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Chapter Text

Harry Potter wondered if he was stuck in some sort of fever dream as he rode the train back to King’s Cross Station. He couldn’t help but feel like something was missing; in a way, he was right. Next to him on one side was Hermione, same as the last few train rides, but on his other side was Draco Malfoy, instead of Ron Weasley. 

Harry couldn’t help the twinge of sadness he felt as he recalled the last few days at Hogwarts. Ron had taken to avoiding him and Hermione, unable to understand why they would give Draco a second chance. Draco, for his part, had taken to pretending Ron didn’t exist; he actually hardly acknowledged Harry or Hermione either, but it was at least better than the barbs he’d bared against them in the past. 

On the bench opposite them were Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott, and his sister: Arennia Lillian Potter-Black. Part of him wondered if he should ask Arennia to sit correctly, as she presently had her legs thrown over Nott, ankles resting, crossed, on the small opening of the window. Not didn't seem to mind, as he’d simply rested the book he was reading against her knees, using them as a sort of bookrest. Her head was resting in Zabini’s lap, something Harry was almost positive their Uncle would not be mused by, but he couldn’t find it in him to break it up. While Arennia looked to be sleeping, Zabini kept taking small sections of her hair, braiding each one at a sedate pace. 

“Uncle would be cross about this,” Harry muttered eventually. Arennia’s eyes cracked open, her head turning slightly to give him a cheeky grin. 

“Uncle isn’t here,” she replied. Harry rolled his eyes. He’d said something, his defense case if their Uncle did somehow find out about her casual lounging with the two Slytherin boys. Kundalin coiled around Harry’s shoulders. It had been odd when his sister’s familiar had declared him as its second human, but he’d decided to roll with it. 

• Thisss isss taking longer than it did when we arrived§ The snake hissed impatiently. 

• Mipsssy issn’t apparating usss, trains take longer§ Arennia hissed back. Zabini’s grip on the braid he was working on tightened momentarily. Nott’s eyes flickered away from the book, a shadow of a grin flashing across his features. 

• Thisss isss dumb, next time I want to go with Mipsssy§ The snake pouted. 

• Next time you can jussst ssstay home, then§ Arennia replied, making the serpent make a disgruntled sound as it burrowed into Harry’s jacket. Kundalin stubbornly stayed there even as they stepped off the train. 

“Over here, Pup!” Called Sirius, waving his arms wildly. Regulus was pinching the bridge of his nose, while James shook his head fondly. Both Lucius and Narcissa stood with them, though they were standing tensely, rigid in their postures. 

“I’ll write,” Nott whispered to Zabini and Arennia, before darting off in the direction of his father. Harry could see the resemblance, but noted that Nott Sr. looked a lot older than Lucius, the oldest adult among his family. Although he didn't seem quite as old as Dumbledore. 

“Hopefully I’ll see you soon,” Hermione said, pulling Harry into a hug before running off to her own parents. 

Zabini didn’t branch away. Instead, a striking woman stepped in front of the four remaining students, cutting them off from the path to the Malfoys and the Potter/Blacks. 

“Madre mia,” Zabini said, moving in front of Arennia. He pecked the woman on the cheeks. After which, he moved back to the position he’d taken just in front and to the side of Arennia. The woman had the same amethyst colored eyes as Zabini, Harry noted, as she cast an assessing gaze across them. 

“Heir Malfoy, Heir Potter-Black,” she murmured, nodding to Draco and Harry in turn, before focusing her attention on Arennia. Harry tensed, ready to pull his sister away from the woman. “And this must be Miss Arennia Potter-Black.” 

Arennia’s head tilted up as she analyzed the Contessa Zabini. After a moment, she dipped into a curtsy. 

“A pleasure, Contessa,” she said calmly. The Contessa arched a brow. 

“We shall see,” she said, before turning away from the group. “Come along, angelo mio.” 

Zabini whispered something to Arennia before striding after his mother. 

“She’s intense,” Harry said after the pair disappeared in the crowds. 

“Riddle was worse,” Arennia scoffed. Harry grinned; she wasn’t wrong. 

As the three remaining nearly reached their families, a hand latched onto Harry’s sweater, dragging him harshly away. 

“Come along, boy, were you planning on making us wait around all day for you?” Vernon Dursley huffed. Petunia Dursley eyed the wix around them with disgust. “Bad enough we have to pick you up at all, but this year we were told we had to pick you up on the freak side of things.” 

Draco pushed Arennia’s wand arm down as she snarled at the man. James, and the Blacks and Malfoys were making their way toward the teenagers and Muggles. Before they reached them, Vernon Dursley yelped, pushing Harry forcefully away from him. As Harry landed painfully on the ground, Kundalin made his presence known. Draco paled, eyes darting to a now smirking Arennia as he realized her hissing had been a command to the horned serpent. 

“You alright, pup?” Sirius asked, kneeling next to Harry to help him up. He was the first to reach them, although only by seconds, as James Potter took a murderous step toward the Dursleys. 

“Hello, sister-in-law,” he whispered. Petunia’s eyes widened fearfully. 

“That isn't possible,” she whimpered, “you’re dead.” 

Vernon Dursley was still backing away from an approaching Kundalin. 

“Arennia, call back Kundalin,” Regulus ordered. With a small pout, she hissed something again, the snake bared its fangs at the man one last time before winding up her arm to her shoulders. 

“Just so you’re aware,” James said, carefully keeping his violent urges locked away, “I have begun to process of an investigation with your police into your care of my son. Until it is resolved, I hope our paths don’t cross again. Oh, and may you have the days you deserve.” Venom laced his last statement as he wrapped an arm around Harry’s shoulders. Regulus Side-Alonged Sirius again when they disapparated. 

Narcissa Malfoy took a tentative step toward Arennia when James departed with Harry. 

“I offered to take you back,” she said, holding her arm out for the girl. Arennia gave the woman a once-over look.

“Uncle informed me,” Arennia said simply, accepting the offered arm. Moments later, she found herself in the familiar walls of the Pottery. Narcissa murmured a polite farewell before leaving. She desperately wanted to stay longer to get to know the niece she didn’t know she had. But James had been clear, for the first month of the summer, at least, the family was isolating themselves to focus on one another. 

Or, as Harry soon discovered, to focus on him. The first morning he woke up at the Pottery, Arennia helped him find the dining room. There, he learned about the schedule his Uncle had developed, with Remus and his Dad’s help, to catch up on the formalities he should have spent his younger years learning. Remus' contribution also included several foundational books that the Muggleborn students typically received before their first year to help acclimate them to the magical world. 

“Before we settle on this plan, was there anything you were hoping to do this summer?” James asked, eyeing his son with concern. While he did think Hadrian needed a bit of a catch-up, he didn’t want him overwhelmed. 

Harry bit the inside of his cheek, then glanced over at his sister. 

“Can I learn how to be an animagus?” He asked faintly. Regulus choked on a sip of coffee, but before he recovered, James gave a resigned nod. 

“Since your sister has done it, I will allow it. However, it is advanced, don’t strain yourself. The only reason Arennia learned last year was to keep her hidden at Hogwarts.”

Harry snorted, “She didn’t do a very good job at that, did she?” 

“Oi!” Arennia protested, making the Marauders and Harry laugh. 

“Alright,” Regulus said, stopping the laughter at his niece’s expense, “I think it’s only fair to give you a few days to settle in. We’ll start next week. If at any point it all becomes too much, let us know, Hadrian. The goal is to help you, not make your brain expire.”

Harry laughed again, but agreed to Regulus’ statement with a nod. 

Severus Snape eyed Potter’s elf distrustfully. 

“And why, exactly, is James Potter requesting my presence?” He asked. 

“Mipsy doesn’t be knowing, sir,” the elf squeaked, “Mipsy was only told to deliver the letter, and wait for the answer. If the answer is yes, then Mipsy was told to bring Mister Snape to Master James' office.”

“And if I refuse?” Severus inquired, hand gripping his wand. 

“Then Mipsy was to return without Mister Snape.” The elf started wringing its hands nervously. 

“Fine, take me to Potter,” Severus growled, making the elf jump. The little creature placed a hand on his elbow, apparating them into a weirdly gray office. James Potter was sitting at a desk, an ink smear highlighted his cheekbone on one side of his face, and he was writing frantically. 

The elf popped away without a word, leaving Severus observing James Potter, who appeared oblivious to the intrusion. After James finished the parchment, he skimmed through it, his brow furrowed, before he set it aside and pulled a new parchment. His eyes flickered between the first one and the new one as he carefully rewrote the document. 

“I didn’t know revision was a skill you possessed,” Severus said curtly, making James jump. The inkwell toppled, ink spreading across the page he’d just about finished. The two stared at the ink-soaked paper. Severus mentally prepared himself to be hexed. 

“Well, probably wasn't gonna pan out anyway,” James muttered with a forced chuckle. Severus’ eyes snapped to his former rival. “When did you get here?” James asked, pushing his glasses back into place with the back of his hand, a new ink spot was left behind on the tip of his nose.

“A few minutes,” Severus muttered, eyeing the ink spots on the other man’s face. He found them distastefully distracting. “Why am I here?” 

“Ah, well, I was actually hoping to acquire your services,” James said, standing up from his chair. He’s a disaster, Severus thought as the man stretched his arms overhead. The Gryffindor shirt he wore was threadbare and rose with the stretch, exposing part of the man’s abdomen. Red and gold plaid sweatpants hung low on the man’s hips. Severus wondered why he didn’t just buy a new set instead of wearing ones he was almost positive were from their last year at Hogwarts. 

“Snape?” James inquired, making Severus realize the man had still been talking. Instead of asking the man to repeat himself, Severus gave him an impassive glare. 

“Why would I provide my services to you?” Severus asked mildly. Potter’s brows shot to the unruly curls that fringed over his forehead recklessly. 

“Well, I suppose I can understand refusing to do anything to help Sirius,” he said softly. “I had hoped that after working with Remus for a year, you’d be willing to help him... I suppose it doesn’t matter on those. However, you’re the only person I trust to brew the potions Hadrian needs to recover from the damage the Dursleys did.”

“Done,” Severus said without thinking. Then he cleared his throat. “I can also handle the wolf’s potion. Since I’ll be doing all that, include what the mutt needs. Can't be terribly difficult.”

Severus nearly recoiled at the look of pure gratitude that James gave him. Neither siad anything as James located three pieces of paper from various locations on his desk. The first had a rather rigorous potion regime for malnutrition, bone strengthening, and correcting other environmentally created deficiencies. The second was for the mutt and wolf. Wolfsbane was written in Potter’s slanted script, below it were several potions to help with malnutrition as well as exposure to Dementors. The third paper appeared to be a copy out of a journal or something. Severus frowned at it until his eyes widened. 

“I am hoping that you’ll be willing to try that one, for Hadrian, although I wouldn't mind losing the glasses as well,” James said, chuckling. Severus shuddered his expression before meeting the others' eyes. 

“I could sell it,” he whispered. It would rake in a fortune if it worked. James shrugged. 

“You could,” he said with a tone suggesting that he knew Severus wouldn’t. 

“I could release it to the public,” Severus tried again. James laughed outright. 

“I mean, I suppose, but I’d recommend option A if you’re going to expose one of my family’s recipes,” James was still chuckling. Severus wanted to shake sense into the ridiculous man in his ridiculous pajamas. 

“I’ll bring the first batch in a couple of days,” Severus said instead. James gave a crooked grin. 

“Floo address is on the back of Hadrian’s list,” he said offhandedly. Severus froze briefly before nodding tersely as he utilized the Floo in the office to return to Spinner’s End. Two days later, he Flooed back into the Pottery, only to find that the address he’d been given went directly to the office. With an eyeroll, Severus dropped the box of potions on Potter’s disaster of a desk before sweeping back through the Floo. He blatantly ignored the missive from Gringotts that evening that stated Lord Potter had made a transfer of 500 Galleons to Severus Snape’s vault. A vault that Severus only kept for his teaching salary to go in, as he’d shifted to using the Prince vaults many years ago. 

Chapter Text

Hadrian was faster than Arennia at locating his animagus form. He refused to tell any of them, a task made easier by his limited ability to speak with the mandrake leaf under his tongue. He also soaked in the books Moony brought him, and, with the basics in hand, began performing spectacularly on the schoolwork he’d previously struggled with. With a little coaxing from Regulus, he even started learning Runes and Arithmancy. 

Arennia sat in on some of the lessons, particularly when her brother needed a partner, but for the most part, she kept to herself. Reading through books in the library, or writing letters to Blaise and Theo. 

She knew her Fathers and Uncle were skeptical of the two boys, but decided to give them a single chance after she explained how much they’d helped her the last year. Of course, she did leave out the bit about the favor and the Life Debt... but Arennia felt those were her problems to deal with as they occurred. 

Sirius and Remus stuck to their wing of the Pottery most of the time. The latter’s recovery from Azkaban often yielded terrible mood swings. Until those mellowed out, none of the adults, including Sirius himself, felt it was a good idea for him to be around the twins too much. Sirius agreed because he didn’t want his kids to be afraid of him, as he and his brother had once feared Walburga. 

During the second week, James gave Arennia the Muggle Studies textbook, resulting in a crinkled nose and pouty eyes. 

“Magical we may be, snidget, but your mother was Muggleborn,” James chided. “It is a part of your history. Hadrian grew up in the Muggle world, but you were lucky to be raised with magic your entire life. I’m not going to make you live Muggle or anything, but you should still understand that culture.”

So, she read the book. It was not enlightening. Between Hadrian’s other lessons, she asked a million questions, until, one morning at breakfast, he said they ought to go to a Muggle bookstore and learn their way since the wizard book seemed to have been written backwards and sideways. Regulus choked on air. James didn’t like the idea, but tried not to show it on his face. Sirius was ecstatic and, with Remus backing him, was able to convince the other two to let them take the twins to Muggle London for the day. 

When the group returned, the kids both had bags of clothes from the thrift shop that Sirius had cried at when he found it was still around. An exhausted Lupin had two crates and two suitcases, gold and silver, that turned out to be records and record players for each of the twins. Regulus immediately set up silencing wards on each of their rooms to prevent the noise from leaking into the Pottery. 

James, with a bemused expression, asked where the books were. Sirius pointed an accusing finger at Arennia, who blushed. 

“She ordered most of the store,” he said, fighting a laugh, “you,” he pointed at James, “get to figure out how to pick them up next week.” 

James ended up arranging with the store to have a truck pick them up from the loading docks. After making sure the camera was temporarily disabled, he had Mipsy transport the books to the Pottery. When boxes upon boxes upon boxes arrived, he had to extend the library, adding an entirely new wing for the Muggle works. Regulus’s eye twitched every time he caught a glimpse of it. 

Arennia took to the Muggle science texts vigorously, happy she’d followed Moony’s suggestion to start with the beginning level texts. When science started to make her mind reel, she’d revert to the history books, which left her both disgusted and horrified by the bloodshed wars had wrought in the Muggle world. She did wonder if she could somehow convince one of her fathers or uncles to bring in a Muggle weapon. With as destructive as they were, she was curious how effective they were in combat against magic. 

Before she had the opportunity to ask, she entered the dining room for lunch to a tense aura. Hadrian’s eyes flickered to her, worried, perhaps a little scared. She frowned at the adults as she made way to the chair next to her brother. 

The family ate under oppressive pressure. Arennia pinched her brother’s arm every time he shuffled his food instead of taking a bite. Once the meal was cleared away, James gave a pained sigh. 

“I received a letter this morning,” he said hesitantly. “The investigation of the Dursleys by the Muggle authorities has been completed and is... inconclusive.” Hadrian looked down at his lap as Arennia’s eyes flashed angrily. 

“Inconclusive?” She snarled. James nodded slowly. 

“Unless Hadrian is willing to testify himself, they don’t have enough to move forward,” Hadrian flinched at the thought. James' voice softened. “Hadrian, the decision is yours. We are not going to make you do that if you don't want to.” 

“I don’t,” Hadrian said quietly, his voice slightly muffled around the mandrake still under his tongue. 

“What about our memories?” Arennia demanded. James sighed. 

“Our memories cannot be used in a Muggle case, starlight,” Regulus answered. Arennia glared. 

“Then drag them in front of the Wizengamot, they abused a wixen child after all.” She failed to notice the way her brother recoiled at the word ‘abuse,’ so caught up in the injustice of it all. 

“Muggles cannot be tried by the Wizengamot, birdie, you know that,” Regulus answered gently. Arennia’s glare darkened. She didn’t like how calm her Dad and Uncle were. How they seemed resigned and accepting of this outcome. 

“So, nothing happens, then?” She demanded. “They just go on living their lives, and everything is swept under a rug?” 

“I know you are unhappy with this,” Remus said, his eyes glowing, “I am too. Believe me, I am. However, we did what we could.” 

“That’s alright,” Hadrian said quietly after a moment, “As long as I don’t have to go back, it’s alright.” 

James gave his son a proud look, fighting back the pang against his heart. His child shouldn't have to accept the injustice of the world. No child should. 

“Well, enough sad talk,” Sirius said with a crooked grin, “What we should discuss is what we’re doing for your guys’ birthday.”

Arennia rolled her eyes; she hardly felt that it was important at the moment, but then she glanced at her brother, who looked a little dazed. 

“We can do whatever Hadrian wants,” she said after a minute. “As long as Blaise and Theo can come.” James and Regulus frowned at the addendum. Remus growled lightly, just loud enough for Sirius to hear it, and elbow him in the ribs. 

“Of course,” Sirius said happily, “I can't wait to get to know your friends.” Regulus gave his brother a surprised look. It was an almost Slytherin approach to dealing with two potential suitors. 

“Are there any magical zoos?” Hadrian asked. 

“Er, not really,” Remus answered. “There are reserves, though, we could probably arrange a tour at one of them.” Hadrian’s eyes lit up. 

“One of Ron’s brothers works at a dragon reserve in Romania. Could we go there?” 

“Uh-” Regulus went to interrupt, desperate to suggest a safer locale, but he was interrupted by an over-excited James. 

“I will write to Arthur, see if I can get in touch with said son, and make the arrangements,” He said with a grin. He might have his hands tied with the Dursleys, but if his son wanted to see dragons, then by Godric, he’d see dragons. 

When Arennia left, she retreated to the library. She grabbed a Muggle book of poems and tried transfiguring it into the likeness of the Potter Grimoire. She was close; the end result wasn’t quite as worn, nor was it exactly the right shade of brown, but then, if anyone was looking closer than a fleeting glance, they were likely going to use it, which would end the ruse anyway. It relieved Arennia a little that her Dad rarely touched the Grimoire. Especially as she took the real one and placed the fake on the pedestal. 

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The Weasley children were all confused to return home as the beginning of the summer and find not only their older brothers, Bill and Charlie, but two strange people none of them had ever seen before. 

“Children,” their Dad started, holding an arm toward the unknown man, “this is Aleus Viqor, and his wife, Azora.” 

Bill arched a brow at his father. Unlike the rest of his siblings, he recognized those names. They were private healers, ones who had even undergone training in the basics of Goblin healing. While he didn’t think their family was bankrupt, he knew enough about his parents’ finances to know that they couldn't afford the Viqors.

“Why are they here?” Charlie asked, analyzing the newly introduced couple. He took a measured step in front of the man, placing himself between him and his younger siblings. 

“Not only that,” Bill said calmly, though his wand thrummed in its holster, “Why did you require Charlie and me to be home for this?” 

“The Viqors are going to be checking all of us for any tampering of our minds and memories,” Arthur said. Behind him, Molly let out a small whimper. Bill and Charlie caught the noise and shared looks of concern. “I will explain further after that.” 

“Gringott’s requires checks biannually; they’ve never found anything,” Bill stated firmly. 

“Had a concussion my first week at the reserve,” Charlie added, “they did the same kind of check to make sure my brain was still working right, didn’t find anything either.” 

Both brothers watched with unease as their words seemed to have the opposite effect of reassuring their father. 

“Percy, you first,” their dad ordered. “Ginny, Mrs. Viqor will be doing yours. Your mother will go with you.” 

Over the course of the next hour, the boys, Percy, Fred, George, and Ron, were all cycled through, meeting with Mr.Viqor in their parents' room with their father hovering at the door. Their mother and Ginny returned shortly after Percy swapped out for Fred. 

Every time Bill or Charlie tried to find out what was going on from their mother, she started sobbing, clutching Ginny into her arms. 

When their Dad, Mr. Viqor, and Ron finally exited the bedroom, Mr. Viqor whispered something to their Dad before both Viqors took their leave. 

“Dad?” Bill asked, slowly becoming annoyed with the lack of information. Charlie kept changing from bewildered at his mother’s outbursts, to pissed at the lack of information. 

“Right, well, there’s no easy way to say this,” Arthur said softly. “Scabbers was an animagus, his name was-is Peter Pettigrew.” 

Bill and Charlie caught on to the implications first. Then Percy, who ended up sick in the rubbish bin. Fred and George were next, sporting identical murderous expressions. Ginny’s brow furrowed with confusion, and Bill only prayed she was able to stay confused a little longer. 

“I bet one of the Black’s told you that,” Ron spat angrily, “they’re just trying to keep that girl out of trouble for killing my pet.” ‘

Bill fought the urge to scoff at the ridiculousness of his youngest brother’s claim. He was glad he had, as Ron seemed to be fully convinced of his claim. 

“Ronald, I assure you, the information came from a trusted source,” Arthur said calmly. 

“No,” Ron argued. “I caught her as a snake when Crookshanks and her ganged up on Scabbers. There was blood and fur everywhere. That was the night she snapped my wand!” 

“Wait, ‘her’ who?” Charlie asked. Bill gave his brother a nod in agreement. Who indeed. 

“Harry’s snake of a sister,” Ron said viciously. “She pretended to be his familiar, but turns out she was just a creepy snake stalking him or something. Then Harry’s Dad came to the school, so did the Blacks, and that’s when we found out she wasn't a snake at all.” 

Ron’s outburst was interrupted when a raven patronus swooped in front of their Dad. 

“Peter Pettigrew has been confirmed as escaped from Azkaban. The ward appointment has been moved to this afternoon.” 

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Amelia Bones was not having a good summer. Not even a week before her niece returned home, she received an anonymous note that Peter Pettigrew had escaped Azkaban. She wasn’t a fool; she knew who sent the note, the same man that handed her the rat in the first place. 

While she was curious what would have prompted the younger Black brother into visiting Azkaban, allegedly and illegally, she was far more upset that the rat was in the wind. Not only that, but after the fiasco that was Sirius Black’s escape and pardon, Fudge pushed Pettigrew’s escape under the rug. Although a small, very small part of her was glad for that, if only to keep more of her aurors working. The mishandling of Pettigrew had resulted in seven being put on probation, three on leave, and two being outright fired, as she had explicitly ordered them to ensure the anti-animagus cuffs were on Pettigrew before he was transported. 

It had been a small joy when Susan returned home, but it was short-lived as the next day she received an owl regarding the pursuance of an investigation with Muggle authorities in relation to the care provided to one Hadrian James Sirius Potter-Black. Her monocle fell to the desk with how wide her eyes opened wide in shock. 

There was but one person in charge of screening the Muggle police reports for magical names, currently a recently graduated student from Hogwarts whose name Amelia could not recall for the life of her. In all the years she’d been the Head of the DMLE, she had only received a dozen or so reports, usually wix involved with muggles meant the Obliviator squad, not a file with the Muggle Law Enforcement. 

As Amelia read the accusations and concerns, she began to consider early retirement. If this were all true, the Potter-Black family was going to rain hell upon the Ministry. If this were all true, they’d have left the Boy-Who-Lived neglected. They were lucky the child hadn’t become an obscurial with the conditions the file described. 

Against her better judgment, Amelia monitored the file. Interviews with neighbors and primary teachers were added. To the nonmagical, they indicated that as a child, young Hadrian had kept his head down and out of sight. But as Amelia read the report, she had a sense of dread building. 

From Hadrian’s placement with the Dursley family right up to a warning from Hopkirk in regards to Underage Magic, there was nothing on file. No accidental Magic Reversal Squad reports, not even regarding the ‘prank’ one of the boy’s teachers mentioned about him turning their hair blue. No Obliviator reports either, even though there seemed to have been a handful of witnesses when Hadrian seemingly apparated to the roof of his school. Yet all of the interviews made it seem like the teachers thought nothing of the events. Amelia’s suspicions spilled over when she read the interview with one Arabella Fig, a woman that Amelia knew for a fact was not just a squib, born and raised in the magical world, but also a member of Dumbledore’s ‘secret’ group from the war. 

