CHAPTER 8 - The Policy of Mistruths
31 July 1994 - Château Black - Marseilles, 8:49AM
Pleased to have slept in, Harry stretched to his comfort as he smiled at the sound of birdsong outside his window.
It was a beautiful sunny day, the perfect setting for a birthday celebration. Lord Wilkes and co. had arrived in Marseilles three days prior, settling in as needed. As promised, Heir Zabini had been by and taken their group on a whirlwind tour of Marseilles, including many pit stops at his family's own château, part of his inheritance from the thankfully deceased Le Comte.
Blaise would not be present for the day's birthday celebrations in light of his mother's prophetic revelations that would mark the day's end.
The chorus of birdsong ratcheted in volume, pulling a bigger smile from Lord Wilkes at the host of sparrows gathered in the tree outside his window.
Château Black was as lavish as it was picturesque, a marital gift of the erstwhile Altair Lord Black to his second wife Lady Marie-Thérèse. A whimsical homage to the height of French Renaissance architecture, the manse featured several decorative plaques and facades bearing the crests of House Black and La Famille Phélypeaux. Intricate paintings featuring Greek and Roman legends of olde lined the walls, interspersed with frames of Black and a handful of Phélypeaux ancestors past.
An impressive fifty-acre garden spanned the backyard, containing a bountiful array of magical and mundane plants that played host to a plethora of avians, reptiles, and insects that added an enchanting layer of visual and auditory interest to the garden. A large lake sat at the outermost perimeter, home to a sub-species of carnivorous water lilies that were technically outlawed in Wizarding France.
The late Catherine de' Medici had been quite inspired when visiting her old friend Marie-Thérèse, utilizing the layout to create Le Jardin des Tuileries.
Harry soon registered Selma's hissing snores, stifling a laugh as the adder sleepily shifted around the gilded headboard before settling contentedly. He had an entire suite to use to his comfort, and despite the room's massiveness, its coziness could not be denied.
Stretching his limbs, Lord Wilkes summoned his toiletries and entered the adjoining bathroom to complete his ablutions.
Emerging half an hour later he was ready to take on the day, venturing downstairs to the massive dining area. A massive refectory table teeming with a veritable feast of breakfast foods dominated the room's center, currently seating Harry's family and friends as they heartily chatted and ate.
"There's the birthday boy!" barked Sirius joyously, raising his glass of milk in a boisterous cheer. His mother, Snape, his mother, and all his assembled friends mimicked the action, eliciting a bright and boyish laugh from Harry.
"For he's a jolly good fellow, for he's a jolly good fellow, for he's a jolly good fellooooooow, which no wizard can deny!"
A singing Lord Black marched towards his godson and upon reaching him, slapped a golden crown on the younger wizard's head (that seemingly appeared out of nowhere) before hoisting the younger wizard upon his shoulders. That elicited a chorus of laughter and good-natured ribbing from his friends, with Draco loudly musing on his lack of a camera to capture the moment.
"Blimey mate!" grunted Sirius playfully. "Put on some stones have you?!"
His godson merely laughed in response as he commanded the older wizard to "Giddy-up!" as his friends snickered at the exchange.
All save Lily, who turned misty-eyed at the realization that her baby boy was growing up. He'd experienced a steady growth spurt since the winter of his Second Year, and currently stood almost three inches well above his mother's head. His voice was also starting to deepen, marked by the occasional pubescent creaks and cracks.
'He'll probably be over six feet come his Fifth Year.'
Lily sighed whilst blinking away her tears, sending a smile of gratitude Severus' way at the comforting grip on her shoulder as Eileen Prince looked on with maternal understanding. It was rather poignant considering Jim was undergoing the same thing, and it stung a bit more that the estrangement with her eldest son still persisted.
At this point Harry was hoisted off Sirius' shoulders and sat in a high-back chair at the head of the large dining table. A large full English breakfast popped in front of him, along with a multi-tiered tray of buttery croissants and pain au chocolat. Two large glasses containing milk and apple juice followed, eliciting a smile of pure delight from Lord Wilkes as he eagerly dug into his meal.
Pilier - Head Elf of the manse - had done an excellent job, excited to host Lord Black and his guests for the next few weeks. There'd been a bit of a clash between him and Ophelia when the latter had attempted taking over elven operational duties for the Château. As she was the Black Head Elf and personal valet to Lord Black, Ophelia did technically outrank Pilier.
However, Pilier had ruled the roost of Château Black for generations and as such, wielded primary authority on Château land.
Subtle bickering steadily evolved to near fisticuffs between the two elves.
(And, unbeknownst to any mortal, a potential showoff between Lar Ophelia and Lar Pilier that would have obliterated nearly half of Terra Firma into smithereens.)
Lord Black had been forced to intervene and thus yielding the most amenable compromise; Ophelia would cater the outdoor birthday celebration only, with the rest of the cooking and other household tasks relegated to Pilier and his assistant-elf Toit.
"There's the birthday boy!"
Heads turned towards the newest arrival, with Lord Black breaking into a bright smile.
"ALPHIE!"
"SIRI!"
Sirius raced to hug his Great Uncle Alphard, who returned the gesture with a barking laugh uncannily like his great-nephew's own. He briefly gawked over Sirius' prosthetic arm, loudly citing how "bloody wicked!" it looked in its un-Glamored form.
The older wizard also favored the younger; long ink-black locks dashingly streaked with silver that matched the icy steel gray of his eyes. A thick goatee framed his face, emphasizing the sharp aristocratic planes of his features. He was dressed in what could only be described as 'posh bohemian'; a gray pinstripe dress shirt with matching trousers offset by a gilded brocade vest bearing animated canines that looked to be chasing their respective tails, emphasized by an Unbreakable chain of goblin gold draped in a pocket-watch style. A fashionable emerald-green corduroy jacket with matching dragonhide boots topped off the look, the effect not unlike a rakish adventurer.
"Everyone," stated Sirius. "This is my Great-Uncle Alphard, sole keeper and inhabitant of this great domicile and one of the few in the entire Black family tree worth a damn!" The wizard-in-question cackled in delight at the description, not at all disagreeing. "Alphie, this is everyone!"
"Enchanté, you lot!" the wizard exclaimed cheekily. "Pleased to make your acquaintances! It's damn good to be back home after trotting through Wizarding Iceland for the past month." He shivered dramatically before going around the room shaking hands and kissing cheeks, causing Eileen Snape to blush bright pink at her turn and her son to scowl in response, earning snickers from a thoroughly amused Lily.
Upon reaching Harry, Alphard bowed gallantly:
"Welcome to my most humble abode Lord Wilkes, may it provide you shelter and succor in your time of celebration." Despite the rumbling gravitas of his voice Harry noted the cheeky gleam in the man's eyes and slight quirk of his lips, eliciting the younger Slytherin's laughter as he returned the dramatic bow from his seated position:
"Your liege is most humbled by your hospitality, oh kindest of sirs!"
