The Guile of the Traveller

by Kingmaker'sUmbreon

After being hit by the Killing Curse, Harry finds herself in a limbo that looks a lot like Kings Cross station. Deciding that the remnant of Voldemort's soul does deserve a chance at redemption, Harry finds herself in London, 1944. However, Harry soon makes a name for herself, and discovers that adventure and drama followed her everywhere, including into the past.

49. Chapter 49

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

Charlus Potter was up earlier than normal the day of his dinner party, much to his own irritation. He prided himself on his unrivalled ability to not let his emotions or the stress of his sometimes tough and impossible job get the better of him – unlike Fleamont, whose openness with his emotions landed him in hot water more often than not – but on this rare occasion, Charlus found himself a little restless.

Ever since meeting the Lady Hera face to face and seeing the uncanny similarities between her and his beloved niece-who-was-more-like-a-daughter, and then covertly observing how the strange young Cursebreaker acted, gears started whirring inside Charlus' head. Perhaps it was because he finally had a chance to speak to the Lady Regnant properly that day that the second son of the late Lord Henry Potter found himself heading straight towards his study and then through the practically inconspicuous door that led him to the Tapestry Room.

Like most pureblood families, each member of House Potter was in possession of a Tapestry, one that showed them every single member of their family, no matter how distantly related they were. When they were children, Fleamont, Charlus and Henry would spend hours hiding in the Tapestry Room of Potter Manor, just looking at the names of their ancestors and figuring out what kind of people they were or pretending to have conversations with the embroidered images.

Charlus had not looked at the Tapestry in years; the last time was possibly when he was fifteen, but even that he was not sure of. But now, he felt he had to have a look at the Tapestry of the Potter Family to see if he could find any mention of Hera Evans on there at all. Charlus was not blind or stupid; Fleamont and Henry were surprised but didn't have any suspicions about her, but that girl had enough Potter traits to make Charlus believe that something was not right here.

The moment he stepped into the room, the candles lit themselves, as they normally did. Charlus immediately set to work. She wasn't descended from the namesake Charlus was named after, nor was she a descendant of Ralston or Abraham. Charlus then went back up to Hardwin Potter and his six siblings, one of whom – Joseph – married Iolanthe Peverell.

None of the descendants listed from any of these seven children mentioned a Hera or an Evans, but Charlus was soon drawn back to the Peverell side of the family, specifically Iolanthe's brother, Adrastos. Charlus traced the line of Adrastos down to Richard Peverell, to Damon Peverell … Henry Peverell … his four children, Gregory, Edmund, Thomas, and Evren – only Thomas had children. Charlus traced the descendants from Thomas' eldest son all the way down to descendants whose names were, for one reason or another, were shimmering. Charlus smiled for a moment with satisfaction; he had found them! James Peverell married one Liliana Evans and he blood-adopted her daughter Hera, and took the woman's name?

But there was something weird around Hera's name. Her branch of the tree also was around Fleamont's line. How was that possible?!

Charlus' jaw clenched for a moment. Fleamont's damn affair! The one that almost jeopardised Fleamont's match to Euphemia – was Liliana Evans the woman Fleamont had slept with? The age of Hera would certainly make that possible. Plus, she had Potter traits that could not be dismissed so easily. But she was a Peverell …

A Peverell. She wasn't the Lady Regnant of a Minor House! She was the Lady Peverell. No wonder that girl was secretive and very cautious in comparison to all of her friends. It suddenly made a lot of sense, and would explain why both Hera and Artemis reacted so strangely to Fleamont and Euphemia trying to make the Lady Regnant's acquaintance. They were trying to keep the truth out of the public eye.

Which meant that Artemis knew everything already.

"Charlus."

His train of thought was derailed as he turned around and greeted his wife, who was still rubbing the sleep from her eyes, with a small smile. "Dorea. I am sorry if I woke you."

"You didn't," Dorea reassured as she joined his side and slipped her arm through his and put her head momentarily on his shoulder before turning her attention onto the Tapestry. "What are you doing in here, Charlie?"

"Just trying to find some answers," Charlus answered solemnly. "I got one, but now I have a few more questions. It is maddening!"

"About what, dear?" Dorea frowned.

"The Lady Hera," Charlus sighed and then gestured to the Tapestry. "She looks like she could be Henry or Fleamont's daughter, or even mine, so I thought perhaps I could find which branch of the Potter clan she could be descended from. As it turns out – it is a whole lot more complicated than that."

Dorea followed Charlus' eyes to the Peverell side of the Tapestry and to where the names James, Liliana and Hera were under. The Black scion's eyes widened and she detached herself from her husband's side to run her hands over the names, which were sewed into the Tapestry as firmly as the rest, but still were glowing ominously.

"James Peverell became James Evans, taking his wife's name," Dorea breathed. "Which is why Hera is listed as Hera Evans … Given what we know about that family, it is incredibly clever."

"Indeed," Charlus concurred easily. "But he only blood-adopted Hera. Follow the second line."

Dorea did and soon she was gaping unabashedly as her hand travelled to Fleamont's line. "No … she can't be …"

"We both know Fleamont enjoyed sowing his 'wild oats'," Charlus spat. "The Tapestry doesn't lie, Rea. Hera Evans has double Peverell blood in her, and is a Potter by birth."

Dorea gave herself a moment to process this before she steeled herself and turned back to her husband. "Does Fleamont know?" she demanded.

"I doubt it," Charlus snorted. "Even if he knew, he would not care a Knut about her. Hera was born of a dalliance. Fleamont would not see her as useful to his own selfish and trivial ends. Besides, I don't think Hera herself wants anything to do with him, given her reaction to his at the Ball."

Dorea's eyes widened. "You think she knows that she is Fleamont's daughter?"

"Absolutely, as does Artemis, which I think is why she is so protective of Hera," Charlus sighed. "Hecuba and Electra are as oblivious as Fleamont and Henry, and I have a feeling that is exactly how both Hera and Artemis want to keep it."

Dorea nodded in understanding as she looked back at James and Liliana's names. "I think Hera doesn't even see Fleamont as her father, which I think says enough," she mused out loud.

"I would be more surprised if she did," Charlus confessed. He chuckled coldly. "Fleamont is in many ways not father material. A little rich coming from me, but I fear that his children would be spoiled even beyond what the Malfoys and Blacks are capable of. Or they would be used as pawns in order to get more allies and power in the Wizengamot, especially the girls."

"And considering the Lady Hera has been matched by Lady Magick herself to Altair Nott and Tom Riddle, Fleamont would not be able to put a stop to their match," Dorea added with a slight smirk. "It would be beyond his control."

"Something my brother absolutely despises," Charlus grinned.

Dorea cocked her head at him, keeping her eyes unblinkingly on her husband. "Are you going to confront her tonight, my love?"

Charlus tried to look innocent. "Confront? That sounds so negative, my dear. I do admit that I want to talk to her and perhaps try and get her side of the story – she is family twice over. I am a little bit miffed that Artemis didn't tell us but at the same time, I do understand why she didn't."

Dorea could not help but roll her eyes. "Just try not to scare her away, darling. I don't think making an enemy out of the Lady Regnant of House Peverell is not a very good idea, family or not."

Charlus chuckled. "Don't fret, my dear. I will behave myself impeccably," he mimed a halo around his head, trying to look as innocent as he could manage.

"Mmmhmm. I will believe it when I see it, dear," Dorea teased with a grin.

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I think there might be something very wrong with me, Heron thought to himself as he cast a quick Tempus and his eyes bugged out to see that the time was 9.00 exactly. He had been training for over two hours, apparently. He had gotten up at seven, apparently, to do some physical exercises before shooting the targets he had placed around the grand gardens of Lestrange Manor.

Heron had been rather happy at the fact that he managed to hit the target every shot, at least; five of his arrows hit the bull's eye, much to his satisfaction. It seemed that Henry Burke's list of exercises were indeed already helping to make it easier to pull the bow string back. His dagger throwing was less successful but at least none of the blades had fallen pathetically onto the ground. However, his jubilation was stilled a little when he realised he had lost track of time and was late for breakfast with his family.

The Lestrange Heir collected his arrows and daggers, carefully packed them up and made his way back to the Manor, thanking one of the elves who immediately rushed over to take the weapons back to his room for him with a quick smile. As he suspected, his mother, father and Nymera were already at the breakfast table in their grand dining room, talking animatedly about a letter they had just received.

Great, another letter from Uncle Arcadius and Aunt Francine about their concerns for my courting with Artemis, Heron grumbled to himself. At least Grandfather and Grandmother approve.

He was very glad indeed that Harry did not have to work with Uncle Arcadius at Gringotts; he retired in 1942. Heron suspected that his uncle was a little jealous of Harry; Arcadius Lestrange had been a celebrated Cursebreaker, but now the young Lady Regnant's reputation was almost as well-known as his, and she had only been working for a few months.

Nymera lit up when she saw her older brother enter the room. "Heron, Heron, Heron, come here! You are not going to believe what just arrived – a letter from Rosberg! That goblin has finally decided to answer his mail-"

"Nymera," her mother shook her head at her.

"What?" Nymera pouted. "We all know Rosberg becomes a little lax when it comes to answering his letters during holidays. I have heard Papa shout and curse enough times because of it."

Lord Lestrange huffed but didn't refute the statement. Heron chuckled at his sister's usual blunt attitude as he joined his family at the table. His father turned to him with an amused look. "Up early again, son? One might almost wonder if it is still the holidays!"

Heron smiled smally. Lord Lestrange handed them the letter in question that had the three of them so excited.

Dear Lord Francis and Lady Rhiannon,

Apologies for any inconveniences and inadvertent stress that my silence may have caused. I simply had no pertinent information to convey to you on the matter of your daughter's health, but that changed rather recently. Accountant Griphook informed me of an interesting development.

From what he wrote, Lady Peverell discovered something very pertinent at the Malfoy Ball: the identity of the person who cursed Nymera. However, she has admitted that she has attained this information in a manner that perhaps could be considered less than legal. She used Legilimency without the consent of the person in question. Her Ladyship discovered that they had made an attempt on the life her future Consort, Heir Altair Nott that went awry. The tampered counterfeit Blood Curse was concealed in a piece of cake that was meant for Heir Nott but one he did not eat because apparently he was not hungry. Nymera ate it instead. However, Lady Hera is concerned how this evidence would be treated in a your courts and wants to seek legal counsel on the matter without raising too many alarms.

As to the identity of this person, Griphook was not forthcoming, which can only mean that the culprit is someone whose status means this situation needs to be treated with some caution. I am going to be in further consolation with Griphook on this matter and will update you as soon as I am able.

May your enemies always fall at your feet,

Rosberg

Heron re-read the letter twice, hardly daring to believe what he was reading. Not only had Harry kept her word, but Nymera had not even been the target of the counterfeit Blood Curse to begin with!

Someone had tried to kill Altair Nott.

"Merciful Merlin …" was all Heron managed to articulate as his hand went to his mouth. "I think it is safe to say Artemis and I don't have to interrogate Harry on much tonight!"

"At least you didn't almost faint. Mama did," Nymera commented, somehow being the only one who was taking this rather well.

"Yes, well, I think she has the right to, considering the fact you were apparently not meant to eat the slice of cake," Heron pointed out as he ruffled her hair gently and poured himself a cup of tea.

Lady Lestrange regarded her children with a small frown. "Do either of you remember which cake slice it could have been?" she wanted to know.

Heron and Nymera blanched and exchanged a panicked look. They had been invited to so many parties in the past with cake and not taking another slice or sneaking slices that they frankly could not say immediately which cake it could have been. Both siblings began frowning ponderingly, going through their memories as quickly as possible.

