mercifully empty save for the quiet receptionist, so the old Fawley could dedicate his whole attention to his ward. He didn't try to speak, unsure of what to say, but placed his wrinkled hand on top of Harry's, waiting for him to come back to himself. He pressed onto the boy's lips the draught Merrythought had come to fetch and let him take a sip, then another. Once he had finished the vial, Harry shuddered. He blinked rapidly, seemingly remembering where he was.
"Ah. I worried you," he said, sounding upset.
"Of course you did. I was worried because I care, there's nothing wrong with that, lad."
"But–"
"I'd rather be worried and see with my own eyes that you're getting better than for you to bottle things up," interrupted Ulrich, ruffling his boy's hair.
The old ward master tried not to be disturbed by little Blaise's approving nod. It was unsettling for your parenting skills to be validated by a twelve-year-old, but considering the kid was way more eloquent than he was, Ulrich didn't mind it too much.
Once Harry felt a little better, he took the two kids to Fortescue's for ice cream, trying really hard not to notice the shimmer of Blaise's newest rotation of bodyguard's invisibility cloak. He understood the need to protect the young prince –-Landon had been the victim of attempted kidnappings when they were young, Ulrich supposed it would be worse for a Zabini child— but surely a friendlier guard would make the boy more comfortable? The Salvatore fellow in the summer had been weird enough with his habit of bowing at anyone Blaise interacted with, but this one's insistence to remain unseen was really creeping him out.
"Giosue's staying hidden because people are prejudiced against his race here," said the boy, who seemed to have caught him glancing at the suspiciously shiny empty space next to him. "He's a cyclops."
Ah, that explained it, thought Ulrich, admonishing himself. Harry scowled, as he tended to do at the mention of any sort of discrimination against magical races. Ulrich tried to pretend he hadn't caught him and Blaise brainstorming how to blackmail the Lord of House Burke into getting rid of the binding spell his ancestors had created to enslave elves. It wasn't the weirdest conversation he had accidentally overheard. He definitely knew nothing about Harry and Gemma's plan to exorcise their History of Magic professor so his little cousin's boyfriend could take his job. Never mind that exorcising a ghost as old as professor Binns was had the potential to tear his soul to shreds. Ulrich might have to write the board of governors again; if the dead man had become as bad as they said he was, it might be high time to replace him. He understood the need of cutting costs, but really.
"People are stupid," muttered his ward.
Ulrich smiled fondly.
"How about we go to the restaurant Lady Darkclaw recommended you try in the goblin district? The northern nation is less fussed about such things."
Harry lit up.
"Can we? Apparently, they serve this stew they cook inside magical quartz that looks like—"
Ulrich crossed his hands together with a content smile, feeling like he had done something right.
While the celebrations weren't nearly as extravagant as the ones Blaise's cousin Antea threw for the winter solstice, he could admit that the Patils knew how to plan a ball. Saraswati Patil, the lady of the House had opened the evening with an impressive display of magic by conjuring fireworks from scratch into the sky. They were of course not celebrating Yule but Pancha Ganapati, a Hindu gift-giving festival in celebration of the god Ganesha. Padma, however, was bemoaning the fact that they weren't there for Diwali, her favourite celebration of the year.
"Can't you get a leave of absence for that?" asked Harry, looking at his giggle water dubiously.
Parvati chuckled and switched it out for a glass of mango lassi, which Harry tasted with caution. He thanked her for it once he realised he liked it. Parvati preened, glad to be a good hostess.
"We got one in first year but Mother and Father had to go to India unexpectedly this October so they celebrated there," sighed Padma.
"It's fine, we can always go next year. Now come on, I want to dance," said Parvati.
Blaise laughed at his best friend who made a face but obligingly followed the twins around as they entertained themselves. Harry even let Parvati paint his nails black, though he refused to wear kohl.
"I don't want anything poking my eye," protested the boy.
The Italian prince declined too. Make-up was not his thing. The girls pouted but dragged over Daphne, her sister, and —to Blaise's surprise— Ernie Macmillan to indulge their whims. He and Harry sat next to them, observing the adults as they did their politicking and drank where they thought the children couldn't see them. Blaise could hear some of them congratulate themselves over collecting enough funds to get the adult mandrakes for January. It was good to know that Finch-Fletchley and the Gryffindor firstie Blaise had forgotten the name of would be able to enjoy the rest of their year. He hoped the professors would ward the mandrakes they didn't use in case of another attack.