When Amelia checked the investigation weeks later, she nearly torched it. The case had been closed: inconclusive.... Not enough evidence to confirm... Child in question appears troubled... Lovely home... The other child’s belongings in good condition... The room of the child in question had broken toys and items everywhere... 

Amelia closed the folder, sliding it away from her with disgust. While she knew there was nothing she could do in regards to the muggles, she decided that she would investigate the magicals that were supposedly involved during the boy’s upbringing: The watchful sitter, Arabella Fig, and, of course, his magical guardian, Albus Dumbledore. 

Chapter Text

The four men in the Pottery retired to a drawing room on the opposite side of the manor from the twins’ rooms. While James removed his glasses, rubbing the weariness from his face, Regulus took the liberty of pouring everyone rather full glasses of firewhiskey. 

“When you said you had news on the investigation, I didn’t think it would be...” Remus started, trailing off. Regulus grimaced as he saw his brother’s face flash dangerously. 

“We tried the proper way,” Sirius seethed. He had barely managed to hide his anger at the table with the twins, hiding it under grins and banter. Preventing them from being afraid of him had been the only thing that kept him from having this conversation there and then. “Now we do things our way. Those-’

“No, Sirius,” James interrupted, drawing his best friend’s ire upon him. 

“I beg your finest fucking pardon?” Sirius snapped.

Regulus sighed, pulling a letter from an inner pocket of his robes. He hesitated, then handed the parchment to Remus. Sirius moved to read over the wolf’s shoulder as he opened the note Regulus had received from Amelia Bones. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Black, 

It has come to my attention that the Investigation into the care of Hadrian James Sirius Potter-Black performed by the Surrey Law Enforcement has been concluded. At this time, an investigation is being opened by the DMLE in regards to the involvement of magical persons during the child’s upbringing, including his magical guardian at the time. 

This missive is as much to inform you of the development as it is to remind you and those around you to leave justice in the hands of the aurors. 

-Bones

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“We can’t do anything to the Dursleys, not if Amelia herself is going to be snooping around in the vicinity,” Regulus said quietly. James nodded lightly, nursing the glass of whiskey. It was pure luck that they’d received the note from Amelia minutes before the letter with the outcome of the investigation. 

“So you are just letting them get away with it, then?” Sirius asked scathingly as he sat on the arm of Moony’s chair. Remus wrapped an arm around his waist, something he did when he was concerned he’d be having to hold Sirius back at a moment’s notice. 

“We can revisit the issue after Amelia does her thing,” Regulus stated. He very much intended to make sure the Dursleys got everything they deserved, but not at the risk of being sent off to Azkaban. Even if the Ministry’s ineptitude made it possible for him to simply fly out of the damned place. 

“Prongs?” Sirius' whisper bordered on pleading. James glanced up from the glass he’d been focusing on. 

“I can’t see you back in Azkaban, Pads, and I won’t do something that would risk the kids being taken.” There was a defeat in James' voice that unnerved Sirius. He scowled between his brothers, one by blood, one by choice, before downing his glass of whiskey in one go and stalking out of the room. 

He wasn’t a teenager anymore. He twisted the Black family ring on his right hand. Now he was Lord Black, and he’d be damned if he allowed the Dursleys, Muggles or not, the blessing of their stable lives. If he couldn’t use magic, fine. He could play by Muggle rules if he had to. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry stroked Hedwig’s feathers numbly. Part of him wished his Dad hadn’t told him anything about the outcome of the investigation. At least that way, he could pretend the Dursleys were stuck behind bars. 

Now, he couldn’t help the small bitterness he felt that they were just going about their lives. They were probably even happier now, even. Now that he was gone and they were able to be the perfect, normal suburban family. 

No, he thought, I really would have preferred not knowing. 

It had been a novel feeling, the way James Potter had warned the Dursleys of their impending doom at King’s Cross. Someone finally stood up to them for him, but apparently, that was something that could only be done in the moment. 

‘We did what we could.’ Remus’s words echoed across his mind mockingly. 

‘I’ve done what I can.’ The nurse at his primary school had said whenever she had to bandage him up. 

The fact that the only way to move forward had been the idea of him having to speak to other adults, strangers even, about his childhood had nearly made him laugh. Every time he’d ever told an adult, they just let it go. Some even had gone so far as to pretend the conversations had never happened. 

Harry had almost been pleased by Arennia’s rage on his behalf. He thought it was nice that she still had faith in the adults around them. How was he supposed to tell her that adults were full of disappointment?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Arennia’s research in the Grimoire had taken weeks for her to settle on her course of action. By the time she had her plan, the twins’ birthday was only days away. Since it fell on a Sunday, their trip to the Dragon Reserve in Romania was all planned out to begin the Thursday prior. They would be departing the next morning. The Weasley family would be meeting them at Gringotts in the morning, bringing Hermione with them. Blaise and Theo had confirmed they’d be there as well. Somehow, Draco had gotten wind of the trip and managed to beg an invite as well, so Narcissa and he would also be meeting them at Gringotts. 

Unfortunately, that meant that if Arennia wanted to accomplish her task, before all of her and her brother’s guardians visited a potentially deadly environment, she only had a limited timeframe to do so. At breakfast, she sat silent, scowling still at the adults. The ones who had also sworn that Hadrian would never go back. Who had agreed that the Dursleys would be punished. After the meal, the group parted ways. Hadrian off with their Uncles Regulus and Moony. Their fathers retreated to James’ office. 

Quietly, Arennia padded down one of the lower halls. Praying that her father hadn’t set up any alert wards, she opened the door leading into Hallow Hall. Sconces flared to life, making the hair on her arms and neck stand on end. Glancing at the page on the Grimoire again, she slowly made it to the third door on the right. It opened, silent as a crypt. 

• Keep watch§ She ordered Kundalin, who wound his way off her shoulders, and coiled up next to the door to the Hall.

Inside was a large round room, maybe fifty meters in diameter. At the center was a mirror. At first glance, it looked a lot like the Mirror of Erised. The frame was the same in design, and words curled along the top of it. 

“In umbris imperium cape, in umbris hostem muta,” Arennia whispered as she read the words. The mirror shimmered briefly, then a dark form walked out of the glass: The shadow of Vernon Dursley. 

The Umbral Mirror had been created by the same maker of the Mirror of Erised. However, it was arguably worse. The umbral mirror coils see the target of a person’s hatred, dragging the target's shadow out before the person. The user could then interact with the shadow, using it as a spectral sort of voodoo doll to affect the true target of their ire. 

Arennia watched the shadow of Vernon Dursley, as it seemed to eat something before it sat down, and the shadow hovered. She assumed he was driving. When it stood again, it made motions of opening and closing doors, speaking, eating again... Eventually, the shadow sat again, seemingly in the air, and appeared to be writing on documents on a desk. Arennia stepped up behind the shadow, aiming her wand at the back of it, straight to where its heart would be. 

She remembered the handprint bruise on her brother that first night she saw him. The memory of the door with the cat flap and the paper sign in the cupboard. The anger flared as strongly as it had been that first time. 

“Crucio,” she hissed. With rage boiling in her veins, she watched the silent writhing agony of the shadow as it spasmed out of the chair, landing on the ground. As she let go of the curse, she knelt next to the still shaking form. She placed the wand on its heart again. Hadrian will never be left in your care again. 

“Avada Kedavra.”

Her hand was shaking as the shadow vanished. Somewhere she heard a clock chime. Once, twice, then silent. She hadn't even realized she’d been in the room for almost six hours, watching and waiting for the moment to take out Vernon Dursley. 

Arennia ran, barely bursting into the training room as her uncles set up training dummies. 

“If you’re going to insist on being Hadrian’s sparring partner, you could at least be on time,” Regulus said sternly. 

“Apologies, Uncle, I...” Arennia trailed off. 

Regulus snorted. “Lost in another one of those Muggle books, no doubt,” he muttered bitterly. Arennia said nothing, letting his assumption take root. Arennia had to have cast the disarming charm a hundred times before she stopped. Moony gave her a quizzical look. Usually, when they had them practicing something she could already do, she only participated enough to appease, not as diligently as she had this time. 

“You alright, kit?” He asked, watching her catch her breath with concern. She didn’t respond beyond a shrug, something he narrowed his eyes at. Arennia didn’t shrug often, and almost never if she was in the same room as Regulus. 

“Well done, étoile!” Regulus exclaimed with a clap, as Hadrian successfully managed a wordless expelliarmus that matched the strength of his verbal casts. The brief celebration distracted Moony enough that Arennia was able to slip out of the training room. Her escape was short-lived, as Moony brought it up again at the dinner table. 

“Kit seemed very enthusiastic this afternoon,” he commented daily. Arennia barely stopped herself from scowling at him. 

“She’s always enthusiastic if she gets to destroy things. Remind me to have her show you her fiendfyre one of these days,” James said with a snort. Remus switched tactics. 

“Hadrian seems to be catching up, perhaps we’ll be teaching him fiendfyre next,” he remarked, watching Arennia from the corner of his eye. Normally, she protested any suggestions of her brother doing anything that could be hazardous to his health. When she said nothing, he continued. “What do you think, cub? We could start off with incendio and confringo first, to see how you do with fire.” 

Hadrian’s eyes went wide as saucers. Uncle Moony was usually the practical one. Uncle Regulus suggested dark magic if it was defensive in nature, never offensive. James and Sirius, when they had the time to involve themselves in the lessons, were the ones who tended to suggest the uncanny and potentially dangerous. 

“I learned it,” Arennia said softly, not daring to look Remus in the eye, “it’s only fair if he is able to learn as well.” 

Regulus frowned, first at his drink, then at Remus Lupin, who was giving him the ‘are you a bloody idiot’ look. He was starting to feel like one, because that quiet notice-me-not tone of voice was very un-Arennia. He gave the wolf a small shake of his head, hoping it conveyed a later discussion. 

After the twins went off to bed, Lupin dragged Sirius and James to James’ office. Regulus followed behind, still trying to figure out what could have caused the shift in Arennia. 

“Something is wrong with Kit,” Remus said as soon as the door clicked softly shut behind Regulus. James laughed, sitting back in his desk chair as if it were the most luxurious armchair. 

“What do you mean? What’s wrong with kitten?” Sirius asked, making Regulus want to hit his brother over the head. ‘Kit,’ he could understand coming from the wolf, but his brother’s transition of it into kitten to counter Hadrian’s nickname of pup... well, it was one of many things slowly driving Regulus to drink. 

“Her behavior today was... different,” Remus said slowly. Regulus nodded. 

“She seemed overenergetic in the training hall, but then she was almost morose at dinner,” he said speculatively. James laughed again, drawing scowls from both Regulus and Remus. 

“Oh, don’t give me those looks,” he said with a chuckle. “She probably just had some extra energy. Tomorrow is the first time she gets to celebrate her birthday outside of these walls, and the first time she gets to do so with her brother. She probably just burned off the excess energy in the hall, which made her a bit exhausted come dinner.” 

The tension melted off of Sirius as he accepted James’ explanation. Regulus and Remus shared apprehensive looks, but didn’t comment further. They did seem to reach a silent agreement to keep a close eye on Arennia. 

Sirius' eyes danced with glee a few minutes later when an envelope appeared in front of him. He tore it open eagerly while the others watched with concern. 

“Hah! Almost too easy,” Sirius cheered. 

“Care to share with the class, love?” Remus asked anxiously. Sirius smirked viciously. 

“I am now the majority shareholder of the company Grunnings,” he said happily. 

“The what?” Asked Regulus, wracking his mind for such a company. 

“Why?” Asked James and Remus at the same time.

“Grunnings, little brother, is a Muggle company that... well, I actually am not entirely certain what it is they do, but that isn't important.” 

“You bought your way into a place of control for a Muggle company that you know nothing about?” Regulus asked incredulously. Sirius barked a laugh that made him only more anxious about his older brother’s sanity. 

“Oh, I wouldn’t say I know nothing about it,” he said, still chuckling to himself. 

“Spit it out, Padfoot,’ James said, eyes wide. He seemed just as bewildered as Regulus about all this. 

“Grunnings,” Sirius said smugly, “just happens to be the employer of one Vernon Dursley.”

“You didn’t,” Remus groaned. 

“Well, I haven’t done anything yet,” Sirius said slyly. “However, I am sure Mr. Dursley will find himself.... Struggling with employment soon.” 

Regulus couldn’t help himself. He gaped at his brother, like a fish stuck out of water. He was certain their parents were turning in their graves at the fact that Sirius had spent part of the Black fortune on a Muggle company of all things. Still, a small part of him was a bit proud of his older brother for finding such a mundane way to fuck with Dursley. A way that, even if it got back to Amelia, it was unlikely to put him back in Azkaban. She might give him a disapproving speech, but ultimately, the petty actions of a business owner against an employee weren’t something the DMLE would be involved in. The worst that could happen would be a lawsuit on the Muggle side of things, and the Black family had law-wizards that could win a Muggle suit with their wands snapped and their eyes shut. 

Chapter Text

William Arthur Weasley considered himself a reasonable person. He wasn’t as open-hearted as his mother, nor was he as willfully naive as his father, but he did think he was reasonable. He’d requested a transfer after that meeting at his family home. His brother, Charlie, had put in for emergency leave for a couple of weeks as well. 

Both brothers watched and waited. Bill personally checked the anti-animagus wards that were placed on the Burrow’s property line, even after confirming with the bank that the goblin doing the work was beyond reproach. Charlie kept Ron busy, even when everything had been explained plainly, their youngest brother insisted that everything was some twisted conspiracy. He wasn’t necessarily wrong; he just had the wrong persons pegged as villains. 

After pulling some strings at work, Bill managed to arrange a Goblin cleansing ritual for Ginny. His parents had tried to keep her results hushed, and when he finally got the note Mrs. Viqor had pressed into their mother’s hand, he was ready to start a war. He still didn’t know how his sister had been touched by soul magic, but he was certainly going to find out. Every attempt to discuss it with her ended with her pale, shaking, and crying. Eventually, he and Charlie had to try another way to find out what had happened. 

The Twins were strangely quiet, keeping to their room more often than not. Suspicious as it was, Bill was grateful for it, as they left Percy alone. Percy, it turned out, had the worst of it. Almost a dozen memory alterations in the last decade. While Bill wasn’t privy to the information the sessions his brother had with Mr. Viqor yielded, it didn’t take much to infer their content. Not when he’d managed to bribe one of his Goblin coworkers into getting him a copy of Pettigrew’s trial. 

Thinking back to when he first met Scabbers, Bill couldn’t help but bitterly wish his mother had won the argument against letting Percy keep it. He’d been away at Hogwarts for his first year, when he came home at the beginning of summer, Percy had a new pet. The once bright memory of a rambling six-year-old Percy showing off his new pet to his big brother was now marred, eclipsed by the truth of everything that Rat now represented. Bill blamed himself for never questioning the Rat’s resilience, especially after he finished his Apprenticeship at Gringotts. He should have noticed. The blame then moved rapidly on to his parents, who had actually been there the entire time and never once questioned it either. 

Whenever he managed to tear his mind away from focusing on the rodent, he found himself worrying about the Potters, or, as it were, the Potter-Blacks. Ron was almost too convinced that his friend’s new, or rather newly found, sister was evil. He’d even said so point-blank, something that both Bill and Charlie had been uneasy about. 

Charlie, in his efforts to keep Ron busy, had managed to put together what their brother knew of the girl. First, she was an animagus taking the form of a black cobra. The animagus bit alone made the oldest brothers uneasy, but they pushed it aside, blaming the reaction on the Scabbers revelation. Secondly, she’d positioned herself first as Harry’s familiar, then as Blaise Zabini’s. It was easy to dismiss posing as her brother’s familiar, even if it was strange, but they wondered if Ron’s conclusion had some merit if she was involved with the Zabini Heir. The last thing they knew from Ron was that she had snapped his wand. 

Ron had gone over the event every opportunity he got, even though the wand had long been replaced, and the girl had even apologized, more than once. The only thing that bothered Bill about the whole thing was why the girl had been nonexistent up until her subterfuge in Hogwarts. For that matter, it bothered him that instead of just going to Hogwarts as a student, she’d basically been playing spy instead. 

“You look constipated when you get all thinky, y’know?” Charlie prodded as he sat down with a cup of coffee. It was early. None of their siblings were up yet, nor were their parents, though their mother would be up in the next half hour or so to get breakfast ready. 

“Is ‘thinky’ even a word?” Bill asked, a ghost of a smile gracing his face. Charlie shrugged. The two drank their coffee in silence for a few minutes, until Charlie spoke again. 

“I think the Malfoys are the ones footing the bill for the Viqors,” he said quietly. Had he made such a suggestion a year ago, Bill would have choked on his coffee. Instead, he merely frowned but nodded thoughtfully. 

“Wouldn’t surprise me. You read how he was during the trial,” Bill said. He strained his ears, listening for the telltale creaks that their mother was waking up. Hearing nothing yet, he continued. “Dad did tell me that Lord Malfoy formally ended the blood feud between the houses. He clammed up when I asked how that came up.” 

Charlie hummed in acknowledgement, his head tilted when he heard a small groan in the frame of the house. He glanced at Bill, who nodded. Their mother was awake. 

“I have to go back to the Reserve tomorrow,” Charlie said, changing the conversation. 

“Have to, eh?” Bill teased. If Charlie didn’t, he’d just have to withdraw from his role and reapply. Good dragon tamers were hard to come by, so it was unlikely he’d be rejected. An informal letter from his boss had mentioned it shortly after he’d confirmed his Leave of Absence. 

“Dad asked if I could make some arrangements,” Charlie said, whispering conspiratorially. 

“What kind of arrangements?” Bill whispered. 

“Apparently, Lord Potter would like to arrange a tour of the Reserve for the twins' birthday. The entire family will be going, our family was fully invited, as well as a ‘few extra guests,’” Charlie answered, the words rushed out just before the creaks of their mother’s footsteps crossed into the threshold of the kitchen. 

Bill stood, placing a hand firmly on his brother’s shoulder. “We’ll see you then.” 

Charlie nodded before grabbing the Prophet and becoming oddly engrossed in an article regarding the controversy of re-homing garden gnomes. While they weren't twins, Bill and Charlie had been able to convey their thoughts with one another with a single glance when necessary. That’s how Bill knew Charlie had gotten the message to do what he had to arrange the Potter’s little trip. They didn’t have anything new on Pettigrew, but they could learn more about the Potters and the Blacks. 

Bill ignored his mother’s comment on missing breakfast again, as he took off for the edge of the wards, where he apparated to Diagon. Minutes later, he entered the employee entrance of Gringotts. Instead of heading to the Curse Breakers wing, he veered right. 

“Why have you requested this meeting, Anzar?” 

Bill took a parchment from his inner pocket, sliding it across the desk. The goblin opened it before swearing vehemently in Ghukliak.

“I see,” came the Goblin’s reply after recollecting his composure. The goblin’s nails rapped against the desk. “You do realize that if I sign this, there is no undoing it?” 

Bill grinned wickedly, “Oh, I’m rather counting on it, Rei Ragnok.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was nearly 8:00 am on July 28th when Bill first met the Potter-Black household. He wished Charlie were there, but was glad that he’d at least have his brother’s backup once they were all on the reserve. He warded off a frown when Lady Malfoy and her son came into view. Part of him felt that he ought to thank the Malfoys for their generosity, another part wondered if they were receiving reports from the Viqors despite the secrecy vows he knew the Viqors had as part of their Mastery attainment. 

His attention shifted from them when he heard Ron mutter something he couldn’t catch. Following his youngest brother’s scowl, he found three teenagers roughly the same age as Ron. At the center of them was a girl he figured must be the infamous Arennia Potter-Black. She carried herself like the daughters of other Pureblood houses, but every so often, Bill clocked her frantic glance towards her brother, before her demeanor corrected itself. 

A tall, darkskinned boy had her left hand tucked into the crook of his elbow. He had a decidedly bored expression fixed on his face. When Bill’s appraisal shifted to the boy on the girl’s right, he was startled to find himself being watched. The blue eyes narrowed on him, and Bill nearly found himself recoiling. He caught himself, though, and managed to raise an eyebrow back in the boy’s direction. 

“Harry!” Hermione cried, flinging herself at the Potter boy as he approached. Bill noticed Ginny pout slightly, before fixing her expression into a happy smile. 

“Missed you too, ‘Mione,” Harry said with a laugh. 

“Why are they here?” Ron asked viciously, gesturing not only to Arennia and her entourage, but also to the two Malfoys. 

“They,” Harry gestured to the boys by his sister, “are my sister’s friends. It’s her birthday too, and she let me pick what to do with the condition that they be invited.” Ron scowled. 

“And what about him?” He growled, glowering at the Malfoy heir. Before Bill could intervene, Arennia beat him to it. 

“He is our cousin, Ronald, and I thought it would be nice to bring him to see his namesake.” 

Lord Potter shared a look with Regulus Black that made Bill think that her claim was news to them. Even Lady Malfoy gave the girl a fleeting, quizzical glance. 

“The travelers for the 8:15 portkey to the Romanian Reserve for Dragons, please follow me,” a Goblin Escort called. Bill watched Fred and George pull Ron in the direction of the escort, even as his youngest brother continued to glare at the Malfoys. When everyone made it into the private room, Bill was surprised to find that their portkey was a rather realistic-looking statue of a Chinese Fireball that was roughly the size of a kneazle. 

“Are you serious?” Regulus asked Lord Pottter, who looked like he was just barely managing to suppress laughter. 

“No, Reg, that’d be me,” Lord Black responded cheekily. 

“Alright, everyone, hands on,” Mrs. Weasley ordered, even going so far as to shuffle in the Slytherin teens as if they were wayward ducklings. Bill found himself next to Percy and Remus Lupin. Werewolf, he noted at the faint amber ring in the other man’s eyes. He pushed the thought aside as he realized the next full moon would still be three weeks away after they returned. 

Bill shot a glare at his mother after they landed. Or rather, after everyone but his siblings landed. Percy at least managed to half-land on his feet before teetering sideways into George, who had landed in a heap on Fred. Ginny looked positively green, and Ron was a disaster. It took a minute for Bill to register that Hermione had also landed haphazardly, but by the time he checked for her, she was already being helped to her feet by a bemused-looking Harry. 

“Sorry, ‘Mi, I thought they’d have warned you,” he said soothingly. She did not seem soothed. 

“No time for lounging about, we’ve got to get you lot settled in before lunch!” Relief flooded Bill at the sound of his brother’s voice. 

“Charlie!” The younger Weasleys exclaimed in surprise. 

“You didn’t have to wander away from your work to greet us, dear,” their mother said softly. Bill barely turned his chuckle into a cough. 

“I’d be wandering away from work if I weren’t here, Mum,” Charlie replied. “Just so happens, I have the pleasure of being your guide for the next few days.”

“I didn’t realize tours were a task assigned to the tamers,” Regulus Black said stiffly. Bill gave him a sideways glance, careful not to let the look turn into an outright glare. 

“Only the persuasive ones,” Charlie said, winking at the younger Black brother who looked scandalized by the gesture. 

After some time, Charlie was able to take the group to the collection of buildings where the Reserve workers lived. Next to them was a large tent, large by Muggle standards even. As the group entered their temporary canopy quarters, Bill wondered whether it had been the Black or Potter coffers that funded the feat. Inside was at least the size of the Burrow, from what he could tell, standing in the living area. 

While his siblings had no qualms about quickly claiming rooms, Hermione looked terribly lost. Bill wondered for a moment what it would be like to go from the magical world to being trapped in the mundane, and could only imagine the shock the reverse would have for her. He was surprised when Arennia offered to share a room with her, but the shock quickly vacated as he recalled that the girl’s invited friends were both boys. While Ron dragged Harry with him to the room he wanted, Bill watched the Slytherin boys idly. 

