A/N: Hi Folks, here is the new & improved chapter. Hope it meets everyone's expectations from here on out though — we're sticking to it.
AU Changes: Spells in other languages.
The Tragedy of Harry Potter
By. Momento Virtuoso
Edited by: BoredBarrister
I do not own Harry Potter unlike J.K.
Chapter 5
A Noble and Most Ancient House
"Potter! You absolute bastard son of a hippogriff!" Lily Evans cursed at the boy standing, underneath her window, inside her mother's flowerbeds in the dead dark of night. "It is 2 in the morning, what on earth could you possibly want at this hour?"
The hastily awakened witch was not at her best, with her nightgown haphazardly tied shut to protect her modesty, and her bedraggled red hair capable of being a suitable nest for a day old baby Acromantula.
"Would you hex me if I just said your company?" the young wizard said with a half-cocked grin.
James had come out wearing simple muggle clothes of jeans and a t-shirt. He had made the mistake of dressing up in wizard robes one time while Lily's sister, Petunia, had been home with her new boyfriend Vernon. After a rather loud, terrified shriek, a shouting match, and what James thought was a walrus charging him, he had considered it a lesson learned.
"Get out of my mothers flowers and let me sleep, you prat!" Lily seethed down at James.
"Come on, Lils! We've only got a few moments before someone sees the actual hippogriff I got for your cinder-princess-whoever's carriage hidden in the neighborhood," James joked, waving the girl to come down.
Lily's eye twitched at the butchering of her childhood favorite movie and the mention of a magical creature being smuggled and hidden inside her muggle neighborhood; she wouldn't put it past James Potter to give the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy the proverbial finger.
"And where exactly are you taking me at 2 am?" she hissed at the arrogant sod she had been seeing almost daily the entire summer break so far.
James would say that his charm had finally won her over. Lily would vehemently claim that she felt sorry for the poor loser and simply took pity on the less fortunate.
"That'd be spoiling, Lily! We gotta go now, though, or else we'll miss it. So hurry up, meet me down the street. I'll be waiting with a broom," James said, looking up at the witch's window.
The Gryffindor backed away, and slinked off away down the street up from the Evans' household.
James waited for a few minutes behind a rather large set of trees near a play park, not too far from Lily's house. There was a single swing set and a few other pieces of equipment spread out over the dark playground.
Lily finally caught up to her housemate. She wore a simple dress with leggings, and a jacket thrown over her. Her hair, while still not its usual pristinely flowing self, was somewhat domesticated after a duel with her brush.
James picked up his quidditch broom from the ground and mounted the handle, gesturing for Lily to get on in front of him. Lily stepped onto the broom, James's free arm immediately wrapping around her waist as his dominant hand gripped the front of the broom.
Kicking off from the ground, the two zoomed off into the night sky with the town of Cokeworth growing smaller and smaller beneath them as they went. The singular light of the full moon shone brightly above them, illuminating all.
While it was breathtaking for Lily, she still had a very large bone to pick with the man abducting her from her home in the middle of the night.
"You know, James, that was no way for a Romeo to call on his Juliet from her window," Lily accused. James just looked at her oddly.
"Who are you talking about?" James asked. Lily gave him a blank look. "I'll have to add Shakespeare to your reading list then," she sighed.
James's face scrunched up at the wind in his face, and definitely not his new girlfriend's tone. "Why do you make it sound like I can't read?" he whined.
"Because you practically can't. The only way you've managed in transfiguration, for all I know, is because we have diagrams in the books," Lily laughed, her voice carrying into the night air like bells to James' ears.
The pair dipped into a descent, coming upon the nightlife of Liverpool glowing in the dark distance. James flew the pair over the full and bustling streets filled with patrons enjoying the summer night and highlights of the city after hours. James took care to steer the pair away from being seen by any sharp-eyed muggles.
Landing out of the sight of muggles near the harbor, James hopped off and lifted Lily off the broom, placing the girl down on her feet in front of him.
"Are you going to explain what the hell we are doing here, James?" Lily asked, shivering as the cold summer chill of the Irish Sea met her senses.
"Look just over there," James pointed out in the water, the top of which was glowing from the moonlight just enough for a person to see the waves form and begin their path towards the shoreline.
Suddenly breaking from the water was the body of a large orca, its black top contrasting against the illuminated white, and its white underbelly breaking the eternal black of the water.
What started with one orca soon became two, then three. A whole pod's worth of the majestic sea animals passed in front of the couple as they watched from the shore.
"You said one time during third year that if you ever had a patronus, you'd want it to be an orca. I heard there was a group sighted here a few days ago and came to see for myself the other night. I wanted to share them with you before they left for the sea again," James admitted, scratching the back of his unruly hair.
A smile broke open on Lily's lips, and a warmth filled her chest at James' recollection.
Reaching out slowly, Lily slid her hand into James' own and watched the orcas move out to sea as they broke through the waves and submerged once more, over and over until they disappeared into the darkness of the water.
"You know — I've actually found out what my patronus is," Lily said, pausing only for a moment. "Professor Flitwick worked on it with me for a few months after Christmas."
Lily prayed that the darkness hid the blush permeating her features from James.
When James had mastered the charm his fifth year, the whole of the Gryffindor House had been witness to the stag prancing about the common room. He had been so proud and boastful of his accomplishment that the stag could be seen wandering around at times.
It was joked about in Gryffindor, that Potter's favorite memory to call forth the spectral beast was the first time he successfully cast the Patronus Charm.
James looked down at Lily in question wondering just what exactly it could be that she would summon forth. It was perhaps one of the last great mysteries about her for him.
"Oh? Was it exactly what you hoped it'd be?" James asked curiously. He knew some people were disappointed with their patronuses. Not him though; James was proud of his stag which was namesake amongst his friends.
"At first, no," Lily laughed, chuckling at the memory of her horrified reaction to the ethereal and ghostly animal that sprang from her wand.
"But after these last few months, I've definitely changed my mind about that," Lily said, pulling her wand from her jacket.
Whispering the incantation, from the tip of the witch's wand a shimmering blue doe burst forth, and danced out over the water, bathing in the moonlight which cascaded across the top of the sea.
James stared at the patronus in momentary shock. He turned his attention to the witch who had cast the beautiful spell, taking in her moonlit features before returning his gaze back to the doe, who was looking at him as if expectantly.
With a shaky hand, James drew his own wand and cast the same charm. A stag bore forth from its tip and joined its companion upon the water's surface. Together, the two glowing animals pranced together for several moments before their magic broke apart, disappearing into wisps against the light of the full moon, breaking up in the breeze rolling off the sea.
"Lily, I —" James started but he was silenced by the witch's lips finding his own before he could finish another syllable.
James wrapped his arms around Lily's waist and held her body against his.
"The answer to your question in third year when you stole my wand and threatened to feed it to a werewolf if I didn't go with you — it's yes," Lily answered the long-asked question that James Potter was infamous for amongst their friend groups.
"It's been yes for a little while now," Lily whispered, pushing her face into James' chest.
James' smile was so large it practically reached past both his ears. His glasses didn't hide the tear he shed in relief at hearing Lily's answer.
"I won't let you down Lils, thank you for the chance," James said quietly, holding the witch close to him, as together they watched the moon hover over the Irish Sea.
Break
Albus Dumbledore stared down at the parchment in front of him about the mysterious man who had appeared on the grounds a few days ago. In his hand was a letter written in the very sorrowful, if not terrified, scribble of Garrick Ollivander.
Dear Albus,
My dear old friend, I do hope you are doing better than I am at the time of writing this missive to you. I must stress the secrecy that must be expressed here — this can be seen by the eyes of no other. There is potential for danger if the wrong party hears this news.
A few days ago, a young man, who goes by the name of Harry Evans, entered my shop to buy a wand, stating that he had misplaced his previous one. After testing several wands and cores for his magic, he was chosen by one wand, a very particular one at that. I speak of a wand that wields the second feather your familiar donated as its core.
I don't think I need to express the implications behind this, as we both know the wizard who wields the first feather within his own core. I fear that my prior creation and the donated magic of dear Fawkes within the Phoenix-Yew wand is potentially corrupted beyond all reprieve.