Harry waved at Gemma's mother, who was accompanying them for the evening as a representative of House Fawley. Ulrich was too old to attend social functions like this, and as a foster of his House, Harry had to be accompanied by one of them every time he appeared at social events until he turned fourteen.
"Does that mean Ulrich will have to come to Mezzogiorno?" said Harry worriedly when they broached the subject. "He can't always Floo, I don't think he'll be able to withstand it."
Blaise shook his head.
"A member of my Household will come to your house so Ulrich can formally hand you over, and come back with us to return you to him."
"You didn't have to do that when you came," observed his friend.
"Mhm, it was a little informal. It's technically fine since I came with a personal bodyguard, but it would raise eyebrows if we mentioned it in high society. Next summer it will be a little different both because you're being fostered and because you're coming to the palace. We have to use a little more decorum. I think my cousin Lazzaro will be the one who'll come. He wrote to say he wanted to see Diagon Alley before we go."
"Is he the one who ran away to Brazil for a year? And tried to adopt a nundu a few months after?"
The Italian prince stifled a laugh.
"That's him. He's the Newt Scamander of our family."
"He's here tonight," said Harry. "Scamander, I mean. Theo would have liked to talk to him, I think."
Their friend was sick of enchanting and had shown them a book he'd found on warg taming in his library when they'd visited him a few days earlier. It seemed he had found a new obsession.
"He would. Should we ask him some questions on his behalf?"
"Let's. I want to know if he's ever been afraid of a creature and if he has tips for it. I want to stop being scared of dogs."
"Why, are you planning to face another Cerberus?"
"Not really, but I was planning to take Care of Magical Creatures next year. It will make Hagrid happy, and I can't do it if I'm scared of a mere crup."
"We ask for a private audience with the Regina," they said in the creepiest show of coordination the Slytherin prefect had ever witnessed.
Gemma stared at the twins a little blankly, pondering what to do. It had been obvious that the girls wanted something since Samhain, but it seemed a little late for them to do something about it. Maybe they had waited until they were alone in the castle, thought the prefect, glancing at the empty common room. Save for Terence, Aspen, and Malfoy's little clique —who wasn't in the common room at the moment, which might explain why the Carrow sisters had decided to approach her now—, the House was completely deserted. It wasn't surprising, considering the current atmosphere at Hogwarts. Gemma already thought it suspicious enough that the Malfoy heir had decided to stay for the winter holidays, but she believed he meant it as a statement, a way to say he had nothing to fear from Slytherin's monster. She didn't think strutting around in an empty common room was worth it, but then again she wasn't twelve anymore. The only reason she and half of her court were at Hogwarts was because they wanted to prepare the social calendar for the second semester in advance so they could have a little breathing room to handle other tasks during the year.
Terence glanced at her, asking her silently what she wanted to do. She leaned closer to kiss him on the cheek and stood up from her throne —which was really a transfigured armchair Safaa had enchanted to match Terence's own — before gesturing at the first years to follow.
"By all means."
She led the Carrow twins to the far right corner, right next to the gigantic enchanted window that led to the Black Lake, and tapped her wand against one of the lights settled to the wall before walking straight into the brick edifice. She disappeared behind it, confident that the girls would stay behind her. She kept a hand on her wand though, discreetly activating the defensive runes sewn at her back. She wasn't scared of firsties, but she wasn't stupid either.
She entered the austere office, gesturing at the twins to take the guest chairs while she sat down in front of them. She grimaced and cast a small cushioning charm on the wooden seats.
Since most of the Argentum court's business had to be held in public, this office was rarely used. It didn't mean they couldn't have made it more comfortable, Gemma grumbled to herself, and resolved to do something about it later.
Ugh. So many things to do.
"Now. Are you really consulting me as the Spinea Regina,or are you seeking the Heiress of House Fawley? Because any court business could have been handled by Terence, and yet you came to me despite the risks to both of our reputations. My cousin noticed you staring, I'm sure he wasn't the only one."
"He only saw because we let him. Nobody else noticed," they assured, shaking their head, which wasn't unsettling at all.
Unlike the Yaxley kid in first year, the Carrow girls were nice to Harry. They likely remembered that he had bothered seeking them out on the train, though he had let Blaise do the talking once he had realised whose House the twins belonged to. While the Longbottom boy was the obvious person of interest among the second years, Harry was rapidly approaching Diggory's level of popularity with the lower years who were willing to see past the colour of his tie. Gemma thought it was cute.
