Old Friends

"Arête. Say that with me now," Thanos said. After they said it a few times she continued with, "Ever to excel is the motto of the School of Alexandria and it was inspired by 'arête.' At its core, it means excellence in ethical, law-abiding activities. In plain words it means you may be an excellent liar, but that isn't arête. Can you think of why?"

Several moments passed before Harry held up a hesitant finger.

"Yes?"

"Eudamonia?" Harry said.

Thanos raised expectant eyebrows.

"Err – you said it means good spirit. The Greeks wanted to be good for the soul or for the gods, so they can only be excellent in good things, right?"

"Right. Arête cannot be achieved through deceit, cruelty, dishonesty, greed, pride, and things of that nature."

Cyrus waved his hand. "Pride?"

"Cometh before the fall," Thanos quipped. "It's ok to have pride in yourself, your family, your name, and things you've done. You shouldn't be so arrogant, conceited, or prideful as to dismiss others and their achievements or exaggerate your own."

Daveed raised her hand. "What fall?"

"It's a Bible scripture from a muggle religion. You will study it as a work of literature in three years. The fall is from honor and/or glory into a state of disgrace. It is brought on by excessive pride in oneself coupled with disdain of others." Thanos hummed. "Haughty is the best word for this discussion."

With that, she had them do as they'd done for the past three weeks. They acted out scenarios, reenacted events and discussed them, then read stories to close out the lesson.

Just as class was ending, Thanos closed the book in her hand. "I want you to go home and ask your relative 'what am I not good at doing?' and demand honesty. Then I want you with their help, to devise and write down ways to help you improve on whatever it is they say. I also want you to document your progress."

Harry raised his hand. "What if I already know what I'm not good at doing?"

Amused, Thanos said, "Just that one thing?"

Harry shrugged. "I do most things pretty good."

Thanos glanced at the ceiling for a moment. When she lowered her eyes, she had a smile on her face. "What might it be that you don't do to your satisfaction?"

"Swordfight."

He hadn't thought much about it since his first day. Now that it was on his mind again, he'd like to learn as it was his goal to one day hold 'Vespera' in his hand. To own it again. He preferred that name as it was a 'juxtaposition' to 'Dawn' Park or whatever Quintinus had said.

So when he returned home, he bounded over to Charlus.

"Can you teach me how to swordfight? Do you know how to do that?"

"Good afternoon, Harry. How was your day?"

They were in the living room. The walls were baby blue and they sat on a deep blue sofa with pastel yellow, throw pillows. Just like in Greece, Quintinus' portrait hung on the wall adjacent to the door. Charlus had a glass of wine on the coffee table and an open letter in his lap.

Harry sighed. "It was fine. A little boring, I guess. I'd like to learn magic one day, but I'm close to giving up hope."

Charlus rolled his eyes. "Dramatic."

"How was your day?"

"Do you care?"

Harry shook his head. "No, but you're making me be polite and polite society requires small talk." He waved his hand. "So, how was your day?"

Charlus grinned at him. "I think it's imperative you spend more time with people your own age very, very soon." He sighed. "If you wanted to learn to sword fighting why did you choose archery and track?"

"Because the teacher wouldn't help me 'cause he hates Henry." Again, Harry waved a dismissive hand. "I don't care, but Miss Thanos wants me to do something I'm not good at to achieve arête."

"I care," Charlus said, "and such behavior is unacceptable. To answer your question, yes, I know my way around muggle dueling tools and, yes, I can teach you."

Harry beamed and ignored Charlus' phrasing. "Thanks, Uncle Charlie. Can I go to – "

"Not yet. To answer your other question: my day was terrible."

Harry just stopped short of saying 'so?' Instead, he asked, "Why was it bad?"

"Because of your father."

Harry froze. "Err…".

"Nothing I didn't anticipate. Well, he's a few years early, but still nothing I hadn't planned for."

Harry brought his feet to his chest. "What does he want?"

