Charlus Potter

In the end, Euphemia found she was unable to keep her word to Lily. Not that it bothered her. At least not where Lily was concerned. What did bother her was that she was the only family Harry could rely on. Regardless of Euphemia's actions, Lily would have to work too much, James was in no position to help, and their friends had their own lives to lead.

What would happen to Harry if she died before he could even get to Hogwarts?

Such thinking led to her inviting Charlus over for dinner.

"You look healthy. Or as healthy as one can look after a century and a few decades on this earth," Charlus mused when she opened the door. "Is that a testament to good stock or good wealth?"

He was a burly man with broad-shoulders and thick arms. That he had a little height to him beyond the average made him appear enormous. Charlus had a face much like the other Potter men, but his hair was dark brown and he sported a stub nose. He wore brow line glasses, too, and they sat in front of crystal blue eyes.

She stepped aside to allow him to enter. She and Harry had removed to her terraced house in London. She and Charlus now stood in the entrance hall of it where the walls were a cool, mid blue and the floor was polished, deep brown wood. Candles in golden scones smelled of rose and oakmoss. The scent mingled with that of the white orchids in their clear vases, giving the space a sweet floral and earthy smell.

"Why is my health in question?" she asked as he removed his shoes. "And it's a testament to both."

Charlus took a moment to look around. He met Euphemia's eyes and his narrowed. "Because I'm standing in, what I assume, is that townhouse you brought to Potter from your Bulstrode grandmother. Yet this place is done up in blue with a little gold. How long do you have and what do I get if I grant you forgiveness?"

"I assure you, I've received no diagnosis," she said.

She then turned on her heel without another word.

Charlus was right behind her. "Then what am I doing here in this house? What are you…"

He trailed off when they entered the living room. Harry sat on the fluffy, mint blue carpet looking at a book that spoke to him. Harry held his hand over a toy stag and attempted to speak Latin words he couldn't quite say correctly. Charlus turned to Euphemia, who didn't say a word. She just walked over to a gray sofa and sat down.

"I thought it impossible the first time. I'll be damned if I believe you're still capable twenty years later," Charlus said.

At the sound of the new voice, Harry looked at him. "Whoa."

"Whoa to you, too," Charlus said. He walked over to the other sofa. "I like to think I'm an intelligent man, so I'll assume this young man is your grandson." His eyes widened. "Barty wasn't bullshittin'. I'm here to get suckered into raising your son's bastard, huh?" He looked around. "Not a bad consolation prize."

"No," Euphemia said as she passed Charlus a plate with a Chelsea bun on it.

Charlus scoffed while she stirred her white needle tea. "You won't let me stay in your house that you've done up all Potter like?" His jaw worked until his face broke out into a grin. "So Cantankerous made sure you had a choice and, in the end, Harry's children will be better for it."

Harry looked at him. "Hi," he said then babbled the rest of what he wanted to say.

Charlus leaned forward. "Oh, right, you're Harry Potter, too." To Euphemia, he asked, "Why in Merlin's name was that the name chosen for him?"

And that's how Charlus learned all about Lily Evans.

"So you took this child from his mother for the sake of his education and future?" Charlus snapped his fingers and frowned in thought. "That reminds me of someone or something. I wish I could tell you who or what."

Euphemia curled her lip.

He snapped his fingers a few more times then inhaled as if a lightbulb went off. "Henry. You're acting like Henry." He grinned at her. "Don't make that face, Effie, it doesn't become you." Still smiling, he stretched and asked, "Why am I here if not to be asked to raise your illegitimate grandson?"

"That's twice now…"

Charlus nodded. "A Potter is a Potter and all that, but there's something…curious afoot. That he was born into such circumstances is making my theories more amusing."

"I've made my choices, but I am old – "

Charlus grinned. "This amounts to the same thing."

"It doesn't given I have no intention of handing him over to you. He would go back to his mother or to his father should I die anyway, but he was with his nanny more than anyone else. His mother is embarrassed by his face, his father is a young fool falling in love, and his grandfather is an arrogant jackass. Sirius isn't a Potter."

Charlus nodded. "So, more or less, you are asking me to be his godfather? Does he see his father?"

"Less and less. Cordelia doesn't want James to see him and uses her son to keep him home. Sirius goes to his own home and, as I am no longer in the same house, there's no one to make him come see him."

Charlus leaned forward. "He won't let his own grandson into his home, so you left to raise him, but why?" He sat back. "I can think of a reason why I would do it, but what is your reason?"

"I have several. Initially, I wanted to give him the tools that would have him respect my family's possessions and build upon the fortune I'd hand to him, but then I had a conversation with Bathilda Bagshot. Did you know she lives in Godric's Hollow?" She nodded. "You knew that and know about her illustrious relations, too."

Charlus raised his eyebrows. "Why did she tell you?"

"For a number of reasons, but the most important is that he was born into interesting circumstances. Ah, how did she put it? 'While I'm a fan of history, I'm not all that interested in seeing it repeat itself.'"

Charlus narrowed his eyes. "It already is. Or at least there are whispers, but we won't know anything concrete until Grindelwald mysteriously dies and Riddle finds himself Ruler of the East."