Alphard barked out a delighted laugh, shaking Harry's hand in approval. He plopped himself next to his nephew, loudly thanking Pilier at the pop of a breakfast plate teeming with his favorites alongside a cup of his favorite café.
Flexing a bit of his legilimency to assess the older wizard as he flirted up a storm with Dowager Prince and steadily earned Severus' ire, Harry was struck by Alphard's earnestness, rather potent given that the man was a Slytherin alumnus. It was mixed with a dose of impish mischievousness Harry often felt from Cassie Black, the combination rendering an air of boyish magnetism that was both charming and disarming.
"There was great interest in young Alphard in his Third Year," Rajah's rumbling bass sounded quietly through Prince Potter's mind. "He received a Questing Letter as is standard, and upon uncovering the Secret of the Sentinel and venturing into the Lair to learn the truth of the Prince of Slytherin… he decided he was completely and utterly against the very concept of Princehood." The mighty basilisk sounded equal parts amused and disbelieving at Alphard's rejection, even after the passage of almost five decades.
"He said and I quote: 'Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.' Sage words from the erstwhile Lord Acton." Ka had almost sounded fond. "Despite one of the tenets of being Prince is sacrificing one's own glory and prestige to steer the House and the entire wizarding world towards true greater good, Alphard vociferously argued that taking on this mantle was a different form of acquiring glory and prestige. And as such was more dangerous as the Princehood's inherit secrecy could very well give rise to an unchecked tyrant with unbridled power to mold the wills and lives of the unsuspecting."
"He was a fool!" spat the runespoor in three-part harmony. "A coward too soft of heart to abandon this esteemed position all because he feared the possibility of his own ambitions!"
"Is it not a sign of wisdom then?" interjected Delilah. "Being so self-aware of one's personal expectations and limitations as to decline the very thing that would exacerbate those perceived flaws?"
Alecto, Megaera, and Tisiphone had blinked past their initial shock at the surprisingly sage statement from the oft vacuous-labeled boomslang to snidely reply:
"Well, there's always an exception to every rule. I mean… look at you for instance!"
Delilah had naturally taken offense to the rude statement and thus led to a rather spirited round of hissy spats between the two serpents, with a thoroughly amused Nidhogg eagerly instigating in the background.
Hoping to diffuse the situation, Harry had quietly asked why the Hydra had accepted Black's rejection and not his own.
"Because you'd readily accepted and completed a considerable bulk of the trials marking the Evaluation Period," rumbled Rajah quietly. "You were Claimant for almost three years, Alphard refused to even try for a day."
Prince Potter's musings were interrupted by the sound of Snape's snide retort to the wizard-in-question, dark eyes flinty as he glared at Alphard's proximity to his mother.
Lily and Harry exchanged amused glances, bracing themselves for a potentially entertaining showoff.
Shala Patil - The Hidden Plain - Maharashtra, 12:19PM
A soft blush spread across Jim Potter's cheeks as the birthday song wound down, courtesy of almost all of the Weasley brood and his father.
The Twins led the pack, loudest and purposefully offkey whilst Molly oscillated between singing and mildly glaring at the sides of their heads as Ginny and Parvati bit back their snickers. Ron and Padma were content to roll their eyes amusedly, though Jim didn't fail to notice their proximity and the proceeding flare of annoyance at that realization.
"Happy Birthday son." James' tone was gentle as he clapped a firm hand on his Heir's shoulder, eliciting a genuine smile.
"Thanks dad! Glad you could make it!"
Lord Potter gently laughed, pleased to have made it as well. Bones had taken pity on him and allowed him the day off to attend his son's birthday celebration at the Patil estate. As with the previous summer, Jim was accompanying half the Weasley brood to Shamballa for the bulk of the summer, hosted by the Patils.
James could never shake his awe at the palatial residence the Patil family called home, well over twice the size of Potter Manor and forged in a stylish mixture of Nagari and Deccani styles and well-maintained by eight house elves. It sat on over 200 acres of blood-warded and magically obscured lands east of the Brahmagiri Hill, with some of the terrain fashioned into gardens and farmland for rare magical herbs. The gentle lull of the Godavari River sounded nearby, a small stream offshoot magically manipulated by house-elf Malin to irrigate their plants.
"Well go on," said a smiling Ron. "Make a wish mate!"
Expression wrinkling, Jim focused for a few moments before closing his eyes and blowing out his candles, hoping his wish would come true.
Amidst the cheering Molly handed Jim a rather large knife, eagerly gesturing for him to cut his birthday cake. It was a large and masterfully detailed creation of a fluttering golden snitch, a pumpkin and gingerbread-flavored cake covered with gold vanilla buttercream. The wings were an intricate marzipan creation, magically charmed to whir and flutter like its inspiration.
Overall it was a wondrous Molly Magical Morsels production, and one she'd be looking to replicate in bite-size portions for the upcoming Quidditch World Cup. Lord and Lady Gaunt had, by some miracle, succeeded in acquiring a rather sizable area in the Refreshment Square for Molly to use as her own stand, which would inevitably boost her business profile and profits.
With a big smile Jim cut into the snitch, taking note of the way its wings slowed down. He was soon shooed aside by Mrs. Weasley, who deftly waved her rowan wand and nonverbally cut perfectly even slices for all to enjoy.
"Presents!" cried Fred and George in perfect unison, earning a light glare from their mother. They smiled serenely whilst wrapping her in a mutual hug, eliciting a soft smile as she waved them off.
Piles of presents soon piled in front of Heir Potter, who eyed them with a keen gleam of his emerald-green orbs. He didn't notice his father's slight flinch, realizing that his own was uncharacteristically the smallest of the bunch.
With a sigh, Lord Potter put on his best version of a happy face as his son gleefully opened his gifts.
From Arthur and Molly were a full set of thick and cozy Weasley sweaters in deep Gryffindor red, a large J-initial stitched in the center with golden thread. Matching hats, gloves, socks, and scarves bearing his name and animated golden snitches and lions accompanied the set. Jim proceeded to hug Molly whilst thanking her, laughing as the matriarch squeezed him tightly before pinching his cheeks.
The Twins provided a 'Birthday Edition' of the Skiving Snackboxes, advising their fellow Gryffindor to indulge in the vicinity of Poppy Pomfrey. They smiled serenely at their mother's responding scowl, hugging her tightly and taking the wind out of her sails. Percy's gift was the peak of practicality; a self-filling well of Perma-Ink that could change color upon its user's verbal command.
To everyone's surprise he'd received gifts from his twin brother and still-estranged mother. Jim snorted out a laugh at Harry's presents; a collection of band t-shirts emblazoned with 'Slytherins Rule, Gryffindors Drool', accompanying animated images of the twin brothers featuring a beaming Harry with a crown and Jim dopily drooling. There was even one with 'Supreme Git of the Universe', depicting Heir Potter as a moon-like object flying around the laughing sun of his younger brother.