The reason for my concern is that Mr. Evans expressed a desire to have the trace and limiting enchantments removed from his purchase. You know as well as I that he would simply have to go to the Ministry for the trace to be removed, if he were 17. The limiting enchantments were the more concerning matter of his request. While outwardly very nice and charming, I could sense a cold nature within his magic, like a venom amok. He already bore a sign of dark magic in the form of scar upon his body — whether from someone else or self-experimentation, I do not know.
Albus, my friend, I fear for our world if there are two wizards of the same ilk, if Mr. Evans bears such depositions. Please keep an eye on the boy, Albus.
Your friend,
Garrick G. Ollivander
Albus looked up at Fawkes, his phoenix familiar, who sat calmly upon his perch picking at his red and orange feathers with his beak.
"Evans appears to have your tail feather within his wand, my old friend," Albus chuckled at the bird. Fawkes simply puffed up and shook his freshly preened feathers.
"However, we both know who has the other feather you gave Garrick all those years ago…" Albus whispered.
The letter from the old wandmaker concerned him greatly, though. Ollivander was not one to ever discuss the ongoings of his business nor the nature of his customers lightly.
It was Ollivander's claim of the cold magical nature within Mr. Evans that gave Dumbledore pause. The headmaster knew that practitioners of the trade inspected the customers' magic, and some claimed to even see into the soul to find a match for a corresponding wand core.
Dumbledore didn't put much stock into the latter notion though. He wanted to believe that a wandmaker would not give a wand to a potential dark wizard, in hope they might prevent future atrocities.
That, however, sparked the question: had Ollivander seen this in Voldemort as well decades ago and given the potential Dark Lord a phoenix feather out of a misguided hope it could be a positive influence on the troubled young boy that was Tom Riddle? Did he try to do so again with Harry Evans?
Could it be a possible connection of some kind? Dumbledore had never put much stock into Divination or other avenues of the magical branches that dealt with fate but he wasn't one to look away from coincidence.
Dumbledore hummed to himself softly, stroking his beard. He would have to ponder this closely. He looked down at the letter once more before hiding it away in his desk.
Harry Evans would definitely be a student he'd have to keep a close eye upon when he entered Hogwarts.
Break
With a flick of his wand, Harry silenced the bell over the door as he entered the infamous curios store of Borgin and Burkes. All the old artifacts that Harry had seen in his timeline were displayed on shelves proudly for any customer to browse. There were cases of skulls, old bottles of various potions, a hand of glory, and even what appeared to be the hand of an Inferi attempting to claw itself to freedom through enchanted glass.
It made Harry wonder how the old men even stayed in business, but he was aware of the nefarious buyers who frequented the store like the Malfoys. Harry put as much distance as he could between him and the undead hand.
As he approached the front desk, Harry could see an old man was hunched over a dusty old book, reading through the ledger. The book in question appeared to be written in blackened blood, from what Harry could briefly spot from the words on the page.
Looking up from his work, the old man's eyes sharpened by glasses took in Harry's features. 'A school kid,' thought Mr. Burke.
"Too young to be in here, kid. Get outta here if you know what's good for ya," Mr. Burke growled.
"Are you Mr. Borgin or Mr. Burke?" Harry asked, ignoring the order from the store owner.
The old man growled at Harry's nonplussed demeanor.
"I'm Burke, and you should be gone," the store owner insisted again.
"Mr. Burke, there is a locket that you would have purchased in the mid 1920s. You or Mr. Borgin would have sold it to a witch known as Hepzibah Smith." Harry asked, once again ignoring the cranky owner and getting onto the point of his being in the store.
Mr. Burke now fully glared at Harry behind his glasses. Burke had seen much better years. His face's skin was sagging with age, his Adam's apple bobbing below his chin almost like a buzzard's gizzard, his eyes whitening and clouding from the damage of cataracts. One hand shook terribly, still with no respite, from an object he had purchased that had not been properly de-cursed.
"Is this an official interrogation from the Ministry again? You ain't no Auror, boy. I told that lot all I knew of it back then. The damn elf did it," Mr. Burke said with a finality.
So the murder had taken place years ago, Harry surmised. That meant the locket was potentially already in its place in the cave, surrounded by a lake of Inferi. He grimaced internally at the thought of what lurked in those dark waters, trying to ignore the clawing flicks of sound coming off the glass off to his side.
"Did the Aurors ever ask you about Tom Riddle then? He would have worked here around the time. Potentially been one of the last people to see Mrs. Smith alive," Harry stated looking for any misgivings in Mr. Burke. The question was a loaded one that could spur even more of the old man's ire upon him. However, Harry needed to know more to the story than what he and Dumbledore had witnessed in the Pensieve.
"They did. Cleared the boy of any wrongdoing, they had," Burke answered shortly. "He was a weird one — useful and charming, but cold. I don't know what happened to him afterwards. He stopped coming into work. Figured he ran off and made better of himself — he was a smart kid. He knew better than to stay in this business for too long."
So the trail had gone cold from here, just as Harry had expected.
"Thank you for that — and now for my second piece of business. I would like to inspect the vanishing cabinet you have on show here," Harry requested, pointing at the triangular box standing near the cluttered wall. It looked like it hadn't been touched since the day it had been moved inside the store, a thick layer of dust coating every inch of it.
Burke nodded his consent, watching Harry warily, at least hoping to make a small fortune if the kid was stupid enough to purchase a vanishing cabinet without a mate.
Harry approached the cabinet, and inspected the magic upon it with his wand. He could tell there were a few enchantments resting on the object. Opening the inside, Harry poked his upper body in and looked around, taking a moment to trace a rune that he had memorized from the Sayre journal he had been devouring of late.
He had spent the whole previous afternoon and night working on several spells and combing through all the potential knowledge held within its binding. Harry had found just the rune for the Vanishing cabinet while doing so. The book spoke of how only runes could counteract most magical enchantments and were the basis for writing out magical wards.
Harry finished carving an old Celtic rune that roughly translated to 'malfunction' into the bottom corner of the wood with his gorgon-wand. Tapping the shape with its tip, the rune glowed a dark green before disappearing into the wood.
Satisfied with his work, Harry backed away and closed the door. "A shame — if you had had the whole set, I would have liked to purchase them," Harry lied smoothly. This cabinet surely wasn't going to be linked to the one in Hogwarts now though, preventing an easy way in for anyone determined to study their workings once again.
"Thank you for your time Mr. Burke, I'm sorry for any hassle," Harry said nodding at the old shop owner.
"Good day to you, Mr. —?" Burke asked but Harry was already leaving the store with the door closed behind him, not willing to give out his name this time.
Harry left the sinister store behind and made his way back towards Diagon Alley. However, Knockturn lived up to its name by being a place whose roads snaked and wound in many odd ways leading to many more off-shoot alleys of the Dark Lane.
Harry suddenly stopped in his tracks at the sound of a raised voice, a man's.
"You Black bitch! You blood traitor whore! If you're to be my future wife, you will not act like some mud mongering whore," a voice yelled out, followed by a girl's sudden cry.
Harry made his way towards the sound of the confrontation. The accusation was soon followed by what sounded like a fist striking flesh and a further torn-off cry of a young woman. Harry broke into a run.
Hurrying around the corner of the building to the entrance of an off-shoot alley, Harry saw a young man pressing a dark brown haired girl to the wall by her throat. She couldn't have been less than a year or two younger than himself.
At the attackers feet lay a young man who was locked in place with his arms and legs taut straight together. "A full body-bind curse," Harry thought. The frozen man was bleeding profusely from his face with a broken nose as the culprit, glaring daggers up at the man pining the young girl against the wall.
"You should know better than to affiliate yourself with such filth, Andromeda, my dear," the young man whispered close to the girl's ear.
"Fuck you Rabasta-AH!," Andromeda cried as her head was pulled back by her hair by Rabastan's free hand, which held his wand.
Lestrange pressed his nose closely to her hair, and breathed in deeply. He pressed his face against hers, suddenly forcing his lips upon hers, capturing the struggling girl in an unwanted embrace.
Having seen more than enough of the assault taking place, with a flick of his wrist Harry drew the gorgon-wand, its blackened tip bearing down upon the man forcing himself on his victim. To his surprise, he successfully cast a silent "Depulso," the banishing charm sending the offender flying against the opposite side of the alley, his back hitting flat against the brick wall of a building.
Rabastan Lestrange cried out as he was flung from his betrothed-to-be. Groaning as he tried to collect himself off the ground, fumbling with regaining his grip upon his wand.