The two sisters exchanged a look, which Gemma guessed was to facilitate the connexion between their minds. The mind link they shared was fascinating, but Gemma questioned the wisdom of making its existence so obvious. It unnerved most Light wixen and some Grey ones too, and their blatant use of it made any advantage it might give them completely obsolete. Everyone knew they shared a mind; nobody would risk telling Flora Carrow what they didn't want Hestia to know or vice versa.
Maybe they were merged so thoroughly that they simply could not hide it. It would explain why they always spoke in tandem.
"We petition the heiress of House Fawley for her assistance." The girls looked fragile for a moment, far from the expressionless dolls they had presented themselves as since they had come up to Gemma in the common room. "We have a younger brother," they revealed, lowering their eyes to the table in a synchronised movement. "Our parents suspect he is a squib."
Ah, thought Gemma. She was starting to understand what was going on.
Some Houses didn't announce the existence of a child before the first manifestation of their magic. The Selwyns had such traditions so she had heard about it from Aspen, but she had never been given confirmation that the Carrows did too. It was considered taboo to talk about it since it was essentially admitting that squibs could be born at any time in purebloods' magical lines. Most Houses were too arrogant to do such a thing and preferred pretexting sudden illness to justify their children's disappearance.
The twins continued.
"They are waiting for his letter to arrive, but they have already started… watching him."
"And if it doesn't…"
"They will kill him."
As the heiress of the only House with a personal Vow of Enmity with House Carrow — other Houses like the Shafiqs were the Carrows' enemy only by proxy, through their decision to follow House Longbottom after the war and in response to the House's allegiance to You-Know-Who. They had a weaker claim of Enmity than the Fawleys who had just cause to declare opposition—, she was the girls' best bet for external aid. Technically, the Carrow twins could have asked Harry to help as well since he was fostered by her House, but he would have been forced to consult her about it before making any kind of decision anyway. She understood why Flora and Hestia might have wanted to cut out the middle man. It was bold of them. And it spoke a lot of how much they must cherish their little brother.
"What do you want from my House exactly?"
"We only ask that you shelter him until our parents stop looking. Achilles has to disappear during the spring holidays, months before he is due to receive his letter. We would appreciate it if you were willing to sponsor his integration into the muggle world."
Because Gemma's father Edward hadn't wanted the Lordship and neither did his younger brother, the responsibility of the heirship had been foisted onto Gemma. She hadn't minded it. Being the heiress of an Ancient and Noble House was both a burden and a privilege, which she had always considered with the gravity it demanded. Her grandfather had seen that and rewarded her for it with a substantial amount of trust. He was already letting her make decisions for their estate and consulting with her for anything that had to do with the future of their House. Landon Fawley knew he was getting old, and he no longer had the energy to attend to all of his duties. He had stopped attending Wizengamot sessions, among other things. He had instead appointed a steward that would serve until Gemma was ready for the responsibility and in the meantime, she was expected to keep up with the decisions this proxy made in their stead.
She knew her grandfather would defer to her judgement on this case so she had to consider it carefully. She thought about the possible complications such an accord could possibly create. The Vow of House Fawley was one-sided so far, Alecto and Amycus Carrow having fled the country before they were able to respond to it. It meant that their Houses weren't feuding yet, the Vow serving as a simple warning not to interact with the House they had scorned rather than announcing an intent to harm. But if her House was caught stealing a scion of House Carrow, the outcome would be obvious. The accusation would start a feud, even if it wasn't done by a formal declaration from the other party.
There were only four Houses that were outright feuding in Britain right now. The Malfoys and Weasleys, and the Smiths and Averys. None of them had come out unscathed. House Weasley was poor and had lost its title and all of its grimoires, the Malfoys were cursed with infertility so severe Abraxas had to take drastic measures to ensure the continuation of his line, the Smiths had lost all credibility and the less said about the Averys, the better. She wasn't sure she wanted to risk such a fate for her and hers without any benefit to the Fawley name.
And yet, she was hesitating. Because Gemma was planning to marry Terence Higgs, the son of a Shacklebolt squib and a muggle. She would never be able to look at Terence's father in the eyes if she let the Carrows kill their son for not having magic when she had the opportunity to do something.
"You will owe me a debt in blood and magic," she said finally. "I will have the final say on how to settle that debt. But if you ever were to find yourself at the Head of your House, you will repay it by welcoming your brother into your home again and making a vassal pledge to House Fawley."