He half expected one of them to pitch a fit for better accommodations, but was horribly disappointed. His youngest siblings seemed to be the ones raising hell for the room both of them wanted. Ron won out since he was bunking with Harry. Bill didn’t like the look in his little sister’s eye when Molly announced that she could bunk with the other girls, referring to Hermione and Arennia. 

Hermione looked somewhat relieved with that knowledge. The Potter-Black girl merely swept a calculating gaze over Ginny, but did nothing else that gave away her thoughts on the development. The three Slytherin boys took the remaining room gracefully, and Bill found himself frowning at the stark difference between them and his brother’s near tantrum. 

Perhaps the oddest observation of all was the ease with which his mother and Lady Malfoy accepted their shared quarters. Part of him wondered if perhaps his Dad had somehow become indebted to the Malfoys; they just didn’t seem like the type to do good out of the goodness of their hearts, or even to have hearts for that matter. While everyone settled into their temporary accommodations, Bill pulled Charlie outside, casting a quick privacy charm to prevent eavesdropping. 

“I’ll work the Malfoy angle, it’s still not sitting right with me,” Bill muttered. Charlie chuckled at the frustrated crease forming between his older brother’s eyebrows. 

“I guess that leaves me with the Potter-Blacks then?” Charlie replied, and Bill frowned. 

“Leave Potter out of it, Ron’s good friends with his kid; I don't want to jeopardize that.” He said, though the thought of it annoyed him. He wasn't used to dealing with the nuances of dealing with people he had associations with. 

“Fair enough, that just leaves me the Black brothers and Lupin,” Charlie said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “I heard rumors that Sirius Black was quite the flirt back in the day. I’ll start there.” 

Bill fought the urge to smack his brother upside the head. He settled on a mild glower. Charlie only grinned cheekily before flashing a wink and heading back into the tent to collect the group together again. One deep, mildly meditative breath later, Bill rejoined the fray. 

Lunch was a pretty tame affair, although Bill found himself appalled by his youngest brother’s table manners. Fred and George weren’t great either, but they at least made a habit of not speaking with food in their mouths. When Bill tried to send a communicative look to Charlie, he found his brother’s attention fully engrossed in Sirius Black. 

Bill was not the only one clocking the banter, or the lingering touches his brother was rather shamelessly employing. On Sirius’s other side, Remus Lupin looked... well, tense is certainly a term that could be used, but Bill thought it lacking. The man’s eyes were almost fully amber now, and every time Charlie said something to the older Black Brother, the muscle along Lupin’s jaw tightened. 

Whether Lord Black and the Wolf were actually a thing, Bill wasn’t sure, but he certainly didn’t want his brother facing off with a jealous werewolf. After lunch, everyone went to grab last-minute items before the quick tour of the reserve. Charlie looked borderline annoyed as Bill dragged him out of the tent once again. 

“You’re terrible if you’re trying to be sneaky,” he muttered. 

“Lay off Sirius,” Bill said abruptly, making Charlie give him a speculative look. “I am ninety-nine percent certain that Lupin is a werewolf, and almost completely certain that he wanted to rip your throat out during lunch.” 

“So,” Charlie said, with a frown, “I’m supposed to get information about the Potter-Black situation, but I can’t target Potter, or Black, and Lupin likely wants to hide my body in a ditch.”

“Pretty much,” Bill concurred as Charlie scowled. 

“You do realize that only leaves Regulus Black, right?” 

“You work with dragons, you can handle some pureblood ponce,” Bill deadpanned. Charlie grumbled something, but Bill was unable to have him repeat it as Fred and George came barreling out of the tent. 

“What are you two doing?” George asked, while Fred gave them an assessing look. 

“Waiting,” Bill replied somewhat tersely. The twins shared a look, one that Bill tried not to worry about as the other kids and parents exited the tent. Bill was surprised that his mother was choosing to stay behind with Lady Malfoy, and immediately berated himself for not having Charlie place Oculus orbs in the tent. 

While the others followed Charlie, who started a very informative talk regarding the dragon enclosures they passed, with occasional tangents describing the dragons they could see from the path, Bill stationed himself at the back of the group. Lords Potter and Black stationed themselves at the front, almost directly behind Charlie. Bill almost found the positioning protective, except he noticed that every time a dragon veered overhead, or moved in the nearby enclosures, neither man moved in any sort of defensive position between the creatures and the kids, not even the Potter-Black twins. 

Lupin seemed attached to Lord Black. Every time he set foot off the path toward a noise or motion, the scarred man would gently tug at a sleeve or, occasionally, the neck of Black’s robes, until the latter would return to the path flashing a pouty expression the wolf’s way. The younger Black brother seemed to constantly shift his attention between his niece and nephew. 

Ron behaved a lot like Sirius Black, veering from the path, dragging Harry and Hermione along, until someone brought them back to the group. Oftentimes, it was Percy, but occasionally Fred and George stepped in, even if it was with taunts of being burned to death if they strayed too far. 

The Slytherin kids stayed to themselves, almost too quiet compared to the other teens. Whenever Ron pulled Harry off, Bill caught the motion of Arennia’s wand exiting its holster. Nearly every time Regulus Black would appear behind her, resting a warning hand on her shoulder or giving a short shake of his head before shifting his attention to his nephew, and whatever had drawn him away from the group. 

Dusk was settling around them as they returned to the tent that evening. While everyone ate, Charlie advised the kids to come up with which enclosures they wanted to look closer at over the next few days, a statement that made the Malfoy boy’s expression brighten from its normal passivity. 

After dinner, it didn’t seem to take much encouragement to get the teenagers off to bed. Before Bill decided to call it a night, he noticed Charlie sharing a drink with a rather put-out-looking Regulus Black. From the corner of his eye, he thought he saw something black shuffle along the ground, but when he turned his attention toward it, there was nothing. He considered it a trick of the light, or shadows perhaps, and decided that the day truly had caught up with him. 

Chapter Text

“Do you actually think I’m willing to accept anything you offer me?” Regulus snapped after Charles Weasley attempted to hand him a glass of firewhiskey. He found the man infuriating, a worse flirt than Sirius had ever been. 

Charlie scoffed. “You need to learn how to relax, Black,” he said, downing the glass he’d offered Regulus in one swallow. Regulus's eyes narrowed. Charlie had the distinct impression that he was trying to see into his soul. 

“Why don’t we cut the shit?” Regulus said after a moment. Charlie choked on the sip of whiskey he’d taken from his own glass. 

“Excuse me?” Charlie asked, still coughing slightly from the burn of whiskey that had tried to invade his lungs. Regulus leaned forward, a calculating glare etched firmly on his features. 

“What is it you think you will gain by flirting with my brother and I?” 

Charlie was glad he’d set the glass down. He desperately wished that Bill hadn’t just left. He could try to evade the answer, play it off. The other reserve workers would vouch that flirtation was a pretty standard form of communication from Charlie. However, part of him wondered if the younger Black had clocked the more dedicated targeting he’d been running with throughout the day. 

“Who says my flirtations are exclusive to you or your brother?” Charlie said slowly. Regulus arched a brow at him, watching the way the other’s eyes darted away. 

“Sirius flirts with anything with a pulse,” Regulus said, only half joking, “even James.”

Charlie gave a bitter chuckle. “So, the fact that I didn’t include Potter in my attentions is what gave me away,” he muttered. It wasn’t a question. He’d curse Bill later for putting Potter off limits. 

“Which brings us back around to my original question: What are you trying to gain?” Regulus took the barely touched glass of whiskey, taking a small sip. Charlie gave a slightly bemused smirk. 

“That was mine,” he said quietly. Regulus took another, larger drink before setting the glass back down. 

“Fine, don’t answer,” Regulus huffed, moving to leave, “just know that it won’t work. My brother, flirt that he is, is completely loyal to Lupin.” 

“Wait,” Charlie’s hand grabbed the other’s arm. He hadn’t even thought the motion through, and, had he done so, he probably would have thought better of it. Not only had Regulus stopped, he’d taken a step into Charlie’s space, and his wand was digging into his jugular. 

“My nephew’s attachment to your youngest brother does not extend protection to you,” Regulus said harshly. Charlie could just make out the sensation of a burn against his jaw from the end of the wand, still pressed against his skin. 

“I have... questions,” Charlie said quietly, hoping that maybe the open approach would work better. Stealth was certainly out the window now, regardless. Bill was going to be either terribly amused or royally pissed by the development. 

The soul-searing look was back in Regulus’s eyes. Eventually, he withdrew, wand snapping back into the holster that Charlie could just see the outline of under the other’s sleeve. 

“I do not guarantee answers,” Regulus said coldly. Charlie nodded. 

“Why did everyone believe James Potter was dead?” Charlie asked, before his mind supplied a follow-up question. “Why did no one know your niece existed?” Thoughts flowed in rapid succession. “Why did she have to hide at Hogwarts?” The whiskey had been a terrible idea. “Why are the Malfoys helping my family?” He stopped when a hand grabbed his knee, which was bouncing as adrenaline supplied excess energy to his limbs. Charlie blinked, following the hand to its source. Regulus’s expression didn’t hold any answers, but there did seem to be a hint of concern around the edges.

Once Charlie had stopped the torrent of queries, Regulus removed his hand, leaning back into his chair.  “I cannot answer your first three questions, not fully. Besides, those matters aren't really your business; however, since my niece’s activities last year affected your siblings, to a degree, I will offer this: During the first war, James and Lily did... something to hide Arennia’s existence. James was tied to the event, as was I, and we were unable to... interact with the world, until certain events came to pass.” 

“I don’t think you could have possibly made that less clear,” Charlie muttered, reclaiming his glass of whiskey. He decided they were past the point of him making any sort of decent impression, and he’d rather have the whiskey than not. 

“We found out Pettigrew’s whereabouts. Arennia was the only one who could navigate Hogwarts undetected to apprehend him,” Regulus continued. Charlie immediately regretted the decision to resume his drinking, as the whiskey threatened his lungs once more. 

“You let your niece near that- that-” Charlie couldn’t even think of a word horrible enough to equate to his loathing of Peter Pettigrew. 

“We didn’t know what all he’d done at the time. I assure you, if we had, we would have never allowed her to be within a continent of such filth,” Regulus hissed darkly. Numbness spread through Charlie. 

“You know what he did.” 

Regulus cocked his head at the dragon tamer curiously. The man’s tone had shifted into something weaker than he’d seen from him, bordering on pathetic. 

“Lucius told us, so we could check on Hadrian,” he answered. Any trace of hostility had long since left his voice. Charlie swallowed thickly, biting back bile. 

“He- he wasn’t-” 

“No. At least, his memories weren’t altered,” Regulus said softly. “We tried to get to the rat, to try and find out... but he’s in the wind. James, Sirius, and Lupin have been checking anywhere relevant to his history, but so far, nothing.” 

Charlie nodded dumbly. What could he say to all of that? It seemed the Potter-Black family was working on the same thing he and Bill were. 

“As for the Malfoys,” Regulus said, hesitating slightly. Charlie’s eyes snapped to his face. “It would be better for them to explain their own actions. Suffice it to say, they think that children, all children, are precious. Narcissa took the information on the rat’s... activities, and took it as a call to arms.”

“They ended the blood feud. They’re footing the bill on healers far outside my father’s range,” Charlie said, somewhat hotly. “ It doesn’t make sense for them to just....”

“Help?” A new voice said softly, startling the two men slightly. 

“Cissa, I-” Narcissa raised a hand, stopping Regulus’s words. The three were stuck in an awkward air momentarily before Narcissa spoke again. 

“We did explain to your parents, Mr. Weasley. However, I apologize if our actions caused you or your older brother concern,” she said calmly. Charlie’s jaw tensed, clenching it shut to prevent it from outright gaping at the woman. “Lucius and I... struggled to create Draco. We tried...” Her eyes shut, an old pain flashing across her features. Charlie felt like a complete arse, and a glance at Regulus made him realize he wasn’t the only one. “Children are precious, Mr. Weasley. I would like to think that if the roles were reversed, your parents would have helped us.”

Narcissa didn’t say anything else as she moved away from the two men who shared guilty looks. 

“So, they really are just...” Charlie tried to say something. ‘Being nice’ just didn’t seem sufficient. 

“You’d be surprised what you can learn about people if you let go of prejudice,” Regulus said softly. He took the glass of whiskey directly out of Charlie’s hand, downing it harshly. “My family has no intention of harming yours, Charlie. And I would much prefer us all on the same side, than working against each other as we fight a common enemy.” 

Charlie didn’t speak as Regulus left. Shadows danced with the flames of the fire. He wasn’t certain how long he stared into the hearth, but was startled when a person added a log to the nearly dying embers. 

He glanced up to find Bill frowning at him slightly. 

“Dare I ask?” 

“Talked to Regulus, Narcissa joined at one point...” Charlie trailed off. Bill took the seat Regulus had been in previously. 

“And?” 

“We can trust them,” Charlie said. His voice was smaller than normal, but conviction bled through. 

“Alright, then,” came the response with a shrug. If Charlie was convinced, Bill would trust it. At least, until the trust was proven misplaced. 

Bill grabbed the bottle of firewhiskey, something Charlie had forgotten about. He took a drink, straight from the bottle, before handing the bottle over to his younger brother. 

“Why are you up?” Charlie asked as he accepted the bottle, taking a swig himself. 

“Couldn’t sleep,” Bill answered. “Do they know about Pettigrew?” 

Charlie scowled. “They’re hunting him, trying to get him alive to find out who his actual victims were.” 

“Well, shit,” Bill laughed. Charlie shot his brother a bewildered look. “I may or may not have sicced the Goblin Nation on Pettigrew.” 

“How-” Charlie started, but stopped at the glare his brother shot his way. Whatever his brother did for the Goblins, he was pretty sure Curse-Breaking was just a front. “Right. Fine. Didn’t want to know anyway.”

Bill chuckled, snagging the firewhiskey from Charlie before he could take another drink.

“C’mon, you need to get some sleep. After all, you have a gaggle of kids to show dragons to tomorrow, and every single parent wouldn’t hesitate to kill you if you let one of them get eaten.”

“Mum wouldn’t kill me,” Charlie grumbled, leaning heavily on Bill as he stood and felt the effects of just how much whiskey he’d had. 

“No,” Bill said, grinning, “but only ‘cause Dad and I wouldn’t let her.”

Chapter Text

Regulus almost felt bad for Charlie Weasley when he saw him the next morning. The young man seemed to have one hand permanently stationed on his face, whichever side it had to be on to prevent the light from directly hitting his eyes. Charlie winced every time one of the kids spoke too loudly, confirming Regulus' theory that Mr. Weasley had overdone the firewhiskey the night before.

“What’s this?” Charlie growled when Regulus handed him a vial. He almost regretted taking pity on the man. 

“Hangover Cure,” Regulus sniffed. “I’d rather you be at full capacity if I’m entrusting you with the lives of my niece and nephew.”

Charlie downed the vial, baffling Regulus with the amount of trust the man had decided to give him. Sure, he’d been honest; it was just a Hangover Cure, but Charlie hadn't even seemed to question it past that answer. 

“Not worried that your life is in my hands, too, then?” The dragon tamer asked with a cheeky grin. Regulus felt his eye twitch as he kept from rolling his eyes. 

“Come on, O Tour Guide,” Regulus taunted, “Hadrian has made the decision to see the Opaleyes this morning.”

Charlie was surprised, but relieved, with that announcement. The opaleyes were some of the nicest dragons among the Reserve’s tenants. Usually, guests tried to go straight to the Fireballs or, Merlin-forbid, the Horntails. 

As the potion did its job, Charlie jogged to the front of the waiting group of teenagers and the few adults attending the outing. He was surprised to see Narcissa among them; his own mother had only muttered about the ridiculousness of tempting fate before settling into one of the chairs with her knitting. 

“Alright, lords and ladies,” he said, clapping his hands and winking at his little sister, who giggled at his antics, “I heard we’re going off to see the Opaleyes, first, that right little Potter?” The boy jumped when Charlie addressed him. Bill’s eyes narrowed slightly at the motion, before remembering what the twins had said about their staged rescue two summers ago. 

“If that’s alright,” Hadrian replied softly, barely maintaining eye contact. He stood slightly taller when he caught the approving nod from his Uncle Regulus. 

“Excellent choice!” Charlie cheered before starting down the path away from the tent. “Come along, if we hurry, we might be able to help feed them.” 

Almost all the teens ran after him. Arennia, Blaise, and Theo were the exception, walking after the others with the same measured steps they always seemed to move in. Even Draco was walking briskly enough that he may as well have been running. 

“Now, the Antipodean Opaleyes are considered one of the most beautiful breeds of dragon,” Charlie said, his tone shifting into something similar to McGonagall’s during Transfiguration. “Unlike most dragons, Opaleyes prefer to live in valleys, rather than mountains. Muggles have often stumbled across nests and thought the eggs were fossils, that’s died down in the last century as nearly all of the opaleyes have been relocated to reserves, such as this.”

“They’re all in captivity?” Hermione asked, looking horrified.

“Sounds more like they’re all being protected,” Draco said, glaring at the girl. “If the muggles kept taking their eggs, the dragons wouldn’t have been able to continue on, dwindling into extinction. Would that really have been better than being placed in reserves where they still get to fly around and eat to their heart’s content?”

Hermione looked shell-shocked. That was the most Draco Malfoy had ever spoken to her without insult, including the meeting Harry’s sister had hosted before school had let out. 

“True, that,” Charlie acknowledged Draco, “Since they are less aggressive than other breeds, the opaleye population was suffering rather severely before intervention from Magical Conservation groups-”

“There are Magical Conservation groups?” Hermion interrupted. 

“Of course there are,” Draco sneered. “The FoD specializes in Dragons, of course, but there’s also MIME, the DAC-” Draco had started listing them before turning an incredulous look on Hermione. “Honestly, Granger, don’t you read anything?” 

“Draconis Lucius Malfoy!” Narcissa snapped. 

“But she’s so uneducated,” Draco pouted. 

“Then, loan her some books, cousin, so that she can learn. It’s not like conservation efforts are a topic included in Hogwarts’ curriculum,” Arennia said, making Hermione and Draco each give her wide-eyed stares. “She was raised in the Muggle world, Draco, no offense, Hermione,” Hermione bristled, “and she’s never going to know about the finer points of the wizarding world if no one tells her about them.” 

“Like Hermione would ever read anything that slimy git offers,” Ron snarled. Arennia tilted her head at him, her expression carefully vacant. 

“Why not? It’s not like he wrote them,” her gaze shifted back to Hermione. “However, if you’d prefer, I can loan you books from our family library. Between the Potters and the Blacks, we likely have more on the subject than the average family would.”

Regulus smirked at the subtle barb, chuckling lightly. 

“I-” Hermione froze, glancing between Arennia and Ron. “Wouldn’t Flourish and Blott’s have some? I could just buy a book or two myself.” 

“I suppose that would work,” Arennia said pensively. 

“There are only a few that would tell you about the various groups. I can send you the titles if you’d like,” Draco offered quietly. Hermione gave a small nod of acceptance while Ron glared viciously at Draco. 

“Whoa.” Hadrian’s voice broke the building tension. The group shifted attention to the sight that had caused the boy’s vocalization. 

“Right, these are the twins.  This,” Charlie kept going, until he was directly next to one of the dragons, “is Glimmer. That there,” he pointed off a few yards away, “is Gloss.”

Kundalin poked his head out of Arennia’s hood. 

• I ssshould have ssstayed at the nessst§

• Ssscared, Kundalin?§ Arennia hissed with a soft laugh. Kundalin didn’t answer, but returned to her hood. 

• Food§

“Shit, don’t move Arennia,” Charlie ordered. The girl froze, then caught the movement to her right. Gloss was moving toward her, crouching like Crookshanks about to strike. 

• Don’t touch her!§

Gloss reared up, head swinging to glare at Hadrian, who looked terrified on his sister’s behalf. 

• Has food§ 

Arennia’s eyes widened, her brother’s expression mirroring her own surprise. Hadrian took a step closer, hands out in a show of peace. 

• That isss her friend, not food§

• Want it§

Blaise tugged on Arennia’s arm, as Theo moved between her and the evidently hungry dragon. The two backing her away from it. Gloss caught the movement; smoke billowed from its nostrils. 

• Give food§ 

• No§ Arennia hissed sternly. 

“Are they-? Charlie said in wonder, eyes flickering between the dragon and the Potter-Black twins. 

“Talking to it?” Regulus finished, his hand gripping his wand so tight he thought it would leave a permanent impression on his palm. 

“It's hungry,” Arennia said, looking at Charlie with a hint of desperation. Charlie frowned.

“They should have just finished eating.”

• He sssaysss you already ate§ Arennia hissed accusingly. Gloss reared up, and Blaise pulled Arennia behind him, making it so that he and Theo were directly in the line of fire if the dragon decided to blow more than smoke. 

• Humans forget sometimes§ 

Arennia and Hadrian’s heads turned toward Glimmer. 

• What do you mean?§ Hadrian asked, his brows furrowing angrily. 

• One day, food§ Glimmer said sadly, looking toward Gloss. 

• Another day, nothing§ Gloss finished, shuffling closer to Blaise, Theo, and Arennia. 

“They said that you forget to feed them,” Hadrian seethed. Arennia’s attention snapped to her brother, who was trembling. Charlie looked like he’d been slapped. 

“We-They-” He couldn’t string two words together properly. 

“Can you ask them to describe who normally feeds them?” Regulus asked, looking at his niece. Hadrian looked ready to pitch a fit, and he didn’t want to see that play out. 

• What does the human who feedsss you look like?§ Arennia hissed, looking up at Gloss over Blaise’s shoulder. 

Gloss moved, head directly in front of Theo. 

• Like this one, but taller. Different eyes.§

• Stronger, too§ Glimmer supplied. 

Arennia bit back a chuckle. 

“They say the person looks like Theo, but taller, and bulkier,” she answered her uncle, before dissolving into a fit of giggles at Theo’s indignant expression. 

“Probably Stefan,” grumbled Charlie. “Right, well, tell them I am terribly sorry on behalf of the reserve, and that we will be feeding them shortly.” 

Charlie continued seething internally as he instructed the group on how to feed the dragons. The task was easier than normal, given Hadrian and Arennia’s ability to talk to the creatures. While the kids gushed over the two dragons, he wondered if there were other deficiencies in the reserve. 

“When you scowl like that, you almost look dangerous,” Regulus commented as he leaned against a tree. His eyes remained on his nephew, who looked about ready to climb on Glimmer. 

“I tame dragons,” Charlie deadpanned. Regulus nodded towards his nephew, his niece hovering next to her brother. 

“So do they,” Regulus said. Charlie glanced at the two kids. Hadrian was trying to convince Hermione to pet Glimmer, while Arennia seemed to have entered a staring contest with Gloss. 

“You don’t think your niece or nephew are dangerous?” Charlie asked, wondering how the girl hadn’t shrunk away and amazed at how unbothered the boy was. 

“Fair point,” Regulus muttered. He wanted to say no. Absolutely not. His niece and nephews were paragons of childish naivety and innocence. He couldn’t, though. Not when he’d witnessed the memories of his nephew facing of wraiths of Dark Lords and ancient basilisks. Not when he’d taught his niece fiendfyre and knew her penchant for the Dark Arts. 

Charlie watched the other man’s expression. Outright, Regulus Black seemed indifferent, but then an eyebrow would twitch, the vein on his temple would flare minutely, the muscle along his jaw would tighten. He couldn’t help wondering what thoughts were going through the man’s mind. 

“The others would like to meet with you and your brother sometime before we leave,” Regulus said. 

“Why?” Charlie asked defensively. Regulus's eyes swept over him, and Charlie flushed at the brief attention. 

“To determine if you two are help or hindrance,” Regulus answered coldly. Charlie felt goosebumps form across his arms. Conversing with Regulus Black was as thrillingly terrifying as handling his dragons. 

“So... we’re being tested then?” Charlie asked, smirking slightly. 

Regulus glanced at him, eyes narrowing. “Acting cute won’t help you pass, and I would advise against failing.” 

As Regulus moved to leave, Charlie grinned wickedly. 

“So you think I’m cute, eh?” 

Regulus froze, a flash of irritation, a hint of exasperation, flashing through his features. He glared at Charlie with open hostility. 

“I think you’re insufferable,” he sneered. 