"It can't have been Oizys' seventh birthday party; that cake was alive, I swear!" Nymera grumbled. She then lit up. "Wait … we went to another party just before I started feeling ill. That really weird garden one."

"Oh yes!" Heron lit up. "It was during Ostara. Vassal Houses came together to host a celebration; I remember. Nott was given a slice of cake baked by one of the Underwood women but he refused, saying he wasn't hungry despite Lady Nott asking him just to eat one slice."

"And I stole it," Nymera confessed sheepishly. "Chocolate cake is my favourite …"

"It must have been that chocolate cake slice. But then it must have only been in that one slice because I remember eating Diantha's chocolate cake and I am not cursed," Lady Lestrange frowned.

"Then there must have been something untoward with that slice only," Lord Lestrange stated easily. He frowned. "I find it a relief but at the same time troubling to know that our daughter had not been the target at all."

Lady Lestrange shook her head. "Indeed. But, who on Earth would want to curse Heir Nott to the point he could have well lost his life?"

That question was left hanging in their heads as Nymera asked Heron to read a section in one of the textbooks she was reading because she was stuck on a chapter and wanted to see if she could get it if Heron read it to her.

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Once they had finished their coffee and breakfast, Harry, Altair and Tom forced themselves to get up out of bed and get washed and dressed, preparing for the day ahead and trying to pretend that they had not done a dangerous Old Rite the evening before. Harry, on her part, felt that the shower was not simply washing away the sleep sweat but also the latent stress that she had had about Tom's Horcruxes. Those damn things were no longer a problem! The only thing she had to concern herself with was helping Altair with his gift and not making a total fool of herself at Charlus and Dorea Potter's dinner party.

The only consolation was that Artemis had been right about Charlus and Dorea being a little less fastidious than most purebloods; from what she had seen, Harry wagered she would be more than fine that evening.

The Flamels spent most of the morning asking Tom what cake he wanted for his birthday and the Heir of Slytherin had tried once more to stop their plans in their tracks but when Melinoë started putting several old cooking grimoires with some interesting cakes in front of his nose, Tom gave up on that fight. Harry, Altair, the disguised gods and the familiars laughed when Nicholas decided to take Tom, Hypnos and Thanatos for a "gentlemen's afternoon" – Altair had insisted on doing some "Yule homework" that he still needed to do, despite his mother's protests.

Fortunately Thanatos and Hypnos made an excuse to Nicholas about "getting to an alchemy sale"; that had the Immortal Alchemist distracted in seconds. Tom had not tried to hide his amusement. The gentlemen were gone and very soon, Perenelle Flamel busied herself with housework, chatting to a surprised Amaris, who insisted on helping, together with Melinoë.

That left Harry and Altair practically to their own devices, and they – together with Athenaïs, Andras and Frey – made themselves at home in the music room, with several Peverell ancestors making themselves at home in some of the landscapes around the room. Harry and Altair used their magic to create a stunning crystal amphitere and rehearsed a couple of the songs before recording them.

Luna's version of Pax Deorum was one, as well as Pale Grass Blue and Echoes in Rain. Harry even sang Once Upon a Dream, since Tom had admitted to liking that song to her before. But for the next two songs, she played Evren's violin in tandem with Altair's piano music, the pair freestyling and following their instincts; at one point, Athenaïs even howled mystically at the right moment in the song, adding to it. Harry even felt it was right to play Hedwig's Theme on the Glass Harp.

Once she had finished, Altair paused the statute's recording for a moment, beaming. "Do you think this is enough, or shall we do one or two more songs?" he asked.

Harry grinned. "I think one or two should do it," she replied. "But this is your present, so I say you make the call."

"Hmmm," Altair grinned. "Well, that depends."

"On what?" Harry raised an eyebrow as she began retuning the violin.

"On what you were working on yesterday," Altair answered, head slightly cocked to one side. Harry froze for a moment and continued working, avoiding his gaze.

"You would have to be a bit more specific," she flushed.

"What were you writing yesterday?" Altair asked curiously. "You spent ages writing something on that parchment of yours, pulling some very funny faces."

Athenaïs and Andras laughed; Frey shook her head at them. Harry snorted. "Yes, I suppose I was rather. That was because I was busy writing a song and I was a little bit stuck on how it should continue."

"A song?" Altair lit up. "For Tom?"

"Mmmhmm," Harry nodded. "I thought it was best to write one just in case you wanted to add something a little more personal to the present, but given the fact we have a bunch of songs already-"

"May I see it?" Altair's hazel eyes were brighter than any star or constellation at hearing that.

Harry felt her cheeks warm again as she reached into her left trouser pocket and handed it to her future Consort, who carefully took it, unfolded it and began to read. She could not help but wait for his reaction with slightly bated breath, with all three familiars and the Peverells watching eagerly for Altair's reaction.

Very soon, the Nott heir raised his head, his eyes glistening with tears that were threatening to fall. "This goes in! Have you go the notes – of course, you do …"

The Lady Regnant chuckled.

Harry and Altair just recorded the song, when there was a pecking noise at the glass door. Everyone turned to see an elegant owl sitting outside on the porch with a letter in its beak, looking a little annoyed about being out in the cold. Andras enthusiastically ran to open the door by lifting up his left paw and pushing the handle down; the door swung out, the owl dodging and then hopping into the room.

The owl flapped over to Harry immediately with a letter that was penned by Orion; Harry had seen his hand enough times to know it was him. Altair noticed this too, grinning. "It seems this letter was too important to trust to Somnus," he joked.

Harry huffed and nudged him playfully as she broke the seal on the letter as the owl took off out of the open door. "Do not be so mean!"

"Oh please, that owl doesn't even know it was snubbed for delivery."

"Altair!"

"Sorry, my love, it is just too easy."

Harry shook her head at him as she unfolded Orion's letter.

Dear Harry,

How is everything going? I had a couple of days of quiet not too long ago, which is really rare in our house, as you know. I think it may also be because Mother felt cooped up in doors for too long; she has been taking more shopping trips than normal. I have been spending some sibling time with Lucretia. We haven't done that in a long while; it was rather nice. How are you holding up? Please tell me everything is OK.

I was wondering if you would like to spend some time with me on the 2nd of January; I really want to go and see if I can find some new books in Muggle London and I would also like to show you where Scythe and Raven is going to have its offices. I have missed spending time with you.

Yours faithfully,awaiting your reply, Your friend always,

Orion

P.S. I have not replaced Somnus. The owl is Agrippina, Lucretia's familiar. Could you hex Nott for me if he made a comment?

Harry laughed fondly at the erased endings of the letter. Altair, who had been reading a little over her shoulder, smiled. "I am rather surprised it took Black this long to send a letter," he commented.

"I'm not," Harry chuckled as she folded the letter and pocketed it. "Orion is much too proper to simply request to spend time with me alone. I have a feeling Lucretia may have convinced him to write this letter."

"Yes, she may have done. I don't think she would have done if she knew that her little brother wants to go into Muggle London," Altair chuckled. He then had an unreadable expression on his countenance as he looked at his Lady. "Are you going to introduce him to the Tower Guardians?"

Harry laughed shortly. "I … don't know. I have not really thought about introducing others to them. I mean, I didn't even think about introducing them to Ophelia and Minnie."

"I think you should," Altair responded with a small smile. "I know Orion would get along well with King Edward and his brother."

"Yes, and give Lady Jane a headache," Harry shook her head.

"Oh please, no offence to Her Majesty, but the Nine Days Queen really does need to just take a deep breath and have some spirit tea, or whatever ghosts can drink," Altair grinned.

"Do not ever say that in front of her or Catherine, please," Harry snorted. "But I think I will see if Orion wants to meet them before I drag him to the Tower and give him a nasty surprise."

"Whatever you decide," Altair's eyes sparkled with amusement.

Harry turned to him fully. "Do you want to play a round of wizard's chess?"

Altair looked surprised. "But you suck at wizard's chess."

She mock-glared at him for that. "Shut up."

"Hey, I am not saying no – I can't win against Tom – but why do you want to play?" Altair cocked his head at her.

Harry grinned. "I want to know a little more about you; plus, I want to play a game."

"So it is my turn to be subjected to Ask About A Million Questions?" Altair teased as they got up, him picking up the statue and Harry taking her ancestor's violin.

"Well, I think it's a good idea, because I am pretty sure I don't even know what your favourite colour is," Harry admitted, looking very sheepish indeed as they left the music room, familiars and ancestors closely behind.

"Well, it was purple for a long time," Altair answered easily. "But it changed a few months ago."

This took Harry a little by surprised.

"Oh? To what?" she asked eagerly.

Altair chuckled nervously, flushing a little. "Believe it or not, green."

Harry laughed shortly, but could not stop the blush coming into her cheeks. Athenaïs, Andras and Frey all tittered at them. "So, how long exactly have you known Arcturus?" she asked as they went upstairs.

"Since we were four," Altair grinned goofily. "Our mothers thought that we might get along since I didn't have siblings and Arcturus didn't have a brother. We hit it off from day one – we painted with Druella and then had a bit of a paint fight. Adorabella was not happy about that!"

"I can imagine!" Harry chuckled. She had seen the fastidiousness of pureblood Ladies first-hand after all.

"From there, Arcturus and Druella became the siblings I never had. It was just the three of us until we were seven and we were introduced to Orion and Walburga, and Druella struck up a close friendship with them," Altair explained as he opened the door to his room and popped in to hide the present in his trunk. "We were good friends until we were around ten-eleven and then our parents introduced us to Dolohov, Lestrange, Avery, Mulciber – you know this part."

"Yes," Harry agreed quietly as Altair came back out, closed his door and they headed towards Harry's room.

"He apologised to me," was Altair's next comment.

Harry frowned in confusion. "What? Who?"

"Dolohov," Altair clarified, still sounding like he was in disbelief. "He apologised to me about how he acted to me. Said that you made him look in the mirror about some things."

Harry blinked in shock as she almost grinded to a complete halt just to process the information. Caius Dolohov … apologised to Altair?

Nope, she had not seen that coming at all!

"What did you say?" Harry wanted to know.

"That I can't forgive him, yet," Altair responded candidly. He swallowed. "He has hurt me too much to be able to forgive that easily."

"I would have been surprised if that had not been the case," Harry snorted, opening her own doors and stepping into her chambers to place Evren's violin back onto the vanity table.

"What did you say or do to make Dolohov look in a mirror and self-reflect?" Altair wanted to know, leaning against her door frame.

Harry looked up at him; her verdant eyes met his hazel ones through the mirror. "Barely anything, if you must know. I talked him after Artemis called him a Red, if you remember. He told me how his family fled Russia after the Revolution and that it is true what Heron says about his father. He's an embittered man who takes all of his frustrations out on his son."

This time Harry turned around. "There is something Caius told me – I can't tell you, but all I will say is that he fears his father finding out. I promised to help him, in exchange for him cooling his attitude towards you."

Altair frowned. "I know that Ivan Dolohov is, frankly, an unpleasant character to say the least; I mean, I have heard him go on tirades against both the Mrs. Shelby, all because they are not in a 'conventional' relationship-"

There was a moment of stunned silence as the Nott heir processed something, especially when he saw the knowing look in Harry's eyes.

Altair stopped and paled. "No … no way …"

"What is it?" Harry whispered.

He swallowed.

"He's not into women, is he?" Altair replied, trying to keep his tone steady.

Harry smiled sadly. "No, he isn't."