"Bathilda mentioned him as well. I admit to brushing it aside and ignoring the gossip from friends in the past…"

"He's a half-blood bastard born to a wealthy father he may or may not have murdered. They – his muggle relatives – died while Dumbledore was hunting Henry, so no one knows what really happened. Morfin Gaunt? Remember him? He was arrested for it," Charlus said. "Pollux swears Riddle is now the last of the Gaunts. I know he's a parselmouth, so he has that going for him."

Euphemia opened her mouth, but hesitated. She ultimately settled on, "Very well."

Charlus snorted.

"That's a conversation for another day. In the near future."

"I don't think much needs to be said. I think he has the ring, doesn't know what it is – or how to use it, thank Merlin – but can identify the symbol. At least where our rulers are concerned," Charlus said. "I don't trust him in the grand scheme of things, but I do trust him to recognize that Grindelwald would aim to kill him for it."

Euphemia exhaled. "Moving back to the original topic – "

Charlus laughed. "Fine, I will be the trustee of your estate. Just one question: in the event he is due for more than just yours, how will you respond?"

Euphemia raised an eyebrow. "You would hand him your fortune?"

"No, that's too great of a burden."

Euphemia lowered her eyebrow when Charlus hesitated. "Come now, Charlus, I thought we were opening the lines of communication."

"We are, but you haven't answered my question. Are your plans set in stone? Or, say, if you have a third grandchild, will they change?"

Euphemia hesitated. "That's not the question you asked."

"No, it isn't."

"Harry will get it regardless of what the future brings. I have complete control over him in his most impressionable years. Additionally, he's only a Potter and, given the control I have over him, it's unlikely he'll subject himself to his mother's whims."

Charlus frowned. "You don't think he'll want his mother one day?"

"Wanting his mother and bending to her ways are two different things," Euphemia said. "I've spent a century with a man who walks that line." She picked up her glass of tea. "One day he will have his mother again, but a spoiled child raised in a mansion by an old pureblood will not seek the approval of a radical muggleborn who despises his name." She exhaled. "Another reason you're here."

Charlus scoffed. "I didn't do a good job of that the first time."

"Neither did Fleamont, but what difference do you think it'll make if Harry isn't parented by a woman determined to uplift the family she was born into while loathing the family she chose?"

Charlus opened his mouth, but failed to find words. At last, he grinned, but there was strain in it. "Are you comparing yourself to Dorea?"

"She and I are as alike as you and Fleamont." She smirked. "Which is to say, yes, I am."

Now it was Charlus' turn to sneer.

"Henry raised the same man twice and you married the same woman. How fascinating."

Charlus took several deep breaths. "I'm not old enough to be where you are, so keep these thoughts to yourself, yeah?"

"No, you don't want to wait until you're my age to reach these conclusions. Then again, I think you did already, which is why you live by yourself on that rainy island," Euphemia said. "Do you speak to Taurus?"

"No."

Euphemia turned to stare Harry. "'Too great of a burden.' You don't want a second chance?"

Charlus shrugged. "I have a grandson – "

"Who will be as much of a Rosier as Albert will be a Yaxley, yes?"

Charlus exhaled and he, too, turned to Harry. "Too great of a burden. What made you look at James and say you needed a second chance?"

"He bent to his father's will."

Charlus laughed.

"But I've also had to accept the family I chose. I'm not keen on meeting Henry and Vesta in death, having lived up to their very low expectations of me. I'm even less keen on having built up James just for Yaxley to be the ultimate beneficiaries. Pity Henry didn't give up on Fleamont when he should have."

Charlus started then laughed in her face. His laughter was loud and long. He laughed so hard tears sprang into his eyes.

With a sour face, Euphemia said, "This glory is supposed to be mine, Cantakerous', and Nott's. Why do you laugh so?"

Charlus snorted as he wiped his face. "Because I think he did give up. Whew." With a smile on his face, he turned to Harry. "There's no reason Fleamont cannot get ahold of or access to his father's possessions. They should recognize him as master of some sort, but they don't. I don't have access either, so someone has to be master of them in Henry's stead. It's not James like I thought, so who could it be?"

Euphemia looked at Harry and exhaled. "The second son. Fleamont would be kindest to the firstborn and I would follow his lead because that's what I've always done. Ah…clever," she spat.

Charlus held himself and laughed some more. "There is…no need…t-to sound so-so bitter."

"He would've won."

"You are hundreds of years old."

Euphemia waved her hand. "That doesn't matter."

Charlus' laughter renewed itself.

"Are you through?" she asked after a few moments.

Charlus nodded, but continued to laugh.

"I need to use your house in Greece. Hopefully. If not, I'll send a letter to Sterling," Euphemia said. "Bathilda believes it's better to send him to a preschool in the Mediterranean and I would like to get him out of this country; away from his parents."

"Wouldn't that be kidnapping?"

Euphemia placed her hands on Charlus' and he sighed. "Another reason you're here. Speaking of Bartemius – "

"Sursum! Sursum! Sursum!"

Euphemia and Charlus looked over to Harry to see the toy stag jumping up. It fell back down to the ground immediately, but both sets of adult eyes widened.

Charlus turned his head to Euphemia.

"Miss Jones is due for a raise, I suppose."

Thanks for reading!