Chapter Text

After the morning visit with the Opaleyes, while the others attended lunch, Charlie brought the matter of negligence to the attention of the Reserve Director. Vladilen Wyrzyk, the sixth generation of Wyrzyks running the Romanian Reserve, listened to the enraged tamer with a grim expression. When the young man finished, panting and slightly red with rage, Wyrzyk stood, moving to the window of his office overlooking the Reserve. 

“The speaker children, did any of your covorkers witness what occurred vith the Opaleyes?” 

Charlie shook his head, “No, no one was there but my family, the Potter-Blacks, and the other guests of the group.”

“Keep it that vay,” the director said harshly. Annoyance overtook Charlie’s features. 

“So you aren’t going to do something about it?” He asked defiantly. Wyrzyk turned sharply; he wasn’t used to this. Most tamers came to the Reserve because they didn’t have other options. It was rare to have someone here because they wanted to be here. 

“I vant you to make sure the children meet at least one of each of the breeds,” he said slowly. “If they are able to speak with them all, it vould be ideal. I vill take action once ve know if there are others performing their tasks poorly.” 

“You want me to have two children play internal affairs with potentially pissed off dragons?” Charlie asked incredulously. 

“They are already here, you are already giving them tour,” Wyrzyk said simply, “all you must do is make sure the tour is thorough.” 

“That is a lot of ground to cover, sir.” Charlie was doing the math already. In order to see all the dragons, he’d have to get the group to at least one other breed that day, and then two or three each day until the group departed Monday morning. 

Wyrzyk grabbed a box off a shelf, handing it to the young man. 

“The activation phrases are etched on each,” he said. Charlie opened the box, confused at first. Inside was a keyring, but instead of keys the ring had multiple stones attached to it. Upon closer inspection, Charlie realized that each stone was actually a scale that corresponded to one of the breeds on the reserve. Sure enough each one had a word etched into one side of the scale.

“Are these.... Portkeys?” He asked after a minute. 

“Lose them, and you vill find yourself without a job,” Wyrzyk said sternly. Charlie nodded, jaw slack as he left the office. He still wasn’t sure how he was going to pull off the task he was given, but portkeying to each enclosure would certainly free up some time to do so. The only thing Charlie was concerned about was convincing the four men responsible for Hadrina and Arennia to let their kids play intermediary with dragons. He doubted he’d be able to pass that by them unawares, given how fast they’d caught onto his initial prying. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Next on the docket, we’re going to be visiting the Welsh Greens,” Charlie said happily as he stepped into the group of picnicking visitors. 

“We don’t get to choose anymore?” Draco said unhappily, but was silenced by a sharp look from his mother. 

“Given our start with the Opaleyes, I think it would be better to start with the easier breeds and work our way up,” Charlie said. He caught glances being shared among the Potter-Blacks, but ignored them. “Some good news, though, I’ve obtained portkeys to eliminate the walking portion of our soiree.” 

The kids' expressions all brightened at that. As the group finished their food, Charlie grabbed Regulus Black, who glowered at him immediately. 

“I need to talk to you before we go,” Charlie said quietly. Regulus scowled but followed him off to the side a ways from the group. 

“Talk,” Regulus ordered shortly. 

“The Director has asked me to have Hadrian and Arennia speak with all the breeds if possible to determine if there are any other issues on the reserve similar to what they discovered with the Opaleyes,” Charlie said in one breath. 

“Let me see if I understand correctly,” Regulus said, his voice deadly. “Your boss wants my niece and nephew to communicate with dragons, dragons that may quite possibly be unhappy, so that he can fix the inefficiencies of his employees based on the results.” 

There was no question in Regulus’ tone, just pure malice. 

“Yes,” Charlie said nervously. He was beginning to think that being forthcoming with the venture may not have been his greatest idea. 

“He is lucky that they intended to test their ability to communicate with the creatures already. Hadrian has already stated that he’s worried that others are similarly affected as the Opaleyes.” Regulus took a step closer to Charlie. Charlie coils see the silver of the other man’s eyes crackling menacingly. “You will not tell them of this request. I will not have them consider it a responsibility, especially Hadrian, who has already decided to bear the burden regardless. Am I clear?” 

“Crystal,” Charlie whispered. He dragged in a ragged breath as Regulus whirled away. Bill walked up next to him, a concerned yet amused expression on his face. 

“Well, you’re doomed,” he commented. Charlie glared at his older brother. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said vehemently. Bill chuckled. 

“I know you as well as I know myself, little brother,” he teased. “I just need to know if I’m giving him the shovel talk, or if I need to protect you from his big brother.”

“Piss off,” Charlie huffed, stalking away while Bill frowned at Sirius Black. Regulus Black was whispering something to him that had turned the older Black’s attention to Charlie with a murderous air. 

The visit to the Welsh Greens went better than Charlie expected. He overheard Hadrian telling Ron that Eira liked her caretaker, especially when he gave her belly scratches. Idris kept trying to grab the boy by the back of his robes and move him to her nest, only to be stopped by Arennia hissing something angrily. 

While the others ate dinner that evening, Charlie planned out the next two days. If he wanted to get the major breeds down, they’d have to see three each day. He decided that packed lunches would help, so they didn't have to return halfway through. He jumped when a plate was sat down in front of him. He looked up, expecting his mother, or maybe Bill, but ended up spilling the inkpot in surprise. 

“I would prefer not dragging your fainted form through the Reserve tomorrow,” Regulus huffed. Charlie grinned. 

“I’m surprised you wouldn’t just leave me passed out on the ground,” his smile widened as he watched the flash of annoyance on the other man’s face. “Don’t worry, Black, I won’t tell anyone you care.” 

Regulus' jaw clenched. What he wouldn’t give to hex the smug look off the prat’s stupid face. 

“Stick around after the children retire,” he said, not fully thinking the order through. 

“Why, Mr. Black, that’s a rather forward request,” Charlie said with false indignation. He barely caught the blush that started creeping up Regulus’ neck. 

“The others are ready to have a conversation with you and your brother,”  he said, aiming for his usual indifference, but missing the mark and landing on a riled tone instead. 

“Sounds like a good time,” Charlie taunted with a waggle of his eyebrows. “Shall I bring the firewhiskey again?” 

Regulus spun on his heel, leaving the redhead’s question unanswered. Charlie’s eyes followed his form, wondering just how far he’d be able to push the man, and what would happen if he managed to topple the other over the edge. Part of him thought it was probably painful, a death wish in disguise. The other part supplied rather tempting fantasies that he only hoped he could turn into reality. 

Half an hour later Charlie took a seat, with Bill standing arms crossed behind him. His hand itched to grab his wand as James Potter muttered several incantations, warding off eavesdropping if any of the teenagers were awake. 

“Charlie says we’re supposed to trust you,” Bill said skeptically. Eyebrows were raised, glances darting in Charlie’s direction. 

“I guess that makes this easier,” Sirius said sarcastically, “now we just have to determine if we can trust you.”

“They are family, cousin,” Narcissa said softly. Bill and Charlie gave the woman looks of pure shock. She raised a delicate brow slightly. “I suppose it wouldn’t be spoken of often, but your grandmother was Cedrella Black. It wasn’t long after her marriage to Septimus that she was burned off the family tree.”

“Are you telling me that you’re helping my parents because we’re distantly related?” Bill accused. Charlie gaped, eyes darting between the woman, his brother, Sirius, and Regulus. Besides the two sets of brothers, the group didn’t exactly appear relative to one another. 

“Perhaps partially,” Narcissa admitted. “Blacks take care of one another. If someone harms one of us, the rest will bear arms.”

Sirius Black grumbled something that sounded alarmingly like, ‘except from other Blacks.’ 

“If she was removed from the family, then it hardly matters, does it?” Bill asked harshly. Narcissa gave him a contemptuous glare. 

“My sister was removed from the family tree, but if I found out someone harmed her, I would still ruin them,” Narcissa sniffed. “ Blood doesn’t go away just because the writ of it has been erased.”

“Enough, Cissa, please,” James said tiredly. Bill and Charlie shifted their stares to Lord Potter. The man looked annoyed more than anything. They wondered if this wasn’t the first time he’d heard such a speech from Lady Malfoy.

“Agreed, let’s let that go for now,” Bill said, sighing heavily. He could accept the answer of familial assistance. It was better than what he’d been dreading; he only hoped it meant that Lord Malfoy wouldn’t use the matter to extort his family later. 

“I want to know about Pettigrew,” Bill demanded firmly. Lupin growled at the name, amber filling his eyes. 

“He’s escaped Azkaban,” Regulus said, making Bill scoff over the information he already knew. “The aurors failed to secure him properly; he was able to leave in his animagus form.” The same way Sirius did, Regulus thought, but didn’t say. He wasn’t ready to trust the two with information on the illegal animagi status of the majority of his family. “The Minister hasn’t been as... driven to recover him as he was with Sirius, since Sirius was actually innocent.”

“He also doesn’t want to admit that there’s been another escape,” Sirius said darkly. 

“How did you escape?” Charlie asked curiously. Sirius only laughed and shook his head. 

“We have been checking and monitoring places of significance to Pete-Pettigrew,” Remus said shakily. “So far we’ve not seen hide nor tail of him.”

Charlie gave Bill a pointed look. Mentally nudging him to tell the group what he’d arranged with the goblins. 

“I put a hit out on him,” Bill said quietly. 

“With the Goblins, I assume,” Regulus stated. Bill’s head whipped towards the man. 

“Word of advice,” Sirius said cockily, “If you don’t want the more rounded families to figure you out, Anzar, I would recommend glamoring the dagger you keep in your boot. The seal of the Goblin King is a dead giveaway.”

Bill frowned, eyes dropping to the dagger in question. He knew what Sirius was referring to, but the symbol was tucked in towards his leg. Only....

“You suspected,” Bill said calmly. “How?”

“Blacks are a paranoid lot,” Regulus answered. “We tend to expect even the most unexpected of things. Sadly, I think Hadrian killing a Basilisk beats your being an Anzar on the list of surprising facts in our lives.”

“What’s an Anzar?” Charlie asked, giving his brother a beseeching look. Bill struggled for a minute before Narcissa swept in with something of an explanation.

“No one knows for sure,” she answered. “Anzars are typically tied up in all sorts of vows for secrecy’s sake. It is suspected that they are elite agents, sometimes assassins, for the Goblin King. Although there are other speculations that the title is only granted to one who has done the Goblin King a great service. In any event, they are well revered in the Goblin Nation, and typically very deadly as opponents.”

Bill said nothing. She wasn’t wrong; there were many vows involved in the title. He was startled by how close the speculations came to the truth, not that he let the surprise show through. 

“What comes next?” Bill said, shifting the conversation away from treacherous waters. 

“We keep hunting the rat,” James said, gesturing to Sirius and Remus. 

“We help the children,” Narcissa said softly. When Bill glanced at the woman, he recoiled slightly. There was a ferocity in her eyes that did not match the gentleness of her voice. 

“Most importantly, we keep each other informed,” Regulus stated. “If we don’t, we may well waste time running down the same leads, spinning one another in circles.”

“Fine,” Bill said after a moment of consideration. “I trust the same courtesy will extend to us?”

“If you would like,” James shrugged. “Your parents have opted to focus their attention on your siblings. That’s why Molly isn’t here for this. However, if you want to be involved with the hunt for the rat, the more the merrier.”

Bill nodded sharply. “Is there anything else we should know?” 

“Can’t think of anything else relevant to your family,” Sirius said thoughtfully. 

Bill’s eyes narrowed at the choice of words, but he let it drop. 

“Right, well,” Lupin shattered the somber tension, “long day today, likely another one tomorrow, best we all get some rest.” 

There were murmured agreements to the man’s suggestion. Narcissa retreated to the room she was sharing with Molly Weasley. Bill wondered if the two even spoke, or if they just treated one another as invisible. Wordlessly, Bill left for his own room. He was glad that he didn’t have to share with any of them. Sirius and Remus were together, something that made Bill snort internally. James Potter and Regulus Black also shared a room, but Bill didn’t think it was the same as the other men’s arrangement. If it was, then James did a good job of hiding affection. 

“Well, that was eventful,” Charlie said with a huff when the room cleared out, leaving him with Regulus Black. Regulus hummed in what Charlie thought was agreement. “Tomorrow I’m aiming to get through the Swedish Short-snouts - they’re not as calm as the opals, but they’re friendly enough, the Longhorns -they’re actually native to here, but we’ll start with some distance, don’t want to risk anyone being impaled, and possibly the Ukrainian Ironbellies- they actually aren’t terrible, but-”

“Do you ever stop talking?” Regulus growled. Charlie stopped, then smirked. In two steps, he hovered over Regulus, his hands planting themselves firmly on the arms of his chair. 

“Sure, I do,” he offered, eyes trailing down Regulus. He was almost positive the other could feel him undressing him with his eyes. “I just have to find something else to keep my mouth occupied.”

He barely caught the restrained hitch in Regulus’s breath, but he did. His eyes snapped back to the silver, so thin as the pupils were blown nearly overtaking them. Regulus knew he should stop this. He knew he was playing with fire. 

Charlie Weasley was waiting, a coy grin playing on his lips. Regulus's eyes wandered over the muscles on the man’s arms. Raked over the burn scars littering the freckled skin. Froze on the hint of ink peeking under the sleeve of his shirt on his bicep. It was a terrible idea, but then, Regulus had committed to worse ideas in his life. 

Chapter Text

Like the first night, after Hermione and Ginevra fell asleep, Arennia shifted into Panic, moving to the room Blaise and Theo were sharing with Draco. She coiled tightly on the pillow between her two friends. 

Theo had given her a questioning look, but said nothing. Blaise had merely traced the scales along the serpent until Panic lulled into sleep. Arennia found she preferred being a snake at times. It dulled the sensation of emptiness that had replaced the chokehold of the Life-Lock. Her dad had promised it would fade, but there were still days it felt like part of her had been wholly removed. After her use of the umbral mirror, a chill had set into the void, making her shiver even if she basked in the hot July sun. 

The first morning, she had left before dawn. Shifting human in her room just before Hermione stretched awake. Breakfast with the Weasleys was as loud an affair as their arrival at the Leaky had been the year before. 

Arennia was relieved that neither Blaise nor Theo questioned her, merely moved with her, bantering softly on superfluous subjects. When Draco had resorted to calling Hermione, of all people, uneducated, Arennia finally broke her silence. She hadn’t meant for it to force Hermione into choosing between her and Ron, but when the girl’s eyes had darted between the two, it became clear that the line was still drawn. 

After Arennia’s intervention, Draco had even offered to give the Gryffindor girl a list of titles she might find informative on the subject of Magical Conservation groups. Hermione’s small nod of acceptance hadn’t represented friendship, but it did flare hope. Ron seemed impossible, stubborn, and stuck in prejudices nearly as bad as Draco’s were. Not that Draco had improved much, but he, along with his parents, did seem to be trying. Arennia liked Hermione, though. She was smart in a bookish way, but it was the way she used her intelligence that impressed Arennia. Like it was both a shield and a sword, and Hermione was unafraid of wielding it in either way. 

Gloss’s hunger for Kundalin nearly had Arennia regretting coming to the Reserve. Terror had sliced through her, preventing her from smacking Theo or Blaise, who had decided to put themselves between her and the hungry Opaleye. Hadrian and her realizing that they could understand the dragons, it had been beyond shocking. 

She had felt the rage exuding from Hadrian when the dragons had explained that their caretaker sometimes forgot to feed them. In her mind, images of the deadbolted cupboard and the cat flap on a door lined with locks flashed through. While Hadrian struggled not to explode, Arennia had taken over speaking to the dragons, playing the middleman for Charlie Weasley.  The dragon tamer looked nearly as irate as Hadrian, something she used later to convince Hadrian not to condemn the man for what they learned. It didn’t stop her brother from swearing to find out if any of the other dragons were also being neglected. 

Arennia’s eyes narrowed as lunch that day drew to a close and Charlie pulled her Uncle Regulus away. Even from a distance, she caught the redhead’s glance over her uncle’s shoulder, eyes darting to her brother. Her uncle had tensed, answering something that had Charlie leaning away from him slightly. After their conversation, Regulus had moved toward Sirius, and whatever he told Arennia’s papa had him glaring maliciously at their guide. 

Visiting the Welsh Greens had been less eventful than the Opaleyes; apparently, their carer treated them like overgrown puppies. It was the way Charlie hovered near her or Hadrian, quietly asking questions about what the dragons liked or disliked, that it clicked for her. He was using them. 

At one point, one of the dragons, Idris, had asked where Hadrian’s mother was. Arennia had snapped at the dragon when it tried to adopt Hadrian. The rest of the visit, she kept having to stop the dragon from carrying her brother off. 

Never had Arennia been so grateful to see a tent as she was that evening, mostly because Hadrian was there and not being coddled in scorched rock by an overly maternal dragon. Through the evening meal, Arennia focused on taking precise bites and not casting silencio every time a Weasley spoke just a bit too loudly. Blaise leaned closer to her, his voice playful. 

“I think you might end up with another uncle,” he’d whispered conspiratorially. Arennia’s eyes snapped to where her Uncle Regulus was having a conversation with Charlie Weasley again. She blanched when she saw the hint of a blush creeping up her uncle’s neck. 

It was not the first time she’d seen her Uncle blush. No, the last time had been maybe four or five years ago, when an excited eight-year-old Arennia had invaded her father’s room and proceeded to cry when she found out they’d had a sleepover without her. None of them had ever spoken of it, except once when her Dad had given her a stuttering talk about puberty. Relieved as she was that the affair had been something fleeting, she hadn’t been able to look either of them in the eye for weeks. 

“What did you do to her now, Blaise?” Theo hissed across Arennia. His eyes were anxiously searching her face with concern. 

“He decided to remind me that my guardians have sex lives,” Arennia muttered bitterly. Blaise, to her immense joy, promptly choked on a bite of potatoes. Theo’s eyes widened a fraction, then he smirked.  Theo reached behind her, across to Blaise, to pat him on the back. Not hard enough to help, just enough to be patronizing without words. 

When the kids were all sent to bed, Arennia ended up conversing further with Hermione, who, without Ron’s presence, threw herself into asking about the various groups in the magical world. Arennia didn't have the broadest knowledge on them, but, after an hour of answering what questions she could, she was able to convince Hermione to visit the Pottery to see what books they had there, before she bought out an entire section from Flourish and Blott’s. 

Eventually, Hermione fell asleep, and Panic was able to escape the unfamiliar environment. It wasn’t that she had anything against them, well, at least not against Hermione; she still wasn’t certain what to make of Ginevra yet. Their presence just set her on edge. As she slithered out of the room, the brief sight of her uncle clinging to a predatory-looking Charlie Weasley nearly made her regret her decision. 

She dove under the extra pillow that either Blaise or Theo had set between them on their shared bed. The boys shared surprised looks. Panic didn’t usually hide under pillows, but neither could talk to her, so they let it go for the time being. However, each of them did place a hand under the pillow, resting them gently against the smooth scales of the cobra. 

The second morning, Arennia did not make it back to her room before Hermione woke up. Hermione, hair more wild than normal, gave her a funny look as she slithered into the room. After she shifted, the witch launched into interrogation mode. 

“And just where have you been?” She asked sharply. 

“Are you going to tell on me, Granger?” Arennia retorted a tad colder than she intended. Hermione’s expression softened a little. 

“No, it’s just,” the witch hesitated, “Ron and Harry sneak off sometimes, it always gets them into trouble, and the trouble is almost always dangerous. I just wanted to make sure you aren’t sneaking off to converse with dragons.... Harry would be terribly upset if one ate you, you know.” 

Arennia laughed, a startled, bright laugh that made Hermione jump. 

“Well, I can promise you I am not foolish enough to traipse off to midnight soirees with dragons,” she said, still laughing lightly, “especially after Gloss asked to eat Kundalin.” 

The tension in Hermione eased a bit at the response. 

“Well, I’m glad you aren’t foolish enough to be eaten by a dragon,” she said, chuckling slightly herself before her face shifted into something more serious. “I’ve never seen Harry happier than he’s been since you showed up. Even back when we thought you were his familiar.”

Arennia sat on the edge of Hermione’s bed, looking at the other girl curiously. Besides Blaise and Theo, she hadn’t had the opportunity to try for friendships. She figured that trusting the other girl with something that would only have her listening to her Uncle lecture her on propriety would be a good show of faith. 

“I couldn’t sleep in here,” Arennia said quietly, “I went to Blaise and Theo, as the cobra. I’m more used to them, since I also played Blaise’s familiar last year.” 

Hermione’s eyes went comically wide. 

“Oh my god, you were living in the boys’ dorms?” Arennia shushed her when Hermione’s voice came out as a shriek. 

“First off, I don’t recommend it, even the Slytherin boys are a mess,” Arennia laughed. “And secondly, I spent most of the time in those dorms under pillows or blankets, if I could help it. Blaise kept his curtains drawn when I was in the Slytherins, since he knew I was an animagus.” 

“He- he knew?” Hermione squeaked, but the volume had decreased from her earlier surprise. 

“Yeah, being a cobra makes me a little more.... Instinctually driven, I guess. Tried to legilimens Blaise and it tipped him off, eventually he confronted me on it,” Arennia paused, snorting softly. “I still owe him a favor for not exposing me to the faculty.”

“What’s legilimens?” Hermione asked, her face scrunched as she said the unknown term. Arennia paled, realizing just how different they were. Muggleborns weren’t raised with magic... they weren’t taught how to protect their minds...

“Legilimens.... It’s the spell for Legilimency, which is, essentially, the art of reading another person’s mind,” Arennia explained. Hermione looked horrified. 

“You tried to invade his mind!” Hermione whisper-yelled, batting Arennia on the arm. Arennia shifted away defensively. 

“It was impulsive!” she said in defense. It really was a weak defense, though. Especially as she realized just how messed up the concept must seem to someone who’d never even known it existed. “Luckily, Blaise is excellent at occluding; it was like being trapped in a hurricane.” 

Hermione froze, confusion flashing in her eyes. “I... don’t understand.” Arennia felt a little bad; she hadn’t meant to drag Hermione into the deep end of Mind Arts. 

“That’s alright, I’ll get you a book,” Arennia said softly. “Occlumency is the art of protecting your own mind from Legilimency. Most wixen children are familiar with occlumency, especially from the more... erm-” Arennia hesitated. 

“It’s a pureblood thing, isn’t it?” Hermione asked. Her words came out clipped. 

“Sort of,” Arennia replied. “Anyone can learn it, though. It’s not some family secret or anything. You should probably learn anyway, a few of the teachers are natural Legilimens.” 

Hermione tensed, but didn’t comment on the unease that hit the pit of her stomach. 

“What are you two chattering about?” Ginevra asked, one hand rubbing her eyes as she started waking up. 

“Arennia was just telling me about a book,” Hermione answered, careful not to tell the girl the subject matter. She wondered if the Weasleys also knew about the Mind Arts that Arennia had described, or if it was another thing that set the family apart from other families, like the Malfoys. 

“Say no more,” Ginny huffed, “I’ll probably die of boredom if you two start explaining whatever new obsession you’ve found.” 

Hermione flushed, while Arennia scowled at the younger girl. 

“Enjoying learning new things isn’t a fault, Ginevra,” Arennia said. The red-haired girl threw a pillow at her. 

“Don’t call me that!” She yelled. Arennia, to her credit, did not sneer or respond again. She stiffly proceeded to get ready for the day and left wordlessly. Leaving Hermione and Ginny to finish getting ready on their own. 

“I wouldn’t get too close to her, Hermione,” Ginny huffed. 

“She’s Harry’s sister, Ginny; she can’t be that bad,” Hermione replied. Ginny scoffed. 

“She’s a Slytherin, she’d bound to go wrong,” Ginny muttered as she pulled her brush through her hair. Hermione frowned. Sure, she had seen firsthand the lines drawn between the four Hogwarts houses, but she still failed to understand how they determined if a person would be good or bad after leaving school behind. Nonmagical education certainly wasn’t like that. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next two days were busy, with little more than idle conversations held between anyone in the group. 

Hadrian learned that the fish the Reserve fed the Swedish Short-snouts made one of them ill, likely an allergy. The Romanian Longhorns were gossips. One had quite a lot to tell Arennia about Charlie Weasley, making the girl stare at him in a way that unnerved him, especially as she hissed exchanges with the deadly dragon that normally tried running him through. The Ironbellies tried sitting on the twins at one point, but only complained that the sun didn’t stay in their enclosure long enough for them to bask, and the rocks they had weren’t large enough to bask upon. 