Her future Consort looked set to faint, shaking his head despondently. "OK … I would see why a secret like that would owe you a favour."

Harry hummed in agreement, grinning. "Come on. Let's play a game."

"Ah, still in the mood to lose, my dear? I would not be a gentleman if I didn't oblige," Altair grinned like a Cheshire cat.

"Overconfidence is never a good thing, darling," Harry quipped back easily as she stepped out of her chamber and closed the door behind her. "So, tell me – did you ever go on holiday with the Rosiers?"

Altair lit up. "I have been on many summer holidays with the Rosiers. Most of them were to Scotland, Cornwall, Ireland; I haven't been on holiday with them for a year and a bit now. Because the Rosiers had been mostly fixated on Druella's match to Cygnus and finalising everything. But my favourite was definitely the holiday in Cornwall when we were twelve."

The pair made themselves comfortable with the wizard's chess board they found in the Peverell study in the living room. The familiars joined Perrie and Amaris in the kitchen, the three of them taking a nap while the Sorceress and Lady Nott embroidered away. That was how Nicholas, Thanatos, Hypnos and Tom found them when they finally came back.

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Rollo sometimes hated the duties that came with being Head Cursebreaker of Gringotts. He had been called to the office by King Ragnok; Oscar and Satoshi had been in contact and apparently had some very important information to report that was for Rollo's eyes and ears only. Which meant that Rollo was at the office the day before New Year's Eve going through Oscar's coded transcripts and the copies of memories Satoshi had been so kind to send as well. He hated working during the days after Yule leading up to Midwinter because the offices were always so eerily quiet and deserted, save for a few goblins and other Cursebreakers sent on missions.

The spirit prisons were secure for now, but now Oscar and Satoshi were helping the Japanese Aurors in setting a trap for the culprit responsible for messing with the magic. Rollo quietly doubted that their idea of luring the person responsible into making a mistake was not going to work but he kept his opinions to himself. Oscar and Satoshi really did not need to be disheartened at present.

Rollo was busy de-coding and reading through the last of Oscar's report when he heard the dreaded noise that he had not missed for the entirety of his holiday: the sound of his telegram machine printing.

Talk about timing, the double agent commented dryly to himself as he stood up and went to his cupboard, opening it as his heart started pounding in his chest. Once the machine had finished its work, Rollo carefully took the orders out and read them.

Keep a sharp eye out for the songbird. It possesses a song about the Cursebreaker. Await the Hawk's call before acting. – Aurem

Rollo blinked three times, utterly flummoxed. It was not often that he got direct orders from Queenie Goldstein herself but apparently whoever or whatever this 'songbird' was, it was important enough for a General in the Alliance to give him direct orders. Rollo could not help but wonder who this 'songbird' was and what 'song' they had about the Lady Hera.

Apparently, whatever it was, it likely wasn't good.

He had to wait for further instructions from Grindelwald? Odd. The demented Dark wizard usually kept his orders clear cut and curt, with no room for ambiguity – Grindelwald knew what he wanted done and when he wanted it done. It was one of the few things Rollo found rather comforting about the man, which was odd in and off itself.

But this time, Grindelwald wanted Rollo to pre-emptively to keep his eyes and ears open for someone with information on the Cursebreaker the man was creepily obsessed with. This sent alarm bells ringing in the double agent's head.

Something was badly wrong; he could just feel it, and he would be lying if he tried to say that it didn't make him feel like panicking. Rollo's breath shuddered as he took a few deep breaths, counted ten, took a few more deep breaths and then counted to twenty. Once he felt his heart calm a little and his breathing return to normal, Rollo folded up the telegram and went to see if Goldheart was in the building.

Fortunately for him, the Head of Security was indeed in his office, mulling over reports of his own. Rollo knocked twice curtly on the door, despite the fact that the door was wide open. Goldheart looked up with a glare, which softened ever so slightly when he saw Rollo standing in the doorway.

"Ah, Mr. Rowle. Have you finished looking at Mr. de Vere and Hirano-san's information?" he asked as though he were talking to a student about an essay that they were supposed to hand in soon.

Rollo ignored the slightly patronising tone. "Not yet, but something rather … untoward just happened that I thought should be brought to your attention."

Goldheart frowned. "Indeed?" he raised an eyebrow. Rollo nodded and reached into his jacket pocket, holding up the folded telegram for his handler to see. Goldheart sobered immediately. "Close the door, Rollo."

Rollo didn't need to be told twice; as soon as the door clicked shut, Goldheart put a myriad of privacy and silencing wards and charms on his door before taking the telegram and reading it for himself. The double agent waited patiently for the goblin to finish, who was looking more than a little concerned.

"I take it that for Aurem to give you a direct order is not the common protocol?"

"No, it is not," Rollo answered easily. "Grindelwald has his own team of communicators who always make sure that the whole order is given in one go; the Dark Lord is a very impatient man when it comes to getting something he wants. For me to be pre-emptively informed to keep my eyes and ears open for an informant is highly irregular."

"Who do you think they are?" Goldheart questioned. "What could they possibly know about the Lady Hera that would interest Grindelwald so much that his General wants you to stay vigilant for any sign of them?"

"I know as much as you do," Rollo replied, irritation embedded in his tone as he began pacing. "Queenie and Vida came to England to infiltrate the Malfoy Ball in order to meet with two informants. They had enough time to meet them and get something from them – what did they miss? Did these informants not have enough information on the Lady Hera for their liking?"

"It could be the case, or it could be that this is a different informant altogether – one whom was not at the Ball," Goldheart pointed out. He then frowned a little. "Did Aurem and Angel try and talk to you?"

"In hindsight, yes, they did," Rollo scoffed. "Aurem, disguised as Helena Urquhart, came to talk to the Burkes, Melanie and myself at some point. Naturally I knew it was either her or Angel but they did not try and get me alone in order to fish for anything. It was apparent that their little spy was not on their priority list that evening."

"Which means your status as a double agent is still secure," Goldheart looked satisfied at that.

"I think I would have received the photographs of my people's corpses if that had been the case," Rollo responded coldly.

"Touché," Goldheart was forced to concur. He then grinned. "How was the Ball, apart from all that unpleasantness? One has naturally read the articles and seen the photos, but of course, that is usually written by a biased source."

Rollo's face was redder than a fresh tomato in about three seconds. "The Ball itself was tolerable," he coughed, suddenly taking an interest in the floor. "I have never been one for large social gatherings but my … party ensured that we didn't socialise with too much tedious company. Lord Malfoy and Lord Potter were almost at each other's throats again but that was to be expected."

"Mmmhmm," Goldheart's smirk did not abate. "And did Mr. Henry Burke's presence help with making it more 'tolerable' as you say?"

Rollo swallowed and tried to ignore the flush that was entering his cheeks. "Marginally."

Damn gossiping goblins!

There was no way that he was going to admit to his own handler that he had engaged in a rather passionate kiss with a man who he hardly knew but could not help but be drawn to. Rollo would never hear the end of it from Goldheart, Griphook and the King!

Unfortunately, it seemed that Rollo's expression betrayed him because Goldheart was chuckling gleefully. "Glad to hear it! Are you going to be seeing him soon, or I can arrange a proper covert guard detail for you?" he asked eagerly.

Rollo spluttered. "It is still the holidays, Goldheart! I am sure Mr. Burke would rather spend his time with his family rather than with someone he hardly knows. Besides, I am spending as much time with Ophelia as I can before I am dragged back under my own piles of work again and she has to go back to Hogwarts."

"Ah, yes. That is also very important," Goldheart conceded, looking a little disappointed. He then lit up a little. "But in order to see if someone makes a good partner, you also have to spend time with them. True, our goblin customs are much more direct but the principle is the same. The gifts are not enough; one has to meet and converse with a suitor to see if they are truly … suitable or not."

"I doubt my heart could take the strain of being so close to allies of House Peverell for anything too serious," Rollo confessed, though he hated himself for it.

"Well, then," Goldheart grinned again, "there is no harm in a little fun." The goblin took down his charms and wards, eyes dancing with mirth. "Enjoy the rest of your holiday!"

Rollo left that office, still red in the face, and very happy that he was almost finished with his work already – he needed to hide himself away in his chambers before Aunt Livia or Ophelia could ask any awkward questions.

##################################################################

Thunk! One dagger into the tree's target.

Thunk! Another hit.

Loreley smiled to herself as she drew her third dagger and let it fly, and winced when it impaled itself just on the top of the target. Yes, that was definitely a misthrow; she had leant a little too much forward on that last throw.

The Sighted Malfoy heiress drew her fourth dagger and as she was about to throw, Loreley felt herself smile as she sensed someone behind her. "I don't think it is prudent to sneak up on someone who is dagger throwing, brother," she commented lightly before she let the fourth one fly.

Direct hit!

"You already trained this morning," Abraxas commented. "What is wrong, Lorri?"

"Who says anything is wrong?" Loreley questioned serenely, drawing the fifth dagger.

"Normally you would be sewing or drawing or reading or doing something creative around this time; plus, you cannot sit still for longer than twenty seconds," Abraxas listed. "You are lucky Father is preoccupied with Wizengamot business and that Mother is out or they would be subjecting you to an inquisition. Moreover, you were awake at an ungodly hour today."

"Yes, well, that has actually become normal for the both of us, Braxi," Loreley pointed out as she let the fifth dagger fly.

Target hit, not in the middle. Bugger.

"I know you well enough to know that you're currently feeling the same thing I do every single bloody night," Abraxas continued as Loreley went to fetch her daggers from the tree. "Your visions are intensifying, aren't they?"

For the first time in a while, Loreley made eye contact with her twin. "You are sometimes really annoying."

"Right back at you," Abraxas quipped easily with a small smile. He turned serious again. "Any new visions or is it just more fates that are close to being fulfilled?"

"Mostly fulfilled fates," Loreley sighed. "A few new visions concerning acquaintances and strangers. Saw some visions centred around the Muggle war too – have not seen many of those of late, for one reason or the other."

"Do you know when the wars will end?" Abraxas asked eagerly.

"Yes," Loreley confirmed in a whisper. "And also when a new hidden war officially begins."

Abraxas really did not like the sound of that, at all. Yet another war after three wars that were already waged – were the Muggles truly that thick as hippogriff droppings? He dreaded to think for what ridiculous reason this war was going to be centred around.

The Malfoy heir forced himself away from boarding that train of thought. He cleared his throat. "Would you like a bout with me, Lorri? Since we are out here anyway."

"We have fifteen minutes until it will begin to snow quite heavily so I do not see why not," Loreley answered happily as she put her daggers away and reached for her rapier, eyes shining.

Abraxas chuckled with amusement. "Do not even think about using your Eye to See who wins, Lorri."

"Oh please, I do not need my Eye for that," Loreley challenged easily.

"Oh really?" Abraxas was never one to back down from a challenge, especially from his twin. "We will see about that!"

It was safe to say that the human and elf servants of Malfoy Manor still had not become accustomed to seeing the twins duel each other with swords instead of magic, but they also did not say anything; Lord and Lady Malfoy had explicitly ordered them not to interfere with their children's duels or training.

"Have you seen your own future suitor yet?" Abraxas teased as he countered Loreley's lunge.

Loreley's eyes gleamed. "Now that would be ruining the surprise, would it not?"

"Can you not at least give me a clue?" it had been a long time since Loreley had seen her brother pout, and it was just as funny as it had been when they were younger.

"Nope!" Loreley replied brightly, popping the 'p'. "Otherwise I would have to also tell you the outcome of your own decision and frankly, that is like spoiling the ending of a very good book or movie, and neither of us like that."