From his mother were three jerseys from his three favorite Quidditch teams - the Ballycastle Bats, Puddlemere United, and the Appleby Arrows, autographed by the members of each respective team. His eyes widened in awe as he cradled each jersey with reverent hands, his reaction mimicked by Ron who openly gaped.
Ron and Padma had decided to splurge on a joint gift of a book, inciting a flare of inexplicable annoyance in the Potter Heir though he did a good job of concealing his irritation. Like his father, he didn't notice the penetrating expression Ginny leveled his way at his reaction.
"Within and Beyond the Way of Water?" asked Jim curiously as he inspected the book whose cover ebbed and flowed as though made of actual water. It even felt vaguely wet to the touch, though the sensation was cool and refreshing.
"Yes," replied a smiling Padma. "Madame Katara is a High Mistress of the Path of Water who's mastered all 433 katas and mudras, and even invented several hybrid moves of her own. She is also a gifted Mistress of the Healing Arts, incorporating the healing concepts of herpetology into her Wu-Xi-Do practice."
Heir Potter smiled and thanked the two for the extremely thoughtful gift, blushing slightly when Padma gently squeezed his arm. The youngest Weasley expertly repressed her knowing smile, though Parvati held no such qualms and lightly snickered under her breath. She was even more amused at the polite reaction to her present; a gift parchment worth 50 galleons to Honeydukes. Lavender had sent a similar gift, though hers was to Slug & Jiggers Apothecary.
In typical Hermione fashion he'd received a book titled He Flew Like a Madman by Kennilworthy Whisp, a biography on the infamous 'Dangerous' Dai Llewellyn - premier Seeker for the Caerphilly Catapults. Dai was notorious for the risks he took during matches, notably the 'Daidly Dive' - the inspiration for the world-famous Wronski Feint. Hermione's version included a few autobiographical entries of Dai, including diagrams for moves he never had a chance to execute before dying of a vicious Chimaera attack.
Jim made quick work of the other presents he'd received from his fellow Gryffindors, excited at the amount of gift vouchers to Honeydukes.
Jim thanked his father for the broom polish gift, not really thinking much of the smaller-than-usual gift considering he'd been gifted a Firebolt earlier in the year. Ginny noted the uncharacteristic tightness of the elder Potter's smile, though she quietly kept her observations to herself.
Excusing himself from the ongoing celebration after some time Lord Potter ventured into the kitchen area, smiling at the sight of Mr. Patil. Exchanging pleasantries, James realized that the older wizard was a touch nervous despite the polite expression he wore.
"Lord Potter, may-"
"James, please."
Madanapala smiled. "Of course. James… may we adjourn to my study? There is a matter of significant import I must discuss with you."
One Hour Later…
Madanapala shifted uncomfortably at the look on his compatriot's face, realizing that it was quite a lot he'd dumped on Lord Potter's proverbial doorstep.
"I understand it's overwhelming," Patil said sympathetically, wincing at James' responding grimace. "I am more than willing to give you a few moments to consider my…proposition."
"That… that would be much appreciated, thank you. Can we meet at the end of this week?"
"Of course! Just call for my valet Naukar and I will know we need to reconvene."
Nodding his thanks, James quickly retreated from the study and marched straight to his guest room, needing some time to think.
If Madanapala was to be believed, Parvati had incurred a Life Debt when Jim had saved her life in the Naga Caves. As such the debt required satisfaction, either by a betrothal and potential marriage to Parvati or a large monetary sum.
James instinctively recoiled at the first prospect; the Ravenclaw witch was already engaged and the taboo of breaking up that union would incur both a moral and social weight Lord Potter did not want to bear.
The second option of monetary payment seemed the most sensible, but there was a lingering bit of unease at the prospect of accepting money for Jim's selflessness. Plus, his son would inevitably have questions regarding the 'who' and 'how' of their diminished coffers. Not only that, he hadn't missed the shy looks his Heir had been sending Padma's way. Accepting funds from her father, even for her twin sister's sake, would serve as an immensely poor start to whatever potential relationship his son hoped to have.
Though given the interaction between Padma and Ron, James doubted Jim would be getting his wish.
With those uncomfortable thoughts churning through his mind James entered his private suite, wishing for Firewhisky.
3:17PM
Exhaling in satisfaction, Harry savored the last bite of his birthday cake whilst relaxing on a unicorn pool floaty on the Château's pond. Pilier had taken great care to clear them off the carnivorous water-lilies, which were currently being kept in a modified aquarium in the greenhouse at the back of the property.
"I've got to say, this is one of the best holidays I've ever had." Anthony sighed contentedly, eyes hidden behind a pair of aviators.
"Same," supplied Justin indulgently, mimicking Anthony's form. Theo had dozed off, the picture of complete relaxation.
"Hmm…I'd wager it's a solid Top 10." Harry burst into laughter at Draco's teasing response, causing the others to laugh as well. A few moments of pleasant silence passed, before the boys began discussing the remainder of their summer plans.
The loud sound of baby's laughter caught the boys' attention, eliciting their smiles at the adorable sight of little Athanasia eagerly clapping her hands at the giant-size Flutterby Bushes that tickled her face and feet. She was held in Alphard's gently firm grip, who barked in delighted laughter at the little witchling's reaction to the plants. Her doting mother hovered close by, beaming happily at her daughter's excitement. Tom watched the interaction with a soft smile, seated alongside Lily, Snape, and his mother under an elaborate gazebo. The Gaunts had arrived around lunchtime, congratulating Harry on his 14th birthday and lavishing the boy with a plethora of Slytherin-appropriate gifts.
"Though I'm a major fan of lounging about in a château, I'm definitely excited to see the Quidditch World Cup." He slurped his strawberry lemonade. "Have any of you been?"
Anthony's question prompted an excited Draco to recount the 1990 World Cup he and Lucius had attended as part of their father-son bonding time. His friends listened with rapt attention as he recalled the epic match between American and German National Quidditch teams in the semifinals.
"Todt pulled off a Wronski Feint just to maintain possession of the Quaffle?!" Harry looked gobsmacked. "That's a bit desperate don't you think?"
"Desperate?!" interjected Draco exasperatedly. "You and I both know that Kurt Todt's technique is unsurpa-"
"CANNONBALL!"
Their banter was halted by Sirius - in Irish Wolfhound-patterned swim trunks - leaping directly into the pond, splashing water all over the boys and succeeding in upending a startled Justin's floaty.
"GET HIM!"
And with that battle cry, Harry and co. set off after a laughing Sirius, determined to make the old dog pay.
Le Manoir Rosier - La Région Vallonnée Caché - Nîmes, 5:05PM
Resisting the urge to roll her eyes Narcissa Black smiled and returned her mother's greeting, dusting passably affectionate kisses on each other's cheeks. Things had been slightly…frosty between them since Narcissa's divorce, and despite her mother gifting her a house elf for her newest abode, Druella Black (née Rosier) was not pleased at her daughter's newfound singlehood.