Andromeda Black, being released from Rabastan's tight hold, dropped to the ground as she slid painfully down the wall she had been pinned against. Andromeda crawled over and grabbed hold of the bound man on the ground.
Picking himself up, Lestrange drew his own wand and silently cast a hazy blue spell at Harry with a snarl.
Like he had seen the Unspeakable perform with his own spells in the Department of Mysteries, the tip of his gorgon wand caught the blue spell mid-flight. Harry tossed the offending magic above him to dissipate in the air above the alley in a flash of sparks.
"You really should have minded your business, bastard," spat Rabastan Lestrange. Harry cocked an eyebrow at the man. He could recognize the tone of voice anywhere. He was fighting a Lestrange. He heard the cut-off name the girl had said, wracking his memory.
'Rabastan — he's the twin of Rodolphus,' Harry thought, thinking back on what he knew of the two infamous brothers from his time.
"You assaulted a man and woman in public. I think that'd make it the business of whoever came across you," Harry interjected at the would-be Death Eater.
He had heard the girl be referred to as an Andromeda, which meant she was Sirius' cousin, a Black. The girl bore remarkable resemblance to the woman's daughter, Tonks who Harry had met in his flight from the Dursleys' to Grimmauld Place in his fifth year.
"You might want to leave before you're worse off than this mudblood filth!" the entitled Lestrange warned, swinging his foot out to kick the magically bound man but never landing the kick. Harry's hand immediately lashed out with his wand firing off a dark green spell silently, he couldn't physically pronounce the Greek name of the spell but he had recognized the word for gorgons, 'gorgos' in the language.
He had read in the Sayre Journal that this spell was only to harm a foe, something that the Lestrange definitely was to Harry. Hopefully, it wouldn't be dangerous enough to land him in Azkaban. He had already found several very damning spells that would land him life sentences within the Parseltongue bound grimoire.
Lestrange saw the color of the spell and had the good sense to avoid it. Swiftly dodging to the side, the green aura sailed past Rabastan, striking a lamp post. Both Rabastan and Harry watched as the spell ate away the bottom of a lamp post entirely.
'Apparently the spell meant subdued by melting off the person's legs,' Harry balked mentally, he was sickened by the thought of that hitting anyone.
Rabastan flinched at the lethality of the spell he had just avoided. When he had seen the green, instinct had taken over to avoid an Unforgivable, which couldn't be shielded against. Frustrated that he had been duped of sorts. With a growl, Lestrange stepped up his own spell work, launching a hex that would strip the skin from the bone at Harry.
With quick reflexes that had seen him through the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry transfigured a large rock from a loose brick on the ground. Immediately, the hex that Lestrange shot out tore through the stone, clipping Harry on the arm. The flesh of his arm was indeed stripped but it seemed taking a glancing strike was not enough power to go down to the bone.
Harry could feel the warm liquid leaving his upper bicep and cascading down to his finger tips before dropping to the ground. Harry tried to flex his hand to no avail. The arm was useless at the moment from the spell cutting his muscles.
'His wand isn't restricted against dark spells — he's capable of casting more than just that,' Harry concluded at the nature of his injury. It seemed the Lestrange's were of enough money to circumvent the law on wand regulation. How many more pureblood families like them were doing such a thing?
Harry immediately cast two bone breaking curses. "Ossio Ruptor!" Harry shouted, while casting a silent third spell — a cutting hex — behind the two spoken curses at the wretched pureblood.
Rabastan Lestrange was no slouch, though, in combat, sidestepping one bone curse and deflecting the second off to the side, away from him. Yet, the third silent spell struck true with Lestrange receiving a superficial wound on his flank from the cutting hex that — although it seemed to damage his robes more than his body, flecks of red splattered across the pavement and began to drip from the man's side.
Both wizards had successfully drawn blood on the other now, but neither managed to land a solid hit that might seriously impair their foe.
Watching the other intensely, both wizards stared each other down for a moment, each one's hand gripping and relaxing in rhythm around their respective wands. Harry's green eyes waited for the twitch that would reveal Rabastan Lestrange's hand, while Lestrange waited for Harry to falter, for just a moment, to capitalize on the wizard's weakness.
Lestrange was confident, having been trained in magical combat by his lord father alongside his brother, Rodolphus. He was a prodigy at silently casting spells, something that many in his year at Hogwarts were unable to achieve. His hexes and curses were second to none, barring maybe Bellatrix Black or Lucius Malfoy, a few years his senior.
Harry was confident as well, his trials by fire tempering him throughout his whole young life. In a tense moment like this, Harry found peace of sorts — in the moment before it would all go belly up.
The first to flinch would have an array of spells cast their way and both knew that the timing of the moment was critical for both dueling parties.
Spotting the tells of Lestrange's actions from what he had seen in the man from the future, Harry knew he had the upper hand in reading the other wizard so far.
Rabastan Lestrange's impatience wore thin and finally won the man over into rash action.
Drawing his wand up suddenly and bringing it down towards the ground in a flowing motion, the budding dark wizard silently shot off a widely cast bludgeoning curse. The spell tore up the street's tiles in front of Harry as it barreled towards him, barely missing Andromeda and Ted in its wake. Bricks flying up and breaking everything in their path.
Quick on the spell's take, Harry spun his wand in motion, calling out the shield charm as he summoned extra strength to fortify the spell, "Protego!" The magical shield held against the bludgeoning curse and the improvised projectiles it tossed at him.
Harry immediately moved onto the offensive in the duel. Pulling from what he learned in Creon Renault's book so far, which spoke of how a stationary duelist, one who prioritized too much defense would find themselves eventually overwhelmed. "No wall could ever outlast a prolonged siege. Once you see your opening, rush out the gates and try to overwhelm your foe when their assault breaks upon your strength."
"Stupefy!" Harry shouted out, sending the bright red spell barreling down towards Rabastan to control the man's attention, hiding his real attack. Harry banished several of the street tiles misplaced by the prior bludgeoning spell straight at Lestrange.
Harry carefully aimed the pieces of stone, hiding within each's shadow, to strike his foe and avoid the two-noncombatants trying to avoid the two wizard's spells, seeing the impending danger they were caught within.
Andromeda, having unbound Ted Tonks with a shaking hand after fumbling for her wand, had her body being shielded from any potential errant spell by Tonks himself, who had wrapped the girl of his affections within his arms.
Lestrange avoided the blinding red bolt of magic, feeling the heat radiate off the spell as it veered near his body. Stepping away from the stunner, Rabastan moved into the path of the banished bricks, clipping his body to inflict heavy damage by smashing his wrist and several ribs respectively.
"Heh, gotta hand it to you bastard. You're pretty good, for a nobody. Not many can claim to have got this many hits in," Rabastan wheezed, switching his wand to his non-dominant hand and pressing his arm to his side, inspecting the damage done to his ribs.
"Give me a few more moments and I'll land more than just a few good hits," Harry said ominously, fully intent on crippling the young version of the Death Eater he once knew quite permanently, if given the opportunity.
Harry wasn't ready to kill again, not directly nor indirectly like he had done to that nameless Unspeakable. He had spent nearly every night tossing over the moral terror of it.
Yes, they had conducted human experiments with time travel, but just what kind of person had the Unspeakable been? Were they complicit willingly? Were they forced to partake? Harry knew of Rabastan's future intentions, though, what kind of man he would be. Harry wanted to buck up and get it over with to put the Death Eater down permanently, but he still couldn't shake the moral quandary.
Holding his wand unsteadily in his off-hand, Rabastan launched out a sickly green spell towards Harry unexpectedly. Harry, in his haste to defend himself, opted for a shield charm which shattered upon impact with the opposing magic.
Harry dove to the side, attempting to get cover behind the wall of a building he was beside, but Rabastan sent another curse his way, preventing the path.
Suddenly, two spells shot from behind Harry, making the wizard's battle-tested senses go into overdrive. Diving to the ground to avoid the one meant for him while the second carried onwards toward Lestrange, Harry rolled to meet the new foe to his back, his corrupted wand raised in defense.
Lestrange narrowly avoided the spell meant for him as well, nearly falling over as he tried to step away from the yellow curse which ignited the space he had been prior, 'A combustion jinx — that'd have been nasty,' Rabastan thought in horror.
While it wouldn't do too much damage if put out quickly, those kinds of jinxes were lethal if left to their own devices for too long.