"I am never one for movies anyway," Abraxas pointed out as the both of them readied their stances again. "I for one would love to have a clue as to how my decision would pan out; it would save us all a whole lot of grief, I believe."

"The path of the heart is never certain," was Loreley's cryptic answer. "It has many roads and hidden ways; for me to say anything would only be giving one road. That simply will not do."

"No, you are simply enjoying the fact you know something I do not," Abraxas mock-scowled as their blades clashed.

"Oh that is only a bonus," Loreley reassured brightly. Her eyes shimmered. "I take it then that you have spoken to Father about the candidate Harry advised?"

The siblings exchanged a few more blows.

"I have," Abraxas confirmed with a small smile. "I don't know if you know this already – likely you do – but he was not completely opposed to the consideration of an alliance with House White. He said he would mull it over and come back to me soon."

"You will have an answer before we go back to Hogwarts," was all Loreley was willing to divulge.

"Oh that is comforting, I suppose," Abraxas sighed. "I can only hope that if Mr. and Mrs. White agree, that Ygraine will not resent me for this."

"Resent you!" Loreley scoffed. "She is a pureblood heiress who comes from a family who tries to maintain as many pureblood customs as possible, even at the detriment of themselves sometimes. I very much Ygraine would hold a courting against you – besides, the Whites have a tradition that a couple waits a year to marry just in case a member of their family finds their mate."

Abraxas regarded Loreley for a moment. "And will she find hers?"

Loreley's eyes turned a little sad. "No," she whispered. "Ygraine is not one of the lucky few who will ever find hers; no matter the path that she takes. That is all I am willing to say on that matter."

Her brother nodded despondently. "All right. I suppose that is the best answer I can expect from you."

"It is not like she wouldn't come to care for you," Loreley winked as she cut Abraxas' counter and made a counter attack very quickly afterwards, taking him completely off-guard. She giggled to herself.

Abraxas scowled. "That was mean, Lorri."

"Careful, Braxi. You're starting to sound like Draco."

"You take that back!"

"Nope!"

"I do not sound like that ferret!"

"Yes you do, especially when you get mopey."

"Well, you sound as batty as Luna did!"

"For good reason, unlike you. Now, how about we raid the kitchens together?"

The Malfoy twins continued to bicker all the way back to the house.

#####################################################################

Harry, Altair and Tom seemed to be trying to break records with how fast they showered and got dressed. It helped a lot that no one tried to convince Harry to wear a dress and simply allowed her to get away with well-cut trousers, blouse, jerkin and one of her velvet jackets. She had feared incurring another explosion from Mount St. Pureblood Ladies but was rather happy to note that it seemed Perenelle and Amaris were picking their battles with her.

Perhaps it was because they theorised Charlus and Dorea would not kick up much of a fuss regarding her attire. After all, they were not as traditional as Fleamont or Henry, apparently. It possibly helped that Harry wore the bracelets from Thanatos and one of the pieces that was gifted to her on Yule.

She was rather happy that neither of them checked her boots, where two of her daggers were concealed. It was doubtful either the Immortal Sorceress or the Lady Nott would have allowed her to go out unless they were removed. However, Harry knew that she could not let her guard down.

Not even with members of her own distant family.

"Ready?" Altair asked as the three of them put on their cloaks, scarves and gloves.

"As I'll ever be. You two?" Harry replied.

"More than ready," Tom reassured.

"Ditto," Altair exhaled sharply as he picked up the photo that Artemis had sent a couple of hours ago of Charlus and Dorea's house and the box of chocolates Tom had picked up during his outing with Nicholas and the disguised gods. "OK, let's go."

"Have fun you three!" Thanatos and Hypnos called.

"Give my regards to your friends!" Melinoë added.

"We will. See you later!" Harry called as the boys waved goodbye.

The triad stepped out into the cool December air and Apparated to Nightwing House, the stately home that Charlus had apparently inherited from his father. It was a handsome 17th century building hidden in Cambridgeshire; it reminded Harry of the type of buildings used in those historical dramas that Aunt Petunia sometimes loved to watch. It was not nearly as grand as Malfoy Manor or Lestrange Manor but it was still a sizeable property that many would give an arm and a leg for.

"This should be fun," Altair commented wryly as the three of them approached the front of the house. "Charlus and Dorea Potter are rather good at dinner parties. It depends on the rest of the company how well the dinner party ends, of course. One of the last ones I attended with Mother and Father ended with someone who apparently had the habit of telling the truth while sleepwalking spilling some very uncomfortable truths because someone thought it would be funny to knock them out!"

"Who was it?" Harry asked eagerly; Tom's eyes were shining too.

"Robert Perks, Mr. Horner's private secretary," Altair answered with a grin. "Apparently whenever he gets stressed, he sleepwalks but unfortunately for the poor man, he is utterly incapable of lying the moment he begins to sleepwalk. I hear he takes potions for it now."

Harry knocked the brass knocker on the door, laughing and shaking her head.

"Well, hopefully we will avoid such an event tonight," Tom chuckled. "I think it is safe to say we have had enough excitement as of late."

"Hear, hear," Harry agreed readily.

Knowing her luck, though, it was unlikely.

It was at this point the door swung open to reveal Artemis, dressed in a beautiful purple dress and wearing some intricate, black, Gothic jewellery. Harry's doppelgänger could have made Evil Queens and dark fairies jealous with her outfit. Those Imperius gold eyes lit up when she saw Harry, Altair and Tom.

"There you three are! Come in, come in. I was getting worried you might have chickened out," Artemis joked as Harry, Altair and Tom entered the grand entrance hall and the house elves of Nightwing House took their cloaks and gloves eagerly.

"Us, chickening out of a dinner party with the most tolerable Potters in Great Britain? Never," Altair reassured teasingly.

Artemis grinned and she looped her arm with Harry's right. "Dinner is almost ready; there is a little bit of a problem with some of the entrees. Fortunately Dorea and Charlus are not one for kicking up a fuss. Ignatius, Lucretia, Tessa and Billy arrived twenty minutes ago, so don't worry about being a little tardy."

"Lucretia Black is here?" Tom did not disguise his surprise.

Artemis giggled. "Yes. It seemed that Ignatius and Lucretia are hitting it off rather well! They are apparently spending quite a lot of time together."

"Doesn't surprise me, considering how I saw them act at the Yule Ball," Altair grinned.

Artemis led the way into a grand evening parlour. It was as light as Harry had secretly expected but was rather surprised to see that it wasn't as stuffy or traditional as some of the rooms in Lestrange Manor or Malfoy Manor. There were a good number of guests present: Septimus and Octavius Weasley, with their parents Fabian and Gyda. Harry was pleased to see Cederella Black with their party too but was less pleased to see the stink-eye the Black heiress now and again received from her future in-laws. The twins' parents were chatting with Dorea while Septimus, Octavius and Cederella were investigating the antique cupboards around the room. Mr. and Mrs. Prewett were there, conversing with Charlus and Heron. Ignatius, Lucretia and Tessa were speaking with the Mrs. Shelbys.

"Wow, they actually kept the number of guests to a minimum," Altair commented, looking genuinely surprised.

"And no Mr. Perks or Mr. Horner," Tom noted, trying not to start laughing. "Someone apparently learned from their mistake."

Artemis mock-scowled at Altair. "You told them about that sleepwalking incident, didn't you?"

Altair beamed at her. "Of course! It was too good not to regale; don't worry, I did not go into detail. I decided to leave those for another time."

Harry and Tom pouted momentarily at this admission that Altair had deliberately withheld information from them. Artemis laughed heartily, squeezing Harry's arm fondly. "How are you by the way?"

"I have nothing to complain about that the moment," Harry smiled, patting the hand of her doppelgänger reassuringly. "So, what have you been up to?"

"Training with Heron and Druella, mainly. Hecuba, Electra and I also took a sisters' trip to London and Edinburgh to just spend some quality time together. I also had to go to a family dinner party that finished once again with Uncle Fleamont, Aunt Euphemia, Father and Eleanor at each other's throats," Artemis listed, sighing at the last one.

"What were they arguing about?" Altair asked curiously.

"Sweetheart," Tom stated warningly.

Artemis grinned. "It's OK. Uncle Fleamont and Father have always had a bit of a rivalry with each other, and Aunt Euphemia and Eleanor detested each other on sight. Mainly because Eleanor is a dhampir. Aunt Euphemia – I don't know if you know this, but she has some rather … unpleasant views on Dark creatures."

"Define, 'unpleasant'," Harry's expression darkened.

"Well, most of her opinions are not to be repeated but she believes that Dark creatures should not be permitted to own property or marry – their ability to hold a job is already being threatened, and she thinks that is perfectly fine," Artemis' eyes flashed dangerously.

Now this did take Harry by surprise. Euphemia Potter's son James had befriended a werewolf; had something changed in the Lady Potter to change her mind? Did Remus help to change her mind?

"Lovely," Tom commented dryly.

"I knew there was a reason I avoid Lord and Lady Potter like Dragon pox," Altair added.

"Ah! If it is not our favourite Cursebreaker-"

"-and her two Dark knights," the twins commented as they and Cederella joined the group, Cheshire cat grins on their faces. Harry rolled her eyes at his antics.

"Gentlemen," Harry greeted with a smirk of her own. "Been up to mischief lately?"

"Who-"

"-us?" the twins were not very good at looking innocent.

Cederella, who apparently was getting used to their antics very quickly, rolled her eyes. "I managed to stop these two from enchanting the hors d'oeuvres or I think the Shelbys would have orange or blue hair by now. I don't know if they have been behaving themselves the last couple of days, though."

"Oh my dear," Septimus grinned. "We always-"

"-find a way-"

"-to have some fun," he and Octavius chorused.

"That much is true," Harry chuckled, "which is why I would like to talk to the two of you about an idea I have for the last Quidditch match this year."

The twins lit up instantly.

"Uh-oh," Altair commented.

"How much is Dumbledore going to hate it?" Artemis added.

"A lot," Harry wagered easily.

"Smile!"

The group turned to see Billy there, camera in hand and beaming at them. The group obliged and the young Prewett immediately snapped a picture, laughing. Harry's heart leapt; the young boy really was too much like Colin Creevey sometimes.

Was there even a semblance of a chance that they were related? But Colin and Dennis were supposedly Muggleborn – if that was the case, did Billy get disowned and escape into the Muggle world? Or did a child of his have to be exiled into the Muggle world like Marius Black?

"Do you really like your camera I helped Rosier pick?" Billy's question knocked Harry out of her train of thought.

Harry smiled. "I don't really use my cameras all that often but yes, I do," she reassured. "How have your holidays been so far?" she decided to switch the subject.

"Really fun! More fun than I have had in ages," Billy grinned. "Mainly because the old arguments between Mum, Dad and Tessa about her finding someone to court arose again. Now that Igny is practically taken, Tessa is up next. I am just glad that I have a few years before I am the next target."

"Who are your parents considering for your sister?" Tom asked curiously.

"Believe it or not, Parkinson, Higgs, or Flint," Billy grinned.

"Why else-"

"-do you think-"

"-Mum and Dad are not-"

"-looking at them?" the twins looked gleeful. "They are not-"

"-happy they can-"

"-sell me to their-"

"-life-long friends."

Altair chuckled to himself. "Well, well. I never thought I would see the day that the Prewetts pick Dark or Grey family heirs twice! I definitely thought that they would pick Octavius for Tessa."