The girls let out a sigh of relief. They didn't bother to hide the trembling of their hands as they stood and bowed to Gemma so deeply the prefect had to look away in discomfort.
"I will give you an expanding bag in April. It will be warded with appropriate protections. You will hide your brother inside along with anything he might want to bring with him. Do your parents allow you to visit your House vault?" At their cautious nod, she allowed herself a satisfied smile. "Then you will Floo to Diagon Alley and go to Gringotts. There you will give the bag to the Potters' bank manager. My cousin has access to his accounts, he will pick him up at my request. I will write to him and arrange a time, but you have to mind the clock: a bag is less stable than a truck. Your brother will only have six hours of air at most in that bag."
They hashed out some more details, mainly on how to avoid suspicion when their brother would essentially disappear the day of their visit —she suggested making it seem like he was already long gone and she had a few ideas about how to achieve that— and how Gemma planned to secure a position for Achilles Carrow in the muggle world. It couldn't be done until it was sure that his parents had stopped looking or tracking spells would find the boy easily. She planned to ask for Terence and Adrian's help in the summer, but it wasn't the most pressing matter. She had to figure out the logistics of the kid's escape without burdening two little girls who had come to her for help first, and ask Harry to use his status as goblin friend to temporarily shelter their squib brother who —Merlin— was barely ten years old.
They only got out of the office after an exhausting hour, and Gemma let the girls out after casting disillusionment charms on them. She made sure to take heavy steps to cover for the sound of their shoes, but the twins were quiet enough to go unremarked to the corridor leading to their dorms. Gemma passed by Malfoy, who sent her a mild glare as he talked to his vassals.
"I wish I knew who it is," said Malfoy petulantly. "I could help them."
Gemma grimaced. She could guess what he was talking about. She slowed down a little, wondering if she should reprimand him. She had the power to do so, after all. But Terence was beckoning her over, probably wondering what had happened with the firsties. She cast an eavesdropping charm on Malfoy just in case he said anything she needed to know and sat down next to her boyfriend. He intertwined their fingers, and she smiled helplessly at their joined hands.
She explained the situation to Terence and Aspen while listening to Malfoy's nonsense with a distracted ear.
"... Father says to keep my head down and let the Heir of Slytherin get on with it. He says the school needs ridding of all the Mud…," the Malfoy heir stopped there, remembering the curse Adrian had cast on him. He still hadn't managed to reverse it. "Filth, but not to get mixed up in it. Of course, he's got a lot on his plate at the moment. You know the Ministry of Magic raided our manor last week?"
" — and we can enrol him in a school after a year of tutoring. I'll write to my mother about it, she'll have suggestions. Surely his parents will have stopped looking by then, and if they do we can always use concealment wards on his clothes— Gemma?"
"Mhm? Sorry, I'm listening to Malfoy complain about his father, it's a little distracting."
"Why would you subject yourself to that?" asked Aspen, raising an eyebrow.
"He was talking about the Chamber. It sounds like his father was aware it would open this year. It's happened before."
"Ho!"
Gemma turned to the second-years at the exclamation, just in time to see Crabbe's hair turn Weasley red. Her eyes widened.
Thankfully, Aspen had seen the same thing she did.
"Malfoy!" he called out, motioning the boy over. "Get the polyjuiced idiots out of there," murmured Aspen.
Gemma strode over to whom she expected to be the Weasley twins when Goyle's hair turned blond and his face rounder. She cursed. She should have known. Harry's twins weren't at Hogwarts at the moment. His godbrother, however.
The two boys started running for the door, clutching themselves in the bad pretence of a stomachache. Gemma silently followed after them to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, watching as they slowly reverted to their original appearance. Their situational awareness sucked, she noted amusedly.
"What were you boys hoping to accomplish by sneaking into our common room?" she asked, leaning on the door frame.
Longbottom and Weasley jumped, turning toward her and fumbling for their wands. The Boy-Who-Lived sighed and lowered his slightly upon recognising her, but Weasley kept his trained in her direction — though she wasn't worried, considering how crooked it was.
"We were— I mean, we—" stammered Longbottom before sighing in defeat. "We thought Malfoy might be the Heir so Herm— we brewed polyjuice to check if it was him."
"Neville!" hissed Weasley.
"What? What did you want me to say?"
"Anything but that!"
Gemma pinched the bridge of her nose.
"And what was the plan if he was the Heir? You'd have explained to professor McGonagall you found out by brewing a restricted potion and impersonating your classmates?" She narrowed her eyes. "Where are Crabbe and Goyle right now?"