A laughing cackle sounded out, echoing in the alleyway, the voice sent a terror down Harry's spine involuntarily.
Harry's blood went cold. He knew that voice. It had haunted his nightmares since his fifth year. "I killed Sirius Black!" followed by that piercing, mad cackle played over and over echoing in his head like ripples in a disturbed pond.
"Oh, bravo, you two! Oh, Rabbie, darling," Bellatrix cooed, making a tsk sound several times on her tongue.
"You're looking absolutely defeated… what—a—shame," Bellatrix goaded her housemate, smirking as she stepped into the fight, twirling her walnut-wand in her hand while the other curled a finger through a long lock of her curly black hair.
Bellatrix's wand was curved like a Harpy's talon; fashioned in the shape of a bird of prey. A claw-like body set in a gnarled knot at the front of the handle.
Bellatrix looked at the mess in front of her with a mix of emotions. Andromeda, her younger sister, was crying in the arms of the boy she had been seeing in secret for the last two years. Said boy, Ted Tonks was trying to comfort Andromeda while protecting her with his own body. Bellatrix felt a begrudging flicker of respect for the Muggle-born protecting her beloved sister. Her eyes zeroed in on the two men before her though, especially the Lestrange, with a murderous glint in her dark irises.
The two wizards had endangered her sister, her blood, by their conflict with one another.
'Blood traitors', Bellatrix thought with a sliver of hate growing in her chest. Any errant spell gone off its path could have struck the pureblood witch and ended her life — her little sister's life. They would have damaged the Black family line.
"I see you've both caught my dear sister between you two… please make this a challenge for me," Bellatrix warned the two before launching her attack. A crazed flurry of spells left elder Black sister's wand with the grace of a ballerina — her goal not a performance but a crusade to claim the heads of the two fools who raised their wands in her kin's direction.
Immediately, the two wizards found themselves forced on the defensive by the battle-lusted and crazed witch. The duel, now turned all out fight, became a mad dash for survival before entering into a dance. Both men were unwillingly being led by Bellatrix across the stage with her magical prowess.
Rabastan however, tried to capitalize on his housemate's entry with his own attacks at Harry in the sparse moments Bellatrix was aiming at the stranger as well.
Spellfire flew at Harry from both sides. Harry could only choose one target at a time when he saw his moments to lash out with magic.
For a brief moment, Harry was fifteen again, being chased by both of their older, Death Eater selves through the Department of Mysteries. He could hear their taunts, jeers, and curses of his past intermix with the ones they were now spouting in the present.
Lost in the trance, Harry saw an opening and decided to take advantage, allowing a moment of rage and hate to grip his heart.
"Phantasma Lignae!"
The spell leaving Harry's birch wand produced a spectral serpent connected to its blackened tip. The snake shot at Bellatrix, aiming for the young witch's throat.
Bellatrix's eyes widened at the spell, briefly hearing a scream escape from her sister's place on the street before her instincts took over. Pulling a silver button from her corset, Bellatrix transfigured and animated the button into a large shield, but the snake phased through the physical barrier and continued onward towards its target.
In a moment of panic, and to her shame, the witch cast her first verbal spell in years, "Protego!" The magical barrier held against the vengeful spirit sprouting from the wizard's wand.
Harry's concentration was left on holding the spell; he didn't know what it could do, but hopefully something that would avenge his fallen godfather, who had been taken unawares by the witch before him — just like he almost was moments ago.
However, Harry's first mistake of the entire conflict was taking his eyes off of Rabastan Lestrange. Watching the two struggle before him, Rabastan took the opportunity, shooting a bright pink spell at Harry, hitting the wizard in the shoulder.
Harry immediately fell to the ground, his summoned snake dissipated into the air as his mind was lit on fire worse than from a mental invasion by Voldemort. A knife plunged between his eyes every time he tried to form a conscious thought.
Rabastan immediately shot a spell at Bellatrix, hoping to overtake her momentary confusion behind her magically produced shields but the witch's protections simply deflected the spell. Bellatrix turned, glaring back at the wizard, whom she had branded as a blood traitor for harming a pureblood witch, trying to sneak the attack in.
Bellatrix, shot a spell in retribution for his action against her and the slight against the House of Black he had committed for raising a wand against two of its scions.
"Suathadh de lobhadh!" Bellatrix hissed the Gaelic curse, her wand aiming true as the dark spell hit Rabastan in his last functional arm.
Rabastan screamed out at the pain that overtook him. The affected limb started to pale and show the beginning stages of necrosis, blackening as his blood rotted in the limb.
'What a poetic punishment,' Bellatrix thought smugly, watching her spell work its cruel design.
Rabastan Lestrange's face panicked at the rate of his arm's misfortunate putrefaction.
"Now run home to mummy and daddy for the counter-curse, before that arm of yours falls off for daring to strike out against blood better than your own — traitor," Bellatrix emphasized tensely, her wand still aimed true at the lone Lestrange twin.
"I didn't betray any blood, you blasphemous bitch! Your wretched family has it fucking backwards! Besides, she's already fucking dirtied it, anyway! Good fucking riddance — who wants to be shackled with a whore like her?" Lestrange snarled back, insulted at the witch getting the better of him and looking down upon him, slandering his reputation.
Bellatrix's dark eyes blazed; she took a menacing pace forward with her wand down, the next curse practically jumping off her lips.
Not needing to be warned or cursed twice, Rabastan immediately scurried away from the torn-up side alley with a resounding pop of disapparation, fleeing from the witch's fury.
Bellatrix turned her attention back to Harry, her wand at her side ready to defend herself once more if the wizard still had any fight in him, but she looked down at him in thought at what he was undergoing. His body was fighting itself, it seemed.
Harry's mind was in agony, and his neurons were not complying. Trying to get his bearings, Harry managed to get off the ground and onto all fours, nearly falling over as he shifted weight away from his bad arm; his wand was still gripped tightly in a spasming hand.
'A Tortured Mind curse,' Bellatrix thought grimly, calmly watching its effects mangle Harry mentally into an impending psychosis. The power of the spell varied depending on the person it was cast on. Clearly the boy before her had some cowboys running around in his head. Sometimes it would leave the victim flinching constantly, shaken up, or a muttering mess. However it had seemed to take out most facilities from the wizard in front of her.
Yet, he was surprisingly fighting and slightly overcoming the effects via pure will. 'A stubborn one, certainly,' Bellatrix thought, watching intently as the curse slowly made soup of the second blood traitor's brain.
"Bella! Stop it! It wasn't him! He saved me, I promise — you have to help him! He isn't a blood traitor!" Andromeda found her voice, still being held by Ted who felt it safe to step forward with the daughter of Black, now that spell fire was not flying through the air.
'Not a blood traitor then, hmm? We'll see about that,' Bellatrix huffed at her sister's plea for mercy, rolling her eyes at Andromeda's soft nature. It would be easier to just leave the wizard here for his brain to melt.
Kneeling down in front of the wizard, Bellatrix grabbed the boy by the chin, bringing his face up to hers to administer the counter-curse, but she paused, slightly taken aback by the look in his eyes at their meeting.
Harry held his death glare for Bellatrix unblinkingly despite the mental anguish he was suffering. His eyes bored into her like the rampaging thestral he felt stampeding across his mind. Harry's nose was flared and jaw locked in a glowering expression. Bellatrix imagined that if he had proper use of his jaw, he'd bite her hand for the offense of even touching him.
Bellatrix turned to look at her sister, her eyebrow raised and face set in a questioning look, as if to say, 'Are you sure he wasn't one to attack you?' Andromeda simply held her hands together in front of her, entangled with one of Ted Tonks', her eyes large and pleading for her older sister to have mercy - to be kind.
Bellatrix turned back to her captive in query; about him was the look of someone who wanted her dead. She could tell that he had used a lethal spell to even achieve such an end. 'Had he been hoping for such an outcome before his focus was broken?' Bellatrix thought to herself. In truth, she had to be thankful to Lestrange at the moment. Bellatrix wasn't sure how much longer her magical shield would have endured the spectral serpent from the death-delivering spell.
"Listen carefully, you. Because my little sister pleaded so theatrically for your life, I'm going to do the counter-curse for that nasty headache of yours. Be a good boy, and don't bite, now; or else," Bellatrix said in a mocking tone of voice but warning with a hardened glare.