"Maybe once upon a time," Octavius stated dramatically. "But now it seems things have changed. Besides, I would not have let my parents simply just hand me off to someone because of a dowry or increasing status – I would have sooner run away and risk excommunication from the family."

This made Harry's heart stop for a moment. Her eyes widened. "Excommunication?" she repeated carefully.

"You know about the Black tradition of burning people off their Tapestry after they have been kicked out, right?" Septimus looked as serious as Harry had ever seen him.

Harry gave a curt nod.

"A lot pureblood families have similar traditions of excommunication," Octavius continued. "In our family … they change our hair colour."

Harry's eyes bugged out. "You lose … your red hair?"

"Correct," Septimus nodded grimly. "It's a lot less aggressive or barbaric than simply denying the person ever existed or flinging them out into the Muggle world or selling them to another pureblood House as a ward or servant."

"Sold?" Harry repeated in disbelief.

"It's a tradition in some of the Minor Noble Houses," Cederella told her grimly.

Harry could not help it; she scoffed in disgust. Artemis gave her arm a reassuring squeeze.

"Doesn't … your family have a similar tradition?" Cederella asked curiously.

"Not that I know of, and even if they do, I will find a way to bloody dismantle it," Harry growled.

"You're the Lady Regnant; that should not be too difficult," Altair reassured.

It seemed that the Mrs. Shelbys sensed the tension coming from their group because the Undersecretary and her wife came over with beaming smiles.

"Lady Hera! Heir Nott, Mr. Riddle! It is so good to see the three of you again," Mrs. Melissa Shelby beamed. "After what happened at the Malfoy Ball, I would be hesitant to go out to any kind of party so soon after being unwittingly in the presence of Grindelwald's Generals."

Harry smiled smally. "One cannot hide from shadows, Mrs. Shelby. It is not healthy."

"Indeed," Mrs. Ingrid Shelby agreed. "Did you attend the first viewing of Persephone? I could have sworn Melissa and I caught a glimpse of you and your friends but we decided it was best to leave you alone."

"Yes, I attend with Ophelia Rowle and Minerva McGonagall. Did you enjoy the movie?" Harry asked amicably.

"Oh very much! It is always such a pleasure to watch Cassiopeia Black on screen. Naturally Diantha Underwood is talented, but Miss Black always has this way of truly living her characters," Ingrid Shelby gushed, her wife rolling her eyes fondly. "I still cannot ger her portrayal of Morgana out of my head and it makes me wonder if the real Morgana was as brilliantly ruthless as Miss Black made her."

"Chance is that she was, ma'am," Artemis grinned. "After all, one does not almost attain such a following that she did without some cunning and ruthlessness."

"How are the both of you faring?" Harry decided to try and change the subject. "And your children?"

"Health wise, all of us are well," Melissa Shelby reassured. She suddenly looked more tired than normal. "But in other cases, I have to admit that things could improve … a lot. The whole debacle at the Ball has everyone up-in-arms and everything is now moving faster than normal, which means all of us have to work faster than normal."

"Our children are miffed that Melissa is very tired these days," Ingrid added with a grin. "They call her 'boring' because all she has the energy for is reading them their bedtime story."

Harry and the group chuckled at hearing that.

"You have two children, have you not?" Harry continued.

"Yes, our son Lorcan and our daughter Kathryn. They're both eight," Melissa's eyes shone as she talked about them.

"And a giant handful," Ingrid added with a huff. "Especially Lorcan – where does he get all that energy from?"

"They do say little boys are much tougher to handle than little girls, ma'am" Artemis chuckled.

"Well, whoever 'they' are, they have a very good point!" Ingrid Shelby laughed derisively. "He is a runner and if he isn't running, he is zooming around on his toy broom, narrowly missing my mother's antiques-"

"- which is why we have to lock up anything and everything valuable when the kids want to take their toy brooms out," the Undersecretary finished with a laugh. It reminded Harry so much of how Lily said she acted as a child that it made her smile brightly. "Children are such a joy but they will keep you on your toes, perhaps even during the night."

"Especially when they have night terrors," Ingrid added, swigging back the last of her Firewhiskey. "Or when they are ill."

"Sounds like a full time job," Altair grinned.

"Oh, they are," Melissa Shelby stated seriously. "Let me give you young people some advice: live a little before you have children because once you have them, they become your focus and you will have to give up a lot of freedoms."

"Unless of course you opt for a full time nanny or nanny elf," Ingrid sighed. "But if you do that, why have children anyway, I say. Being there with your children is the greatest joy but also the greatest annoyance you can have, and I would not have it any other way."

It was at this point that Charlus Potter himself joined the conversation. "I hear 'children'; please don't, I already have Fleamont's idiotic winging and whining to deal with about the fact he doesn't have an heir yet."

"He could always name you heir, sir," Harry pointed out with a grin.

Charlus barked out a laugh. "My brother would sooner string himself by his own neck than allow me to become Lord Potter, my Lady!"

"Well he and Aunt Euphemia are not getting any younger," Artemis pointed out.

"They are not past their prime yet," Charlus answered grimly. "Besides, I have never been one for dealing with the idiots that sit in the Wizengamot. Your father is more Lord Potter material than I am, as you fully well know."

"I still think you are underselling yourself, Uncle," Artemis smiled.

"No, you just enjoy giving me more silver hairs, you evil girl," Charlus grinned. He turned to Harry. "My Lady, may I speak with you in private for a moment before dinner? There is something I would like to discuss with you."

Harry frowned but bowed her head. "Of course, sir."

Charlus lit up and gestured to the door. "I hope you don't mind walking and talking."

Harry exchanged a look with Altair and Tom before turning and following Charlus out of the evening parlour and back into the main entrance hall.

"Forgive my bluntness, I know this may be untoward," Charlus continued nonchalantly. "However there is a reason the Sorting Hat almost put me into Slytherin in my time; I do love a good puzzle and frankly, I think you may be able to help me put the last pieces together."

Harry's alarm bells started ringing at this point but her instincts also told her that Charlus did not mean her any harm – it did not stop her from swallowing or from her magic to start humming.

"About what, sir?" Harry managed to ask carefully.

"Do not play coy with me, my Lady. You and I both know you and Artemis look like twins without being born into the same family," Charlus stated as they ascended the stairs up to the first floor of the manor. "You have more than a few Potter features and yet, I know there is not a single Evans in our family and I am very certain Henry would never have parted with any child he had with Althea. When she died, I thought he would never recover. Artemis saved his sanity; twins would have been able to help him heal quicker."

Harry knew she was pale; she felt herself physically shaking.

"Twins are sacred in our world, triplets even more so, because they are so rare," Charlus continued. "The fact the Weasleys, Rosiers and Malfoys have twins is already the envy of many. Thus, Henry would never have kept one twin over another."

"I was not blood-adopted by both my parents," Harry managed to find her voice.

"Oh, I know that!" Charlus laughed. "But I must know, did your parents ever mention your distant family. Family they had in England; Artemis told me that your parents were both English."

"No, they didn't," Harry steeled herself. "I barely even knew that Thomas Burke and his family knew mine. I knew nothing about my inheritance."

"Well, that's very interesting," Charlus replied silkily. "I wonder why that is."

"Forgive me, sir, but why these questions?" Harry demanded, her heart pounding in her chest as the man opened a door into a study.

"All will become clear, soon enough," Charlus reassured lightly, a gleam in his eyes that Harry really did not like as she followed him into the study against her better judgement. She followed him, not even daring to look around at the study – constant vigilance was necessary – and felt like unsheathing her wand as Charlus opened a door into another room. "This way, my Lady."

Harry clenched her jaws but her feet carried her straight into the candle-lit room. There her eyes locked on immediately onto an old fashioned, almost medieval Tapestry, not unlike the one that hung in the Blacks' entertaining room. She quickly saw Artemis, Hecuba and Electra's names and her heart practically stood still.

The Tapestry of House Potter.

Oh no.

"You see, I was up rather early this morning look at this thing. I haven't done so in years but you see, I have someone in front of me who looks like a Potter but doesn't have the Potter name is a Lady Regnant," Charlus continued as though he were just reciting events from a book he read. "But of course, I could shake the funny feeling that something just wasn't right – I tried to see if you were descended from one of Hardwin Potter's siblings, and then I saw this."

Harry followed Charlus' finger to one Iolanthe Peverell, who married into the Potter House. Her eyes descended down Iolanthe's brother's line, all the way down to Gregory, Edmund, Thomas, and Evren, then down Thomas' line – all the way down to one James Peverell-Evans who married Liliana Evans and they had … Hera Elizabeth Evans-Peverell. The names were shimmering, for some reason.

Her name was on the Tapestry, as were her parents'.

How? How was this possible?

Harry could not help herself; she took a few steps towards the Tapestry and traced her fingers over the names. She needed to make sure they were not an illusion – they weren't. The names were somehow sown into the fabric of the Tapestry. The Traveller shook her head; this made no sense at all.

"I think I understand why Artemis kept your secret, Lady Peverell." Charlus' voice reminded her that she was not alone in the room. "But as if that was not shocking enough, I discovered something else. Follow that second branch above your name."

That was when she saw it; indeed there was a second branch that grew back onto the main section of the family tree – Harry followed it and felt her magic begin to hum and thrum erratically.

The branch led straight to Fleamont Potter. She knew he was her grandfather; it made sense that the tree would recognise his genetics in her – but here, they knew Fleamont had no children.

Her cover story was now scarily accurate.

"Fleamont has no children with his wife. Not many people know this, but my brother is a philandering toerag," Charlus stated candidly. "He has calmed down in recent years but more than a decade ago, he had an affair that almost put his match with Euphemia in danger. Seventeen-eighteen years ago, to be exact."

Hearing this, Harry turned carefully to face Charlus. The man was keeping his unflinching gaze on her.

"You are his birth daughter, aren't you?"

It was this that perhaps triggered the fight-or-flight mode in Harry. Almost without thinking, her eyes flashed silver and Harry shot out her right hand. Charlus grunted as the full force of the Stunning Spell hit him, knocking him firmly into the opposite wall; Harry's scar heated, her hair crackled with quintessence.

Much to her covert relief, Charlus started chuckling. "Wow. Your magic packs a punch."

"What. Do. You. Want. From me?" she snarled, almost surprising herself with how almost-not-human she sounded as Harry advanced on him. "Why show me this? Why bring me here?"

"I want the truth!" Charlus answered as he slowly got back onto his feet. He held up his hands placatingly. "Even if you are his daughter, I do not care! My brother's sins are not yours; I mean you no harm. No one, save my wife, will know what we discussed, I promise you. I will swear whatever oath you wish. I just want some answers."

Harry glared at him; Charlus flinched for the first time, clearly seeing the silver in her eyes. The Lady Regnant took a few deep breaths as she attempted to rein in her irate magic and to not strike Artemis' deputy father a second time. Her doppelgänger would never forgive her for it. Once Harry felt like she could move again without shooting lightning bolts by accident, she turned her eyes back onto Charlus.

"Let me get one thing straight: James and Lily are my parents," Harry stated firmly. "My mother was a Muggleborn witch who, for whatever reason, had an affair with your brother. I never knew why she engaged in it, but she knew that he was promised to another so didn't take it personally when it ended. But she did know that she was pregnant with me and so escaped back to Europe, with her little secret. When Mama got back, she met some old schoolmates: James Peverell and his friends. Papa loved Mama for years so was more than happy to marry her and claim me as his daughter. When I was seven, they told me the truth, but I never once stopped viewing Papa as my papa. Fleamont, no offence, is not my father and never will be!"