The Gryffindors shuffled on their feet, unwilling to meet her gaze.
"Wegavethemasleepingpotion'nputtheminacupboard," mumbled Longbottom.
"What?"
The Boy-Who-Lived cringed.
"We gave them a sleeping potion and put them in a cupboard."
"And that seemed more sensible to you than —I don't know— asking Harry?"
She tried not to think about the fact that she would have to find her underclassmen stripped from their clothes and stuffed in a broom cupboard after this discussion. How many points could she take off of them without having the professors on her back asking what she'd taken them for, she wondered.
"Malfoy hates Harry, he wouldn't have told him the truth!" exclaimed Weasley.
"And you think he couldn't have just asked me to put an eavesdropping charm on him, which is exactly what I did five minutes ago when I heard him talk about the Chamber?" she questioned with a flat look.
Weasley turned as red as his hair.
"Thank Morgana I wasn't placed in Gryffindor," she muttered to herself, her eyes raised upward. "I would have gone mad surrounded by so many reckless people. Right, okay. Thirty points from Gryffindor each for being out past curfew and pranking your classmates. I would have taken more but you'd end up having to answer difficult questions. Now that that's settled, I'll say just one thing. You need to learn how to rely on other people. Your first reaction should not be 'I am going to brew a borderline illegal potion —because Polyjuice is restricted for a reason, kids—, drug my classmates and strip them to their underwear to sneak into someone else's common room'."
"But we needed to know who the Heir was!"
"Why?" she asked Longbottom. "How is that your job? Aurors should be taking care of this. I don't know what Dumbledore's thinking —or if he's thinking at all for that matter— but this has become a criminal case the first time a human was petrified. You kids are pureblood and you're not being targetted, but if you cross the path of the person who is doing this, they will not hesitate." Looking at their mulish expression, she could tell there was no convincing them. She sighed and moved her hand to massage her temples instead of her nose. Merlin saves her from exhausting pre-teens. Harry wasn't this difficult. "You want to play detective? Fine! But do it in a sensible manner. Trust your friends and stop sneaking around doing nonsense." She smirked. "You're not Slytherins, you don't have the subtlety for it. Now, off you go. I'll escort you to your common room."
The boys didn't move, glancing at a toilet stall. Gemma's eye twitched.
"Right. You're usually a trio, aren't you?"
She heard a sob, confirming her assumption. Come to think of it, she had heard someone sniffling. She'd assumed it was Moaning Myrtle, but it wasn't near loud enough.
"Come out now, kid."
"Um—"
"Now."
There was a brief pause, the sound of a quiet sob before the sound of the latch being removed resonated into the silent bathroom. The girl —Gemma had no idea what her name was— opened the toilet door, revealing a feline face on a little girl's body.
"Oh, my."
Harry stuck his tongue between his teeth as he finished his letter to professor McGonagall. They had corresponded after he had sent her chocolates for the Yule celebrations, and he was responding to a question she had asked about the homework he had due for the start of the year. Besides him, Blaise was going through his own correspondence, consisting mostly of thank you letters from his family but also some from Italian nobles who wanted to flatter the royal family.
The Italian prince frowned as he saw a closed envelope he seemed to have forgotten. It was sealed with the image of a small bird on purple wax.
"That's the emblem of my father's House."
Harry's quill stilled in his hand. Blaise looked over at him, curious to see what had stopped him.
"Ah, I never told you about my father, did I? That's because there isn't much to tell. He's a scholar from Kenya. He wasn't very interested in being a prince or a father so he and Mother agreed she would raise me alone. He was more interested in his research. He sends letters sometimes, like a distant uncle. I'm not torn up about it," he said with a shrug.
Harry studied his best friend, but the boy truly seemed unbothered so he let it go.
"Is it a letter from him then?"
"Yes," murmured Blaise as he read through the letter. "It seems like his team managed to find a thousand-years-old Bantu grimoire. That's cool. I'll have to ask him more about it. Can you imagine the kind of spells you could find on something old like that?"
"It's probably a lot of the same as we have in ours, no? Defensive charms, household spells, maybe some wards."
"Curses," suggested Blaise.
"I'd love to see what kind of healing spells they used back then, though," said Harry. "I mean, they didn't have wands at the time, how did it affect their charms, you think?"
"That's something you might be better off asking Roman Potter."
"You're right."
Harry stood up and pulled the curtains hiding the portraits on his wall. Unfortunately, the History professor and his wife were absent. The Potter heir greeted Sir Peregrine before spotting his great-aunt.