However, the dog-related speech seemed to be the wrong taunt for the witch to use. The mentally-addled boy became downright feral at the word — his eyes displayed a rabidity about him, only visible to the witch closest to him. Harry was forcing himself up into a kneeling position of sorts, locking his joints out so he wouldn't crash down and ruin his hard work.
He had never been closer to strangling Bellatrix Lestrange, and he wouldn't pass up the opportunity now. 'For Sirius…' his defective mind repeated like a mantra between impalements.
Bellatrix stared intently at the wizard for one moment more, ensuring for her own safety that he wouldn't suddenly gain facility and snap. The wizard's green eyes were dark, emotionless pits, like he wasn't even present, but instead a beast had taken his place. He seemed to be lost in his head — whether that had occurred before or after the curse had been cast, though, Bellatrix knew not.
Waving her wand over Harry's face, Bellatrix muttered the counterspell for the tortured mind in Latin. Almost instantly, Harry felt his head clear and regained control of his body's function.
Immediately, his wand was up again and pressed against Bellatrix's heart. His free hand firmly grasped the wrist which held her gnarled wand, pinning it against his body as he yanked her into him, overcoming the pain that shot down his arm from his wound through sheer adrenaline.
Bellatrix grunted at the impact of the wizard's wand tip against her sternum. The wood of the magical medium sizzled against her skin from the magic coiled around it, ready to strike, ready to cut her down if she so much as flinched and set the maddened wizard off.
"Woah, now! Killing me would be a poor way to say thank you, in a polite society like this, wouldn't it? Don't want to be branded a blood traitor, now, do you?" Bellatrix placated, slowly raising her other hand up to show that she was non-threatening to the wizard who had her at his mercy.
Whatever little mercy Harry possessed, that was.
Curiously, Bellatrix moved her eyes away from her captor's face, where she noticed a scar from dark magic upon his forehead in the shape of a lightning bolt. 'How interesting…' she thought curiously, as her eyes finished their migration to the blackened white birch wand pointed at her fast-beating organ.
She was fascinated by the black marks branching off from the darkened tip like tendrils reaching from the abyss. It spoke of a tortured existence. She felt like the wand itself was judging her, alongside its master; she could feel the nonphysical eye of the magical entity entombed in the wood gaze intently at her, as if measuring the weight of her soul.
'Corruption. That wand has definitely seen a dark spell or two, scarred by dark magic just like he was somehow,' Bellatrix thought. She knew next to nothing about wands, but she knew the price of too much dark magic when she saw it.
Bellatrix knew the wand to be old. She could see the focusing stone embedded in the handle at its bottom, an outdated practice at least several centuries old if the books in the Black Library were to be believed. With a wand older than the trace and inhibiting enchantments that were produced which hampered every modern wand in the last one hundred-sixty years, Bellatrix knew the wizard was capable of casting a spell like before, which would kill her at a moment's notice
"Please, sir – it's ok. She's my sister. She means no one any harm," Andromeda called out, supported by Ted Tonks with an arm around her. Harry's eyes snapped to the two, away from the girl who would become the maddest witch alive — one of the darkest in history and his own personal tormentor in many ways.
'No harm…' Harry thought bitterly. If only they knew the atrocities, like he did, that Bellatrix would carry out in her Dark Lord's name…
In the two people before him with one pleading for her sister's life, he saw their daughter, Tonks, in that moment instead of her future parents, but he also saw the concern Andromeda held for Bellatrix.
Concern which should never be granted to a witch like her. She wasn't owed any of it — not now, nor ever.
Harry's gut twisted at how anyone could care for an unhinged witch like Bellatrix Lestrange but his angered train of thought stopped itself. 'She isn't Bellatrix Lestrange… at least not yet,' Harry thought grimly, considering the yet-to-happen-future of the woman and the care her present family held for her. He had never seen Sirius express the same for his crazed cousin; but, Bellatrix didn't look or appear currently deranged — if anything she appeared almost nervous of him? Harry felt an uneasy feeling being on the opposite side of the interaction for once, not knowing what to make of it.
Bellatrix was still a Black, at the moment. She hadn't performed the sins yet that he attempted to kill her over.
Confronted by the consequences of his thoughts, Harry looked into the eyes of the young witch at his mercy. They were dark, but not yet bearing any sign of the sadistic glee she'd have at the thought of bringing wanton misery to those standing against her Dark Lord or her fanatic pureblood ways.
She was just seventeen now, and Harry didn't know what happened to her yet to shape the woman from his past that haunted him so deeply. He couldn't execute her here — not yet. He had to be sure first that Bellatrix was already heading down a path of no-return.
Harry slowly pulled his wand away from Bellatrix's heart. The captive woman released a breath she had been unknowingly holding; her younger sister and Ted Tonks watched on in worry for another snap reaction from the wizard who had been their savior — of sorts.
Bellatrix backed away to get some distance between her and the wizard. The witch rubbed her sternum to ease the bruise that was beginning to form under her blouse.
"Oi, next time I'll let your mind go to mush if you're going to threaten to blast a hole in my chest," Bellatrix sneered, deciding her kindness would only go so far today, but furthermore aiming to get a foot up over the wizard. She was still disturbed by the crazed look in the wizard's eye when he had her under his gaze.
"You shouldn't have fired a spell at me when I was dueling someone else, then," Harry sharply said with a bite to his tone. He wouldn't apologize for his reaction. Not out loud, and definitely not to her.
"You and that bloody mongrel were having it out practically over my little sister! You could have killed her! I had to stop you and that fucking magicide before one of you hit her, foolishly trying to take the other's head off," Bellatrix accused, pointing a finger at Harry.
Harry glared at the affronted appendage outstretched from the witch. His green eyes, however, moved on to the witch herself now, no longer clouded by the spell and anger which had enthralled his senses.
Taking in her appearance, Harry looked over Bellatrix Black closely. She wore long dark robes like the ones she had done when he knew her, but these were more conservative, covering more of her chest and arms. Her torso was bound in a black corset like her older self favored, pushing her more feminine features to prominence.
Bellatrix's dark hair fell to her mid-back in curling locks, with no streaks of gray or white marring its luster from her time imprisoned. Bellatrix's face had the high cheekbones and slender neck that many in the Black family had been blessed with, but what unintentionally captivated Harry's attention most was her dark eyes. They held no sign of the madness that her later self would be infamous for without such things, Harry almost considered Bellatrix to be a beauty, in her youth.
'Stop it. You know what she becomes,' he thought grimly, turning his face away from the witch as his face began to flush red. Harry looked at Andromeda and Ted Tonks instead.
"Are you both ok? I was passing by and saw what he was doing to you," Harry said as he looked over the pair.
Ted nodded at Harry with a smile on his face. "Aye mate, we were taking a moment to ourselves after doing some errands," Ted scratched the back of his head with a grin and blush on his face. "And well, Lestrange got the jump on us out of the blue. I knew his family was in talks with Andy's here for a betrothal as well as her sister but I didn't think it was a legitimate thing yet?" the muggle-born asked, looking at the Black sisters.
The two sisters both held different looks. Andromeda looked ashamed while Bellatrix wore a look nearing one of sickness.
Harry knew that Andromeda would eventually run away with Ted Tonks to escape her pureblood family, but what was Bellatrix's look for? 'It's almost as if she doesn't want to marry the pedigreed inbred,' Harry speculated, his mind running over what he knew from his previous time period.
"Yeah, yeah. Me and Andy are to be engaged to those two cross-eyed dipshits. Can we just forget about it? It's being handled at the moment so that won't have to happen," Bellatrix growled out, clearly not happy with the turn of conversation for reminding her of their potential fate.
Harry made note of the elder sister's words.
Andromeda looked towards Harry, "Thank you, sir, I don't know – what we would have done if you hadn't turned our way. Can we do anything to repay your aid… um, Mr.-?" Andromeda ended slowly in question.
"Harry, Harry Evans. And it's ok, really, you don't need to repay me," Harry said. Turning to Bellatrix, he opened his lips to begin to introduce himself to the witch too but stopped himself.
Bellatrix awaited for whatever apology she thought the boy was trying to make but her hope for one died when she looked into his eyes.
Harry bore a look of disgust whenever his gaze was upon her.
'Of course, I'm just Bellatrix Black to him…' the witch thought sullenly, believing the wizard was afraid of her family's reputation and her place within it.