Harry took a moment to breathe. She looked back at Charlus' unreadable expression. "I want nothing from you. Nothing from your family; I do not wish to be brought into the fold. As far as I am concerned, we are related by shared Peverell blood alone."

Charlus observed her for a moment longer, an awkward silence descending on them. After around a minute, he bowed his head. "I more than understand. He will never hear the truth from me."

The Lady Regnant observed him for a moment; Charlus stared back at her, his eyes still very curious.

"Artemis said you refuse to talk to him because of his affair," Harry commented after a few seconds.

"No, I refuse to talk to him because his last affair was the one that broke the camel's back for me," Charlus responded bluntly. "Fleamont was genuinely considering keeping his mistress – your mother – on the side while still going through with marrying Euphemia, I mean, really! How dishonourable can one get!"

Harry was very red with anger; she really did not like anyone talking about her mother like that. Charlus seemed to realise his mistake quickly because he became rather sheepish. "Apologies. I did not mean to sound so crass."

"I am pretty sure you did," Harry retorted coolly. "You, sir, are not one for mincing words, after all."

This made the second son of the late Lord Henry chuckle. "It is a character flaw we Potters inherit I'm afraid. Our loose tongue often gets us into trouble. I will try and be a little less blunt." Charlus regarded her with a small smile. "I know you do not wish to be a Potter, but would you be averse to Dorea and myself continuing getting to know you? We are related by common ancestor after all."

Harry's ire cooled in about five seconds when she noted the sincerity in Charlus' voice. "You won't breathe a word about what happened?" Harry felt like she needed to make that clear once more.

"As I said, only my wife will know – no one else. We are not gossips," Charlus sniffed indignantly.

"OK," Harry relaxed a jot. "I suppose I do not mind getting to know you better. We are, after all, family."

Charlus beamed.

It was at this moment that there was frantic knocking on the door of the study that made Charlus and Harry become alert.

"Harry! Everything all right in there?"

It was Tom and Altair.

"Guys, relax! She's just talking with Charlus," they heard Artemis try to reassure them.

Harry hurried out of the Tapestry Room and to the door of the study with Charlus close behind her. As soon as the door was open, the two boys quickly looked Harry over as though they were worried that she was injured.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked, utterly flummoxed.

"Are you all right? We felt your stress," Altair replied, hazel eyes swimming with concern. "We also felt a jolt of something."

"You can feel what she is feeling?" Charlus looked at them in awe. "I have heard that Sacrum Vinculum can do that, but to know that it isn't just a rumour – how fascinating!"

Tom regarded the diplomat coolly with an accusatory look. His jaws were clenched and his eyes flashed dangerously red; Harry saw the danger and quickly took a hand in hers and brought it to her lips, planting a deep kiss of reassurance on his knuckles. It seemed to do the trick, since Tom calmed down rather quickly.

"Do not worry. Everything is all right," Harry smiled reassuringly at her future Consorts. "I will explain later, I promise."

"You had better," Altair muttered, pulling her into a close hug, still shooting suspicious looks at Charlus.

It was at this point that the magpie Patronus of Septimus Weasley came flying in. "Ladies and gentlemen, dinner is ready! I repeat, dinner is ready!"

Charlus chuckled, eyes shining as he watched the bird fade away. "My, my, I had no idea that Mr. Weasley could do that! This evening really is full of surprises. Well, we had better not keep Dorea waiting. She turns into an absolute harpy when she's famished!"

#####################################################################

"WHY DO YOU INSIST ON BEING SO INSUFFERABLE, YOU ARROGANT MATCHSTICK!"

Vida sighed in irritation. "I knew it was too good while it lasted. The thing knows how to pick its moments, I will grant it that."

Queenie laughed as she poured herself another cup of tea. The Elder Wand had behaved itself on Yule, Boxing Day and for a few days after that, giving everyone some room to truly celebrate and have some down time, but then once more began 'misbehaving' itself. As a result, many in the castle, including Gellert's Generals, decided it was best to try and spend the majority of their time in their chambers.

Hence, Queenie, Vida and Credence were currently in Vida's chambers, trying to stay as much as they could out of their master's way. Vida was doing her nails, Credence was listening to the radio and reading a book he had gotten from Queenie for Yule, and Queenie herself was looking through a jewellery magazine. She still had not gotten a good idea for a piece to send to the Lady Hera.

All the pieces were either too gaudy, too old-fashioned or they looked cheap. Nothing had an inch of character; it would be an insult to send any one of them to the enigmatic Lady Regnant. Perhaps Queenie should simply make one herself? She had been rather good at beading when she was younger.

After all, Queenie had been the one to make sure she and Teenie had some form of jewellery to wear whenever Ilvermorny had a ball. They weren't anything too fancy but they weren't totally hideous.

"Away with the fairies again, Queenie?" Vida teased. "Are you for once finding our unofficial holiday boring? You have been unusually quiet."

The Natural Legilimens shrugged. "Been havin' a lot of things on my mind, is all," she answered vaguely. She knew she had to distract herself from the anxiety she felt about taking the risk and contacting Rollo Rowle without anyone noticing; after all, it had been Queenie who had slipped something into the communicators' drinks. "I just hope that the news this Norton Lament has is actually somethin' good or we will have to deal with another of Gellert's tantrums."

"Oh please, don't tempt the Fates," Credence commented, not looking up from his book. "I have barely recovered from the tantrum he threw because Carrow almost messed up the Weihnachtsgans."

"You don't mess with Germans and their food, especially around Yule," Vida pointed out with an exhausted sigh. "But you are right; this Lament had better have something good because if there is anything Gellert hates, it is people who waste his time."

"Lament would rue the day he was born," Credence chuckled, turning the page. "I think Gellert should ask Rollo to make himself useful and find out what Lament has to say."

Queenie's heart skipped more than a few beats.

"Do you even think Lament would be willing to talk to Rollo?" Vida stopped applying her nail polish for a moment. "I mean, from what I heard during the Ball, the Laments and the Rowles are not exactly on speaking terms at the moment. Apparently something rather bad happened because of their eldest son, Neil."

"What happened?" Queenie wanted to know, sitting bolt upright.

"That was not entirely clear, but apparently whatever it was, the eldest Lament had gotten himself expelled from Hogwarts because of it," Vida smirked, chuckling to herself coldly. "And he was supposedly in the House of the great Salazar Slytherin. I was most surprised to hear that. He sounded like a Gryffindor from the reports."

"No wonder the Laments were not invited then," Queenie sat back again, shaking her heads.

"I am not entirely sure we can fully trust a man whose son tarnished his family name," Credence scoffed. "I think someone like that will do and say anything to try and get some of his honour back."

"Lying to Gellert is not how it is done," Vida pointed out. "That is how one loses one's life!"

"True. But I think it is best if we do ask Rollo to investigate, that we supply him with some Veritaserum," Credence stated. "Just to be on the safe side."

"I think that is a good idea, doll," Queenie grinned.

Yes, that was a very good idea indeed!

Now, where could Queenie get her hands on some pretty beads and jewels rather quickly? Maybe she could bribe Gellert with some more appelflappen to allow her to make an order? She would have to catch him while he was in a better mood, though.

Which would hopefully in about two or three days.

############################################################

Harry was rather relieved that the rest of the dinner party went without any more dulcet tones; Altair and Tom were still a little icy with Charlus but were perfectly cordial to Dorea, so she let that slide. She did note that Artemis and Heron had tried to speak to her alone on a few occasions but Harry's future Consorts were in full overprotective mode so there was no chance that the pair could have a word with Harry in private.

The Lady Regnant had a word with them about it on the way home.

"I hope you don't intend on being my guard detail during our exam period," she commented coolly as they stepped outside to go home after saying their goodbyes to their hosts. "I also hope you don't try to kill our professors with Basilisk like glares because I don't think Headmaster Dippet would appreciate that."

"Harry, the kind of stress we felt coming from you felt like you were in mortal danger," Tom was the first to try and explain their actions. "Forgive us for over-reacting, in your eyes, but you would do the exact same thing in our shoes had you felt what we did."

"Charlus Potter was no threat to me," Harry shot back. "You saw I was fine; that should have been enough."

"Something happened to make you panic," Altair pointed out gently as they walked down the gravel path a little more. "Panic possibly to the point where you would have lashed out, or probably did lash out."

Harry could not refute that statement.

"Sweetheart, what happened?" Tom wanted to know, his tone gentle. "We promise not to get angry."

"Or send Charlus Potter a hexed letter," Altair added with a smile that was his attempt at being innocent. He was failing rather miserable in this regard.

Harry scoffed, laughing shortly, and then pursed her lips for a moment. "He knows who I am," was all she managed to answer.

There was a moment of stunned silence.

"What?" Altair whispered.

"He knows I am Lady Peverell, and he knows I am his brother Fleamont's bastard," Harry clarified.

"How?" Tom's eyes bugged out. "Did Artemis-"

"No," Harry cut across sharply. "No, I forgot something rather important. That pureblood families have Family Tapestries. Apparently, the Potter one is very thorough indeed."

"Are you telling me that they only just started looking at their own Tapestry again?" Altair could not believe what he was hearing. "How is that possible? Surely they would have done so the moment they met you?"

"Apparently not," Harry chuckled mirthlessly. "Charlus only just started having suspicions, which was why he went to his own Tapestry this morning. He keeps his in a room accessed only through the study."

"Ah yes, the Potters are not really one for flaunting theirs, surprisingly," Tom commented. He exhaled sharply. "So, Charlus confronting you with what he knew – that is what set you of?"

"Yep," Harry admitted readily. "I might have … accidentally used a telekinetic spell on him … I flung him into a wall."

Altair snorted at that. He then sobered. "Will he keep your secret?"

"Yes," Harry replied easily. Her expression darkened. "My only concern now is if and when Fleamont and Henry decide to look at theirs, they will discover the truth as well. I really hope that day never comes."

"I am quite certain that Artemis might have one or good tricks up her sleeve to make sure they do not," Tom grinned lopsidedly.

"I hope so, because I can see Fleamont being irritated that none of his line can ever claim the Peverell Lordship for himself," Altair added, looking very dark indeed. "We all know he has been coveting Harry's family's power for himself."

"He wouldn't be able to anyway," Harry reassured with a smile. "Tom's own claim would trump his, being a Gaunt and all."

Tom's eyes widened and Altair hummed in agreement.

The three had Apparated home and quickly made excuses about being tired and retiring to their rooms to shower and prepare for bed. Athenaïs, Andras and Frey were already asleep by this point – Atty and Andras had spent the entire evening preparing their presents to Tom – which resulted in their wizards tip-toeing a little around them. As for Harry, she ran herself a long, hot bath to try and gather her thoughts.

More and more people were figuring out the truth about her status as Lady Peverell and as Mistress of Death. On one hand, she had half expected that more sharp-witted people would be able to catch on quickly, but on the other hand, the Traveller had hoped that people would be a little more oblivious as they had been in her own time.

But that also begged the question, had they been truly oblivious about who she was? Dumbledore had lied to her, none of her teachers had told her a thing about her status as the only Potter and Peverell heiress left, and there always had been something strange about how personal Draco took her rejection of his friendship. Harry knew that there was a great likelihood that everyone around her who grew up in the wizarding world already knew and had not enlightened her.

Why? Harry knew Dumbledore's motives, but what about everyone else? It just didn't make any sense.

The Traveller forced that train of thought off its rails; its destination was nowhere good and was very likely to make a stop in her Forest of Dark Thoughts. She distracted herself by lathering her arms and legs with the poppy and strawberry bath and shower stuff that Amaris had bought for her not too long ago.