"Hi, Aunt Dorea!"
"Hello, Harry," said the older woman amiably. "It has been a while since we last talked."
Harry thought about it. He winced. She was right, it had been a few months.
"I'm sorry about that."
Dorea chuckled. Her grey eyes looked really warm, he thought.
"Don't worry, I remember my own Hogwarts days. So much to learn and so many people to talk to, a lot of things go forgotten. Besides, we portraits gossip a little. I know you have been really busy learning healing on top of your normal coursework."
Harry rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed.
"Still, family is important. I'll talk to you more, I promise. Oh, can I introduce you to my friend?" Blaise raised his head and offered the portrait a wave. "Aunt Dorea, this is Blaise of the Ancient and Royal Dynasty of Zabini. Blaise, this is my great-aunt, Dorea Potter nee Black."
"Well met, madam."
"The pleasure is mine, young man. It's not often that we portraits encounter royalty."
Blaise chuckled.
"I'd rather be known as Harry's friend than as a prince if you don't mind."
Dorea shot him an appraising look before she smiled fondly.
"I will keep that in mind. Friendship with a Potter is forever, you know?"
"I sure hope so," said Blaise with a cheeky grin. Harry rolled his eyes at him. It was a given.
"Then that means you are family."
They made a little small talk, Harry's best friend asking about her life before becoming a painting. He was impressed to learn she and her husband had been professional duelists.
"Speaking of family, son, have you heard from Sirius?"
Harry didn't get to ask who Sirius was before they were called over by Ulrich. He and Blaise made their way to the living room, where his guardian was sitting. He had the Wizarding Wireless radio and was listening to it intently. It only took a few steps for Harry to figure out what it was about: they were recording December's Wizengamot session. Harry completely forgot to ask Dorea who this Sirius person was.
Theo remembered the first time he had accompanied his father to a Wizengamot session. He had been eight years old and he had requested it for his birthday because he wanted to know what this Lord business was about. The session had been tedious and he had understood little of it, but Theo remembered the gravitas with which the Lords —and the few common seats— assembled considered their place in those walls. From the most self-important fool to the least arrogant of them, they all understood that their decisions affected thousands of people. It didn't make most of them kinder, of course, but it made everyone appropriately serious. There was no murmuring, no laughter, just the careful consideration of the laws that would shape their government and the heated battle of wills between the different factions. Theo had been extremely bored.
He hadn't expected it to be different. He had been wrong.
The fact that Bertram Nott attended at all was enough to have people straightening up in their seats. He hadn't done so since Theo was nine after all. Some rumours even said the Nott House was planning to relocate back to Denmark. Utter rubbish, of course.
When his father bypassed the Purists faction's seating area though, it felt like a thousand wasps buzzing at once. People eyed the camp of the Isolationists speculatively, expecting Theo's father to join the crazy people who wanted to uproot centuries of infrastructure just so they wouldn't have to look at a single muggle again in their entire life. Instead, Bertram coolly nodded to Lady Greengrass and sat down next to her. She returned his greeting with an equally unaffected expression. The buzzing became more intense. Theo made a face. He wished he had thought to bring his sound dampening enchantments.
Albus Dumbledore, Theo's headmaster who was present in his quality of Chief Warlock called the room to attention and started listing the day's proceedings. Theo sat back and angled his body just right to observe the reactions of the Purists' camp. Lucius Malfoy looked furious. The Selwyn proxy —who wouldn't be of use beyond this year if Aspen had anything to say about it— seemed contemplative. Surely he knew about his heir's plan to join the Light faction. He didn't seem too bothered about it. Felix' steward in the Rosier seat however. He looked apoplectic. He was a cousin, if Theo remembered it right. One who would like nothing more than to pluck the Lordship off of his heir's grasp and honour the memory of the late Evan Rosier by engaging in enthusiastic bouts of muggle baiting.
Theo was so glad he didn't have to interact with these people anymore.
Sometimes, when the conversation lulled, he could feel headmaster Dumbledore's eyes on him and his father behind the man's half-moon glasses. Theo didn't know why the man was staring at them with such a pensive expression, but he didn't like the twinkle in his eyes. He could tell it didn't bode well for his House. The man was a war general, and Harry had told Theo that it was expected for the fighting to start up again. No doubt he was already scheming for it to begin as advantageously as possible for his camp.
What did that mean for Theo, his father, and his friends?