The day before their departure, they went to see the Chinese Fireballs, the Norwegian Ridgebacks, and the Hungarian Horntails. The fireballs tried to barbecue the group, which led to them observing from a distance. Hadrian and Arennia only caught scattered words from the dragons, enough to let Charlie know that they were similarly neglected as the Opaleyes had been. Hadrian had grinned when they got to the Ridgebacks. 

“Is that Norbert?” He’d asked Charlie, who laughed heartily. 

“Well, sorta, had to change it to Norberta.”

Norberta recognized the scents of Hadrian, Ron, and Hermione. While she wasn’t as docile as the Opaleyes had been, she did express her contentment on the Reserve. 

The Hungarian Horntails were unsettling. They let the group approach, barely moving. But would lash out when one of the people came close enough, making the adults corral the kids back. They behaved worse when they figured out they could speak to two of the children. Trying to convince them to move closer. 

Everyone slept in a bit their last morning there, the portkey returning them to Britain was set for eleven. It was nearly ten when everyone ended up gathered in the main living space of the tent. Hadrian had the most energy of everyone, his knee bouncing nervously. Today, the family would be meeting with the goblins, after they said farewell to their friends, so that he could take an inheritance test. Regulus had told him about heirships and whatnot. Harry hadn’t particularly paid attention to the nuances of it all, but he was excited. Gaining the rings seemed like a step that made him really belong in the family he’d gained. 

Chapter Text

James stood in the entry of the tent. He watched everything, yet nothing. Sirius placed a hand on his shoulder, drawing his attention back to the people in the room. The sun had long passed the edge of the horizon, the moon barely lighting a sleeping world. 

“You alright, Prongs?” Sirius asked, with his patent, lopsided grin. Remus, sitting in one of the chairs, glanced up over the edge of the book in his hand. Regulus was leaning on one of the walls, giving James the look that made him feel like the other already knew what was on his mind, even if it was impossible. 

“We need to talk,” James said, leaving the door frame, marching into his room in the tent. The others followed, confused. James opened a trunk, then climbed in, descending into the hidden room within it. 

“I think he may have finally lost it,” Sirius muttered, eyeing the trunk warily. The thing looked ancient, felt ancient, and dangerous. 

“Best get this over with,” Regulus said, slowly following James’ lead. Odd things happened like this, multiple times throughout the last decade. The last experience had occurred after Regulus made a joke about the Potter’s being connected to Grindelwald, having found the symbol the Dark Wizard had used as his own. Instead of laughter James had paled and withdrawn, turning cryptic and on edge for a week before he told Regulus about his relation to the Peverells. This felt like the same kind of scenario, something that unsettled Regulus more than he cared to admit. 

When Remus joined last, the lid of the trunk/chamber slammed shut, and immediately all three, excluding James, felt weight bearing down on them. Not dark or light, but heavy, like a foot of snow bending the branches of pine trees. 

“What the-” Sirius started an expletive, but was stopped. 

“You won’t be able to talk about what I am about to tell you, not without my permission,” James said softly. Sirius eyes snapped to his best friend. 

“What is this?” Remus asked. 

“You don’t have to be here, Remus,” James answered, not making eye contact with any of them. “I just thought it would be hard for Sirius to keep a secret from you...” James trailed off, uncertainty coloring his voice for the first time that evening. 

“I appreciate the forethought,” Remus said in a bewildered sort of way. 

“James,” Regulus was past patience, “what the hell is going on?” 

“Sirius and you have insisted on being their for the twin’s inheritance tests, a right you have as Sirius did blood adopt them...” James swallowed harshly. “I never should have let him. My family will have my skin when I finally join them.”

“James-” Sirius started again, but stopped when Remus held up a hand. 

“Whatever is wrong, we can face it, James, together,” Remus promised. Regulus nodded, agreeing completely with the werewolf. 

“You already know my family descends from the Peverells, it’s unspoken, but not unknown,” James began, the others nodding along wondering where this was going. “However, there is another family name that was... brought in about a century ago. My grandfather, Henry, was not born a Potter. His name was Henri Innocenti, he was raised in muggle London, an orphan that had been left on the steps of Westminster Abbey... he wasn’t even aware of the magical world until he was brought into Hogwarts as a fifth year, a nearly unprecedented event.”

James paused, gauging the reactions of his friends, his brothers. He couldn’t see much beyond confusion in their expressions, so he continued. 

“Henri did a lot in his first year, even stopped a war waged against the Goblins, who would have been led by Ranrok. I’d have to let you read his journals to know what else he got up to, however that’s neither here nor there... a few years later, my Great Grandparents: Harold and Anora Potter, offered to bring him into the family. They hadn’t been successful in their efforts for an heir, and Henri didn’t have a place outside of Hogwarts in our world. It wasn’t until after the blood adoption, when they had him tested to see if the adoption rendered him the Potter heir, that they found out he did already come from a magical line...” 

James stopped again. He wished his father were here, doing this instead. He’d managed to make it all seem grand and impressive. James felt like he was just rambling incoherently. 

“Which line?” Sirius asked, breaking the silence that had fallen in the wake of James’ tale. 

“Emrys,” the word fell from James’ lips with the weight of a boulder. No one spoke as the name stirred in their minds. 

“Emrys...” Remus pondered, the name felt familiar. It was Regulus who figured it out first. 

“Fucking Merlin?!” he yelped. James winced. Sirius laughed, but the laugh felt... wrong. 

“Well,” Sirius said breathlessly, “I suppose Potter’s have always been cursed to attract chaos.”

James glared, making Sirius hold his hands out innocently. 

“Not my fault your great-grandparents blood adopted a child that ended up already a legendary progeny,” he said sarcastically. 

“It is not funny,” James said calmly.

Sirius shrugged, “Not like any of you have claimed the title, I don’t see how it’s such a big deal. Besides, you said we can’t tell anyone, so the secret just goes on, right?” 

“Why haven’t any Potters taken the title?” Regulus asked, having finally calmed down from the shocking news.

“There’s a requirement with it, beyond just relation,” James answered. “Henry could have, but he’d accepted the Potter’s offer in an effort to fade out of the spotlight.”

Regulus nodded. It was rare, but not uncommon for the more ancient Houses to have requirements for their Heirs and Lords to claim titles. 

“Does Arennia know, already?” Remus asked. 

James gave a small nod, “Hadrian too, we spoke about it earlier in the summer.”

“What’s the requirement?” Sirius asked. James shrugged. 

“My grandfather knew, it’s not in his journals though,” James said with a shrug. “The only information on it is that his Inheritance test listed the date it was achieved. Henry apparently understood the significance of the date, but there was nothing elaborating what it all meant.”

“Any other life-altering family secrets up your sleeve?” Regulus asked, desperate for a glass of whiskey. He was beginning to wish his brother hadn’t blood-adopted the twins, his life would have been so much simpler that way. 

“Lily had an Inheritance done after we were married,” James said, Regulus narrowed his eyes on the man. “She was a descendant of the Le Fay family, probably a squib line that was forgotten...” 

“Who are the Le Fay’s?” Remus asked, the name felt familiar too, but he couldn’t place it. Regulus looked horrified. 

“You mean to tell me, that you two merged the lines of Merlin and fucking Morgana?!”

“Lily was going to take on the title, after the war, since it doesn’t have requirements,” James said slowly. Regulus groaned. “It is likely that Arennia will be able to claim the heirship tomorrow.” 

Regulus glared at Sirius. “This is your fucking fault,” he accused. Sirius’ eyes widened.

“How is this my fault, I didn’t know-”

“We wouldn’t even be a part of this - this -” 

“Clusterfuck?” Remus offered, Regulus pointed at him. 

“That,” he agreed, “if it weren’t for you.” He finished by pointing an accusing finger back at his brother. 

Sirius grinned, eyes glinting mischievously. “Mother would have fainted, I have the best inherited children, and a werewolf as my partner.” He let out a barking laugh. “And she wanted me to marry Bellatrix, what a loss that would have been!” 

For the first time that evening, James felt like he could breathe freely. Maybe tomorrow wouldn’t be a disaster after all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wixen Inheritance Test with Core Health Yield

Wixen: Hadrian James Sirius Potter-Black

Date of Birth: 31st July 1980

Parentage

Biological Father: James Fleamont Potter

Biological Mother: Lillian Evans

Blood Adopted Father: Sirius Orion Black III - Performed 1st August 1980

Family Lineage & Titles

Black - Blood Adopted Line - Heir Apparent

Emrys - Patriarchal Line - Heirship Claimable - Effective 4th June 1992 

Gryffindor - Self Acquired - Heirship Claimable - Effective 29th May 1993 

Le Fay - Matriarchal Line - Scion

Peverell - Patriarchal Line - Scion

Potter - Patriarchal Line - Heir Apparent

Slytherin - Matriarchal Acquisition - Scion 

Ius Sanguinis

Alchemistry - (Potter) - Latent

Elementomancy - (Emrys/Le Fay) - Active

Mage Sense - (Gryffindor) -  Active

Metamorphagus - (Black) - Latent

Necromancy - (Peverell) - Dormant

Parseltongue - (Peverell/Slytherin) - Active

Psionics - (Le Fay) - Latent

Core Health Yield

Magical Affinity: Light - Neutral Leaning

Soul Trauma - Horcrux - Inflicted 31st October 1981

Core Bind 30% - Inflicted 1st November 1981

Gallantry Compulsion - Inflicted 2nd September 1991

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

James read his son’s results with mild awe before it promptly shifted into rage. 

“Regulus,” he whispered, his voice filled with terror as he read and reread the Core Health Yield results. The word Horcrux blurred in his vision. “Regulus!” He snapped, tearing his eyes away from the offensive word, only to find the other man pale and trembling as he read over Arennia’s results. 

With a great deal of concern, he took the paper from the other’s hands. Sirius took over Hadrian’s results while James read through Arennia’s. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wixen Inheritance Test with Core Health Yield

Wixen: Arennia Lillian Potter-Black

Date of Birth: 31st July 1980

Parentage

Biological Father: James Fleamont Potter

Biological Mother: Lillian Evans

Blood Adopted Father: Sirius Orion Black III - Performed 1st August 1980

Family Lineage & Titles

Black - Blood Adopted Line - Scion

Emrys - Patriarchal Line - Scion

Le Fay - Matriarchal Line - Heir Apparent

Peverell - Patriarchal Line - Heirship Claimable - Effective 27th July 1994

Potter - Patriarchal Line - Scion

Slytherin - Matriarchal Acquisition - Scion 

Ius Sanguinis

Alchemistry - (Potter) - Latent

Elementomancy - (Emrys/Le Fay) - Active

Metamorphagus - (Black) - Dormant

Necromancy - (Peverell) - Latent

Parseltongue - (Peverell/Slytherin) - Active

Psionics - (Le Fay) - Latent

Core Health Yield

Magical Affinity: Dark

Massive Soul Fracture - Inflicted 19th May 1994

Minor Soul Fracture - Inflicted 27th July 1994

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

James felt blood freeze in his veins. 

Peverell - Patriarchal Line - Heirship Claimable

He knew his family’s origins better than the Wizengamot even, but the line of Ignotus Peverell had never claimed the title. There were requirements for eligibility. Requirements that the Wizengamot was aware of. 

“Arennia,” James' eyes snapped to his daughter. He was unable to hide the horror in his voice and was certain it was evident in his expression as the next words left his mouth. “What the fuck have you done?” 

Sirius, who had finished reading Hadrian’s results and was presently holding the parchment so tight it was a miracle it didn’t tear, turned towards James with shock. He handed Hadrian’s results to Regulus, who glanced at the parchment with trepidation, and snatched Arennia’s results out of James’ hands. 

“Why do our children both have damage on their fucking souls?” Sirius seethed, reading the Core Health Yield results on her test first. Regulus cleared his throat, but his voice came out hoarsely. 

“Hadrian’s came from Voldemort, I-I don’t know how to fix that one... I’ll have to research it further,” he stuttered. Sirius eyed his brother nervously. Regulus did not stutter. 

“And what about Arennia? How the bloody hell did that happen while she’s been in our care?” Sirius demanded. 

“The massive fracture looks like it occurred the day the Life-Lock broke,” Regulus answered quietly. 

“And the other? Weren’t we at the Pottery on the 27th?” Sirius was livid, his eyes moving rapidly between his younger brother and his chosen brother.

“Arennia Lillian Potter-Black,” James' voice was firm, but cold and detached. “What. Did. You. Do?”

Eyes shifted to her. Hadrian and Sirius were filled with confusion, but James Potter’s eyes were cold. Regulus’ eyes were closed. Part of him could feel the answer, knew what was coming, and was not prepared for it in any way. 

Arennia forced herself to stay standing, barely resisting the urge to recoil from the look in her dad’s eyes, but she didn’t answer. 

“James, what on Gaia’s green earth is going on?” Sirius asked. James pointed at the parchment with her results again, the motion sharp and accusing. 

“My family line had never claimed the Peverell title, Sirius,” he explained in a dangerously still voice, “because it has requirements.” The last word came out as little more than a hiss through clenched teeth. 

“What requirements?” Hadrian asked curiously. James' eyes flashed to his son. He shouldn’t be here for this, but he was. 

“In order to be eligible to claim the Peverell title, one must end the life of another in vengeance of a wrong committed to the family,” the goblin, Sharptooth, explained clinically, before regarding Arennia with a look far differing from the malice on James Potter’s face. “It is an honorable accomplishment, little warrior.” The goblin gave an approving nod. 

Meanwhile, Regulus had lost his composure, muttering under his breath a mantra of ‘that can’t be true... she would never...’ 

James was glaring at Arennia coldly. The girl still refused to cower away. Sirius, whose face had paled, stepped between the two, kneeling down to Arennia. 

“The tests don’t lie, kitten,” he said softly, swallowing back the bile that was threatening to choke him. “Just tell us what happened, I swear to you, I will help you.”

“Siri-” James started growling, but stopped when Sirius glowered at him. 

“I do not care what she did, James, but I will not see my daughter sent to Azkaban.” 

Regulus laughed; a terrible, sobbing laugh. Hadrian was staring at his sister. Waiting for an explanation. He understood enough now; his sister had killed someone. Intentionally killed someone. He couldn’t find it in him to condemn her yet, not when he knew he’d killed Quirrell at eleven. 

“Wait,” Hadrian said, brows furrowing, “I killed Quirrel, though, wouldn’t that have-”

“That was self-defense, Hadrian,” James tone came out harsher than he would normally have intended. “You didn’t go into that with the intention of killing the man, just surviving. Magic knows intention.” 

Arennia met her brother’s bewildered eyes. 

“I killed Vernon Dursley.”

The words were barely breathed. Hadrian’s eyes widened further. Regulus was stuck in some sort of hysterics. James looked apoplectic. Sirius sighed. He didn’t have to ask why. There had been times he’d thought of finishing off his own parents to protect Regulus. Sometimes he regretted not ending them the day he left. 

“Why?” Hadrian asked, his voice small and bewildered. He took a small step back at the look on his sister's face. 

“I told them that you would never go back,” she whispered. “They failed to put him behind bars,” she was seething now, glaring at James and Regulus, even at Sirius, “and I knew that if something happened, they would be the first place Dumbledore would ship you off to.”

“What about Petunia?” James asked, his voice still holding a clinical detachment. Arennia scowled. 

“I ran out of time,” she answered. James felt sick. Learning that his daughter had not only murdered a man, but had been fully prepared to kill a second person...

“It’s already done, James,” Sirius stated. Watching the emotions flash across his best friend’s face. He turned back to Arennia. “Promise me right now, you will not kill Petunia Dursley.” 

Arennia scowled, but nodded. “Fine, I won’t.”

“No, kitten, a vow,” Sirius ordered. Regulus was sobbing. Hadrian had moved to him, patting his back in an awkward attempt at comfort. James’ expression still hadn’t wavered from the acute horror of the revelation. He flinched when Arennia’s wand snapped out of its holster. Watched warily as she crossed it to her heart. 

“I, Arennia Lillian Potter-Black, do solemnly vow to one Sirius Orion Black the Third, upon my life and magic that I will not end the life of Petunia Dursley, so mote it be.” 

Hadrian gasped at the flare of magic in the room, as the vow settled in place. 

“Shall we proceed to the claiming of the rings?” Sharptooth asked. He was annoyed by the older wizards. Had a goblin child killed someone in vengeance, they would be celebrated within their family. That two were so scandalised by the event left him feeling disgusted with the men. 

“Yes, please,” Sirius answered. James made an indignant noise that Sirius silenced with another glare. 

With a snap, six boxes appeared on the desk in front of the goblin. 

“Young Master Hadrian first,” the goblin gestured to Hadrian, who moved away from Regulus towards the boxes. “Now, I trust you are aware that these will all be placed on the same finger, merging into one upon successful acceptance?” 

Hadrian nodded. He still wasn’t sure how that would work, but he’d learned that very little was impossible where magic was involved. 

The rings were offered in the same alphabetical order they’d been listed on his test. The Black Ring was a steel band, a round onyx stone at the center that was flanked by ravens on either side. It felt like the first rain of spring as it slipped onto his hand. 

Sharptooth presented the Emrys ring next. The stone shifted from green to red as the light changed, the gold band looked woven, an entanglement of metallic vines. James placed a firm hand on Hadrian’s shoulder. 

“You don’t have to accept it,” he whispered. Hadrian glanced at his sister. 

“If she’s gonna be Morgana, I ought to play Merlin, right?” He said lightly. He didn’t fully understand the nuances of two, only that somehow they were attached. James frowned, but stepped away again as Hadrian slid the Emrys ring on with the Black ring. If the Black ring was rain, the Emrys ring was summer sun.

The two pulsed, before merging. The gold knotted vines wrapping around the steel of the Black Ring, the raves seemed to settle onto the vines. The resulting stone was black as pitch on the edges, with the green and red shifting in the center. 

Gryffindor’s ring was a bulky mass off gold, the majority of it the head of a lion, with two garnets for the eyes. Hadrian winced slightly, the ring burned as he donned it, before one of the Black ravens disappeared, replaced by a roaring lion, its jaw open against the center stone that was unchanged. The lion’s eye still shone with a garnet stone.

Lastly, the Potter ring. The band was golden, unadorned. A square shaped ruby sat at the center of it. When Hadrian put it on, he could have sworn it felt exactly like his sister’s hugs. When it merged with the others the only change was a red hue joining the black of the center stone. He glanced back at his Dad, who was frowning. He looked at his Uncle, who just seemed.... Broken. Then he looked at Sirius, who tussled his hair. 

“Looks grand, pup,” he teased. Hadrian relaxed, laughing brightly. 

“That was wicked,” he said gleefully, before reaching toward his sister. “Your turn!” 

Arennia gulped, eyes flickering between her family. Her Dad wouldn’t look at her. Her uncle wouldn’t look at her. Sirius’s hand found her shoulder, guiding ehr to the desk. 

“Come on, kitten, let’s get this done,” he said soothingly. 

The Le Fay ring looked.... Sharp. The silver band looked like it had thorns sticking out the sides of it, leading to a triangle shaped sapphire. When she put it on it felt like drowning. The Peverell Heirship ring was simple. The band itself was a ring of obsidian, etched on the outside was the coat of arms a circle, with a triangle contained within it, and a single line bisecting the two. When it joined the Le Fay ring Arennia felt like she would never be warm again as a chill overtook her. The combined ring was the obsidian band, with the blue sapphire. When the light hit just right, the Peverell coat of arms could be seen through the blue stone. 

“Hadrian, you’re going home with your father and uncle,” Sirius said quietly. 

“What are you going to do, Sirius?” James asked angrily. “You can’t just keep her hidden from the aurors forever!” 

“All the Wizengamot is going to know is that the Peverell heirship has been claimed by her,” Sirius stated. 

“They know it means she killed someone!” James exploded. Regulus whimpered. 

“I have a plan for that,” Sirius stated. Pulling Arennia with him to the exit. 

“There’s nothing you can do, Siri,” Regulus said weakly. Sirius stopped, pausing before looking over his shoulder. 

“There is always something,” he said stiffly, before leaving the private Gringott’s office with Arennia. Hadrian frowned as the two departed. 

"What's a Gallantry Compulsion?"

Chapter Text

“Where are we going?” Arennia asked, as Sirius guided them out of Gringott’s. 

“To arrange another meeting,” Sirius muttered as they entered the foyer of the bank again. Wizards and witches gasped as the infamous Sirius Black ignored the line and stalked up to an open teller. The witch that had barely stepped in that teller’s direction chose not to object, not when the man exuded an aura as volatile as his expression. 

“The House of Black seeks Restitution,” Sirius whispered. He placed his hand with the Lordship Ring on the counter. The goblin growled and pointed a knobby finger to a nondescript door at the back of the room. 

“Straight through, Lord Black,” the gobline sneered. 

As Sirius and Arennia stepped through the door, the first thing they noticed was the guards. Every few yards, another set was stationed, facing one another across the grand hall that curved ever so slightly. The hall itself was sloped, and with every step they descended further below Gringotts. 

After walking through the rounding hall for nearly half an hour, the hall widened into a large marble room. At the end, a goblin sat on a decadent throne, with four guards lined before him, between the Goblin King and the wixen visitors. On either side of the room, mosaics filled the walls. Upon closer inspection, Arennia realized the murals were made of a variety of gemstones. 

“Wixen rarely have the honor of entering the Goblin Throne Room,” a harsh voice sliced through Arennia’s reverent perusal. “This was not an arranged meeting. Speak your purpose so I can decide if you are to leave or die.”

“The House of Black is owed Restitution from the actions taken during the-” Sirius started saying, before his recitation was interrupted by an enraged shout.

“DO NOT CITE MY FAMILY HISTORY TO ME, WIZARD,” the Goblin King boomed. 

“I am Lord Black,” Sirius said calmly. “I am here to collect.”

Silence settled in the air. 

“I am King Ragnok,” came the reply, “What would the House of Black require?”

“My daughter, Arennia, took an inheritance test today,” Sirius answered, his voice polite in a way Arennia had never witnessed. “I want the effective date on the Peverell Heirship result changed to today, and no record of the true date to remain.”

“You want me to corrupt an official record?” Ragnok demanded. It wasn’t done. Goblins were one of the few races left that kept faultless records. They were ruthless negotiators, skilled at sneaking arrangements into agreements that better benefited them, but they were transparent. If it was written, it was true. 

“My daughter killed a man who neglected and abused a wixen child in his care,” Sirius said coldly. “A punishment that, in my opinion, is perhaps too lenient. However, her actions would have her arrested a remanded to Azkaban.”

“Changing a date will not change the event,” Ragnok countered. 

“That is my concern, not yours,” Sirius snapped. “Is the request for Restitution accepted or not?” 

“Bring me the document,” Ragnok ordered. One of the guards scurried away. 

“While we wait, I want to hear the truth of what happened on the day you desire to have forgotten,” Ragnok commanded. 

Arennia glanced up at Sirius, who gave her a permissive nod. Then she took a step closer to the King. 

“I used an artifact in my family home, one my father forgot was there,” she started. 

“What artifact?” Ragnok barked. 

“The Umbral Mirror,” Arrennia said evenly, although her voice wavered slightly through the false confidence. “It-”

“I am familiar with that artifact, child. Continue.” Ragnok ordered. 

“I mostly waited for a while, for him to be in a place where no one could be blamed for it,” Arennia hesitated. Eyes glancing back to Sirius. 

“Go ahead,” he said softly. He didn’t actually want to hear how his daughter killed a man, but he felt like he needed to. Needed to know exactly how she fractured her own soul at the cost of a life. 

“I used the cruciatus first; the effects are similar to a violent heart attack, then I used the killing curse to stop his heart.” 

Sirius let out a measured breath, trying to appear unbothered by the information. Two Unforgivables... 

“What were you planning to inform your authorities?” Ragnok asked the child curiously. Her eyes snapped to him, unapologetic. 

“I don’t lie,” she said defiantly. 

“So, you were fully intending on confessing to using two illegal curses to commit murder, regardless of the consequences?” Ragnok asked. 