"You're looking fabulous as usual, maman!"
"Oh, this old thing?" The older witch gestured to her robes, a fashionable creation of the most expensive acromantula silks and chiffon Sebastien Bonhabille had to offer in alluring shades of shimmering black. Her silver-streaked blonde locks softly curled down to her waist, emphasizing her icy blue orbs and gently patronizing smile.
Narcissa tittered. "C'est chic!"
"Merci beaucoup mon ange! Come-come, Pépin has prepared a lovely repast for us."
Madame Black deftly looped arms with her youngest, guiding them through the entry room into the opulent Receiving Parlor. If she noted the slight stiffening of her daughter's form, the widow did not comment. Upon reaching their intended destination, mother and daughter settled into their respective chaises before helping themselves to a steaming cup of rosehip tea and their pastry of choice.
"So ma belle," said Druella after a few sips. "How are things going with my still-single daughter?" Though said in a gently dulcet voice, Narcissa did not fail to miss the poignant condescension tone in her mother's voice.
Jaw softly ticking, the ex-Lady Malfoy replied:
"They are going as well as expected, maman. I have been quite busy enjoying what remains of the summer, unburdened by the hassle of married life." Though there had been plenty of leisure, she'd been quite busy doing her part as Miss Direction to ensure the successful execution of Act One of the Great Contingency.
Still, that was definitely not what Druella wanted to hear.
"Are you saying you would have been unable to do all of that as Lady Malfoy? Your father and I spared no expense to ensure that you would maintain that mantle." It was a subtle reference to paying for the thousands of galleons for the illegal Veela potion they'd procured for her during the Yule of her Sixth Year.
"They betrayed me!" Her mother blinked rapidly at the furious hiss of her daughter's voice. "My own flesh-and-blood conspired with his wretched excuse for a sire to isolate me! Me! After everything I sacrificed and schemed to secure his sole greatness within the Serpent's Nest. C'est un enfant gâté!"
Druella snarled. "It takes one to know one then!" She ignored her daughter's indignant sputtering. "You were groomed to take and maintain the position of Lady Malfoy no matter the cost! You sat at the helm of a powerful Ancient and Noble Wizarding House, birthed its sole heir who was meant to be easily controlled and guided towards the true path of greatness! The crown jewel of Famille Rosier! Instead, you allow your puerile feelings to get in the way of this noble goal. C'est incroyable!"
"I endeavored to kill the Slytherin Potter for Draco!" A furious Narcissa angrily flung her teacup aside, barely registering the shattering of fine china as her beautiful face reddened in ire. "I tried thrice and what do I get in return?! His utter ingratitude as he whinged to his father like a truly ungrateful brat! What does that mean for me?!"
"It means you are twice the fool! Imbécile!" Narcissa flinched as her face reddened in ire.
"It's woefully pathetic that you failed in killing a mere boy," continued Druella mercilessly. "It's even more pathetic that you - yet again! - succumbed to your petty anger in the midst of a true challenge! By Nimue! All you had to do was play the role of a distressed mother desperate to protect her only son! Convince Lord Malfoy of your remorsefulness because your actions were solely for the sake of your son and his heir! Use that allure as it was intended to sustain your position as Lady Malfoy so you could properly rule from your rightful place with all the privileges and protections that come with the Malfoy Ladyship! Instead, you initiate divorce and abandon your duties so you can… what?! Frolic and gallivant about amusing your infantile whims?! I am barred from seeing my only grandson because of you!"
The last statement held a soft keen of desperation Narcissa didn't pick up on, lacking the emotional perception to understand that her widowed mother was lonely.
As her youngest continued to silently fume, Druella lamented Bellatrix's sudden demise into uncouth madness. One of the main reasons she'd pushed her eldest into marrying the Lestrange Heir was to forge the path for Bellatrix - and therefore House Black - to properly rule the Lestrange roost. She was magically gifted beyond her years, and despite her shyness, was equipped with an even-keeled level-headedness that would have not only successfully kept Rodolphus under her thumb, but also the equally unstable pair of Rabastan and Andromeda.
And in doing so, further entrench the Rosiers' influence within Wizarding England and expand their efforts in their native France by consolidating that of La Famille Lestrange. Despite the diminished influence of the notoriously eccentric French purebloods, the Lestranges represented old blood and proper ideals. Had Bellatrix maintained her wits and delivered on her marriage contract through birthing the next generation of Lestange, House Lestrange's elevation to Ancient and Noble would have been secured, along with setting the stage for House Rosier's own ascension.
Not for the first time, Druella lamented convincing Cygnus to not accept Acker Greengrass' overtures for a marriage contract between his Heir and Bella. Despite his tendency towards brooding studiousness Daniel was steadfast and loyal, and would have protected her eldest.
Her only goal at the time was to bolster her maiden family's profile and extend her own sphere of influence within House Black's affairs and by extension, the Wizengamot political sphere. Along with Iolanthe Lestrange, Druella had subtly pushed Cygnus into engaging with Boruslav and his sons.
'And look what that earned me; a dead daughter whose sole legacy was being convicted of murder and torture then expelled from her maiden House to boot.'
Madame Black nearly choked on the crushing wave of bitterness.
"I really don't have time for this today." Her youngest's snide tone interrupted her unpleasant reverie as she stood to take her leave. "I have much more important matters to attend-"
"Sit. Down. This. Instant."
Narcissa's pale blue eyes flared dangerously as she audibly snarled.
"Comment oses-tu! You cannot tell me what to do!"
"I can and I will! I am your mother and despite all the largesse you have been afforded for the entirety of your life, you will not disrespect me in my home! Asseyez-vous immédiatement!"
A high-pitched squeal of fury left the younger blonde's lips, rosewood wand unholstering on instinct. She suddenly froze at the tip of ivy pressing into her jaw as a coldly furious Druella glared unflinchingly. Narcissa was suddenly reminded that her mother had been a two-time dueling champion during her tenure at Beauxbatons and that she was the disciplinarian of her parents.
Choking back her rage as best as she could, the former Lady Malfoy straightened her spine and reholstered her wand, slowly resuming her seat.
Satisfied, her mother did the same, gesturing for her daughter to make a fresh cup of tea.
"Don't fill up too much on the madeleines mon chouchou!" Druella's eyes gleamed wickedly. "You'll need to make room for supper!"
Swallowing back the first three retorts that sprung on her tongue, Narcissa succeeded in tempering enough of her ire to nod politely at her sneering mother.
11:13PM
Biting back a smile Harry allowed Lily to gently fuss over him as they stood in the Floo parlor, expression fond as she dusted off imaginary specks of dust from his brand-new travel robes courtesy of Sirius. They were imbued with a bevy of protective magicks, impervious to most hexes, jinxes, and minor curses. As Harry hadn't a clue what he would be walking into meeting Serena Zabini at an ungodly hour, he wasn't willing to take any risks.