She was rinsing the potion lather off just as Altair's golden jackal, which funnily enough started to also look more and more like a Grim, Patronus came trotting into the room and sat beside the bathtub as Altair's voice sounded.

"Hey Harry, do you mind if I come and sleep with you again? Tom wishes to sleep alone but – I know this is going to sound pathetic – I don't think I can sleep alone right now."

The jackal faded and Harry smiled to herself. She had been rather dreading sleeping alone too, not that she would admit that out loud. Harry waved her hand lazily, conjuring Padfoot, who looked around eagerly for any threat but quickly turned back and cocked his head.

"Tell Altair he is welcome to sleep in my bed tonight – and tell him under no circumstances is he allowed to call himself pathetic again," Harry instructed.

Padfoot woofed in agreement and ran out eagerly to deliver the message.

Harry laughed to herself as she dealt with her less-but-still-unruly hair. She knew that she was perhaps due another trip to the hairdresser in February but until Walburga started making a fuss, Harry decided that she would not bring the matter up. After a couple of washes, Harry got out of the bath, dried herself off, and then left her bathroom to get her black night gown from her closet.

She had just put on her nightgown when there was a knock at her door.

"Enter," the Traveller called softly.

Altair, dressed in a night shirt and trousers again, entered cautiously, closed the door behind him with his back and his hair still damp from the shower. He smiled at her, eyes beholding her in her raven nightgown unblinkingly. "Had a nice bath, my love?" he asked in a whisper.

"I did. How was your shower?" Harry asked as she sat on the right side of her bed, plumping her pillows.

"Pleasant enough," Altair answered as he approached the left side of the bed and crawled under the duvet immediately, sighing contentedly. "This is much better though."

Harry chuckled. "Pity that Tom is already Sappy because you're being sappy right now!"

"I don't deny it," Altair grinned at her, rolling on his left side.

As Harry too began making herself comfortable under the duvet, she felt two arms snake around her and then pull her closer to a very warm body, making her the little spoon. Harry chuckled. "Really?" she teased. "I am the teddy now?"

"I have a beautiful woman lying next to me, and you expect me to keep my hands to myself?" Altair answered as he began kissing her hair and then kissing her neck, causing Harry to close her eyes and lean back into him even more. After laying gentle kisses on her neck, Altair gently made Harry turned her head so he could kiss her lips reverently, which she returned eagerly.

Once they both broke apart, Harry smiled smally. "Tom wanted to sleep alone?"

"Yes," Altair whispered, nuzzling her. "He said he needed to just have a night to himself. I think he is getting overwhelmed again. Plus, it doesn't help that it is his birthday tomorrow."

"Yeah," Harry agreed in a whisper, snuggling closer to the one half of her heart. Altair gave her a gentle squeeze of reassurance, his hands tightening their hold slightly on the fabric of her night gown. Her cheeks flared red a little as she felt something hardened press up against her, causing her to moan quietly. Altair groaned at her noise, which was music to his ears.

"Harry, you're playing with fire," he growled into her ear, turning her on even more. She felt the further hardened member more firmly up against her, and though there were four layers between it and her behind, Harry knew that if they did not calm down, that would soon not be the case. However she could not stop the second louder moan that escaped from her mouth.

"Altair," she whispered back hoarsely.

"Sssshh, my love, I am in control, I promise," Altair reassured, sounding just as breathless. "I was teasing – sorry. I will calm down. I'm so sorry."

Harry nodded, but didn't say a word.

They took a moment to calm down and very soon, the pair fell into the Realm of Hypnos.

#####################################################################

Tom dreaded waking up the next morning. His birthday was one of the most hated days in the year; he always wished that he could skip it and that people would forget, but they never did. Not his friends, not the brats at the orphanage or Mrs. Cole, who took pleasure in reminding him about how wicked he was even more on this day. In this case, Tom was not looking forward to being smothered by the Flamels and the Burkes – he was already having an overload of family warmth, which was why he forwent sleeping with his own future Consorts.

Something he regretted almost immediately. His bed felt cold without them there.

The Heir of Slytherin was awake at around eight, already pulling a face as he rubbed the sleep sand out of his eyes and beginning to get out of bed, forcing himself to get through this day. Frey was also awake.

*Still upset about your hatching day?* she huffed. *I would have thought that you would have gotten over it by now.*

*I will never like being born on a day that is considered to be bad luck,* Tom answered sourly.

*Well, considering the fact it is your first hatching day with your mates, I advise you to try and at least have some fun,* Frey stated primly. *I am betting that they have something prepared that will make you smile, Mr. Grumpy Pants!*

Tom mock-scowled at her. *You are spending too much time with Atty.*

Frey did not get his comment entirely. *Of course. She is my best friend.*

Tom huffed and headed towards his bathroom and started to get undressed, and that was when he spotted something odd in his mirror. He had not noticed it before but he did now. Right there, where his stomach and soul were, was a silver, lightning-like mark – it almost looked like a Catherine wheel, only made of spidery bolts. Tom frowned and ran his fingers over it.

How did he not see it before?

Where did it come from?

Tom turned on his shower as he began pondering on how that mark had gotten there. He quickly realised it must have appeared somewhere directly after the Rite of Paean. But he could not for the life of him, on the top of his head, state what part of the Rite could have ensured there would be a mark on the seat of his soul. The books certainly never mentioned about the possibility of receiving a weird mark on the skin.

Perhaps Thomas Burke would know what it was?

When did my life get this bloody interesting? was the thought that ran through Tom's head as he showered.

Since you met Harry Peverell, was the answer that came from his conscience.

Tom sighed irritably, finished rinsing the shampoo out of his hair, got out of the shower, dried off and got dressed. Almost as soon as he finished dressing, there was excited scratching at his door. Frey started hissing with laughter as Tom closed his eyes, praying for patience.

Tom used a non-verbal spell to open the door. In hollered Athenaïs and Andras, both of whom carrying wrapped packages and skidding to a halt in front of Tom, holding their presents out to him, looking very excited. Tom had to use every ounce of self-control not to coo at them.

*Yes, you cannot be a sour cat to those two,* Frey tittered, sounding very pleased with herself.

Tom ignored his friend as he took the gift from Athenaïs first. It was at this point that Harry and Tom, both still in nightwear, skidded into the room, both of them looking not very happy.

"Atty, Andras! We told you to bring your presents downstairs!" Harry scolded, folding her arms.

The Gargouille and the Northern Inuit hound pouted and wilted a little.

Tom smiled reassuringly at his irritated lovers. "It is fine."

Altair grinned. "Would you like our presents now as well?"

Tom flushed a little. "Later," he decided.

"OK," Harry smiled smally.

Tom turned his attention back onto Athenaïs' gift and began to carefully unwrap the rectangular present, undoing the ribbon with a lot of care. To his utter surprise, it was a framed artwork – one done clearly by Atty herself. It was done with ink – black ink, blue ink, green ink. It was a scene of the Black Lake at night; Tom recognised some of the shapes Atty had attempted to make. It was pretty well done.

He beamed at the anxious young dragon. "Thank you, Athenaïs. I love it."

From Andras, he also got a framed artwork, but this one just made with paint and it was a funny picture of Frey – his familiar had a mantel on, sat on a throne like chair and looking comically arrogant. He knew they had worked in the study because they had used Harry's desk chair as a throne. Tom could not wipe the smile off his face.

He was about to thank Andras but Altair's familiar already had seen his expression and was already content with that reaction; Tom soon was forced to accept a tackling hug, almost falling onto the floor before Andras turned tail and decided to head downstairs. Atty gave him a judgemental look and shook her head before following her friend with Frey on her back.

"Believe it or not, we had no idea the familiars decided to make you portraits," Altair commented, laughing.

"I think I now understood why there was newspaper on my floor," Harry added.

"They are both really sweet," Tom answered as he set his paintings aside carefully. He sighed. "I really hate my own birthday."

"We know," Harry reassured. "But you can't ask us to ignore it, especially your eighteenth birthday."

It was at this point that Melanie appeared in the doorway, grinning brightly. "Ah! All of you are awake. Tom too! Happy birthday, young man. I was rather worried I would have to wake you again because your breakfast is ready!"

Tom took a fortifying breath as he followed Melanie, Altair and Harry downstairs. The kitchen, dining room and living room were decorated with colourful paper banners in the shape of dragons and snakes, probably made by Melanie and Perrie. The dining room table was covered by a green table cloth and was filled by a myriad of breakfast options, presents and a cake with eighteen candles.

Well, we were warned Melanie would make a cake no matter what I said, Tom commented to himself.

Amaris Nott was pouring the tea and coffee while Thomas, Henry, Nicholas and Perenelle were laughing at Athenaïs and Andras' happy antics at the fact Tom had loved their presents. Harry and Altair bounded down the stairs and morning greetings were exchanged as well as hugs. Tom almost had to laugh at Altair's delight but surprise at being embraced by the Immortal Sorceress.

Very soon the attention of the adults were turned onto him.

"Happy birthday, Tom!" they chorused happily. Fortunately, no one seemed to be in the mood to sing – he had been dreading that!

Tom knew he was bright red as he descended the stairs and was pretty certain that he was the colour of strawberries when Melanie and Perrie embraced him like aunts embracing their nephew. "Thank you," he managed to say eventually.

"Eighteen is definitely an age to celebrate," Nicholas stated jovially as Tom took his seat at the table. "I still remember when fifteen, sixteen and seventeen were some of the more important ages – mostly due to high child mortality or differences in belief systems-"

"Nicholas," Perenelle cut across gently.

Tom still felt a little bit embarrassed but he no longer felt like being swallowed whole by the floor. From Thomas, Henry and Melanie, he had gotten books on Parsel Magic and a grimoire that had apparently been in the possession of Tezan Gaunt. How they had found it Tom did not even want to know! The Flamels had gifted him an alchemy set for beginners with some really rare books and the Lady Nott had given him his own delivery owl – a handsome Eurasian eagle owl with beady amber eyes and a sassy attitude who was very content to live with the Peverell ravens. He had apparently refused to leave the bird house despite Lady Nott's pleading.

Tom had named him Mercury, because of his eyes. The owl seemed to like it well enough; it at least didn't try to peck him for it or poop on his head as apparently some familiars had the tendency to do if they didn't like a name.

Speaking of delivery owls, Tom had just blown out the candles on his cake when there was a pecking sound at the window.

Oh no.

His friends had better not go overboard with their gifts again or try giving him a stupid surprise party like Malum and Felix had tried to do in the past!

Tom turned and was rather relieved to see only Malum's owl outside. He got up as Melanie began cutting up the cake, and he opened the window. Malum's owl only stuck out its leg for him to untie the letter before taking off.

It was not expecting a reply. Interesting.

Tom broke the seal on the back and unfolded the letter.

Hey Tom,

Happy birthday! There I have that out of the way. You three holding up all right? Anyway, I know you hate your birthday and that Harry's family and guardians will likely be keeping you busy, so I thought instead of a party, we go out for a drink in Diagon Alley tomorrow – you, me, the rest of the Knights, Nott and Harry. It will be New Years Day and they have some decent deals at the Leaky Cauldron. What do you say?

Malum

Tom smiled at this. Malum was clearly already expecting a rejection, but a drink with friends was definitely different to a stupid surprise party. Plus going into London with friends was not a bad idea.

"Nicholas, leave some cake for Tom!"

"Altair, that is your second slice!"

"Sorry, Mother."

"Athenaïs, I saw that! Stealing from Tosti is never a good idea."