Charlus sighed. "To know you."

"Is that bad?"

"Not necessarily. Inherently no," Charlus amended. He took a deep breath. "You will meet him and you will decide for yourself whether or not it's a good or bad thing."

On the Friday two weeks after the topic was broached, Harry and Charlus stood in front of the open gates of their Egyptian home. Harry fidgeted beside Charlus while they waited for their guest to arrive. To their surprise, James didn't arrive alone.

James held the hand of a boy, who appeared to be Harry's age. Maybe a little older. He looked a lot like Harry, too, but his messy hair was ash brown and his eyes were big and blue.

Sirius was the last to arrive.

Charlus' sounded a little heavy, so Harry looked up. His jaw was clenched and his nostrils were spread.

With a nudge, Harry asked, "What's wrong?"

"Doesn't matter."

Charlus stepped forward. "James, Sirius. I'm so full of emotion at the sight of both of you."

"Which emotion?" Harry asked. His neck was still craned so as to see Charlus' face. "I don't think it's a happy one."

Sirius grinned at Harry. "Damn, you're big. I remember when you were the size of a quaffle."

They spoke over the mirrors occasionally, but Harry couldn't remember the last time they'd seen each other in person.

"Hi, Sirius," Harry said with a wave.

Sirius winked at him then pointed to the other people he'd arrived with. "This is your big brother, Albert."

Sirius turned to Charlus, who narrowed his eyes. They then both moved at the same time. Sirius practically leapt at him and Charlus knocked him back down.

"That's no way to greet your nephew," Sirius said when he recovered. "Al, this man is supposed to be your cousin, Charlus."

Albert furrowed his brow. "Charlus?"

"Yes," Charlus drawled.

Harry turned to the gate. "Let's go so I can have something to eat. I don't know why polite society needs the host to starve."

Sirius laughed and it sounded like a dog's bark.

Harry led the way to the house. As customary, Harry kicked off his sandals and bounded to the bathroom. When he finished, he found them in the living room.

"Is your favorite color blue?" Albert asked.

"No, blue and gold are the family colors," Charlus answered. "It's an unspoken rule we're to decorate the main rooms in those colors. That probably just started when everyone moved away from the original ancestral home and created their own replicas in their new countries."

Harry took a seat next to Charlus and didn't question why he was on the sofa. He usually sat in the armchair on facing the hallway and turned slightly to the French windows.

Charlus passed Harry a plate of dolmas when her was seated.

"Thanks," Harry said.

"Grandfather's house is green."

Charlus cleared his throat and Quintinus said, "That's because Fleamont is a…the Nott enjoys olive green, dark gray, and cream."

Albert looked over his shoulder. "Nott?"

"Cantankerous Nott's daughter. Your grandmother. Henry hated that man and, as I understand it, beat him nearly to death in his own foyer," Quintinus said with far too much levity.

Harry, who'd never heard that, looked up in surprise. "Did we get along with any of our neighbors?"

Quintinus smiled. "Yes, historically Lestrange and Potter have great love for each other. They are at the root of our inception after all. Gore, as well. And, oft times when the situation calls for it, Malfoy is our best friend."

Charlus laughed softly.

"Malfoy?" Albert said.

"Oh, yes," Quintinus said. "You see, the fight for the power of the south west is between Potter and Malfoy. When a third attempts to involve themselves they're smacked down swiftly by both, which makes the nineteen thirties and forties all the more bizarre."

James waved his hand. "What do you mean by Lestrange is at the root of our inception?"

Quintinus cleared his throat.

Harry, in turn, said, "His mother was Adela Lestrange."

"Is that why your names are like that?" James asked.

"No," Harry said. "Adela told Hardwin and Egberta they could name the new baby. Since they were learning Latin, they went with Quintinus. Since they weren't allowed to name anymore kids, he was the only one with a Latin name, so he made it a tradition."