He registered his mother muttering under her breath about adding more protective charms to his cloak, finally drawing his laughter.
She jerked to attention, slapping her son's shoulders as she lightly laughed.
"Very funny Harry, but I'm serious! Can never be too safe!"
"Yes mum," he replied with a cheeky smile. "I know!"
With a practiced eye roll Lily reached into her cloak pocket and retrieved their Portkey, sent to them by Madame Zabini as part of Blaise's birthday gift. It was a moonsilver dove figurine bearing a sprig of olive in its mouth, the symbolic significance not lost on either Slytherin.
"...Are we really going to use that?"
Lily snorted. "Absolutely not. I understand the gesture but I would never surrender myself to a Portkey provided by someone I do not trust."
Snickt.
Waving her wand in sinuous circles Lily hissed "DESsSsSITANUM REVELIO!"
The figurine shuddered before glowing with a silvery light. The light rose from the object to slowly levitate above it. Another sharp hiss and a wave of Lily's wand caused the light to thrum for a few seconds, before resolving itself into an image of their destination.
'Huh… What are you playing at Serena Zabini?'
Voicing none of her inner thoughts Seneschal Wilkes studied the picture with a gimlet eye, committing every last detail to memory.
Soon she Banished the figurine away before extending her hand. Harry clasped her fingers, swinging their arms playfully as she laughed.
"Braccce yourssself!" was all the forewarning he received, before experiencing the nauseating sensation of being stretched and squeezed through a tight tube before he was summarily spat out. He groaned as he regained his bearings, Occlumency expertly repressing the dizziness and nausea.
"...That wasss mossst unpleasssant." Lord Wilkes startled, not having intended to speak Parseltongue. He tried again, getting the same result. On instinct he unholstered his wand.
"SSSide-along usssually isss." Lily's instincts were on high alert, having reached the same conclusion as her son moments prior. She could feel the krait symbol on her cuff gently thrumming, sending a gentle warm current running up her wand arm.
They were in a graveyard, illuminated by the cool white light of the full moon above. Though surrounded by a forest it was unnaturally still, neither a creature or sound stirring. Harry's legilimency could only describe the bizarre sensation he felt akin to someone holding their breath, as though scared to exhale lest they fell off a dark and unending precipice.
A mausoleum stood to the west, guarded by a macabre rendition of a half-angel half-demon statue whose wings were spread menacingly wide. A mighty sword was gripped in its left hand, currently at rest. Harry noted that staring too closely into its eyes made his scar itch a bit, but he quickly brushed off the sensation.
"Where exxxactly are we?" asked Harry curiously.
"A sssmall magical enclave of Le CCCimetière du Père-Lachaissse," was his mother's reply. "The Lessstrange Mausssoleum is nearby." She gestured to the west. "From what I recall, Grindelwald held one of hisss ralliesss here in 1927. He and hisss acolytesss ended up classshing against Newt SSScamander, hisss Auror brother Thessseusss, and a factttion of the fabled Legion d'honneur. Leta Lessstrange wasss caught in the ensssuing fracasss, resssulting in her continued resssidencccy in the SSSaint Roch Ward of the Pitié-SSSalpêtrière Magical Infirmary. SSSomething… sssomething happened that forccced the intervention of Nicholasss Flamel. That'sss all I know, all anyone really knowsss about what occurred that night. According to Tom, all officccial recordsss pertaining to that event are magically redacted from public knowledge and only known to the French Minissster of Magic, the Head of the Bureau de la Jussstice Magique, and the Director of the French Department of Mysssteriesss."
"...That'sss hardly comforting."
A moment later mother and son registered a gentle ruffle of air, signaling the arrival of Comtesse Zabini.
She looked as regal as could be expected, swathed in stylish forest green robes topped with a thick black traveling cloak. Her dark locks were left to frame her face, which seemingly glowed under the moonlight. Her eyes were unreadable though not lacking in intensity as she gazed at mother and son in equal measure.
"Buonasera. I am pleased you could make it."
Harry registered that Serena's lips hadn't actually moved whilst speaking, realizing that he'd heard her voice in his head. His wand snapped up on instinct, a few seconds behind Lily whose willow apparatus was already trained in Serena's direction.
"You're in my head!"
"I am. It is the only way for us to communicate freely in this place, especially considering that I am not a Parselmouth."
That was the wrong response as the fiercely glowing pair of eldritch green eyes glared a hole through her own gaze, tightening forms signaling a potential offensive faceoff. Though neither mother or son felt the tell-tale tendrils of invasive Legilimency or some other form of mental attack, it was unsettling that Serena had been able to enter their heads in the first place.
There would absolutely be sessions with Tom and Severus after this meeting to ensure that their minds had not been compromised.
"And what's to stop me from eviscerating you where you stand?"
A small and slightly unsettling smile illuminated the Comtesse's face. "Because no magic can be cast here." And to demonstrate her point, she slowly and non-threateningly unholstered her wand and cast Lumos, Flipendo, Lacero, and Protego, the yew apparatus remaining inert.
Neither Lord Wilkes nor his Seneschal were comforted by that discovery.
"...Do you think I need a wand to finish you off?"
Serena's throat lightly bobbed at Lily's sinisterly benign statement, though her expression remained calmly impassive. "I am quite certain of your prowess in a myriad of non-magical techniques, Miss Evans."
The two witches stared unblinkingly at each other, their silence stretching taut. Harry nervously shifted, belatedly wishing he'd mastered a wandless Protego.
After a few more tense seconds, Lily's form relaxed as she slowly reholstered her wand, prompting Serena to do the same. Harry mimicked their movement, though he remained alert. Slowly reaching into her inner robes, Serena retrieved an electric flashlight and turned it on to light the way as she purposefully matched in the direction of the mausoleum.
Exchanging a glance, mother and son slowly followed.
"Why exactly is this place magic-proof?" asked Harry curiously.
"Because on the tenth night-hour of 11 September 1927, Gellert Grindelwald did something extraordinary here. Extraordinarily evil, but also extraordinary from a magical perspective. And in response, Nicolas Flamel did something equally extraordinary, again magically speaking. The aftereffects of that night affected everything in this area… including the Mausoleum. "
"...Extraordinary, you say?" Lily's tone was equal parts curious and skeptical.
"I say." Serena would be no more forthcoming.
Soon they reached the two-faced angel and Harry once more felt his scar itch, but the sensation quickly faded away.
Crossing the threshold the three continued on until at last they entered a large chamber. It was circular, with a domed ceiling and many rows of stone benches facing down onto a round open area. The first thing the Slytherins noticed was that every bit of stone in here had been bleached to a pale bluish white that gave off an eerie luminescent glow and a distinct chill that oddly felt too warm. Lily felt her krait symbol thrum in increasing frequency, though it had yet to give off a true SOS beacon. Still, mother and son's discomfort deepened, fighting against the urge to unholster their wands.