“I have already spent most of my life in nonexistence, King Ragnok,” the girl said stoically, “I’m not afraid of being locked away.”

That caught the Goblin’s interest. 

“What are you afraid of, then?” He asked as gently as a goblin’s voice could be. The girl didn’t answer, her brow furrowed like she didn’t understand the question. “I will alter the document on one condition,” he said as the girl searched her mind. Sirius glared sharply at the Goblin, but kept silent. 

The Goblin King stood from his throne, stepping down from the dais it graced, until he was directly in front of the child. “When you finally find fear, you will face it.” 

With a confused frown, Arennia nodded at the goblin, who held out a hand with gold-tipped laws. When she shook it, magic flared, a gold line wrapped around Arennia’s wrist, the ends spaced apart, leaving the circle incomplete below her palm. The same appeared on the Goblin King’s wrist, but there were others there, some closed, some still open. 

“What happens if she doesn’t?” Sirius asked, pulling his daughter’s wrist closer to inspect it. 

Ragnok cackled, “Then the circle will never be completed, even beyond death.” 

Before Sirius could ask further questions, the Goblin runner returned with Arennia’s test result. Ragnok took the paper, muttering something; the ring on his hand illuminated before fading moments later. He handed the paper to Sirius. 

“It is done,” he said sharply. “You will be escorted out, Lord Black, Heiress Le Fay-Peverell.” He nodded at each in turn, before moving away, past his throne and out a door secreted at the back of the room. 

They’d scarcely exited the Bank when Sirius stopped suddenly. 

“Call Mipsy,” he ordered. Arennia gave him a questioning look when it seemed he wasn't going to expand on the request she sighted. 

“Mipsy,” she called softly. The elf arrived seconds later. 

“Mipsy, do you know where to find Severus Snape?” Sirius asked sharply. Arennia’s head whipped back to him. That was the last thing she expected. 

“Mipsy does, sir,” the elf answered. 

“Why-” Arennia started, but Sirius cut her off. 

“Can you take us to him?” Sirius asked Mipsy. 

“If Mipsy is ordered to,” the elf answered. Sirius gave Arennia a sharp look. 

“Take us to Severus Snape, Mipsy,” Arennia ordered with a resigned sigh.  The house elf grabbed each by the elbow before apparating them to a decrepit-looking house in Cokeworth. 

Sirius hadn’t even finished setting his hand to the door when it burst open. Severus Snape, eyes narrowed, aimed his wand at Sirius with murder in his eyes. 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing here, mutt?” Severus snapped. 

“Careful, Professor, don’t want to look bad in front of one of your students, do you?” Sirius taunted. Severus scowled at Arennia. 

“I trust my students know better than to spread rumors,” he huffed. “Now, you will explain why you are here, or I will reduce you into such nothingness that not even your wolf will be able to pick up your scent.”

“I need Polyjuice,” Sirius said, any trace of his joking manner gone. 

“Then brew it,” Severus snapped, moving to shut the door. Sirius stopped it with his foot, something he’d regret when the bruise showed later. 

“I didn’t know I would need it until today, and I need it to use it today,” Sirius explained. 

“Does Potter know of whatever half-brained scheme you’re dragging his daughter into?” Severus asked. 

“James is being a prat,” Sirius snarled, a reaction that had Severus backing away. Before he could move further, Sirius had waltzed into the foyer of Spinner’s End. Arennia followed, closing the door behind her with an almost inaudible click. She took a deep breath before facing her Head of House. 

“Hadrian and I did our Inheritance tests today. I was able to claim the Peverell Heirship because I killed Vernon Dursley, Papa’s trying to make it so I won’t go to Azkaban. I’m not sure how Polyjuice works into that, though...” She trailed off. Severus sat heavily on the battered couch. 

“I plan on staging something; however, I will be you, and I suppose you’ll have to be me....”

“You’re planning a new murder, to cover Dursley’s,” Severus said slowly. 

“It’s the best plan I’ve got, and I’ve only got today to see it done.”

“You want to go kill someone while your child witnesses it?” Severus asked with horror. 

“She’s already killed someone, not like I can undo that,” Sirius huffed. “Now, the potion?” 

Severus’s eyes moved between his rival, who he was certain had fully succumbed to the Black Madness, and Lily’s daughter. 

“I will supply the potion, on one condition,” he said at length. 

“There’s always bloody conditions today,” Sirius grumbled. “Fine, what’s your condition?”

“She,” Severus pointed at Arennia, “will stay here; her elf can keep her company. I will assist you in this foolhardy scheme.” 

“You think I’m thick enough to let you waltz around as me?” Sirius asked.

“It would probably be more efficient for you to remain yourself,” Severus replied. 

Sirius was going to screech something obscene, but was stopped by Arennia. 

“No offense, Padfoot, but I think Professor Snape would be a more believable me than you would, and I don’t think he could channel your... energy.”

“Fine,” Sirius snapped, turning back to Severus. “The potion?” 

Severus gave an unimpressed snort before moving to a back room and advising he’d return shortly. After the process, he transfigured his clothing into something that actually fit the teenage body he had changed into. 

“Stay in this room only,” Severus ordered with Arennia’s voice. “The wards will not let you into other parts of the house, so do not even bother trying.” 

Arennia nodded her acknowledgement, a little unnerved at speaking to a version of herself. 

“Mipsy, stay with Arennia until we return,” Sirius ordered before dragging the polyjuiced doppelganger out of Spinner’s end. 

“Mipsy,” Arennia said quietly, after they found themselves stuck alone. The house elf looked at her with wide eyes. “Take me to the nearest cemetery.”

Chapter Text

"What's a Gallantry Compulsion?" Harry asked quietly. He had picked up his Inheritance test, reading through it with a confused frown. 

“Something that we will fix,” James said darkly. 

Regulus cleared his throat. “Gallantry is a trait lending toward the idea of heroism. Essentially, if an opportunity reveals itself, the compulsion would push you toward heroic acts.”

“So, if I didn’t have it, I wouldn’t have gone after the Stone, or into the Chamber?” His voice sounded a little forlorn as the parchment was settled back onto the goblin’s desk. 

“Severus will be able to brew the Puranimas Potion,” James said, the cogs in his brain slowly beginning to turn again. “It won’t help the... other issues, but it will eliminate the compulsion.” 

“Our healers could complete a healing ritual today, for a fee,” Sharptooth said hoarsely. “It would remove the compulsion and aid in the child’s other... deficiencies.” His eyes swept over the boy. Too short for fourteen, too thin for a boy on the cusp of manhood. Had the sister not taken care of the man responsible, Sharptooth would have been tempted to handle the matter himself. 

“You have healers,” James said slowly. Regulus smacked his arm. “Ouch! It wasn’t a question, Reg, bloody hell!” James scowled at him before returning his attention to Sharptooth. “Are there Goblin Mind Healers as well?” 

Sharptooth grinned; it did his namesake justice. “For a fee.”

Ten thousand three hundred and forty-two galleons later, a number James chose out of blatant irritation twenty minutes into negotiating with Sharptooth, and the party of three was being shuffled away to a ritual room. James also had a Goblin Mind Healer arranged for the entire household for a year, the cost of which was the majority, but the coverage had no visit limitations. Something he thought would be useful ,given he wasn’t certain if the twins were going to need weekly or daily visits. James decided that Arennia would certainly be receiving daily sessions for the rest of the summer. James would have to return to the bank before the first session to meet with the Healer and set the terms of the contract, one he would be able to make more ironclad than any he could have set with a Wixen Mind Healer. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You two will remain here,” snarled the new goblin escorting them to the Ritual Room, “your presence will interfere with the magic being worked.” 

James grumbled, crossing his arms as he leaned against the cool, stone wall. Regulus gave him an annoyed look, barely holding his tongue. 

“Change into this,” the goblin ordered Hadrian, handing him a white set of robes. 

“Thank you, sir,” Hadrian said politely. The Goblin froze and then barked a laugh. 

“My name is Ironjaw, little wix,” he rumbled. 

“Oh, well then, thank you, Ironjaw,” Hadrian corrected. Ironjaw cackled harder.

Regulus watched the exchange with slight amusement, but noted adding standard conversation practices for creatures they regularly encountered to Hadrian’s academic plan. He was annoyed to realize he didn’t know much beyond the standard greetings and farewells. 

A few minutes later, after the ritual room door clicked shut behind Hadrian and Ironjaw, Regulus rounded on James. 

“Are you trying to get us killed?” He questioned. James gave him a surprised look. 

“I beg your pardon?” 

“You're being uncivil, and in the heart of Gringotts it's a terrible thing to do,” Regulus seethed, “especially to the bloody Goblins.”

“Well, forgive me if I’m in a poor mood,” James bit back. “I just found out my daughter killed a man, I’m not coping well.” Regulus staggered back like he’d been slapped, before he righted himself. His face returned to its standard indifference. 

“I would recommend occluding that shit back, James,” Regulus said calmly, “because right now there’s nothing we can do about that.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry’s jaw dropped as he entered the Goblin Ritual Room. Metal was wound through the stone in patterns he couldn’t recognize, and they were everywhere: the floor, the walls, the ceiling. The setting reminded him of the stained glass windows in Hogwarts. Some of the patterns were formed with stone that differed from the smooth marble. A hint of red, a shimmer of green, or a splash of blue. 

Ironjaw pointed to the center of the circle on the floor.

“Do not look at the reflection,” he ordered. 

 The circle was maybe ten feet in diameter and pure black. As Hadrian stepped on it, he could glimpse his reflection from the corner of his eye, but he forced himself to trace the metal lines on the wall in front of him. He wasn’t sure what would happen if he looked, but he decided to follow Ironjaw’s instruction. 

“Best lie down, on your back,” Ironjaw stated, “you will likely lose consciousness.”

Harry had barely taken the goblin’s advice when a door opposite the one he entered opened. Six more goblins marched in, taking places around the circle evenly apart. Ironjaw ;eft through the door, it closed without even the faintest sound. Then the goblins began to chant. The sound was low and gutteral, reminiscent of a rockslide rather than voices. 

At first Harry could just feel separate parts of himself numb slightly. His arm where he was certain Vernon had fractured. His knees where he had various memories of Dudley pushing him to the ground. Each little scar where he’d burned himself before fully figuring out how to handle the stove and avoid the splatter of grease. The numbness continued alighting, then spreading, until it hit his head. As the sensation swept over his infamous scar, agony tore through him. The world went dark as his scream echoed through the chamber. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After an hour in which Regulus listed all the reasons he shouldn’t hex James Potter for taping his wand incessantly against the stone wall, Ironjaw returned to the two men. 

“He is unconscious, but will awaken shortly,” Ironjaw stated, he was pale for a goblin though. “His physical health is approximately restored to 75-80% of what he should be at, he may continue to experience rapid growth over the next week or so that may catch him up closer to where he would have been had he been raised adequately.” The words came out as a growl. “The core bind and compulsion have been removed, however, there is the matter of the soul damage.” The goblin’s expression was grim. 

“It’s still there, isn’t it?” Regulus asked sourly. 

“Indeed,” Ironjaw confirmed, “However, it seems to have gone into some sort of dormant state. There is no known way to remove it without destroying the vessel, this situation is an anomaly we have not seen.”

“Noted,” James said tersely, “may I see my son, now?” 

With narrowed eyes Ironjaw led the two wizards through a side door, where Hadrian was resting on a cot. He did look different rom before. Before the ritual he’d been an inch or so shorter than Arennia, whereas now he was easily a few inches taller than her. While he wasn’t musculature in any way, the ritual did restore the muscle mass to what his activities would have yielded under proper nutrition, making him fill out and healthily toned. His hair had darkened slightly, and lengthened, where it had been bristle as a thronbush it now shone with a healthy shine. 

Regulus sucked in a sharp breath. His nephew didn’t just look like James Potter anymore. If anything he looked more like Sirius had in his youth. 

“It’s like someone copied Sirius’s features onto your frame,” he whispered. 

James reached toward his son, shaking his arm lightly. 

“Hadrian,” he called softly, the boy shifted, mumbling something. Then his eyes snapped open, the same bright green as Lily’s ever were. 

“I feel like I was put through a shredder and taped back together,” he groaned, sitting up slowly with his Dad’s help. 

“You will probably experience a lack of coordination for the next few weeks, little wix,” Ironjaw warned. Harry nodded, before trying to stand. He was still shorter than both James and Regulus, however now he could just glance over either’s shoulders. 

“Can we go home now?” Hadrian asked. All he wanted was his bed, and to sleep for about a year. He’d settle for a day if he had to. With a hand on his Dad’s arm to steady him, the three departed for the Pottery. Hadrian stopped halfway up the stairs toward his room, before turning around in a panic. 

“Where’s Ren?” He asked. “Where did Sirius take her? Are they coming back?” 

He was panicking now. His sister had been one of the only people who not only stood by him, but actively fought for him without his participation. She took out Vernon, who had been loitering in Harry’s thoughts like a shadow he just couldn’t quite shake. 

Regulus turned to James, brows furrowed, because: fuck, were they coming back?

James opened his mouth to say something reassuring, even if he wasn’t entirely sure what Sirius had taken off to accomplish. He hadn’t even managed an exhalation of a syllable before he felt the wards alerting him that two people had entered the grounds. 

“I think they just got back,” he said instead. 

Hadrian raced of the stairs, bumping into the railing as he rounded the final one and ran to the doors. He could hear his Dad and uncle following more sedately, almost hesitantly. When he caught sight of his sister, his arms wrapped around her. Then he felt her tense, and recoil. The very feel of her was off. 

In a heartbeat he backed off, wand aimed at the person. 

“You aren’t my sister,” he snarled. With an arched eyebrow the not-Arennia took a vial out of a pocket, downing it. Moments later the form of Severus Snape took her place. 

“Astute, Potter,” the man sneered. Hadrian’s wand shifted to Sirius.

“What did you do? Where is she?” 

“Grand to see you too, pup,” Sirius said happily, “looks like you had a bit of a makeover.”

“Where is my sister?” Hadrian asked. The temperature of the room increased, the garnet of the Gryffindor lion on his ring burning brightly. 

“She’s fine,” Snape stated, Hadrian’s wand moved back to him. 

“Not what I asked,” Hadrian said hotly. 

“Mipsy!” Sirius called nervously. Nothing happened. 

“You told the elf to stay with her,” Severus said, “we will have to go retrieve them ourselves.”

“Retrieve her from where?” Hadrian’s patience was waning. They weren’t answering him. They were barely acknowledging his query. It wasn’t a new experience for him, but he didn’t much feel like letting it go like he normally did. Not while his blood was boiling in his veins. 

“We will go with them, son,” James said, sharing a look with Regulus who nodded. 

Hadrian glowered at the men, as they apparated away. They hadn’t answered him. He still didn’t know where his sister was, and he wasn’t sure he trusted them to bring her back. 

“Dobby?” He asked for the strange elf apprehensively. Moment’s later dobby popped up in the entry. 

“Mister Harry Potter asked for Dobby?” the elf asked with wide eyes. 

“Can you do me a favor?” Hadrian asked. Dobby nodded vigorously. “Can you take me to my sister?” 

Dobby’s head tilted, his ears drooping. “Dobby can take Harry Potter close, but another elfs is blocking Harry Potter’s twinsie.” 

Harry frowned, but held his hand to the elf. “Then get me close.” 

Chapter Text

The Cemetery in Cokeworth was small, but sufficient for Arennia’s needs. She flipped open the Pottter Grimoire, scouring the pages until she found the ritual she was looking for. 

“Mipsy,” she asked quietly, “Can you make a temporary ward? One that would prevent people from entering the cemetery?” 

“Mipsy can,” the elf said, then stepped closer to Arennia. “What is little miss plotting?” 

“I promised you, Mipsy, remember?” Arennia said softly. “I promised they would pay.” 

Mipsy patted Arennia’s leg before moving toward the edge of the cemetery. 

“Mipsy will make ward,” the elf croaked. 

While the elf set to work, Arennia was able to find several bouquets and wreaths that she was able to transfigure into the six candles she needed. Placing them as equidistant from her and each other as she could. With a shaky hand, she took the dagger she kept tucked in her boot and sliced it across her palm. Standing in place, she turned in a circle, the bleeding hand outstretched as the blood dripped to the ground. 

“Portam inter vivos et mortuos crea.” Create a gateway between the living and the dead.

When the circle was finished, she began a new shape, a triangle in the center of it. 

“Monstra inferorum, horrores, ostende-” Show me the monsters and horrors of hell

The triangle was finished, and Arennia proceeded to draw one last line through the two shapes.

“Ut me quoque videant.” So that they too may see me.

The Peverell coat of arms she’d drawn glowed blood red as the magic connected the blood droplets together. Arennia took a breath before proceeding to the next portion of the ritual. 

“Aliquis improbus, aliquis crudelis, aliquis malus-” Someone wicked, someone cruel, someone evil. With each installment, one of the candles would spark to life. “Aliquis venus, aliquis superbus, aliquis potens.” Someone vain, someone proud, someone with power. 

When the last candle flared, all six fell to their sides, the flames arcing into each other, creating a second, wider circle around the blood circle. Then the fire began to move in toward the center. Arennia swallowed nervously. There was no turning back now; she could only hope that one would come, would accept her request, otherwise the flames would claim her. 

“Metum incita, lacrimas incita, pudorem incita-” Incite fear, incite tears, incite shame. 

“Affer ruinam, damnationem, et finem nominis fac!” Bring ruin, damnation, and finish the name!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I thought you said you told Mipsy to keep her here?” Regulus said through clenched teeth after they arrived at a very vacant Spinner’s End. 

“He told the elf to stay with her,” Severus muttered as he rechecked the wards. The girl wasn’t there. 

“I told Arennia to stay here, though,” Sirius growled, checking behind furniture like he thought she was going to jump out any moment. 

James froze suddenly, “Do you feel that?” He whispered. Goosebumps spread across his skin. The others gave him annoyed glares. 

“Ah,” Severus said a moment later, “the elf apparated them.” He frowned. “Why would your daughter go to the cemetery?” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dobby left Hadrian standing in a town that looked like it was falling apart at the seams. Vaguely, he thought it looked familiar. With a shake of his head, he glanced around the unfamiliar buildings. 

Dobby said he would get me close, he thought to himself. None of the shops seemed like the kind of place his sister would explore. Then again, the town itself didn’t seem like her kind of locale. With his hands tucked into his robes, which he wished he’d have changed from now that he was being gawked at by non-magicals, he started walking. 

He only made it a couple of blocks before he felt a chill take over the air. His hand quickly found his wand. The chill reminded him of Dementors. He hadn’t told his family, but he had finally managed a patronus, a doe that formed when he embraced hearing his mother’s voice; even if the memory was horrible, it soothed something in him he had never realized had been unsettled. 

Wand clenched tightly, Hadrian kept moving further. His eyes flickered over signs as he passed, until one caught his eye. 

Cokeworth Cemetery

His eyes narrowed skeptically. His mind recalled a line on his test results. 

Necromancy - (Peverell) - Dormant

She claimed the Peverell Heirship... would it have been active for her? He wondered, still staring at the cemetery sign. Hadrian regretted not reading his sister’s test results, too, realizing that there were other differences between the two that he was missing. 

Mechanically, he walked up to the cemetery sign. He started toward the gate, but was surprised when he found himself walking back the way he had come from. Angrily, Hadrian spun, facing the cemetery again. He scowled as he found himself distracted from it by something as mundane as the lines on the cobblestone street of all things. 

Dobby’s statement suddenly made sense. Mipsy was with Arennia, and the elf was somehow keeping people away from her. That the aversion was stemming from a graveyard did absolutely nothing to comfort Hadrian’s concerns. 

Instead of focusing on making it into the cemetery, he decided to play along with the distraction. He faced the direction of the gate, but kept his head ducked down. Eyes traced the lines in the cobblestone, and his feet followed. When his breath started coming out with little puffs of fog, he looked up. Trails branched in different directions in the cemetery, but he had finally made it past the gate. 

Before he began stumbling blindly down a path, he heard a voice. He cocked his head, straining his ears trying to catch it. 

“Aliquis.... Malus.... Aliquis... Potens....” The words were sharp, but faded. Like they’d been whispered and carried by the wind itself. But Hadrian knew that voice. So he followed it. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I don’t understand,” Sirius growled, slowly becoming pissed off. “The cemetery is right there! Why can’t we get in!?”

“Something is warding off entry from anyone,” Severus said, analyzing the edge of the ward with a scowl. If this was what elves were capable of, perhaps he would take on one for the Prince estate. He’d tried unraveling the ward, but each time he tugged on a thread of it, it seemed to self-repair. 

“Mipsy,” Regulus stated. 

“Why would Mipsy make a ward that can keep me out?” James demanded. He looked close to freeing the elf, even if he’d known Mipsy since he’d been in nappies. 

“It’s keyed against people,” Severus stated. Instead of unraveling the damned thing, he’d started trying to analyze its properties. “Where is Lupin?”

“Oi!” Sirius barked. “Lupin is still a person.”

“Technically, he’s a creature, and I wonder if the magic would recognize that.... Technicality.” Severus said with as little derision as he could manage. “Unless you have some other idea how to find out what that girl is getting up to in a warded cemetery?” 

Sirius scowled, but apparated away. A few minutes later, he returned with one seriously pissed off Remus Lupin. There was only amber in the man’s irises. 

“I leave the kids in your hands for one bloody day, and then get dragged here because you lost my kit and can’t fucking get her out of a warded fucking cemetery!” Remus growled the words out. 

“The ward is barring entry to people,” Severus said, moving out of reach of the irate werewolf. 

Remus growled, then stalked toward the cemetery. The other four let out a collective sigh of relief as the man passed into the grounds. Regulus turned toward Sirius and Severus. 

“While we wait,” he stated, “perhaps you two could share why Severus was polyjuiced as Arennia earlier?”

James glanced sideways at each man, before his attention returned to the graveyard he couldn’t bloody enter. 

“Oh, that, well, ‘Arennia’ and I toured Muggle London,” Sirius stated. Severus snorted. “Strangely, I was mugged by a vagabond, and ‘Arennia’ was forced to defend my pathetic unconscious self with the knife she carries for self-defense.”

“Good thing I had a knife, as you forgot to share that little tidbit before we set off,” Severus grumbled. 

Regulus put the pieces together. 

“You baited criminal activity from a muggle, and then Severus, polyjuiced as Arennia, stabbed the assailant to death?” He asked. James's head snapped to the conversation. 

“It was a single stab wound,” Severus clarified, “unfortunately, it nicked a lung. Imbecile drowned in his own blood.”

“You killed someone today?” James asked, bewildered. 

“He wasn't the first person I’ve killed,” Severus deadpanned.

“You planned this?” Regulus asked his brother. 

“I can’t believe this, you two get along for the first time in your lives and you conspire to kill an innocent man.” James was breathing heavily. 

“Innocent?” Sirius scoffed. “Innocent men don’t mug people, James. Just like innocent men don’t neglect children in their care.” 

“She killed a man, Sirius,” James snapped. 

“She killed a monster,” Sirius fired back. 

“This is not the kind of life Lily would have wanted for her daughter,” James said coldly. Severus laughed, outright, full-body laughed. Two Blacks and a Potter turned toward him with slack jaws. 

“I never knew your perfect Lily Potter,” Severus sneered, “but I knew Lily Evans. Lily Evans once tried to poison my father’s brandy. Lily Evans offered to dose Mulciber with Amortentia keyed to Sirius-” Sirius paled. “The things she would have done to someone who harmed her children would have had them begging for the unforgivables.” 

James' eyes were wide, his hands shook slightly as Severus moved into his space, his wand aimed straight at James' chest. 

“I swore a vow to protect Lily’s child. That vow seems to have encompassed not just the boy, but the girl as well. It did not include stipulations on legalities. If I have to kill a hundred men to keep your children alive and well, then so fucking be it. I would expect that you, as their bloody father, would be willing to do the same and more.” James looked like he’d been slapped. “However, if you are incapable of doing so, I will have no qualms helping Sirius, of all fucking people, claim full bloody custody, and helping him burn the damn world down in your stead.” 

While James spluttered, Severus rounded on Regulus. 