'How are you not a monster yet? — How could I wish someone was already a monster?' Harry thought in contradiction, his mind at war between wanting to hate the witch before him or border a line of indifference.
Overcoming his self-disgust Harry opted for whatever dead branch he could masquerade as one made from olive. "Nice dueling there, your skills speak for themselves," Harry begrudgingly said, unable to deny that Bellatrix had both him and Rabastan Lestrange on the back foot immediately, with just her opening spells alone.
Bellatrix nodded at Harry, accepting the compliment for what it was. 'At least he can recognize his betters in dueling,' she thought smugly, believing she had one-upped him on at least one thing.
Andromeda's head turned in question, an odd questioning look in her eyes. "How did you handle Lestrange so well by the way? It was almost like you knew some of his moves. He doesn't often duel outside of his social circle in Hogwarts," Andromeda asked.
The upcoming sixth-year had been in awe of Harry as he stopped in to protect her and Ted.
Bellatrix raised an eyebrow in question, wanting to know the answer as well. She had noticed that Harry Evans had even spotted a few of her own body's tells and giveaways while dueling. He had spotted and exploited some things that no one knew about but her grandfather, Arcturus Black. Only the old man was capable of easily predicting her next move.
He had to either have an extremely cool head in a fight or be a prodigy in combative magics.
Harry Evans had impressed the elder Black sister enough to warrant her interest.
The wizard who impressed the Elder Daughter of Black looked like he'd be around her age in Hogwarts, but she had never seen him in a year above or below her own.
'Who are you, exactly? A capable duelist and you possess a wand that can perform dark spells?' Bellatrix queried in her head.
Bellatrix knew that well crafted wands capable of being used in real duels were difficult to come by, due to the laws restricting their production. One either had to buy a wand at Ollivanders and bribe a goblin to lift the limiting enchantments placed upon it for a costly fee; this was how her own wand was usable, and how many in the Black Family got around the sanction.
If one couldn't afford such a service from the goblins though, then they'd have to buy a knock-off wand in a seedy place in the likes of Knockturn Alley, which wouldn't have the same quality.
The only other way was through inheritance of an older wand. Perhaps that is how Evans had received such a tortured old wand? Was he the scion of a potential lost or fading pureblood family?
'Never heard of an Evans… except for that redhead Cousin Sirius tramps around with his merry band of dimwits,' Bellatrix thought. Perhaps Evans wasn't a pureblood then? Bellatrix felt an odd emotion at the thought of a powerful half blood or muggle-born like him potentially overcoming her.
"He just wasn't as good as he made himself out to be," Harry lied, scratching the back of his untidy hair. His words broke Bellatrix from her inner speculations about him; she spotted the lie, or at least the omission of truth.
Bellatrix's eyes tightened in ire at the omission. Even she had to admit that Rabastan Lestrange was a formidable opponent with his use of silent spell casting and his repertoire of magic. He was a difficult opponent in a match with no rules.
Bellatrix looked at Harry critically — he looked just like someone she knew when he lied. She simply couldn't place the faces together at the moment, from the rush of everything.
'If it wasn't for my own interference and the cheap spell used by Lestrange, you'd have probably overpowered him and won the fight,' Bellatrix thought to herself, unwilling to bolster her sister's savior. Harry Evans was either hiding his true skill or was extraordinarily lucky, she concluded from his fibbing.
Yet, she had to concede it wasn't just those two traits either. After dueling Rabastan Lestrange to a standstill, withstanding her assault enough to halt it and fight back, then being dropped by something as wicked as the mind curse that afflicted him — Harry Evans still had a fight within him.
Bellatrix didn't want to admit it with the bruise against her chest from his wand, but she admired grit and determination when she saw it.
"Here, at least let me touch up your side, then, Harry Evans. You're bleeding everywhere still," Andromeda requested, holding her wand up at Harry. Unlike with Bellatrix, Harry didn't flinch at this daughter of Black pointing the magical instrument at his body.
Another thing of note that Bellatrix gleaned from Evans' demeanor — he was comfortable with Andy but not her?
"Emendo Dermis," Andromeda chanted, passing her wand over the mangled portion of his upper arm. The skin patched itself together, leaving faint white scars in its wake. It was as if Rabastan Lestrange hadn't attempted to flay him alive.
Harry nodded in thanks at the younger daughter of Black, earning a 'humph' of indignation from the older sibling off to the side.
"Andromeda, say good-bye to your boy-toy. We need to head back soon, before father sends a search party for us," Bellatrix said to her sister.
She nodded farewell to Harry. "Keep out of trouble, Evans. It'd be a shame if you end up a stain in an alley before I claim a rematch from you." Bellatrix said with a giggle and a smirk.
With a twirl of her robes, Bellatrix strutted away. Andromeda kissed Ted on the cheek. Turning to Harry she smiled, "Thank you again, Harry. Please, if you need anything else, just let me know. You can send an owl for me anytime — my name is Andromeda Black," Andromeda said, leaving the two boys and running up after her sister.
Harry stood there for a moment with Ted Tonks. The muggle-born turned to him and held out his hand.
"I don't like admitting this, but without you, we'd've been toast. I appreciate you helping out me and my girl against that git. Like Andy said, if you need anything — just let me know too," Ted said, shaking Harry's hand firmly.
Harry could see the ghost of the future Ted Tonks before him.
Smiling and nodding at the young man, Harry returned the handshake.
"The pleasure was mine, Ted," Harry said simply.
With that, the pair parted ways. Harry left Knockturn Alley and returned to the Leaky Cauldron before anyone could come poking their noses around the streets for him over the fight that had occurred in the back alley. He had some O.W.L. exams to prepare for anyway.
Charlus Potter sat across from his lifelong rival and friend, Arcturus Black in the Black's study, with a dram of firewhisky sitting between the two. The pair had attended Hogwarts together and were leaders of their respective houses Gryffindor and Slytherin.
They had joined up in the conflict against Grindelwald together, fighting and struggling to survive. They were currently Lords in the Wizengamot together, and the respective leaders of their political blocs. However, sitting across from each other, neither man was sure where they stood at the moment.
Arcturus had his family ring about his neck on a chain, while Charlus still wore the Potter family ring on his finger.
Charlus knew that his friend had trouble with his ring; it was a devil of a thing. He was thankful himself that the Potter ring had no magic that would actively threaten the proxy if they did something the current lord would be against.
"Two lords of each house? Are you sure about this Arcturus?" Charlus asked, taking a sip of the firewhisky before him.
The Lord Black nodded at his colleague. His face held a look of grim acceptance. Inside, though, Arcturus was seething at the discovery and what it meant for the Black legacy. It was a grim and bitter pill to swallow, and all the more poisonous for it.
"Aye, visiting my account handler at Gringotts today all but confirmed it. We are now acting in tandem with someone who is also Lord of Houses Black and Potter," Arcturus spat, throwing his now empty glass at the wall, the crystal shattering to pieces. With a wave of his wand, the glass was repaired and summoned back to his hand.
Arcrturus had gone to the Ministry and goblin bank to begin the process of registering Sirius as his heir, skipping over his first born son Orion. He had completed the affair easily at the Ministry but the goblins had been another matter. While they still registered Sirius as the heir — it was still doable with only one lord, apparently — even the laws weren't properly coded to prevent a two-lord dilemma it seemed.
"The goblins didn't tell you who assumed the positions, though?" Charlus asked glumly, swirling what was left of his drink in its glass with a twirl of his wrist.
"The little bugger practically tossed my gold back at me when I tried to bribe him. Wouldn't open his damn lips after that. The spiky-eared little hob-shit," Arcturus grumbled.
"The only thing it assured me was that while there are two respective lords at the moment, James and Sirius are still listed as heirs. I don't think an inheritance issue will occur until this new lord has spawn of their own to point their stubby fingers at our wealth."
Charlus nodded at his friend's accusation of the goblins' character and the explanation of the inheritance issue, a troubled look on his face.
It was a strange ordeal, almost never heard of. At most there could be a current head along with an acting proxy if the Lord was indisposed or underage. There had never been in the entirety of history a case of two lords at once. The fact that it was also the same new risen double lord in both cases was absurd, Charlus thought.
Charlus almost wished it was a hostile takeover from within the family, because then he could at least have someone to point his wand at.
