A/N:
Welcome back to this story!
I apologise for the long time of break I took, I'm currently switching jobs and writing has been difficult because of it. I unfortunately didn't fully push through the block yet, so this is a rather short chapter, but I will update both stories soon once again.
Thank you Reynair for editing this once again and helping me with combating writers block!
Without further ado, have fun!
Harry Potter woke with a start, his emerald eyes snapping open in the dim light of dawn. He laid still for a moment, listening to the quiet of the manor, his mind already racing with thoughts of the day ahead. Today, he would board the Hogwarts Express for his first time, embarking on the future that was awaiting him.
He sat up, running a hand through his unruly jet-black hair, and reached for his glasses. As he slipped them on, the world came into focus, and his gaze fell upon his packed trunk at the foot of the bed. It was filled with not just school supplies, but also the fruits of six years of intense training under Arcturus' and Cyrus' tutelage.
Harry's fingers traced the spine of a leather-bound book peeking out from his trunk - a primer on Occlumency that he'd memorised inside out. The sorting of his thoughts and memories had been one of his favoured lessons that his two mentors had taught him.
"Potter," Arcturus' gruff voice carried through the door. "Are you awake?"
"Yes, sir," Harry replied, his voice steady despite the butterflies in his stomach.
The door creaked open, and Arcturus strode in, his steely grey eyes scanning the room before settling on Harry. "Good. We've much to discuss before you leave."
Harry nodded, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He'd grown accustomed to Arcturus' direct manner, appreciating the old man's no-nonsense approach to his education. The old lord had always treated him like an adult, both in his responsibility and the privileges.
"Remember, Potter," Arcturus began, his voice low and intense. "You wouldn't be stepping a bloody foot into this lousy excuse of a school, if not for the contacts you need to make."
It was a discussion they had several times already. Between the danger of Dumbledore's future attempts of fiddling with Harry's life, the usually atrocious curriculum of the once famous British wizarding school and the danger of older students deciding to take revenge, it had been a difficult decision for the two of them to make.
"But we trained you well, Potter," Arcturus said, a rare glint of pride visible in his usually stoic eyes. "Though always remember: Hogwarts is not just a school. It's a battlefield of alliances and rivalries. You need to watch your step carefully. Don't show them any weakness."
"I understand, sir," Harry replied, thinking of the countless hours of pureblood education by Cyrus. They had already started weeks after he had become four years old, meeting every second day.
Arcturus' eyes relaxed. "I know you do, Harry. You've learned well. But knowledge isn't everything. You'll need to be constantly vigilant."
Harry nodded, feeling the weight of Arcturus' words. The old man had become more than just a guardian to him; he was a mentor, a protector, and perhaps the closest thing to family Harry had ever known.
"I won't let you down," Harry promised.
Arcturus grunted, a sound Harry had learned to interpret as approval. "See that you don't or you will have a long summer of training ahead of you. Now, let's go over your strategy one last time."
As they talked, Harry felt a mix of excitement and apprehension. He was eager to put his training to use, to hone his skills in Hogwarts' best subjects, charms and transfiguration. But he was also keenly aware of the dangers that awaited him, the potential enemies masquerading as friends.
Harry Potter stood on Platform 9¾, his hands mindlessly straightening the emerald tie of his form fitting tux. Eleven years old, tall for his age, he moved with a quiet grace, his expression a perfect mask of indifference, hiding the inner turmoil the child experienced.
He came to a stop in front of the Hogwarts Express, the train gleaming in the morning light, its scarlet engine billowing steam that mingled with the eager chatter of students and parents. The excited voices were overwhelming in their loudness. Crowds had always irritated Harry and today was a magnitude above anything he had ever been forced to experience in his youth.
The sheer amount of voices, both young and old, could not compare in the slightest to the few "socialising lessons" Arcturus had conducted on him. Harry had abhorred that specific part of his education. It didn't suit him at all, entertaining the obnoxiously loud masses at the yearly Christmas parties at some random lord's house brought him no joy. Thankfully Arcturus had agreed on Harry taking a drink of Polyjuice Potion to conceal his identity, preventing even more people from trying to win his favour than just from a distant family friend of House Black.
Harry's eyes darted nervously across the platform, his chest tightening with each passing moment. The cacophony of voices, the press of bodies, the overwhelming sensory assault—it was all becoming too much. His fingers clenched and unclenched at his sides, a subtle sign of his growing distress.
Just as the world began to blur at the edges, a gentle pressure on his arm cut through the chaos. Harry glanced down, his gaze settling on a delicate hand resting on his sleeve. He followed the arm up to meet Daphne's bright blue eyes, as calming as a clear summer sky.
"Breathe, Harry," she murmured, her voice barely audible above the chaos around, yet crystal clear to his ears. "Remember what we practised."
Harry nodded, drawing in a deep breath through his nose and exhaling slowly through his mouth. He focused on Daphne's touch, using it as an anchor to steady himself. Her presence, so familiar and reassuring, helped to quiet the storm in his mind.