Sirius turned to Charlus. "You were able to marry a Lestrange before your inception?"

"We've always been impressive." Charlus smirked. "The man made so much money providing medicinal potions to his neighbors, and the greater southwest, he was able to leave all seven of his children equally wealthy. Of course, some Lestrange was happy to hand him his daughter while he was making a name for himself."

Sirius pointed at Charlus. "You're the most pureblood of the entire family, right?" He turned to Quintinus. "So you're the one the hopping pot is about?"

Quintinus curled his lip. "The story is a gross exaggeration as well as sensationalized defamation. I didn't just hate muggles. I loathed everyone, including the swine Aries the Black-Hearted. If Prince and Gamp hadn't been so insufferable, you might not exist, young man."

Sirius looked at the amused Charlus. "I see the nastiness is generational. Prince and Gamp exist, by the way."

"And neither are as wealthy nor as significant as they were on the day they made themselves known to me. In fact, I don't think any family who lived near that hill in Gloucestershire is as prominent as they were. Think about it."

Sirius looked between Quintinus and Charlus.

"Eight hundred years and the might of British purity have to credit a poor, English half-blood and a Hungarian one for the humbling of Potter. And look now," he said with his eyes on Harry, "just forty years later it seems we are to return. Where are they after centuries?"

Sirius leaned back. "You sound like how Arcturus described Henry Potter."

"Oh, young Black, I have nothing on Henry. My dear boy is everything that is excellent and terrible about us. The best of us yet the very worst of us. From a young age – "

Charlus sighed. Loudly. "Albert, you go to Syracuse, right? Please tell us how you like it."

Harry grinned at the miffed Quintinus while Albert said, "It's fine. I don't like the sword fighting or the poetry."

Charlus smiled. "You'll be a well-rounded individual when you finish. What classes do you like?"

"History and Potions Theory."

Quintinus sighed, but said nothing. Harry smiled at him. At that, he grumbled under his breath.

"You don't like potions, Harry?" James said

"I only have a toy cauldron that I don't really play with. I have better things to do than to sit around looking at something boil and smoke."

Charlus looked over at Quintinus with a grin while James laughed softly. "What better things do you do?"

"Surf and swim. Uncle Charlie is teaching me how to swordfight 'cause my teacher wants me to learn it so I can achieve arête."

Sirius asked, "How's school, Harry?"

"It's fine. I don't think I'm learning anything, though."

Charlus sighed. "I hope you figure out soon that you are. Or, at the very least, come to value non-magical education."

"How do you know?" Harry said. "What makes you so sure I'm learning stuff?"

"Alexandria wouldn't have the reputation it does if they didn't actually teach things."

Albert looked back and forth between them. "What's Alexandria?"

"It's a school in Egypt."

"I've never heard of it…"

Harry nodded. "Most people don't talk to their kids about it 'cause they can't get in."

Albert frowned and turned to James, who closed his eyes. Charlus looked to the ceiling and Quintinus laughed outright.

Sirius rushed to ask, "What class is your favorite?"

"Err…all of them? All we do is play and talk to each other. It's not hard work. I guess I don't like theater much. We have to make speeches and talk about ourselves or a topic of our choice."

"Why do you get to choose?" Albert asked.

Harry tilted his head. "Syracuse is in Italy? One of the places the ancient Greeks took, right?"

Albert nodded.

"Because the Greeks had more influence over Alexandria than the Romans. The Romans believed in order more and the Greeks believed in creativity more. You have to make others believe in what someone else wants or the right thing and I just have to be able to make people believe something whether it's right or wrong."

Charlus leaned forward. "Where did you learn that?"

Harry sniffed. "Does it matter?"

"Yes, because you're adamant you've learned nothing."

"I know stuff. Just not from Alexandria." Harry rolled his eyes. "Fine, I've learned a little at Alexandria."

When the dolmas were gone, the group went outside for lunch. There they had sayadieh by the red flower garden where the pyramids could be spotted in the distance.