"I've checked the Black accounts, though. Nothing has been taken, touched, or even looked up. It was all perfectly normal as of the last audit. Even the spare houses are all empty, currently. I'd suggest you do the same for the Potter assets," Arcturus suggested.
Charlus nodded once more his consent to follow through upon the request. "Not even a knut?" he asked his fellow lord, shocked that he hadn't been robbed blind almost immediately.
Arcturus shook his head at his friend. He had been just as shocked himself.
"Then they aren't after our wealth. That's a relief at least. I suppose we'll just have to keep this quiet and between ourselves. Unless the new lord Black or Potter show up for a Wizengamot meeting — now that'd be more eventful than the time James took over for me," Charlus started chuckling, beginning to see the hilarious nature of the current event.
Arcturus grumbled, pouring himself more firewhisky.
"They most likely won't engage us in politics either; they have an advantage over us, actually, since we hold the family rings. We can't in theory go against their wishes anymore than they could ours, but we actually possess the item which punishes the offender on our persons," the Lord Black hissed, pushing his chain away from his neck and letting the Black ring dangle for a moment.
"Then really, they are just a Black and Potter in name then. If they use any family asset, we'd know immediately due to the blood magic. If they step into politics wielding our names, then there's a reckoning to come their way. It's just business as usual while we wait our new familial colleague out," Charlus said, shrugging his shoulders simply.
It was a much more pressing matter for the Black lord rather than the Potter. The Blacks had invested in a lot of businesses over the last few decades in order to jumpstart the economy after the last Muggle World War. Arcturus himself had been at the forefront of that policy. There was a lot more for him to lose with his family than Charlus had at risk.
Raising his glass of amber liquid to Arcturus in a toast, Charlus barked a laugh. "To our fellow lord, whoever that poor bastard is."
"That 'poor bastard' just disinherited James and Sirius, unless we can find and kill them before they spawn more usurpers to challenge," Arcturus reminded him.
"Stuff his head and hang it from the wall, eh?" Charlus japed.
Arcturus broke out into a grin and offered his glass in a toast to the joke.
"Aye, they'd be right up there on the wall with the old house elves," Arcturus chuckled.
Two Days Later
Harry reported early in the morning, at the opening hours to the Ministry of Magic, for his O.W.L.s examination with the Wizarding Examinations Authority.
Wearing some of his new clothes, Harry was dressed almost like a muggle, with trousers and a button-up shirt, but with an open burgundy wizard robe over them. His wands were now being held in two magically hidden holsters, with his gorgon on his right forearm, and the phoenix on his left leg underneath his pants.
Harry had removed his phoenix wand in advance before arriving at the Ministry. He submitted it for testing by the security guard who weighed the wands of those entering the Atrium.
Harry felt the need to keep his gorgon wand a secret for a moment. Though, he thought that having a second wand was probably an open secret among many wizards during this tense climate.
Making his way through the various departments filled with the bustle of Ministry workers, Harry eventually arrived at a hall that was put aside for daily testing in many subjects and things for wizards.
Griselda Marchbanks, an official for the Wizarding Examinations Authority, was already waiting for Harry when he entered the hall where he was to be tested. Marchbanks was a stern looking witch, with robes of deep blue, and a small flowered hat upon her head. Her face was wrinkled in middle-age and what appeared to be strong laugh lines rested just over her cheeks, below her eyes.
"Hello Mr. Evans. My name is Griselda Marchbanks, and I will be your examiner for the written portions of your O.W.L.s. You've elected to take Potions, Charms, Transfiguration, Herbology, History of Magic, Care for Magical Creatures, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Magical Theory, and Runation?" Marchbanks questioned the young man before her.
Harry nodded, sitting down at the desk before him. There was already an exam paper and a quill that Harry suspected was enchanted against any cheating.
"Yes, ma'am," Harry confirmed.
Marchbanks gave him a nod, and gestured for him to begin his exam.
"You will have exactly nine hours for all the exams. Please use your time wisely. Best of luck, Mr. Evans," Marchbanks said.
Harry looked down at the exam for Potions and began. He had already taken the majority of these exams before in the future, how hard could it be this time?
He was glad that he had studied Professor Snape's old potion book in sixth year; many of the answers came easily to him.
'Q: Name a possible side effect of Pepper-up Potions.'
Harry wrote about how steam would come out of the ears of some who took the potion.
'Q: How long should a Polyjuice Potion stew before usage?'
Remembering how long it took for them to brew it during his second year, Harry wrote down the answer: 'one month'.
The rest of the written potions exam was easily done. Harry proceeded to confidently cover and answer his exams for Transfiguration, Charms, DADA, Care for Magical Creatures, and Herbology. History of Magic was a difficult exam for Harry, since he couldn't remember all the dates and locations for the various events he found himself being asked about.
Finishing the majority of his exams almost hours in advance, it wasn't until Harry got to Magical Theory and Runation that he began to stumble in his testing.
'Q: Which language was outlawed for spellcasting in Britain?'
Harry was stumped by the question. He didn't know there had been a language outlawed. He had learned spells in Latin at Hogwarts, he had read some of the spells in the Sayre Journal with many being in Irish, Old English, and multiple other languages. Harry wrote down French, recalling what he learned of the rivalry in his early days of Primary school.
'Q: Does a spell change its magical nature when cast in another language by someone who is not fluent? Yes or no.'
Not knowing which to put. Harry simply circled 'no' for his answer.
'Q: What is the starting cue for nonverbal magic: the motion of the caster's wand, or the manifestation of the thought within the mind prior to casting?'
Harry mimed a spell with his quill, thinking over his answer. He wasn't really experienced in nonverbal spells, only now just beginning to practice them in earnest. Ultimately, he decided that the thought of a spell was more important, since it required concentration and mental discipline alone, a fact which Harry remembered from his sixth year with Professor Snape.
After hours sunk into his magical theory exam, Harry finally moved onto Runation.
'Q: What is the difference between Enchanting and Inscription for Runes?"
Harry had briefly read up on the topics. He knew that enchanting had to do with directly placing the runes upon the object for the desired effect, like he had done with the Vanishing Cabinet in Borgin & Burkes. However, it often led to a weaker result than Inscription could produce.
With Inscription one could stack multiple runes on an object through a different medium, such as parchment or tablets. A higher quantity of runes could be done on one object with inscription, while enchanting tended to produce a higher quality with one object.
'Q: What is the most powerful source to write a Rune in?'
Blood. Harry answered simply. Blood runes were some of the most powerful and dangerous runes in existence, he had discovered during his small time reading.
'Q: How many runes are used in tandem to create the magical properties in wards?'
Remembering his lessons about magical numbers from Hermione, Harry knew that there was power in three and with seven being the most powerful magical number — often the number of runes used in tandem depended on the power of the ward. However, Harry had also read about directional and elemental wards which possessed four runes each.
Finally, after finishing his long written exams, Examiner Marchbanks collected his papers, looking them over quickly.
"Very good, Mr. Evans. However, I must remind you that the most prominent languages for magic in Wizarding Britain are Latin, Irish, Urdu and Hindi," Griselda said. "I must say — other than on your last two exams, I believe you have done quite exceptionally, for the written portion."
Harry sighed in relief. He had been worried that he would flunk the majority, like he had almost done last time. He was glad he wouldn't be receiving any 'Trolls' with these results.
"If you would please remove your wand, we will begin the practical portions of your Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, and Runation exams, upon Professor Tofty's arrival," Marchbanks explained.
Almost at his mention, an old bald man with large round glasses entered the testing hall. He wore drab brown robes and was slightly hunched over due to his age. The elderly man looked to be around a century, at the least.
"Hello! Hello! I heard my name, so here I came! Please, just call me Tofty, though. I haven't been a professor since young Albus was a third year," the wizened examiner chuckled.
Tofty looked Harry up and down. "Mr. Evans, I presume? I talked to Albus about you, dear boy; he's very excited, you know, to see how you perform," Tofty revealed with a smile.
However, the knowledge that Dumbledore was looking into him sent a shiver down Harry's spine. He could already see the old headmaster putting his nose where it didn't belong — however, this was almost to be suspected as part of his job, since he needed Harry's test results to enroll his classes for the term.
Pulling out his phoenix-wand, Harry prepared himself for his practical examinations.