"Thanks," he whispered, offering her a small, genuine smile—a rare sight for anyone outside their inner circle.
Daphne's lips quirked up in response, her eyes twinkling with understanding. She didn't remove her hand, and Harry found himself profoundly grateful for the continued contact. It was his lifeline in the sea of chaos around them.
As the initial panic receded, Harry felt a warmth bloom in his chest. This was why he and Daphne worked so well together. She understood him in ways few others could, always seeming to know exactly what he needed without him having to voice it.
"Ready for this, Potter?" she asked, a playful smile tugging her lips, replacing the gentle look that had calmed him so effectively just moments ago.
Harry grinned, feeling the warmth of their relationship. "I better be. Arcturus will skin us alive if we botch this. But am I ready to put up with you every day? I don't know about that."
Daphne laughed, a sound that made Harry's eyes glaze over momentarily, before he shook his head.
"What was that?" he asked.
Her face went beet red. "Sorry! I was distracted."
"No need to be anxious," Cyrus Greengrass interjected from their side, his voice warm with pride. He cast a privacy charm around their group, allowing them to speak freely without the fear of eavesdroppers.
Arcturus, standing next to his friend, nodded in agreement, his steely eyes softening slightly as he looked at Harry and Daphne. "You have been prepared for this moment. Remember your training, stick together, and you will do just fine."
Harry felt a surge of gratitude for the two men who had become like fathers to him. He glanced at Daphne, seeing the same emotions reflected in her eyes.
A small sniffle drew their attention. Astoria, Daphne's younger sister, was trying hard not to cry. "I wish I could go with you," she said, her lower lip trembling.
Daphne knelt down, pulling her sister into a bone-crushing hug. "Hey, little star, it's only for a few months. Before you even notice, I'll be back for Christmas break. And before you know it, you'll be at Hogwarts too."
Harry watched the exchange, feeling a pang of envy at the sisterly bond they shared. But he ruthlessly batted it aside just as quickly, reminding himself of the family he had found in Arcturus and the Greengrasses.
"Come on, Tori," he said, ruffling her hair affectionately. "Who else is going to keep these old men in line while we're gone?"
Astoria giggled through her tears, and even Arcturus Black, the man who never smiles, cracked a small grin at Harry's cheek.
As the whistle blew, signalling the train's imminent departure, Harry felt a mix of excitement and dread flutter in his stomach. He looked at Daphne. Her face schooled back into the expressionless mask they had trained over so many years.
"Together?" he asked, holding his hand out for her.
Daphne took it, her grip firm and reassuring. "Always," she replied.
With a last nod of acknowledgement to Arcturus and Cyrus, and brief hugs with Mélodie, Harry and Daphne boarded the Hogwarts Express. They were ready for whatever challenges lay ahead, secure in knowing that they had each other's backs.
"There is way too much pressure on those two." Mélodie Greengrass was not happy.
Under Lord Greengrass's privacy charm, a small discussion erupted as soon as the kids left.
Arcturus luckily had the state of mind to cast another, smaller privacy charm over Astoria, right before the real fighting could start.
"We've been through this multiple times already, Mélodie," he stated, his voice completely bereft of any emotion. Only his trademark steely undercurrent was left, barely glimpsing through his speech. "They are the only heirs of two Wizengammot houses. They need to be prepared. Hogwarts is the best place for them."
Mélodie scowled, her usual rock-solid composure slipping slightly. "They are CHILDREN!" she yelled into Arcturus Black's face, her hair starting to move as if there was a slight breeze.
Waves of magic rolled off of the gorgeous witch, her eyes shifting darker and darker by the moment.
Arcturus was stunned. Mélodie, the mother that had doted on Harry and Daphne like a prince and princess, spoiled them in every possible situation to "counteract" Cyrus' and his own stricter upbringing, had just yelled at him.
Shouted into his face like nobody had dared to do in countless years, not even in the Wizengamot. And even weirder was: He was not mad. He understood her and, to be honest, was slightly cowed by the fiery outburst from the usually gentle witch.
"You taught them as if they were going to war," Mélodie said, her voice trembling, a slight gleam of unshed tears in her eyes. "They were never only kids. I understand your need to keep the families alive, but as I told you so many times, what you have done could hurt them more than anyone at that bloody school."
Arcturus and Cyrus stared at the ground in shame. They had seen Harry's and Daphne's struggles as well, the immense reluctance they both had regarding going to Hogwarts. The scared looks, the insecurity. Had they done the right thing?
"You should be glad they've got each other," Lady Greengrass continued, her voice softening measurably. Her warm ocean-blue eyes had returned, though filled with tears that streamed down her perfect face. "Even though they may not know it themselves yet, but I do."
And that was the moment it clicked in Arcturus' and Cyrus' minds. The looks, the blushing between the two. Heck, Daphne calmed Harry with a simple touch when the boy was close to a breakdown. Their children would probably grow closer than they'd ever imagined.