"Have you ever been?" James asked.

Harry nodded.

"Where else have you been?"

Harry shrugged. "All over."

"You two travel a lot?"

Harry nodded. "We only go some place for the weekend unless it's a holiday."

"Any plans for the summer?"

"I'm going camping and then to Mexico for the World Cup."

Albert perked up.

Sirius looked at Charlus. "Where are you camping?"

"Spain, I think. Barty is in charge of the itinerary. This is all his idea and nothing I'm involved with," Charlus said.

James blinked once. "What?"

Sirius grinned at Charlus. "Did you ever put Taurus in a room with Barty Crouch?"

"Barty didn't ask to be in a room with Taurus." Charlus touched his forehead when Sirius snorted. "You could've worded your question better. No, because Barty wasn't set on making Taurus his protégé."

Sirius looked at Harry, who was too focused on his plate to care. "Why?"

"He believes their destinies are intertwined. Some…load of crock about a prophet on the streets of London, but it's beneficial, so I'll allow it."

Sirius turned back to Charlus and held his gaze for a long moment. In that moment silence reigned and for so long Harry raised his head.

When it became a little too loud, Sirius said, "I didn't think Crouch would be the type to believe in that."

After lunch, Sirius peeled Albert away from James, so the latter could take a walk with Harry. Together, James and Harry walked around the neighborhood.

"This is a nice place to live. Did you only come here in August?"

Harry shook his head. "No, we moved here when preschool ended and visited a bunch after I got my letter."

"Congrats, by the way. I said that in the letter, but I wasn't sure if you could read it or not."

Harry frowned. "Thanks."

"No offense. You've just been five for only a handful of weeks." James exhaled. "Are you alright?"

Harry swatted a buzzing something then looked up in bemusement. "Yeah. Are you ok?"

James smiled. "I mean living with Charlus. You're not unhappy? Sad…confused?"

Harry shook his head. "I'm fine."

"Do you…do you understand who I am to you?"

"The father who created me." James stopped and Harry, upon noticing he was alone, stopped a few steps ahead of him. "Are you sure you're ok?"

James laughed softly. Even to Harry's untrained ears, it wasn't natural. "Yeah, I'm fine." He ran a hand through his hair as he exhaled. "I'm your father, Harry. Do you understand how that is?"

"Yeah, you created me, but your father doesn't want me in his house and Uncle Charlie and Grandmother said they wanted complete control of me."

Once again, James paused. "Mother and Charlus have been unfailingly honest."

"They weren't supposed to be?"

James shrugged. "I've known my mother for twenty-five years, so I made some assumptions. Yeah, Father has been unmovable for five years. I didn't think it was possible really." He sighed. "But, I have my own money now and I'll have my own place by the summer." After a moment's hesitation, James said, "You can be there anytime you want. To visit or…"

"Oh." After a moment, Harry concluded, "This summer…"

James shrugged. "That's your choice," he said with a note of breathlessness. "Speaking of choice…do you – do you like Barty Crouch?"

Harry raised a shoulder. "I don't know him really. He's Uncle Charlie's friend."

He hadn't seen Barty Crouch much either. He had come over for dinner a few times and Charlus had made them speak. Harry was then sent to his nursery after an early dinner and Charlus stayed with Mr. Crouch.

"Charlus is from an old world. The same world Father is from where they use their kids as tools to further themselves. I don't want that for my kids, so if you don't want to spend time with Crouch, just tell me and I'll go to Charlus."

Harry frowned. "Do you know him?"

"Crouch? Not at all. Just rumors and assumptions from what I've seen. He's a mean, old man who doesn't even like his own son much. He named him after himself and expects him to live up to his high expectations."

Harry tilted his head as they turned a corner. "Do you want me to live up to Henry Potter?"

James smiled and this time his amusement was genuine. "That would be nice, but I don't think so. Not anymore." He laughed softly. "You're quick."