“And you,” he snarled. “I know you’ve done worse crimes in your life than killing a single fucking muggle. You are no saint, Regulus Black, and the fact that you have the audacity to behave like one is the most disgusting act I have ever witnessed, and that includes the time your fucking brother tried to feed me to his pet werewolf!” 

Sirius didn’t even speak up against the statement. Perhaps another time, but at that moment, he was happy to have Severus Snape on his side, instead of being one of the men looking down the end of his wand. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Remus Lupin was not in his right mind. No, Moony had taken over. Rushing through the cemetery searching for the scent of his kit. He was close; the air turned metallic. Then a new scent: cub. 

He rounded the corner of a mausoleum, and froze. Moony tore his eyes from Arennia, searching for Hadrian. He barely resisted the urge to flee when he dragged the boy back away from the inferno surrounding Arennia. Blood dripped down slowly from one of her hands. 

“Let me go!” Hadrian fought against Moony’s hold for a moment, before freezing as a new presence made itself known. 

• Hello§ 

The formless shadow hovered in front of Arennia. Her mouth went dry, unable to pass a single word for a moment. Her eyes found her brother, held back by their Uncle Moony, then snapped back to the creature she’d summoned. 

• Torment Petunia Dursley§ Arennia ordered. 

The shadow convulsed, before gaining substance, the resulting creature resembled a gargoyle. Although it also had horns spiraling off the side of its head, and instead of stone gray, its skin was the same color as the still-drying blood trailing off Arennia’s fingertips. 

• Not kill§ Came the reply. Ethereal, but emotionless. 

• For thirteen years, bring her misery; after that, I care not what you choose to do with her§

Oh, Arennia wanted to kill Petunia. But she promised. She vowed not to. The vow prevented her from ordering the demonic beast from committing the deed, but it didn’t stop her from giving the creature well-aimed free agency. 

The monstrosity took her sliced-open hand. Arennia fought revulsion as it licked across the open wound. 

• As you wish§

The creature vanished, and the fire, now lapping at the soles of Arennia’s boots, was extinguished with its departure. Hadrian tore himself out of Remus Lupin’s arms, barely catching his sister as she collapsed. 

“Mipsy,” Hadrian said quietly. The elf moved towards him anxiously. “You can drop the wards now. Will you please take Arennia and me home?” 

Chapter Text

“So, Master Hadrian,” Silvergleam started the session, “Your father tells me you have still been... sulking, is it?” 

Hadrian scowled at the healer. 

“I’m not sulking,” he said evenly. That was his way of dealing with the goblin. Silvergleam was nothing like he’d expect a mind healer to be. She seemed to take joy in riling him up to make him snap at her. It only pissed him off more when she took the verbal lashing in stride. Now he challenged himself to remain calm through the entire two-hour session. He hadn’t succeeded yet, but he’d been close yesterday; he lost his composure five minutes from the end. 

“No? How would you describe your behavior?” Silvergleam asked with false ignorance. 

“Depends,” Hadrian said with a smirk. “Are you asking about my behavior toward my friends, my Papa and Moony, or toward James and Regulus?” 

It had been eleven days since Mipsy had returned Arennia and him to the Pottery. Arennia still hadn’t woken up. Professor Snape had taken over a guest room as well as one of the family potion labs to work on finding a way to wake her. At first, he’d thought fixing the magical exhaustion would be the trick, but when her Core stabilized on day three, she still hadn’t stirred. 

Hadrian had huffed that maybe she didn’t want to wake up to deal with any more of their bullshit. Finishing the statement with a glare at both James and Regulus. He hadn’t called them anything familial since Gringotts. James had started the Mind Healing Sessions the next day. 

For the first few days, Silvergleam respected his avoidance of talking about his sister or her current state. Instead, he had to relive his childhood, something that he managed with monosyllabic responses to questions and a tone of acid when he had to mention Vernon or Petunia Dursley directly. 

On the fourth and fifth days, Silvergleam managed to coax out events of the first two years at Hogwarts. Why he had refused Slytherin. What made him decide to go after the Stone. How he felt about nearly dying facing off with the basilisk. 

Silvergleam had a twisted sort of pride in her expression as he told that particular tale. 

Yesterday, they made it through his third year. Well, sort of. Hadrian managed to tell her about his initial escape from Privet Drive after blowing up Marge. He’d added that, regretfully, it hadn't been explosive, and the Reversal team from the Ministry had restored her. He was also able to get through the bits and pieces he had learned, inaccurately, regarding Sirius Black and his alleged desire to kill him. The Dementor encounter had him snapping at Silvergleam. He became worse when he got to the bit where the cobra showed up. 

Instead of angry and loud, he became distant and detached, something Silvergleam noted as far worse. Hadrian avoided calling the snake anything besides “the cobra,” and he stopped entirely when he got past his experience at Gringotts and reuniting with James, Regulus, and Sirius. 

Now, it seemed, Silvergleam was ripping that band-aid right off. 

“You are still angry with your father and uncle,” Silvergleam stated. Hadrian shrugged, fully aware that the gesture would have pissed off Regulus, and hoping the man could sense it where he was in the Pottery. Likely at Arennia’s bedside, reading another muggle science book aloud to her. 

“All they had to do was reassure her,” Hadrian seethed. “Instead, James all but disowned her, and Regulus had a mental breakdown. If they’d have kept it together even half as well as Papa did, she wouldn’t have done everything herself!”

“You are not just referring to the ritual from the cemetery,” Silvergleam noticed. Hadrian glanced away.

“They could have done it themselves,” he said quietly, as if he were afraid that they would hear the words even from the Pottery. 

“You wanted them to kill Vernon and Petunia?” 

“No...” Hadrian said slowly. “I just... They knew how the Dursleys were. When Da-James told Vernon off at the station, I thought... but then it didn’t happen. Not unless I wanted to be a part of it all. I thought I was okay with letting it go...”

“Until you found out that Arennia hadn’t stopped?” 

“Papa didn’t either, not technically,” Hadrian said weakly. “He’s still a bit miffed he wasn’t able to ruin Vernon’s career. Pretty sure he hands off his Grunnings paperwork to Moony.”

“You are deflecting again, Master Hadrian,” Silvergleam pointed out. Hadrian grimaced. 

“I keep thinking that I’m going to go home after one of these meetings, and she’s going to be reading in the library, or having tea with obscene amounts of sugar,” he answered bitterly. “Instead, she’s still lying in bed. It’s worse than when Hermione was petrified. At least then I knew there was a cure.”

“Have you written to your friends? They have helped you before; perhaps they would have a new perspective?” Silvergleam offered. When the flash of thought crossed the boy’s face, she leaned forward. “You are not responsible for Arennia’s recovery. Speak with your friends, they will help you heal.” 

“I think you might be right about that,” Hadrian said thoughtfully. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Messrs Zabini and Nott,

For the sake of simplicity, I have duplicated this letter. 

I am not sure how often my sister writes to either of you; however, I am positive you’ve found her recent lack of correspondence odd. 

I was advised that friends help heal, and I am hoping one of you may be able to help. 

Arennia has been indisposed, seemingly indefinitely. I cannot explain further on parchment. 

If you find yourselves amiable, please let Mipsy know you would like to come to tea. 

Sincerely,

Hadrian Potter-Black

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Blaise had barely finished reading the letter when Theo came burning through the Floo. He held his version of the letter tightly. 

“I’ve informed my father that I accepted an invitation to stay with you until after the World Cup,” Theo said. 

Blaise nodded before writing a note on a bit of spare parchment for his mother. He wasn’t sure when she’d be home next, but he was positive she would be too busy to question the validity of the claim that he was staying with Theo until their departure for the World Cup. 

“Mipsy,” Blaise called for the mildly terrifying creature. When she appeared, she looked far from her regular self. Her ears drooped, and her movements were lethargic. “We’d like to come to tea,” he told the elf firmly. 

Without a word, the elf took both boys by the arm, apparating them into the Pottery. Specifically into the library, where Hadrian had set up a table to research magical and Muggle maladies alike. When the three arrived, he glanced up from the book he’d been reading feverishly. 

“Mipsy,” Hadrian said calmly, “keep the others out of the library. Also, see if you can make sure Ren is unattended in about an hour.” 

With a sage nod, the elf vanished. Theo observed the boy he once knew as Harry Potter; he barely resembled him. Taller, more fit, his hair was pulled up into a small bun that had locks falling from the edges into his face. 

“You aren’t wearing glasses anymore?” He asked curiously. Hadrian snorted. 

“Professor Snape made a potion, James thought it would warrant forgiveness, even though he’d asked the man to make it long before he lost my favor,” Hadrian snarled. 

Blaise and Theo shared small looks of surprise. That certainly didn’t sound like the Harry Potter they’d been in school with for three years, nor the one they’d been with in Romania not even a fortnight earlier. 

“Is Arennia alright?” Blaise asked after the shock of Hadrian’s changes abated. The dark look that crossed the boy’s face was not reassuring. 

“I-I’m actually not sure what all I can tell you...” Hadrian said awkwardly. 

“Perhaps I can make it simple,” Blaise said, “she owes me a favor, you tell us what’s going on, I’ll consider it fulfilled.” 

When Hadrian’s hesitant expression lingered, he offered the next thing he could think of.

“She owes me a life debt,” he said slowly, flinching slightly when her eyes snapped to him from her brother’s face. “You tell us what is going on, and I swear, on my honor, I will consider it repaid.”

“That hardly seems a fair exchange, if it’s true,” Hadrian said accusingly, before his tone shifted into something more bitter. “Especially since telling you, hopefully, is only going to save her again.”

“Well, now you’ve said that, if it does it won’t invoke another life debt. Magic knows-”

“Intent,” Hadrian finished. His eyes narrowed on Blaise. “I don’t trust you, either of you,” he added, glancing briefly at Theo, “but my sister seems to.”

He closed the book he’d been reading. Theo saw enough of the title to make out the words ‘brain damage’ that his stomach threatened rebellion. 

“Swear it,” Hadrian demanded. Arms folding over his chest. His wand had moved into his hand, something Theo was only slightly surprised he’d missed, and was tapping against his side. 

Blaise nodded, wand flicking into his hand and crossing over to his heart. 

“I, Blaise Angioletto Zabini, will accept this day the full truth as it is known by Hadrian Potter-Black regarding the status of Arennia Potter-Black as information exchanged in repayment of the life-debt owed by Arennia Potter-Black. Should I force further reparations, may magic strike me down.”  

Hadrian’s wand tapping continued for a moment before stopping, his wand dropping back into a holster on his side. 

“Fine, I only ask that you do not interrupt until I am done,” Hadrian said firmly. After both Blaise and Theo nodded, he began. 

“The day we returned from the Dragon Reserve, Arennia and I were taken to Gringotts for our Inheritance tests. We expected that I would gain the Potter and Black heirships and she would collect the Le Fay heirship. Apparently, our mother was descended from the line somewhere, we assume via a squib. In any event, we ended up with more heirships than expected. In addition to Le Fay, she was able to claim the Peverell heirship as well.” He paused at the sharp intake of breath from Blaise. Theo’s eyes closed. Oh, Merlin, what did you get yourself into? He thought pointlessly to Arennia. 

“I’m going to guess you both know enough about the requirements of that particular heirship,” Hadrian said dryly. “In any event, it turns out that before we left for the reserve, she used a dark artefact to kill Vernon Dursley, the Muggle uncle I grew up with. James was livid, Regulus was pathetic, and Sirius took it upon himself to cover up the circumstances of the claim. He wound up taking her away from Gringotts on his own, recruited Professor Snape, and then the two left her with Mipsy, who was given strict instructions to stay with her. Mipsy did, but Arennia didn’t stay in the place she was left. Instead, she went to a cemetery, performed some kind of ritual that summoned something Regulus called an ‘Oni’, and proceeded to collapse. She hasn’t woken since. Professor Snape fixed the magical exhaustion and said it’s basically up to her to wake up.”

Blaise’s mind was reeling from the overload of information. Theo was already thinking, processing the information. 

“Do you know if the ritual required her blood?” He asked. 

“James hasn’t let the Potter Grimoire out of his pocket since. So I couldn’t say for certain. I would think yes, since her palm was sliced open, and it didn’t look like a cut from falling or anything else of that nature,” Hadrian explained tiredly. 

“Can we see her?” Blaise asked softly. 

Hadrian sighed. “Mipsy?” The elf showed up a moment later. “Are the others away from her?”

“Mipsy informed Master Regulus that Master Hadrian wanted to see his sister alone. Master Regulus has returned to his rooms,” the elf squeaked. 

“Where are the others?” Hadrian asked, not wanting to encounter anyone while he had unsanctioned visitors. 

“Master James is in his office, Master Sirius is being forced to sign the muggle business paperwork by Master Remus.”

“That ought to keep them occupied,” Hadrian scoffed. “Alright, you two, follow me.” He motioned with an arm as he passed them, exiting the library. While neither Blaise nor Theo was blown away by the mild grandeur of the Pottery, they were surprised by it. 

It was far grander than anyone assumed of the Potters, who had always been the less social of families. Antisocial in the way that they didn’t invite families over or host galas. They had always accepted invitations and attended with the underrated fashion they favored. Both boys wondered why the Potters didn’t play host when their manor had the potential of rivaling families like the Longbottoms or Malfoys. 

After a few minutes, Hadrian stopped outside a set of double doors. His expression tightened before he pushed them open. Blaise barely crossed the threshold enough for Hadrian to close the doors behind them. He couldn’t reconcile the vibrant Arennia he knew with the fragile person on the bed. Theo moved toward her purposefully. The Nott heir ring flared as he started muttering in a nearly forgotten Nordic tongue. As he spoke, runes shimmered in the air above Arennia. 

“Whatever she did, she’s barely strong enough to power it without it killing her. The ritual seems to be tied into her blood somehow...” Theo said, his face scrunching as he interpreted the Norse runes that had formed. “I think I know a way to wake her up...”

“Do it,” Hadrian ordered. Theo frowned.

“It’s not that simple,” he murmured. “I can't break the ritual’s hold on her; that would kill her. However... I think I can make it so that the pull from it won’t just be coming from her.”

“You could share it with her?” Hadrian asked, a bit skeptical now. 

“I don’t think that would be enough, honestly... but if the three of us did... It would take some getting used to, but eventually it would actually make us stronger in a way.”

“You think or you know?” Blaise asked. Theo faced his oldest friend. 

“I think, Blaise,” he whispered. “I only know the practice in theory, an old family thing back when before the Notts were even a name. They were something closer to shamans among the Vikings. The practice would share the strength of one’s blood with the others, balancing among the participants. It was also used after battles to ease the burden of damage done among the warriors.”

“You know the theory?” Hadrian asked. Theo gave a mildly offended glare. 

“I could copy the practice on parchment if I wanted to, but I won’t. Suffice it to say that, yes, I am positive I know the theory perfectly.”

“I’m in,” Hadrian said, his eyes moving to Blaise. 

“You’re both insane,” Blaise stated. Hadrian arched a single brow at him. “Fine, let’s do it.” 

Theo immediately pushed both boys to either side of the bed. 

“Both of you will take one of her hands, and then each other's,” He instructed, then he crawled onto the bed, basically straddling Arennia. Blaise’s eyes widened, but he ended up biting back a laugh. A good thing, really, as Hadrian’s wand ended up aimed at Theo. 

“What the hell do you think you are doing?” He asked coldly. Theo rolled his eyes. 

“Believe me, Heir Potter-Black, if I wanted to be intimate with your sister, I would do it while she was conscious. You two are making the circle. I have to have my forehead touching hers while I perform the incantation. So, unless you’d like to move her?” Theo gestured around the room. Hadrian glowered, but returned his wand to his holster. 

After Theo confirmed the two were completing their tasks, he sent a silent prayer to Lady Fate that this would work, before resting his forehead softly against Arennia’s, and beginning the incantation. 

“deil byrði í várum blóði, dreif þyngslin at gera þau engi, veik sterka at gera veika sterka, skapa jafnvægi í böndum várum - deil byrði í várum blóði, dreif þyngslin at gera þau engi, veik sterka at gera veika sterka, skapa jafnvægi í böndum várum - deil byrði í várum blóði, dreif þyngslin at gera þau engi, veik sterka at gera veika sterka, skapa jafnvægi í böndum várum”

By the end of the third repetition, the air shifted, and Theo, along with the other two, suddenly felt drained. When Theo opened his eyes, preparing to move, he nearly collapsed on her with relief at seeing the striking green eyes fluttering open. 

“Theo?” She croaked, her voice ragged from the lack of use. Blaise’s hand tightened around hers, drawing her attention his way. Her head practically fell to the side as she turned it. “Blaise?” 

“I would appreciate it if you would get off of my sister now,” Hadrian huffed, barely resisting the urge to shove Theo off into Blaise. Arennia’s head snapped over to her brother’s voice. 

“Hadrian,” the name breathed out of her. Not a question, just an acknowledgement, a recognition that he was there. 

Theo teetered off the bed, leaning on Blaise to keep his footing. The moment he’d removed himself, Hadrian had taken over, his face burrowing into his sister’s shoulder as he hugged her tightly. She was alive, she was awake. Maybe now everything could be okay. 

Chapter Text

“Well, well, isn’t this sweet?” sneered Severus Snape from the doorway. His eyes narrowed on the two extra snakes in the Pottery. “Tell me, is your father aware that you invited guests?”

Hadrian stumbled out of the embrace before standing defensively in front of his sister and her friends. Snape smirked. 

“I’ll take that as a no,” he said, “which means he likely isn’t aware that you performed a ritual to awaken your sister.” 

Hadrian glared. “I don’t much care what he thinks of it, it worked-”

“And if it hadn’t?” Snape asked, interrupting what he was certain would be teenage theatrics that he’d rather not handle during the summer months. “What do you think would have happened if that ritual failed?”

“It didn’t,” Hadrian replied stubbornly. Snape pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“Foolish child! If there had not been any risk to your life, I wouldn’t have felt the need to look for you!” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Hadrian asked, suddenly confused. 

“Why is Professor Snape in our home?” Arennia asked over Hadrian’s shoulder. 

“I’m more concerned with why Heirs Zabini and Nott are here,” stated Regulus, as he swept into the room. He was just about to cross his arms and give them the look that said they’d best begin explaining, when he froze mid-motion. 

“You're awake,” he whispered. He moved towards his niece but stopped when she winced away. “Starlight...”

Hadrian repositioned himself between his sister and Regulus. Regulus frowned, but wasn’t able to say anything as James, Sirius, and Remus entered the room as well. 

“What’s happened? Is Arennia okay? Where’s Hadrian?” James asked Severus rapidly. The potions master gave him a bored look and then pointed across the room to the man’s children and guests.

“I invited Heirs Zabini and Nott to see Arennia,” Hadrian stated. “As luck would have it, Arennia woke up while they were here. I’m sure Professor Snape just wanted to share the good news.” 

Severus arched a brow at the boy, who kept up an impressively passive expression in return. Regulus narrowed his eyes on his nephew. James glanced at Severus imploringly. 

“Indeed,” Severus said tartly. None of the teenagers reacted guiltily to the statement. Arennia, for her part, couldn't have given them away, as for all she knew that was exactly what had happened. Blaise and Theo were mildly impressed at her brother’s act, but hid their surprise at their Head of House playing along with it. 

Sirius, tired of discourse, leapt past the other men. Padfoot jumped onto the bed, licking Arennia’s face and barking happily. 

“Padfoot, no!” Hadrian yelled and immediately began pushing the dog off of his sister. “She just woke up, you’re gonna hurt her!” 

The barking dog turned back into a laughing man. 

“I assure you, pup, the last thing I would ever do is hurt your sister,” he wheezed after Hadrian elbowed him hard in the ribs. 

While the twins were distracted by Padfoot’s antics, James took the opportunity to make it to the bedside, sitting softly on the edge right as Sirius made his statement. Hadrian felt the shift and turned defensively towards James, eyes narrowed. He was stopped from outright pushing him off the edge by Sirius’s arms wrapping around his torso, pinning his own arms to his sides. 

“She needs him, too, pup,” he murmured to the volatile teenager. Hadrian’s lips pressed into a tight line, but he stopped struggling against his Papa’s hold. 

Arennia watched her Dad carefully. Last she had seen him, he had seemed ready to cut her from the family. Disownment wouldn’t have been the worst thing; she would have had the Le Fay heirship still, a heritage that would have been able to keep her in comfort even if she chose to never lift a finger in her lifetime. Arennia would have been sad losing the Peverell title, but she hadn’t gone after the Dursleys to gain it. Her regret would have been losing her brother and her family, and yet, if she had the chance to do it all over, it would have been a price she was willing to pay to ensure Hadrian’s future was better than his past. 

“I will not apologize,” she said softly, eyes darting down to the comforter. James sighed. The action made Arennia brace herself for whatever tirade he had prepared. 

“I will,” he said. Arennia’s head whipped to him so fast her vision blurred momentarily. James gave a dry chuckle, glancing briefly at the few there that were not part of the family. “We’ll talk more later, snidget, but for now, just know that I am sorry about how I reacted at the bank. While I still don’t approve, I do accept you still. Always.” The last word was whispered into her hair as he pressed a kiss on top of her head. 

Regulus watched the interaction. There were a million things he wanted to say, but none he was willing to do in front of an audience. He was about to step out when Arennia’s eyes found him. Guilt wrapped around him, holding him in place.

“Tu es aimé, pas non souhaitable,” Regulus spoke. He knew Sirius understood, James probably caught the gist, even if French never worked well for him. He didn’t think Severus knew. Lupin was a toss-up; the wolf was better educated than he’d credited him. Nott and Zabini were unknowns, but the Italian Heir likely understood just from the similarities between the two languages. 

“Même si-” Arennia began hesitantly, but Regulus interrupted. 

“Peu importe quoi,” Regulus stated. 

“Are you two arguing or making up? I can’t tell,” Hadrian asked crossly. Sirius chuckled, riffling his hair. 

“That was as close to ‘making up’ as it gets with Reggie,” Sirius joked, making Regulus roll his eyes as he left the room. 

“Would it be possible for everyone to leave, so that I might change out of nightclothes?” Arennia asked drolly. Luckily, Mipsy had changed her into a simple grey satin set, the shirt buttoned to her collar, and the pants, if she were to stand, would have extended mid calf.  Still, she found she would much rather be dressed before continuing banter with her family and friends. 

“As you wish, Heiress Peverell,” Blaise said with a bow. He caught the slight stiffening from James Potter at the title. “Perhaps Hadrian would show us to the library to wait?” He asked, making Hadrian give him an inquisitive look. 

“Alright then, I suppose,” Hadrian said slowly, as he finished escaping Sirius’s now half-hold on him. 

Theo said nothing as he followed Hadrian and Blaise out of the room and back to the library. He did what he did best, he observed. He had also noticed the way James Potter tensed at the Peverell title. How Sirius Black had immediately shot the other man a daring look. Theo also realized that the two men, plus the two Professors, were following the three boys to the library. A fact that made Theo uneasy. 

As Blaise made himself comfortable and Hadrian began clearing the books from his previous research, Theo decided to break the silence by addressing the Professors. 

“I’m surprised I haven’t received the school list for next year yet,” Theo said lightly. “Would you happen to know when we should expect them?”

“The Headmaster has yet to announce the Defense Professor for the year. I would imagine the letters are delayed due to that,” Professor Snaped drawled. Hadrian dropped a book. 

“Why aren’t you teaching us anymore, Uncle Moony?” He asked 

“Because the old coot thinks that having Severus brew wolfsbane is taking away from his attention to the students,” Sirius sneered. 

“Couldn’t you just buy the potion for him?” Blaise asked, deciding to participate in the conversation. 

“You aren’t surprised by the information?” James asked, his head angling towards Blaise curiously. 

“That Professor Lupin, full name Remus Lupin, is a werewolf?” Blaise deadpanned. Theo snickered. 

“Right, it has nothing to do with the fact that your mother has a report on each of the Professors’ histories,” Theo said sarcastically.

“Yes, yes, that too,” Blaise answered dismissively, waving a hand Theo’s way. 

“There was also the Boggart,” Theo added, “that did cinch the assumption.”

“Perhaps I should go-” Lupin said warily. 

“You didn’t attack anyone while you were teaching. Besides, the full moon is still ten days away,” Blaise said with a shrug. 