Tom frowned at this and turned to see the pouting Gargouille shy away from Thomas Burke's cake slice, Harry shaking her head at her familiar. That was the second time she had mentioned that name.

Tosti … Thanatos …

The pet name the Peverells had for the god of Death himself.

No … it couldn't be.

"Everything all right, Tom?" Henry Burke knocked Tom out of his head. "Did you get some upsetting news?"

"No, no," Tom reassured with a quick smile. "My friends want to meet me, Harry and Altair tomorrow for a drink to celebrate my birthday."

"In Diagon Alley?" Melanie wanted to know.

"Yes," Tom nodded.

Thomas Burke smiled as he finished another mouthful of cake. "I do not see why not. Just as long as you don't stay too late. I do not trust nothing to be falling from the sky at the moment, given how desperate the Muggle war seems to be."

"Yes, I do not fancy getting hit by a V-1 or V-2 either," Harry grumbled.

"What?" Lady Nott looked confused.

"They're a type of rocket bomb," Harry answered easily. "They're actually a whole lot less accurate than some of the other bombs the Nazis had been using but they pack more of a nasty, deadly punch."

Lady Nott paled at hearing this. "Are you sure it is wise to go out then?"

"We can ask Malum if they want to meet in the afternoon," Altair tried to reassure his mother. "There is a less likelihood of bombings during the afternoon."

"Oh, OK," Lady Nott looked relieved. "That would put my heart at rest."

"I will write to Malum later," Tom promised. He turned to Thomas Burke. "Sir, may I speak with your privately for a moment? I have something I need to ask you."

There was a covert perplexed look passed around the table but Thomas Burke wiped his mouth on a napkin and got up. "Of course."

"You can use my study," Harry piped up.

"Thank you, sweetheart," Tom smiled, sounding relieved.

"Well, after you," the bookshop owner grinned at him.

It would be an understatement to say that his heart wasn't pounding as he led the way to Harry's study, her guardian following behind. Tom put a few privacy charms on the door and gathered his courage.

"What can I help you with? How did your ritual go?" Mr. Burke asked curiously.

"The ritual went well," Tom reassured. "You literally saved my life, and my relationships. I can't thank you enough for that, but this morning I noticed something and … I only know it must have happened after the Rite."

Thomas Burke's brow furrowed. "What happened?" he asked in a low tone.

Tom gulped and hoped what he was about to do would not be taken the wrong way. He took off his blazer, and then lifted up his shirt, revealing the mark that was now adorned on his stomach area. When the bookshop owner saw the mark, Tom was surprised to see a look of almost resignation enter those strange eyes – the dower man barely reacted emotionally anyway so the fact Thomas Burke managed to keep his countenance did not surprise Tom at all.

"You said you only noticed it this morning?" Burke sounded way too clinical for Tom's liking.

"Yes, sir," Tom replied, trying to keep the panic out of his voice. "I have no idea what it is and since you were so kind as to help me and knew what I needed, I was hoping you would know what this is."

The man knew what it was; Tom could see it as clear as daylight. But the strange guardian of Lady Peverell stubbornly kept his silence for what felt like an eternity and refused to look Tom directly into his eyes. There went a chance to use Legilimency on the man.

"Let me do some research," was the eventual reply. "Because this is most unusual."

"Unusual?" Tom tried not to scoff. "Is this a good thing or a bad thing? Does this mean something went awry?"

"No, it doesn't mean something went awry and your life is not in danger," Mr. Burke answered firmly. "It is a Mark, like the one on Harry's forehead."

"Oh," Tom suddenly felt a little faint.

Was this because of what he had done to himself? Was this the consequence for splitting his soul?

"That is why it is unusual. Like I said, I will do some further research and get back to you," the book collector promised with a quick smile. "But for now, keep an eye on it and just try and enjoy your birthday. I believe you still have to open Harry and Altair's gifts."

Tom lit up a little at this. He had been rather looking forward to theirs.

"Thank you, sir," he answered sincerely as he put his shirt down and put his blazer back on. "I cannot thank you enough."

Tom had learned quickly with Harry that sometimes it was best to leave a Peverell or their allies to their secrets until they were ready to talk about them.

Thomas Burke smiled weakly. "You're welcome."

Harry and Altair, who was already hiding something, seemed to have sense that they were done because Tom met them on the landing of the first floor. The pair of them dragged him to Harry's room, looking way too giddy for Tom's liking.

"Happy birthday, Tom," was the first greeting he got from an amused Evren, who had been playing her painted violin.

"Thank you, Evren," he smiled gratefully as Harry hid something that she had hidden in her vanity table behind her back.

The triad were soon seated on the floor and handed him two beautifully wrapped gifts – one had a strange shape and the other was long and rectangular. Tom looked from one to the other, genuinely unable to pick which to open first.

"Come on, it isn't an Arithmantic equation," Altair joked. "Just pick one!"

Tom went for the one with the odd shape. To his surprise and delight, it was another crystal music box – he gauged – in the shape of his Patronus. He was taken completely off guard when he heard piano music coming from it, along with ethereal singing that was clearly done by Harry.

Altair and Harry had worked together on another musical statue. Tom listened to Pale Grass Blue, the song Luna had sung the most to Harry,with tears in his eyes, eventually having to silence the thing before he started to actually cry. He was not going to break because of a birthday gift.

Altair pouted. "Awww, he didn't even get to the other ones, or the best one!"

"Altair, he can always listen to it in his own time," Harry reassured. "Leave him."

Tom was very thankful Harry was so intuitive. He blinked away the tears that were threatening to fall and focused all of his attention on his last present. The box was ornate and very handsome; possibly held something like a pocket watch or something in it. He opened it, and very nearly dropped the box in shock.

There, nestled in velvet, was none other than the locket of Salazar Slytherin. The locket he had kept after his sister's untimely death; the one possession the Founder of Slytherin House had cherished above all. Tom had read enough history books to be able to recognise it on sight.

He didn't even notice that his hand had gone to his mouth.

"How …?" he managed to say eventually. "How …?"

"Harry is one scary Lady," Altair informed him. "She managed to track it down; apparently your mother had pawned the locket to Borgin and Burke's in order to get enough money to keep herself alive to give birth to you and it seemed that no one had come for it for eighteen years because Harry bought it after she went to the movies with McGonagall and Rowle."

Tom looked up, disbelieving at Harry. "You tracked it down … for me?"

Amusement swam in those viridescent eyes. "Of course," she smirked wryly. "I had to put up a bit of a performance to throw Borgin and Burke off the scent but they know enough of my reputation by now not to ask too many questions. I also kept one-upping them on the price, which kind of won them over."

"How much did it cost you?" Tom wanted to know.

"Not even a dent in my vaults," Harry responded easily. She chuckled. "Besides this is not the only surprise. Open it."

"Open it?" Tom repeated incredulously. "Did you put something in it? But it can't be opened by anyone except a Parselmouth …"

Harry tried to look innocent; Evren started cackling in her frame. Tom snorted; of course, she was.

*I should have known,* he commented.

*Not really. I don't tend to use it all that often,* Harry replied easily.

Tom's grin broadened.

"Damn," Altair commented, fanning himself.

Tom turned his attention onto the locket. *Open.*

The locket clicked and swung open. Tom's heart skipped a beat when he saw the photo of the three of them sleeping peacefully, no doubt taken by Melanie – she had the audacity to do something like that. Tom ran his fingers carefully over the photo; it was almost as good as his miniatures of his lovers.

"You can always change the photo if you want," Harry's whisper drifted into his ears.

"Well, it would have to be one equally as precious," Tom responded easily as he closed the locket and looked her dead in the eyes. "I really don't deserve you."

"Yes, you do, Sappy," Harry replied easily.

Tom put the precious locket back into its box before pulling Harry into a passionate kiss, trying to put as much of his gratitude and love into it as possible – it was returned with equal gusto before she broke the kiss and letting Altair take over for her. Not that Tom was complaining at all.

It was safe to say that it had actually been a more than tolerable birthday. And when it came to staying up and welcoming the arrival of 1945, Tom could actually for once say, "Happy New Year," without feeling bile threaten to shoot up his oesophagus.

######################################################################

The New Year's party at Grimmauld Place was still in full swing when Walburga and Druella decided to retire for bed, or at least that is what they said. Not that most of their family noticed; they were either too drunk or too busy chatting. Orion and Lucretia were also conversing in a corner, talking about something that they clearly wanted to keep private. It had been like this for a good while; the siblings were hiding something.

Not that most of their family seemed to notice. But Walburga and Druella did, and they were rather determined to find out what Orion and Lucretia were so tight-lipped about.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Druella whispered as Walburga used an Unlocking Charm on Orion's bedroom door, the loud music from downstairs drifting in. "Shouldn't we just ask Orion about what is going on?"

"For once, I doubt he would give a straight answer," Walburga admitted as they slipped in and closed the door as silently as they could manage. "I just have a funny feeling that it's something important."

Walburga and Druella scanned Orion's room. It was still as bright and vibrant as every; Harry's Yule gifts only added to it. They went through his trunk, his bookcases – nothing. Druella even cast as many Revelation Spells as she could and still nothing Then they came to the pile of books on his desk, the ones that looked like unassuming books on Black Family magic.

This made Walburga frowned; it was odd. Orion really did not like their Family Magic all too much. Why would he have books from the library on his desk? And they were on Death Magic, Soul Magic and … the Peverells.

It made Walburga's heart skip several beats; she almost didn't hear Druella come up behind her as she began going through the chapters that Orion had bookmarked and then through his notes.

Marked by Death – Killing Curse.

The Deathly Hallows, make one Master of Death.

Soul Mage – Peverell Magic; natural born Masters of Death.

"Merlin," Druella stated breathlessly, causing Walburga to flinch. "He doesn't think that Harry is … the Mistress of Death, does he?"

Walburga swallowed as she closed one of the books, the gears in her own head whirring. "It would make sense, Dru. Think about it. It all adds up: why Grindelwald wants her dead, hunted her, why she hides away – why she speaks like she is from a different time. It just makes sense!"

"She also knows where the Hallows are," Druella added, realisation in her tone. "There is only one reason for that." She frowned. "Lucretia … she has been helping Orion, hasn't she?"

"Which means, she also knows Harry is Lady Peverell," Walburga pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Possibly," Druella agreed, as she began pacing. "Orion and Harry are going into London together on the 2nd; maybe we can catch him after his trip with her and see if he will confide in us too."

Walburga laughed shortly as she looked at the books on the desk. "I am not so sure if I want to know the truth," she whispered. "It's … terrifying. To know that a fairy tale is not a complete lie."

"They are usually based on something," Druella pointed out.

Walburga hummed non-committedly.

"She's still our Harry, you know," Druella continued. "No matter what."

"I know," Walburga whispered.

Harry was the possible Mistress of Death. Of course the New Year would bring new revelations and new adventures. Walburga found herself smiling; perhaps that was to be expected with Harry as her friend.

######################################################################

With a New Year, 1945, comes new challenges! What is that Mark that has appeared on Tom's skin? Will Rollo receive another order with regards to Mr. Lament? What will happen on Harry's trip to London with Orion? Will the next term at school be as exciting as the one they just had? Stay tuned to find out!

I am getting really excited! Awesome stuff will happen, exciting things – I am starting to sound like Orion!

Orion: That is not a bad thing!

Gellert: No, it just means everyone needs to get a headache tablet.

Orion: *pouting* Meanie!

Gellert: Look to whom you're talking to!

Orion: Mr. Fussy over a Cookie.

Gellert: … Fair.

See you in the next one everyone!

Kingmaker'sUmbreon