The second thing they noticed was that in the center of the circular stage stood a large box, roughly 10x10 meters, that seemed to be coated in gold.
Squinting to activate the zoom-in feature of his spectacles, Harry realized that the gold was actually orichalchum.
Pure orichalcum.
Even stranger was that the patterned plethora of runes that seemingly covered each surface; a mix of Elder Futhark, Ancient Kemetic, Ancient Greek, Early and Late Cuneiform, and another Harry did not recognize.
Neither did Lily, and her mouth settled into a thin line at the realization.
On one side was a door that resembled one found outside a bank vault.
"What is that supposed to be?" Harry asked.
"We call it the Vault," Serena mentally replied. "It really needs no other name." She turned to address a stone-faced Lily. "Only Harry and I may continue on from henceforth. I swear to you as a mother that I shall cause no harm to your son."
Seneschal Wilkes stared unblinkingly at her for a few tense moments, her eldritch-green gaze sliding to her son's identical own. At his imperceptible nod, Lily gave her assent.
Smiling softly, Serena descended to the Vault with Harry behind her. At the door she reached into her inner robes to retrieve a small ritual knife forged of obsidian. Brow quirked, Harry watched her cut a thin line in her wand hand before smearing the blood over the door, whispering a strange phrase.
Harry was only mildly relieved that it wasn't Verbis Diablo.
After a second, the bloodstain glowed a bright red before fading away. Then, the wheel on the door spun itself, and the door slowly opened to reveal a well-lit room at least thirty feet across. In the center was a circular table with a high-back chair on either side and a chandelier hanging above. There looked to be even more runes coating the inside than outside walls, and that realization gave Harry no comfort.
Serena entered, and after looking back towards his blank-faced mother who stood sentry, Harry followed.
Ten Minutes Later…
"We're hiding…from Fate… in here…"
Comtesse Zabini smiled at Prince Potter's condescendingly skeptical tone. They were finally able to speak normally in the confines of The Vault, and for that Harry was grateful.
"That is correct. This ancient vault has been in my family for centuries, and is the only means known to be able to keep our secrets…secret. The enemy of our current purpose is Fate, as she has already expressed quite the keen interest in you. Though she may want you to bring forth her Final Desire, history shows she would prefer you to not be so… well-informed. She tends to have a thing against self-fulfillment, a bit too… messy for her efforts. We will speak plainly here and then hide our discussions away in the deeper recesses of our minds. So long as we display no conscious memories on the outside once our interaction is over, Fate will not take steps to take those memories from us. Or worse, depending on her mood."
Lord Wilkes successfully kept his expression blank, though he was sufficiently disturbed at the witch anthropomorphizing a primordial force as a temperamental being on par with the Hydra's Runespoor.
"And we're safe… from her… in here?" He looked around disbelievingly.
"We are in a room that no magic can penetrate, hidden in the center of an area in which no magic can function. If more than this is required to hide us from Fate's attention, then doing so is impossible. We may possess great magical power, but we are still mortal. At this time, I recommend you open a secondary mind right now to retain all memories of our discussions. Do not allow your primary mind to recall our discussions when you leave this place. When we're done here, I will provide a specific set of triggers for remembering our conversation. When the time is right, of course."
At Harry's terse nod, she once more reached into her inner robes pocket and retrieved a deck of gilded tarot cards she passed over to him."
"Shuffle the cards until you feel comfortable and pass them back to me."
After a moment's hesitation, Harry did as the witch asked. When he returned the deck, she cut the cards and then began laying out a spread on the table. The spread design was more complicated than the simple 3x3 spread that the Countess had used two years earlier to read Harry's fortune on his fateful 12th birthday, but he knew enough to notice the oddity of the cards themselves. Even though he'd shuffled the cards thoroughly, all sixteen of the cards came up as Major Arcana, which might have been a neat card trick or possibly just a harbinger of doom.
Serena studied the spread carefully before giving Harry a piercing gaze. "You are now the Prince of Slytherin, I take it?"
Harry stiffened in his chair. "Before I say anything else, tell me what exactly you know about that."
Blinking, she recited the Potter Prophecy in its entirety before revealing to Harry how she knew it. That on the night of Cassandra's reveal, a hidden Armand Zabini had overheard the Prophecy in its entirety and revealed it to the elders of his family.
Specifically, his mother, grandmother, and great-aunt.
And they, in turn, undertook the mission of guarding the Prophecy as a sacred family trust.
Lord Wilkes snorted. "The Potters tried to do the same thing. It didn't work out too well for them."
Serena shook her head. "The Potters did all that they were capable of doing. However, their approach was too direct. They focused entirely on preventing the heralding lines from coming to pass, and that was always a futile effort. No matter what the Potter family has done over the last two centuries to prevent it, when the Time of the Dark God was at hand, the Two who should be as One would be set against each other in hatred, and the Last Potter would rise as the Prince of Slytherin. I do not know precisely what "the Prince of Slytherin" means beyond, obviously, a position of power within Slytherin House of which you now possess. I am aware that Blaise knows but is bound from revealing the secret to me."
She gestured towards the cards.
"I also know that you are the first Potter to be sorted into Slytherin since the Prophecy's utterance. You are the first Potter in all that time to have even one sibling let alone be born as a pair of twins who have a famously antagonistic relationship. And the cards I have just drawn to represent your recent past—the Magician, the Emperor, the Sun, the World, and the Fool—tell me that you have indeed come into your power and achieved the goals you had set for yourself when last I read your cards. Except that the Fool also tells me that you realized too late that achieving those goals might have been a terrible mistake. I suspect the fulfillment of an apocalyptic prophecy would fit that description."
Harry glared at the woman in consternation. "You know, if you really wanted to avert this prophecy, perhaps a good first step might have been telling me about it before it was too late."
Serena shook her head. "One cannot simply avert a True Prophecy by direct action. Your father's efforts to do so almost certainly led directly to its fulfillment, and I suspect your own efforts to avert the Prophecy once you learned of it were similarly unsuccessful. After all, from what Blaise told me, you only revealed your sudden knowledge of the Prophecy to him on the morning of March 26, but by the evening of March 28, that part of the Prophecy was fulfilled, presumably by your ascension. Blaise, of course, had to speak carefully due to the potency of the secrecy spells that guard the identity of the Prince of Slytherin, but he was able to communicate that much to me. Am I right in guessing you thought you'd found a way to avert the Prophecy which only accelerated it instead?"
Harry merely glared, suddenly very annoyed in realizing the extent to which Blaise had been spying on him all this time, even to the point of revealing his status as Prince no matter how indirectly.
One of Serena's three Inner Voices picked up on this train of thought.
"For whatever it's worth Harry," she stated softly. "Let me assure you of one thing. My son Blaise is intensely loyal to you. Like the rest of my extended family, he feels a duty to keep our knowledge of the Prophecy secret, but unless he concludes that doing so threatens our family, he will follow you wherever your path leads."