It couldn't be said that Tofty wasn't a taskmaster when it came to his testing duty. The old man kept Harry moving through the exams at a streamlined pace. Harry had been transfiguring whatever object had been placed in front of him and even turned a mouse back into a wooden spoon without knowing its origin at one point.
His Charms portion was spent casting back to back spells, from levitating charms, heat charms, light, and even a bubblehead, where he had to transfigure and fill up a tank of water.
Finally, Harry mentioned to his examiner that he could perform a corporeal Patronus charm. Tofty's eyes widened in excitement and the man urged Harry to cast the spell with a wave of his hand.
"Oh yes! Go on, Mr. Evans, let us see it!" he said excitedly.
"Expecto Patronum," Harry called out, casting with a flick of his holly and phoenix wand. The silver stag burst from the tip and pranced about the room, much to the examiner's amusement.
"Oh, bravo! Simply magnificent. There are very few wizards your age who could manage an incorporeal, let alone this level, of the Patronus charm!" Tofty said excitedly. "I think that definitely deserves a bonus on your examination final."
Runation, however, once again stumped Harry. While he was lightly read in the subject with the cramming he had to do for his O.W.L., he had no practical experience to speak of.
Harry sat on the floor drawing runes with the tip of his wand on parchment, wood, and stone tablets. A few of the runes took, and several more were duds. However, eventually he had managed to pass Tofty's expectations, as the examiner marked an Acceptable on his testing form for the subject.
"Well, Mr. Evans, that concludes your O.W.L.s examination. We will be owling you and Hogwarts the results immediately, so you should receive them tomorrow morning," Tofty said excitedly. The old man had held a spring in his step since the start of the practical examination. It was almost as if testing new young wizards was this man's fountain of youth.
"Thank you, sir. I greatly appreciate the time you and Ms. Marchbanks took to see my exams completed," Harry said.
Harry was just glad to finally be done, after a whole day of testing. Taking his leave, Harry departed the examination hall and the Ministry, and returned to his bed in the Leaky Cauldron, where he promptly passed out from exhaustion.
Regulus Black stared up at all the newspapers he had pinned to the wall of his room. Each one, while not directly saying or showing so, was a victory or act claimed to have been done in the name of the Dark Lord.
Regulus had been fascinated with the Dark Lord ever since he had heard his mother whisper of his prowess in adoration to his father, Orion. His father had not cared much for the pureblood movement that the Dark Lord had taken the helm of, but his mother was fanatical about it.
Ever since Sirius had run away at sixteen, unable to cope with the pressure and outright venom from their mother, Regulus had only wanted to be a dutiful son and make her proud. To make his family proud. He had been born a Black, and that was something he cherished greatly. He had studied his lineage all the way back to the Founders of Hogwarts; it was even speculated that the Blacks had been in Britain before the Norman or even the Saxon invasions.
A Noble and Most Ancient House indeed…
However, in the days after he was pulled aside by his mother before one family meeting, Regulus had been feeling a chill of discomfort and nerves.
Flashback
"You're to be given a task while at Hogwarts, and the completion of such is of grave importance to the family, Regulus," his mother said sternly. Walburga was the very picture of a pureblood lady. Her posture was perfect, dress unwrinkled, and her features closely and coolly schooled to show no giving emotion. However, some of Walburga's beauty had faded after she had banished her first-born son. The woman looked aged beyond her years, yet still keeping a youthful appearance in some magical way.
"Yes Mother, I understand," Regulus said dutifully, despite not knowing the task given to him yet.
"You'll be contacted by a messenger within your first month back at school. If you complete your task to his satisfaction, then he may deem fit to reward you and honor us highly amongst his circle," Walburga instructed. "You are not to be a disappointment, boy — not like the other one," his mother almost snarled.
Regulus nodded his assent to the request. He looked up to his disowned older brother, Sirius, in many ways, but Regulus was very hesitant to ever be like him.
"You'll be a fine lord Regulus; you'll make our noble House proud. You'll be the pinnacle of what it means to be a Black," Walburga said with certainty. For once, a smile graced her stern face, which made Regulus's chest bloom with warmth. He had only ever wanted to make her proud.
"Thank you, mother. I shall try for our family," Regulus whispered. Walburga nodded down at her young son, and left the room to gather her nieces for the announcements of their upcoming betrothals.
End Flashback
Now, days later, Regulus had gone from excited to nearly a nervous wreck at the thought of his upcoming assignment. He knew exactly what the Dark Lord did. He had heard of others undergoing similar trials and tests set up by the Dark Lord. He had heard of the whispers of what it took to catch his notice at the social events that many of the purebloods attended.
It made Regulus sick to his stomach. His mother was wrong — he wasn't the pinnacle of what it took to be a Black. But, oh, how desperately he wanted to be, so that she could be proud of him.
Sighing to himself, Regulus took out another muggle newspaper dated for today, pinning it to the wall of the movement that had captured his attention for so long. The headline of the article read, with an image of a destroyed house dancing in flames as the Dark Mark slithered over the structure,
Family of four found murdered in their home:
No Witnesses to the crime.
'Strange cloud formation was seen in the vicinity before being dismissed as mass hysteria.'
The Sayre Journal
Entry #1
My niece,
I was privy to witneſs thy birth into the world, despite the broken relationshippe with mine siſter. Thou wast born in the harsh winter of 1603; we all feared for thy survival since thou waſt so small, but thine mother called upon me to performe a ritual to ensure thy ſtrength. Thou wast smaller than thy father's hand at birth. I was the first to hold thee in life, doing so as easilie as I did mine own wand. That is right, thy mother and father granted me the honour of holding the next generation firſt.
From then on, I truly did care for thee, thou must know. However, I was too far gonne within mine own darkneſs by this time — a darkneſs which began ere still I cast my first spell of dark magicke.
Thy mother and I grew uppe in a troubled householde, to say little of the matter. There were three of uſ born to our mother and father, both of whom were respected in their day for their magical proweſs.
Thy mother Rionach, myself, and our brother Alcyone. Thy grandfather was a cruel man who spoke oft of the nobility of his blode. The man considered our mother to be le
ſs worthy than a house elf if she was not bearing him another heir. He often beat me and Rionach for any infraction that we perhapſ had committed in hiſ addled, paranoid minde. All whilst our brother was heralded and praised for ſimply being born with a cock between his legs to paſs down the familie name with.
Life for us was endleſsly cruel before our reſpective departures to Hogwartſ. Our familie name had fallen from grace with the Wizard's Councile who governed from London. We were outcaſt after our father had comitted a murder en maſse upon a cohorte of muggle Englishmen just after mine brother's birth. I was only five summers olde and thy mother, Rionach, leſs than three, when we went under the Fideliuſ Charme in Hangleton in terror of repriſals for the crime.
Our father feared being ſent through some kinde of Veil used by the Councile for capitale punishment at the time. What this Veil was, I know not exactly. It was the ravingſ of a madman, a trait paſsed through our line, I am afraide to confeſs.
We were iſolated and cut offe from the worlde, not ſeeing freedom till we ſet offe from home on our eleventh birthdayſ — myſelf first, thy mother Rionarch next, and then Alcyone last as the youngeſt. Our arrival into the halls of the ſchool we had only ever heard ſtories about was our first interactions with the worlde. It felt as a true homecoming of ſorts, to enter a worlde we had only ever ſeen in dreamſ. It waſ the one place we felt at home, rather ironicalie.
Hogwarts was an escape for us three, from our father and life at home, where we would have to see our mother ſuffer before our eyeſ dailie; we all abandoned her in our flights but what were we to do? We were but wains.
I had taken ſwiftly to the magicke and begann to learne all I could. I was the moste magickally acomplished of mine ſiblings, though Rionach fared better in healinge magickes, and Alcyone had a proweſs for combatif magickes. Altho our time in Hogwartſ was beneficial for us, away from our loathesome father, it only worſened the jealouſ and competitive divideſ we held for one another.
A ſtory for another page, deare niece.
A/N: The fight still concludes in a draw of sorts. That'll teach Harry to turn his back against an opponent. I decided on a new introduction between him and Bella where instead of being saved by her, he receives ass kicking instead because he can't pull his head on straight in the moment against her. Our Chosen Hero is reeling from PTSD from a past life & new pesky moral dilemmas. Let's see how those develop together.
Hope you all enjoyed this chapter. If you see any grammatical errors please feel free to let me know and we'll get to editing them out. Thank you all for reading.