James and Harry finished their walk discussing lighter topics, mainly quidditch. Harry confessed he'd like to be a seeker on a local team soon. James talked to him about the British and Irish League.

"Maybe I can snatch you from Charlus for a weekend and we can see a game. Would you like that?"

Harry grinned. "Yeah."

"Will you spit it out?" Charlus demanded.

Their guests were long gone. They'd left in the middle of the afternoon and Harry had gone to his room to be alone. He and Charlus had now convened in the living room after dinner, which had been a quiet affair. Harry had alternated between losing himself in his thoughts and hesitating to ask a pertinent question.

"Are you using me to further yourself? If you are, what are you doing exactly?"

Charlus' eyes went to the ceiling and, out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Quintinus lean forward.

"No. He has no women, no job, and no prospects. If not for inherited wealth, he would be worthless, useless, and insignificant. In modern terms, a loser."

Harry shook his head and fought a smile. Charlus said something to which neither Harry nor Quintinus heard.

"No, I'm not," Charlus said louder. "Why do you ask?"

"Err – what do I call him?"

Charlus lowered his eyes. "What is he to you?"

"My father? But…" Harry shrugged. "Father…" He made a face. "Father said you were from an old world and people from that world use their kids to further themselves. Why'd he say that if you're not?"

"Projection," Charlus snapped.

Harry pouted at him.

Charlus touched Harry's hair. "Sorry." He exhaled. "James is an idiot. For several reasons all of which you observed today. You don't get it now, but by the time you're ten, you will." He refilled his glass. "Fleamont made him marry his wife. I allowed Taurus to marry whoever he wanted, just as Henry allowed Fleamont to marry who he wanted. The only Potter adult not allowed to do as they want is James because Fleamont is, among other things, high-handed and mean."

"And, in his own way, he's looking out for his son," Quintinus said.

Charlus grit his teeth, but said nothing.

Quintinus tutted. "As Fleamont is not Henry and, therefore, lacks a great deal of pride, I imagine he felt James couldn't make a proper match that would protect him, so he made one for him. Sirius said Maynard Yaxley is Head of the International Confederation of Wizards. No matter what I or Charlus thinks of Yaxley, that's a good position that grants him access to more important wizards."

"So…what was wrong with my mother? It's 'cause she's a muggleborn?"

"She's poor," Quintinus said. "Was. Whatever. She comes from no wealth, new or old, and has no connections. We're not purists. Well, no one has involved themselves romantically with a non-magical since the Prince incident, but that's beyond the point. We areclassists and your mother is poor."

Harry brought his knees to his chest. "So if I don't want to go camping this summer I don't have to?"

"Why don't you want to go?" Charlus asked.

"I don't know. I'm just askin' questions."

Charlus laughed. "Alright, then." He nodded. "James is right: I am from an old world and that world? The world of money, power, and influence? Is still important today. James being what he is, born to who he was can ignore it; can scoff at it; can pretend he doesn't benefit from it or participate in it despite living with who he does and marrying who he did. I see no reason to pretend. I'm a spoiled, old man who's been afforded a life of leisure by the hard work of the men and women who came before me."

"So I can't ignore it because you don't?"

Charlus smiled. "Partially, but mostly because the circumstances of your birth and the actions of Fleamont. That I, and Euphemia, avow you, gives you a great deal of protection. That we've made you our responsibility, means it's up to us to give you every advantage we can afford. I see no reason not allow Barty to make you his prize goat."

"He – err – Father said Mr. Crouch is a mean, old man who doesn't like his own son."

Charlus snorted. "That might be correct, but Junior has far more free will than James has."

"Isn't that his point? That he doesn't have much freedom and wants me to have it?" Harry asked.

"Indeed, it is," Quintinus said. "Do you see Charlus' point?"

Harry scratched his head. "About what?"

"The last thing he said."

"Oh, I think so? Err, glass houses?"

Quintinus tipped his glass.