"So why didn't he do anything to stop me from becoming Prince?"
"Because he would have failed and possibly died in the attempt. Remember what I told you before. True Prophecies want to come true. Once we suspected that you might be the one to trigger the Prophecy, I directed him to do nothing to interfere with you doing so… Lest Fate notice him … and take… action against him." An unbidden shudder ran through her form.
"Destiny is paid for in blood," Harry said softly, repeating the portentous words that Serena had said to him in the summer of 1992.
"È così. The final two lines of the Prophecy are what students of Divination refer to as heralding lines. Your becoming the Prince of Slytherin heralded the commencement of the rest of the Prophecy at its appointed time. When the time was right, the Last Potter would become the Prince of Slytherin. And if that time is now, then anyone who tried to prevent you from rising as Prince would suffer for it."
Harry felt a headache starting to bloom. "So what's the point?" He froze as he stared at her penetrating gaze, the kaleidoscope of his mind going whir-click. "You want the Prophecy to come true?"
"What I desire is completely irrelevant. The Prophecy will come true. The goal is to ensure that the outcome is as favorable as possible."
"There's a favorable outcome between Oblivion and Damnation? Sul serio?!"
She looked rather delighted at his use of Italian. "Oblivion, of course."
Harry's eyes bulged at how casually the Countess expressed her preference for the ending of the world. For the first time since meeting the witch, the words "death cult" popped unbidden into his head.
"Would you care to expand on that?" he asked coolly.
"Gladly. But first, let us look back at the rest of your cards for context. Turning to the immediate future, we have the Wheel of Fortune inverted, Justice inverted, Strength, the Hanged Man, and the Lovers inverted. A dangerous conflict draws near, one you will be drawn into unfairly and against your will. And while you will succeed in the challenges you face, even those successes may redound to the benefit of your enemies."
She paused and glanced back at the cards. "Oh, and you will also experience complications of a romantic nature which will threaten to distract you from more important concerns."
Harry froze. "A romantic nature?"
She murmured. "Yes, though the individuals of these potential romantic complications are unclear. Something to do with the 'Stones' of the Earth, Fire, Water, and Air in conflict."
He blinked in complete confusion.
"Looking farther ahead," continued Serena. "We find the Devil, the Hierophant inverted, the Hermit inverted, and the Tower. A great evil rising against you, likely the same Dark Wizard who will one day become a Dark God. Perhaps You-Know-Who, perhaps someone else. You must be prepared for either possibility. You will experience both the loss of a powerful guardian figure and a time of forced seclusion spent cut off from your allies and forced to rely solely on yourself. And ultimately, a time of destruction and catastrophe."
Flashes of the previous timeline raced through Harry's thoughts, the corpse of his bloodied and broken mother, Theo, and Miranda burning through his mind, accompanied by the unbearable grief-fueled rage. Holly thrummed in its holster, beginning to vibrate with the same dark intent it had before its master unleashed the Fiendfyre Hydra.
Serena stiffened, her Inner Voices beginning to whisper urgently.
As quickly as it'd come the moment passed, the witch's Inner Voices calming.
Taking a deep breath, she pointed to the last two cards. "All of which lead to the end of your journey: Death and Judgment."
"...I'm still not seeing any positive outcomes," Harry said blandly.
"On the contrary," she answered. "I find these cards quite reassuring. You see, your journey does not end with Death. That is the penultimate card. After Death comes Judgment. Truthfully, if I had to choose between Oblivion and Damnation to the Dark God's Hell, I would choose the former because nothingness is preferable to eternal torment."
She tapped the Judgment card with a perfectly manicured finger. "But I believe that the presence of the Judgment card falling after the Death card implies a way through Oblivion to whatever lies beyond it. That some of us will be judged worthy of some fate other than mere Oblivion. That there is something else waiting for us after the End of All Things."
Prince Potter rubbed his forehead in frustration. "Why the hell did I have to be the bloody Prince of bloody Slytherin with a bloody Prophecy bounty hanging over my bloody head?!"
The witch shifted, and Harry's keen emerald gaze zeroed in on her.
"What?" he demanded. "What are you not telling me?"
'Tell him,' whispered the Voice of Anselma Zabini in her mind. 'He must know, so that he may truly understand.'
The Countess leaned forward as she maintained her penetrating gaze, causing a few choice hairs on Harry's neck to rise.
"Do you really believe that Cassandra Trelawney's telling of the First Potter Prophecy was the first and only time Fate allowed her Will to be known in this realm?"
Prince Potter blinked. "What exactly is that supposed to mean?"
Serena smiled - an intense and unsettling thing.
"When Fate speaks…Her Voice echoes through all of Time. All Time that was, all Time that is, and all Time that will be. All at once. Cassandra Trelawney was not the first conduit to broadcast the will of the Third of the Eldest Gods. Fate has shared her desire to shape this Reality with others before… We of the Bene Gesserit have known and guarded the secret of six similar prophecies since our inception before the Fall of Rome until now."
"...Bene Gesserit?" was Harry's response, mind whirring a mile-a-minute at the disturbing revelations shared with the same ease as she breathed. His mind mildly reeled about the casual reference to the Fall of Rome, and briefly flirted with the mad idea that Serena Zabini was thousands of years old.
"Yes, the Bene Gesserit. Quasi-secret sisterhood of Mystic witches steeped in the most arcane of the Divine Arts." She shrugged almost nonchalantly. "Think of us as… the British Unspeakables, save our loyalty isn't to one country but to all the magical world. Physical boundaries that mark political jurisdictions make things so much messier than they need to be. We keep the Goddess' secrets and do what we must to ensure her Will comes to pass." She paused for a moment before chuckling. "And no Lord Wilkes, I am not an ageless harridan who persists due to some perversion of arcane magicks."
Harry dialed up his shields whilst nodding, choosing to not engage in that line of conversation.
"And what do these super secret prophecies of the Bene Gesserit say?"
The witch leaned back in her chair, spine steely. "The Great Honored Matre Adama Kama foretold the first in 336 B.C. - The Prince Shagr sitting astride the shoulders of the Immortal Seven-Faced Paar'zheal, leading a great war in the face of his First Betrayal, a war spilling Blood and yielding Terror so the Destruction of the Dark Gord will come to pass."
A shiver crawled up Harry's spine, though the mention of 'Kama' sparked his curiosity if Eurus or any other of the Kolumbikos knew about this prophecy.
"In 276 A.D. Reverend Sister Ieskha of House Atreides delivered the second. She spoke of O Eklektós - the Chosen One. The one born of the embers of the Cold yet All-Consuming Flame who would rebuild the Ruins of the Watchtower, so that he may keep vigil for all against the Dark God's damnation."
Lord Wilkes' heart began beating a little faster.