At the same time, inside of the Hogwarts Express, Harry sat beside Daphne in their compartment. His emerald eyes stared at the passing landscape, his face scrunched up in thought. The gentle rumble of the Hogwarts Express soothed his nerves, but couldn't quite quell the anger that bubbled inside of his chest.
"You're thinking too much again," Daphne murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. Her face clearly showed concern for her friend through the relaxed shields of her occlumency.
Harry turned sharply towards her, his contemplation suddenly cut by the sweet voice of his best friend. "Can't help it, Daph. I was so overwhelmed on that platform. I would've frozen if it wasn't for you."
"Then it's a good thing you have me with you to break your thick skull through the fear," Daphne said, amusement lacing her voice. "Oh, how dependent"The Boy Who Lived" is to a regular old House of Lords."
Harry just snorted, looking disbelievingly at her. "You? Normal?" he laughed. "If you're normal, I'm fighting a Dragon."
Daphne only pouted, but the small smirk playing around her lips betrayed the amusement she felt at their banter.
The gentle rocking of the Hogwarts Express had almost lulled Harry into a false security over the next hours, when the compartment door slammed open.
Draco Malfoy's sneering face appeared, flanked by two hulking figures that looked more troll than boy.
Harry's hand instinctively found Daphne's, a silent communication born from years of training together. This wasn't just a schoolboy spat - it was the opening move in a game they'd been preparing for their entire lives."
"Well, well. If that isn't Harry Potter," the blond boy drawled, his grey eyes glinting. "I'm Draco Malfoy, heir -"
"Bugger off, Malfoy," Harry cut into the well-trained speech of the Malfoy heir. He had heard this exact introduction over a dozen times already at the Christmas parties he had taken part in due to Arcturus. "I don't bloody remember calling you in."
His eyes narrowed visibly as he regarded Draco Malfoy. The blond boy's arrogant smirk reminded him of everything Cyrus had warned them about and further hardened his opinion of the pro-Voldemort family.
Draco's smirk faltered into the look of a puppy that had been robbed of its favourite toy, before he recovered. "I thought I'd introduce myself. But it's obvious a half-blood like you wouldn't have manners. Probably have been raised in the filthy muggle world as well, haven't you?" The boy snarled, his voice exuding an unbelievable amount of self-importance.
Daphne's eyes narrowed, a tiny predatory hint hushing over her usual cool demeanour. She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Careful, Malfoy. You're playing with fire, and trust me, you might burn if you continue." Her fingers danced over her wand, a subtle reminder of the hours they'd spent duelling in the Black family training rooms."
Draco's face twisted in barely concealed anger. "Take that back, bitch. If you grovel enough, we make a new start. Both your families would be a great addition to our portfolio of alliances."
Harry's fingers twitched towards his wand, a reflex drilled into him by years of Arcturus' rigorous training. But beneath the confident facade, a knot of anxiety tightened in his gut. The crowded platform had overwhelmed him more than he cared to admit, even to Daphne. He was the Boy-Who-Lived, raised to be a leader, a warrior … so why did he feel like a little boy once again? What if it happened again?
"Piss off and crawl back to your father if you're not fine with it, Malfoy," Harry ground out through his clenched teeth. He had to bite through the fear, make a statement to the Malfoy heir. Otherwise, he would be on the back foot. "Don't insult my friends and allies again, or you will suffer the consequences of the whole might of House Potter."
"You'll regret that, Potter. My father —"
"Isn't here," Daphne cut in, her voice just as cold as the look on her face. "Leave, Malfoy. You're not wanted."
Draco's hand flew to his wand, his self-control snapping from the embarrassment. "Flipendo!" he shouted, his spell flying roughly into their direction.
Harry reacted instinctively. "Protego!" he yelled. After the spell hit the golden tint of his protection, his shield charm flickered and died far too quickly, leaving him momentarily stunned. Arcturus' warnings echoed in his mind: "Actual combat is nothing like training, boy. Fear, adrenaline, the chaos of battle - they'll affect your magic in ways you can't predict. Especially when you're still not mature." For the first time, Harry understood the apprehension of Lord Black to let him leave. All their training could only do so much. He would still stand no chance against tougher opponents.
While Harry was still locked in his train of thought, Daphne already flicked her wand. "Expelliarmus!" The spell hit Draco's hand flat on, but it was only barely enough to send his wand clattering to the floor.
Harry's heart raced. Their spells were working, but not nearly as well as they should. The stress of the moment seemed to affect their control, just as Arcturus had predicted.
Draco lunged for his wand, but Harry was quicker. "Locomotor Mortis!" he cast. The leg-locker curse hit Draco, sending him tumbling to the floor.
"You'll pay for this, Potter!" Draco snarled, his nose bleeding onto the cabin's floor as he was struggling against the curse.
Harry stood over him, his wand pointed steadily at his face. "Leave, Malfoy. And don't dare to come sliming back."
A/N 2:
Thank you for waiting on me and still keeping up to date with the story! I hope you enjoyed the rather short chapter.
As always, please review this, it always makes my day to get kind messages or subjective critique.
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