"In 304 A.D. the Reverend Mother Herneith Magdy claimed that when the Yellow Twin Suns aligned in the Sky Beyond the Stars, Lisan al-Gaib would stretch his wand and take every incantation upon himself and undergo a Great Apotheosis to emerge as Victor, claiming Final Dominion over all that is and will ever come to pass."
Panic. That's what Harry was feeling.
"The Venerated High Priestess Wangai Kipkirui warned of an unforgivable Betrayal of the True Savior that would result in a ruined world thrust out of Time, unbound by Fate, and unchecked by Death, a Nightmare World for which our suffering would be a 'perpetual hell'."
Yes, it was definitely panic. And rising nausea.
"Kwisatz Haderach was the name mentioned in the prophecy of Suora Alma Taraza Borghese in the 9th Century AD, The-One-Who-Shortens-The-Way and will break All Chains of Unity that bond us and bind us, shattering the foundations of our First Covenant so that the Last Enemy will be seated in Damnation."
Harry wondered if she would take offense to him vomiting from panic.
"Sœur Honorine Lacroix warned that He-Who-Remains will be reborn in all his terrible glory, the Oncoming Tempest that will consume all in the land of the living and stretch to the realm of Death as to supplant the Will of the Seventh and herald an 'unending Nightmare'.
'I am never coming back to France ever again.'
"Number six was prophesied by the Honored Lady Melisandre Trelawney, who foretold the rebirth of The One of the Nine-Headed Serpent, a great descendant of the forbidden bloodline who would reveal himself to be a Savior-Prince amidst the betrayers. He would harness the powers of the First and the Third of the Eldest Gods so he may defeat the last of Those-Who-Lay-In-Darkness."
Lord Wilkes didn't know whether to scream in anger or laughter at the mention of yet another Trelawney meddling in his affairs!
He briefly flirted with the idea of taking an Oath of Enmity against the entire Trelawney family, before snorting the thought away.
"Well then!" he exclaimed indignantly. "Why can't one of them mentioned in those prophecies shoulder this blasted burden?!"
"...Maybe they did, but not to Fate's satisfaction. Perhaps there are other subjects who, like you, are currently learning of their prophetic destiny and with the tutelage of others like me are taking action to bring about these prophecies' fulfillment. Or… perhaps… they all refer to you and with the satisfaction of the heralding lines of the Potter Prophecy, have reached their actualization."
The two sat in silence for a few moments as Harry absorbed the weight of this absolute madness.
"What is the conclusion of your cards?"
Serena smiled magnanimously. "Per the cards, your journey does not end with Death. That is the penultimate card. After Death comes Judgment. Truthfully, if I had to choose between Oblivion and Damnation to the Dark God's Hell, I would choose the former because nothingness is preferable to eternal torment."
She tapped the Judgment card with a perfectly manicured finger. "But I believe that the presence of the Judgment card falling after the Death card implies a way through Oblivion to whatever lies beyond it. That some of us will be judged worthy of some fate other than mere Oblivion. That there is something else waiting for us after the End of All Things."
"You believe? So you don't have any proof of that?"
The witch smiled. "Because as you note, by the plain language of the Prophecy, our future is a choice between Oblivion and Damnation. But I do not believe that Fate desires our destruction but is simply undecided on how to go about it. The Prophecy must offer some possible means of salvation or else it was pointless for it to be made. There must be some way, some impossible needle that can yet be threaded, to allow at least some of us to survive. And given the language of the Prophecy, I do not believe we are meant to choose the Dark God as our path to that survival."
"Huh. So you're going with Death instead?"
She nodded. "Sì, Harry. Because of those two, Death is the only one who might fight for us."
Whir-click.
"The Deathly Hallows…" he thought to the time Blaise thought-spoke that term into his mind during his psychic breakdown. "Whoever reunites them becomes Master of Death." His expression tightened. "And you think, what? That I just happen to have the Elder Wand, Resurrection Stone, and Invisibility Cloak just laying around?!" Harry exclaimed incredulously. "My brother may have an Invisibility Cloak, but I am not entirely convinced it is that Invisibility Cloak given the frequency he and his father before him use it for pranking!"
"It may or may not be," the Countess replied glibly. "It will be up to you to find the means to confirm. I will say that you are the last son of Ignotus Peverell. Your trusted friend and ally Lord Gaunt is the last son of Cadmus. And your other friend and ally is the last son of Antioch, and now, has successfully claimed the mantle of his ancestor's lordship. For the first time in centuries, the three descendants of Antioch, Cadmus, and Ignotus are living at the same time, and through some machination of Goddess Fate know each other and are allied with each other. That, dear Harry, is no coincidence."
Feeling suddenly exhausted, Prince Potter leaned back in his chair and rubbed his face tiredly, in mild disbelief that his 14th birthday had ended like this.
"So … what do I do with all this?" he asked quietly.
"Do?" she responded with a surprised laugh. "Do nothing. If it is your destiny to reunite the Hallows and become the Master of Death, then in time, the Hallows will come to you. In the meantime, you are still young. Study your lessons. Continue to hone your skills. Enjoy your time with friends and family. Restore the name of Wilkes to respectability. And, I suppose, do whatever it is that the Prince of Slytherin is supposed to be doing."
The boy gave a sour expression. "It is really not in my nature to sit back and wait for things to happen."
"Of course not," Serena said with a bright laugh. "Fate would never have selected you if it were!"
At around 2:00AM, Serena and Harry emerged from the Vault, and along with Lily left the Lestrange Mausoleum, bidding their goodbyes and going their respective ways.
Upon reaching her home, performing her ablutions, and resting in her bed, Serena Zabini briefly wondered if she should have divulged the secret of Orella Croaker and her use of the Ethergazer's abilities to See into the Wild.
The rasping Inner Voice of her ancestress Cinzia Zabini laughed derisively, reminding her that Orella was the grandmother of Harry's dear Luna Lovegood, of whom, according to Blaise, the Prince of Slytherin was exceptionally protective and she in kind.
Hell would hath no fury than Fate's Champion scorned.
AN 1: Serena and Harry finally get to have their pow-wow. We'll see how things go from her prophecy-wise and all other such mystic things. 'Ieskha' is the Ancient Greek equivalent of 'Jessica', a blatant reference to Jessica Atreides of the Dune series. We will see additional references to my spin on the Bene Gesserit in Book 4, parts of Book 5, and quite a bit in Book 6.
AN 2: The role of Druella Rosier is played by Michelle Pfeiffer in her role as Elizabeth Collins Stoddard (Dark Shadows). Her and Cissy's clash has everything to do with them being more alike than different (save the Veela allure potion bit).
AN 3: What Flamel and Grindelwald did will be expanded upon later in Book 4.
AN 4: The role of Alphard Black is played by Gary Oldman in his role as the beloved Sirius Black (HP: PoA, HP: GoF, HP: OotP). Alphard's character will be expanded in parts of Book 4 & 5.