“Given Professor Snape’s presence, I would say you’ll probably have the potion then, so we won’t have to worry,” The finished idly. 

“You say that as if you two will still be here at that time.” Regulus Black’s voice came from the library doors. He had caught most of the conversation from his position leaning casually against the door frame. 

“We arranged to stay until the World Cup,” Blaise said, “it really was good luck, Arennia woke up our first day here. Although that does remind me... My mother is not used to being ignored.” The last statement was directed at James, who was both annoyed and impressed by the redirection. 

“I will write to your mother this afternoon; however, Hadrian has already accepted another invitation to the match, so I’m afraid it would not be the whole family accepting your mother’s offer.” 

“You ignored the Contessa?” Severus asked. He was leaning back towards the man being a complete and utter imbecile. 

“Well, I couldn’t very well write ‘I’m not sure if my daughter will be among the living at that time, until then - James Potter.’ Now could I?” James said as he cleaned his glasses with his robes. 

“Is it terrible if I wish you had sent that to her? If only to see her reaction,” Arennia said as she entered the library. Kundalin was draped across her shoulders, happily nuzzling the side of her neck. She had changed into a violet tunic with lilacs embroidered along the hem that fell mid-thigh. The capris she wore under were pearlescent in the light, reminding Theo vividly of their encounter with the Opaleye dragons.  He would not have been at all surprised to learn that the pants were, in fact, made of opaleye skin. 

“We were just discussing the plans for Blaise and Theo to stay until the World Cup,” Hadrian said pointedly. “Apparently, father has neglected to convey the family’s acceptance of her invitation to host us there.”

“I thought you were going with the Weasleys?” Arennia asked, the invitation having arrived from Ronald over a month ago. 

“I’ll still see them there,” Hadrian answered with a small shrug that made Regulus bite his tongue. 

“Nonsense,” Arennia huffed. “I will write to the Contessa to accept the invitation and explain your absence; you should enjoy the match without it being a political duelling ring.” 

As she finished her declaration, Arennia sat at the table and summoned her manuscript kit. James also had to bite his tongue. He knew he’d put himself in a perilous position with his children. While he technically had no issue with accepting the Contessa’s invitation, he didn’t particularly think that allowing his daughter’s friends to stay at their home and then going to the World Cup was the proper environment set for dealing with her recent actions. 

James did relent to the fact that he handled the news poorly, but the fact did still remain that she had killed a man. The worst part was that he didn’t find he cared about the murder itself, but more the lack of guilt or regret that his daughter seemed to feel regarding the event. Before he could voice any of his concerns, Sirius gave his exuberant input. 

“Oh, this is going to be great! I can’t wait to watch Bulgaria kick-”

Remus came up behind Sirius, a hand covering his mouth before any expletives could escape. James drew breath to speak again but was prevented once more by Mipsy’s arrival and declaration that dinner was ready. 

“Oh, thank Godric, I’m famished,” Arennia declared. She signed the quickly written missive to the Contessa with a flourish and pocketed the letter to send it later. 

“No doubt, you’ve been out for eleven days,” Hadrian said darkly, as he dragged his sister toward the dining room, the two Slytherin boys following closely behind. James glared at Sirius. 

“You can’t be seriously considering allowing those boys to stay under the same roof as my daughter,” he hissed. 

“Our daughter,” Sirius bit back, “is more than capable of hexing their bollocks off herself if they cross a line.”

“That is not the point, Sirius!” James said adamantly. Remus, Regulus, and Severus watched the exchange with varied levels of amusement. 

“No, the point, James, is that Arennia is awake. We both know that it wasn’t a mere coincidence that she happened to wake up when they visited. Whatever ritual they used was olde, not dark, and that is good enough for me.” Sirius was spitting as he stepped closer to James. “I don’t care about the Zabini boy’s alleged history. I don’t care if Nott’s father is one of the oldest Death Eaters still living. What I care about is the fact that they brought her back when none of us could. If they aren’t welcome here, then I will reopen and renovate Grimmauld and give them dedicated rooms with their own bloody plaques!” 

Sirius pushed past James, his shoulder ramming the other’s harshly. Remus gave James an apologetic look as he passed by, following his partner. 

“Is that true?” James asked Severus. “That they did... a ritual of some kind to wake her up?”

“I made a vow to protect Lily’s child,” Severus replied softly, “and I will do so even if I have to protect them from you.” 

“What is that supposed to mean?” James snapped. 

“It means that if we’re going to react poorly about it, it puts Hadrian and Arennia’s mental health at risk, thus he won’t tell us,” Regulus answered. Severus nodded slightly before taking his leave in a flurry of black robes. He didn’t much feel like dealing with further Potter drama, so he returned to the potion he had left under stasis: a modified version of the Potter Oculus potion. One that would work on adults, as the original evidently had not. He had half a mind to vanish it and leave James’s forever fighting the losing battle with his glasses. Severus wondered why the man hadn’t used any dispelling or impervious charms on the damned things, instead of forever cleaning them off with the edge of his shirts and robes. 

Chapter Text

Lunch turned out to be a rather tense affair. The household members were unwilling to discuss matters that desperately needed addressing whilst in the company of guests. Blaise and Theo refused to react to the jury of men watching them with differing levels of judgment in their eyes. 

It was lucky that the affair was interrupted by the arrival of a great horned owl. The creature swept in and landed on the arm of James Potter’s chair. For the first time since the meal began, James’s expression neutralized as he read the missive, and he breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Gregorovitch will be here in three days,” James said to the group. Blaise and Theo sported matching looks of surprise. From what they knew, the Russian wandmaker had retired years ago. 

“Will Arennia be getting a second wand as well?” Hadrian asked curiously. The idea of getting something his sister was lacking did not sit well with him. 

“Actually, I think it would be wise for all of us to obtain backups, or perhaps new primaries if the fit is better,” Regulus answered. “Ollivander has a reputation for his wands reporting their use to the Ministry. Besides the obvious inclusion of the Trace on them. All of ours have been freed of the known monitoring embellishments, but I’d rather not chance the unknown.”

A grim air of agreement followed his statement. One that remained with them in the days leading up to the retired wandmaker's visit. James had taken to hiding in his office while at the Pottery, avoiding any interaction with the two unwanted guests in his home. He did add additional wards in certain areas, namely his daughter’s room and the guest rooms the boys were using, so that he could know if there was any impropriety occurring. 

Regulus took on a politically polite approach to handling them. An act that made Hadrian scoff and Arennia roll her eyes. Padfoot, rather than Sirius, interacted more often than not. The massive black dog sitting next to Arennia growling lightly when Zabini would lean too close to her. Remus had claimed a room that he retrofitted into an office and had pretty much taken over the running of Grunnings to the point that Sirius signed over the control of his shares to the man. He would have just transferred the shares directly, but Remus was not one to accept that caliber of a handoff. For now, Sirius was just glad the man had accepted the control aspect, if only so he didn’t have to deal with any of it. 

The inhabitants of the Pottery nearly forgot that Severus Snape was still there, as the man had focused entirely on his alteration of the Oculus Potion. Mipsy had reminded James of the potioneer’s presence when she came to him, concerned that the man had missed four consecutive meals. James had given the order for her to force the man to eat a meal at least twice a day, something Severus had done begrudgingly after the elf threatened to banish every cauldron he touched if he didn’t. Before breakfast on the day of Gregorovitch’s arrival, James dragged Severus Snape out of the Potion Lab forcefully. 

“I have no need of another wand, Potter,” Severus sneered as he cast stasis charms on the cauldrons as the door slowly creaked shut behind them. 

“You’re really going to pass up the opportunity to have a bespoke wand made by the last Gregorovitch?” James asked. He grinned when Severus had no counterargument for the inquiry. 

Mykew Grgorovitch was a punctual man. He arrived at the Pottery at exactly 9 am, the grandfather clock chiming in time with his knock against the doors of the manor. He moved slowly, following as James Potter led the man to one of the lounges where the rest of the Pottery waited, except Blaise and Theo, who were left under Mipsy’s watchful eye in the library. Gregorovitch’s eyes were dark, nearly hidden in the thick bushy eyebrows that seemed forever drawn into a scowl. 

“Who is first?” He asked gruffly, setting the worn case he carried on the center table. It snapped open, expanding until several compartments were exposed, each with symbols drawn upon it. The first showed the well-known tree of life, and on the next, it hung reversed and lifeless. After that were symbols representing the elements of earth, air, fire, and water. The last compartment was notched evenly along the edge and open in a space that was two feet in length, but only a few inches in depth and width. 

“I will,” James answered. Gregorovith held a hand out towards him. 

“Your current wand?” he asked. James hesitated, but set his wand in the man’s hand nonetheless. “Mahogany, unicorn hair...” Gregorovitch muttered. “This is Ollivander work.” He set the wand on the table, away from his crafting kit. “Place your left hand here, and your right hand here.” He gestured at the compartments etched with the tree of life and the inverted version of it. 

After a moment, the tree of life glowed gold briefly before the compartment clicked open. Gregorovitch took the cylinder of wood that was procured and gave James Potter an odd look. “Laurel, fickle thing. It is said the wood will not commit a dishonorable act... in my experience, their measure of honor is dependent on the perspective of their wielder.” 

James made no reaction. Those watching merely gave mild looks of intrigue. He moved James’s hands to two of the elements, earth and water. The water symbol glowed blue. When the wandmaker removed the chosen core, his already scowl-drawn eyebrows furrowed deeper. 

“Siren hair...” he whispered. “You are a strange one, Lord Potter. Siren hair can be most protective, but if it is misused, it can destroy even that which it is loyal to.” James frowned as the Wandmaker placed his right arm, pressing the full forearm against the side of the last compartment. Gregorovitch then placed the laurel wood and siren hair into it, and then the compartment closed itself. He aimed his own wand at the center, murmuring a barely audible incantation. A minute later, the compartment reopened, and Gregorovitch motioned for James to take the newly created wand. 

When his hand wrapped around the new wand, he could feel peace wash over him. There was a defiant edge, like the wave of a tsunami in the distance, but still he claimed the wand. Gregorovitch hummed. 

“Ten inches, unyielding,” he said, “I would make sure your mind is known before you cast with that. Who is next?” 

Sirius stepped forward, handing his latest acquisition from Ollivander’s to the wandmaker, who frowned at yet another work of Ollivander’s. The process was repeated. 

This time, the inverted tree glowed silver, and Sirius’s jaw clenched when the wandmaker withdrew a dark cylinder of walnut wood. His hands were placed on the compartments for fire and water, one representing his passion and the other his adaptability. The fire symbol had flared, and an ash-gray feather was revealed. 

“Augurey,” Gregorovitsh said, “interesting... some say they foreshadow death...” Sirius made an indignant noise as the wandmaker lined his right arm against the last compartment and placed the components within it. The resulting wand was knotted and twisted until it tapered into a straight end. “Thirteen inches, unlucky perhaps, or lucky depending who you ask... springy. This wand will not hesitate to do what you desire, regardless of if you change paths...” 

Sirius took the wand apprehensively. The damned thing felt satisfied as he took it, and snappish when he took back his original wand. Regulus stepped up next, like James, he hesitated as he let his current wand drop into Gregorovitch’s palm. His wand became a reed wood one of eleven and a half inches, with an acromantula silk core. Gregorovitch had been silent until the wand was finished. 

“Reeds are often attracted to eloquence, and acromantula silk is a luxury... You are very refined, Mr. Black. Only time will tell if your finery can serve as a shield as well...” 

Remus went next. His wand held the core of a diricawl feather encased by pear wood that made Gregorovitch chuckle. “And they say Pear avoids the dark, yet it has chosen a dark creator to bear it...” he chortled. Remus tried to withdraw, but the wandmaker had a strength he wasn’t expecting as he’d forced him to the next compartments where the diracawl feather had arrived. “Like the moon, it seems you also have times where you disappear and reappear,” Gregorovitch had said, making Remus flinch. The finished product was surprisingly bendy and eleven inches in length. Remus had taken the wand and moved to the back of the room as swiftly as possible. The whole ordeal had felt oddly exploitive to him. 

After watching the wolf’s reaction, Severus moved up next. He was concerned that the process could somehow harm the participant, given how the wolf had retreated so quickly as if to lick his wounds. 

The inverted tree flared once more, and Gregorovitch took an ethereally silver cylinder of wood from the compartment. “Silver lime,” he said, “very desired wood, that. Made a fashion statement last century. Works best for those skilled in mind arts, though.” The observation bristled Severus, but he kept up an indifferent expression as the man moved his hands to the water and air elements. 

He resisted the urge to gauge James’s reaction when the water emblem flared and the wandmaker withdrew siren hair once more with a bemused expression. Hadrian and Arennia frowned, the latter glancing at their Dad, who looked a bit dazed. Severus’s final wand measured twelve inches and was as unyielding as James’s had been. As Severus stepped back, he was listing every reason he could think of to disregard the similarities between the two wands. 

Hadrian stepped up next, handing his old wand off to Gregorovitch easily. The wandmaker frowned at it. “Holly and phoenix feather... how... gallant.” Gregorovitch set the wand down with a glare. It was a wand made for greatness, yes, but it was designed as though there was a plan already in mind for it, something that made Gregorovitch disgusted with it. Wands were not supposed to be made with a purpose in mind; they were crafted with the weaving of Lady Fate, not the design of the wandmaker. 

The tree of life glowed brightly, but the inversion also glowed faintly. Gregorovitch was surprised, not that both responded, but that the first gave Holly again. The second compartment gave a thinner cylinder of elder that had Gregorovitch scowling all over again. He placed Hadrian’s hands over the elements the woods would have had in common, earth and water. When nothing happened, he moved the child’s hands to fire and air. Both flared. Gregorovitch glared at the phoenix ashes in the first and the thunderbird feather in the second. He had no doubt the wand would be powerful, but he did not like what it boded for the young man who would wield it. He placed the components into the last compartment as Hadrian readily placed his arm against it. When Hadrian took the final product, he was beaming. 

“Holly, like your first, with elder winding through it, an odd combination,” Gregorovitch finally decided to comment on the wand. “Not as odd as the core, thunderbird feather with phoenix ashes. Ashes don’t usually show up in wands, especially a wand like this. None of the parts should work together, yet for some reason, they choose you. Tread very carefully, young man, that wand will never work for another, but it will crave greatness.”

Hadrian laughed, shaking his head. Of course, his new wand would crave the greatness he wanted to avoid. He stepped back and nudged his sister forward. “Come on, everyone is getting a psychoanalysis as part of the process, you aren’t free of it.”

Arennia shook her head fondly, holding her wand toward Gregorovitch. The man dropped it with a hiss. 

“That should not be,” he growled. 

“Elder, obscurus orb core,” Arennia chirped. “You look worse off than Ollivander did selling it to me,” she observed. Gregorovitch’s eye twitched. 

“That came from Ollivander?” He asked, shocked at the very idea of it. The darkest core he’d seen from the Ollivanders was dragon heartstring, and even those came from the milder dragons if he examined them closely. 

“It chose me,” Arennia replied defensively. 

“Obscurus orbs choose one of two things: destruction or power. I can only hope, for your sake, that it is power that it sees in you,” Gregorovitch said, before gathering his composure and proceeding. When the gold flared weakly with a bright silver light, he began wishing he had ignored the request made by Lord Potter. 

A thin piece of rosewood left the first compartment, followed by an unprecedented material he had never worked with before. 

“Snakewood,” Gregorovitch muttered. “To my knowledge, it has not been used since the wand of Salazar Slytherin himself. The trees were considered nearly indestructible, and their leaves could aid the healing of almost any ailment. Rosewood is a wood of temptation, fragrant and alluring to all.” Instead of moving the girls hands to the element’s he thought would work, he gestured openly for her to choose. His choices for her brother had been completely inaccurate, a mistake he felt rather humbled by. Unlike her brother she was drawn to earth and water, and the contents were nothing alike the ones previously provisioned to her twin. 

“Qilin bone,” Gregorovitch muttered, withdrawing the ivory object from the earth compartment. “Qilin’s are well known for choosing those most pure of heart, however, when they die it is said that their bones are drawn to those inclines to the darkest of magics...” James tensed, he was stopped from protesting by sharp glares from both Sirius and Severus. Regulus closed his eyes, resigning himself to ensure Arennia knew the difference between ‘Dark’ and outright ‘Evil.’ 

Gregorovitch withdrew a vial from the water compartment next. “Horned serpent venom,” he said curiously. “I wonder... would your familiar be willing to provide its venom? The connection to the wand would be stronger that way.” 

Arennia glanced at Kundalin, who had scarcely left her shoulders since she’d woken days ago. 

• Can he have sssome of your venom?§

• Why?§ Kundalin hissed back, eying the unknown man with disdain. 

• He thinksss it would work beeter for my new wand than the venom he already hasss§

Kundalin slipped off her shoulder, hissing angrily at the man.

• You would dare ussse the venom of another for my massster?!§

Hadrian started laughing, a response that became stronger as the men in the room gave him confused glances. Arennia pulled Kundalin back from Gregorovitch. 

• He isss trying to ussse yoursss if you would be amenable, you dramatic creature§ The snake stopped struggling, head tilting as it considered her words. 

• He may collect§ Kundalin said shortly, before exposing his fangs to Gregorovitch. 

“He says you can take the venom, in case you were wondering,” Hadrian said, still chuckling at the snake’s outburst. 

Gregorovitch nodded, but instead of an empty vial, he had the snake pump the venom directly into the qilin bone. After which Kundalin returned to his perch an Arennia as the wandmaker placed the components in the final compartment. The resulting wand was the same ivory color her first wand, except where the red would have been the holly wood made its appearance instead. 

“Now, will the other two be joining us?” Gregorovitch asked. Before one of the adults could respond, Arennia had summoned Mipsy and requested she bring Blaise and Theo in. 

“I do not know that either of them need or want a second wand, snidget,” James said hesitantly. Arennia laughed. 

“I don’t much care what they would like, I’ll feel better if they have backups,” she said then turned to her brother. “Do you think Hermione could come by real quick, wouldn’t be terrible for her to have one, too.”

“She did seem interested...” Hadrian said thoughtfully. He’d mentioned that James had reached out to Gregorovitch in his letters. Ron’s response had been a colorful assortment of insults regarding the wandmakers dark affiliation. Now that Hadrian had seen the man work, he didn;t think his own affinity affected his creations. Especially given the assortment of materials he’d seen so far. He still didn’t think that would be enough to convince Ron to accept the man’s services. While he thought, Blaise and Theo had arrived behind Mipsy. 

“Mipsy, could you see if Hermione is available?” Arennia asked, taking Hadrian’s comment as affirmation. The elf popped away, and Arennia turned an apologetic look Gregorovitch’s way. “She should only be a few minutes, would you care for some tea?” 

Gregorovitch shook his head gruffly, but gave no indication that he was upset with waiting a moment. Or several, is was the case. Mipsy did return with a breathless Hermione. The girl searched the room frantically for her best friend only to gape when she found him. 

“Harry?” she asked, taking in the change of appearance. 

“I’ll explain later, Mione,” he said with a grin. “Ren had Mipsy bring you to see if you would like a second wand from the retired wandmaker, Mykew Gregorovitch.” 

Hermione’s eyes bugged further as she took in the kit on the table and the looming wandmaker himself. 

“You don’t have to decide right away,” Arennia said. “Blaise and Theo will be getting theirs first, then you can go after if you choose.” 

Theo gave her a curious look, he didn’t recall agreeing to this practice. From the amused expression Blaise had, he determined that he wasn’t being given a choice in the matter. 

Before the wandmaker took his leave, the three teenagers were owners of new wands. Blaise’s was hornbeam, associated with sentience and obsession, and Theo’s hazel came with a warning to be aware of his emotions. The wandmaker was silent when both yielded the same horned serpent venom, and then surprised when the girl’s familiar had flicked the vial away, offering his venom for both boys, hissing angrily while Hadrian cackled and Arennia fought a blush. Hermione’s new wand was elm with a hippogriff feather for the core. Gregorovitch stated that it was a very regal combination, making the young witch blush as she accepted the wand. 

Chapter Text

“Alright, spill,” Hermione huffed as she claimed a seat in the library. The library she would definitely be checking out thoroughly after Harry caught her up on his recent transformation. Her eyes narrowed when her best friend shrugged as he claimed the chair next to hers. 

“Goblin cleansing ritual,” he said. Her eyes widened in alarm. “Fixed some of the, er, issues I had as a result of the Dursleys.”

“Among other things,” Arennia grumbled, claiming the chair across the table from her brother. Blaise sat next to her with a smug expression as he petted Kundalin on his shoulders. The snake had gone to him when Arennia had hissed something looking flustered after the snake had offered its venom a third time for Theo’s wand. 

“What does she mean by that?” Hermione asked. Harry avoided eye contact, making her expression soften a bit. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

“It would probably be easier to show you,” Harry grumbled. 

“Would you like the Pensieve, or just our test results?” Arennia asked evenly. 

“The results should be sufficient,” Harry replied. Hermione gave him a confused look. She’d never heard him use the word ‘sufficient.’ 

Arennia’s wand traced some kind of symbol over the table before she muttered something Hermione couldn’t hear. In an odd puff of smoke, two parchments appeared in the space. Arennia slid her brother’s results across to Hermione, before handing her results off to Blaise, who was arching his neck trying to read them from a short distance. 

Hermione read Harry’s results with wide eyes. 

“What’s the difference between Heir Apparent and Heirship Claimable?” She asked after a minute. 

“Heirs Apparent can claim the title merely by the right of their birth. Heirship Claimable means there is some requirement that has to be met for the title to be earned,” Arennia explained. “I suppose I should say that family lineages only show if a person is with seven persons of being considered potential heirs. That’s where the Scion title comes into play.” 

Hermione nodded before frowning at the next section.

“Ius Sanguinis?” 

“A term used for gifts that exist in the person’s blood. An active gift is functional without any action or additional learning, latent gifts require practice after which later tests may show the gifts as active as well, and a dormant gift is one that the person has no access to, but their descendants may have.” 

“I only recognize a few of these...” Hermione mumbled. She was not enjoying how little she understood the words on the paper. 

“Alchemistry actually refers to the Potter family's intuitive instinct with magical components. Historically, it has been used for potions, as alchemist work has often been misconstrued as dark in nature. Elementomancy, as the name implies, refers to the ability in which a person can directly sense and interact with natural elements, primarily Earth, Air, Fire, and Water. I believe I have an inclination towards fire, whereas Hadrian takes to air,” Arennia explained. Hermione nodded along, encouraging Arennia to continue. 

“Mage sense is a perception of magic, magical creatures, and wixen around a person. With practice, Hadrian should be able to passively identify familiar persons by the aura of their magic. The metamorphagus ability allows a person to change their own appearance, similar to polyjuice, except that they can change specific features and, as long as they remain focused, the effect does not expire.”

Arennia watched her brother, wondering if he wanted her to skip over the next one. He surprised her by taking over the explanations of the next two. 

“Necromancy isn’t like what it is in Muggle horror stories,” He said softly. Hermione’s head swiveled toward him. “While there are parts of it that do directly relate to death, it primarily focuses on blood rituals that only work correctly when completed in a necropolis, as the magic often includes beseechment to, and the blessing of, Lord Death.”

“Lord Death?” Hermione said skeptically. 

“Many of the creatures related to death understand Parseltongue,” Hadrian continued with a shudder, remembering the creature that Arennia had tormenting Petunia. “Although the trait is mostly used to communicate with snakes.”

“Useful in magic as well, Parsel spellwork is often stronger, especially wards,” Arennia added. “Psionics is a term referring to mind arts, such as Legilimency and Occlumency, which we’ve discussed before.”

“Soul Trauma?” Hermione asked, sucking in a harsh breath. 

“Part of Voldemort’s soul splintered when he tried to kill me the first time; apparently, it’s currently stuck to mine,” Hadrian said bitterly. 

“Uncle Regulus will find a way to eliminate it,” Arennia said adamantly. 

“Core Bind, Gallantry Compulsion??” Hermione was starting to feel sick reading the end of the parchment. 

“Both were removed by the cleansing ritual, Mi,” Hadrian said soothingly. Her eyes found his, fury boiling within hers. 

“That does not undo the fact that they were there to begin with!” She snapped. She reached across the table, snatching Arennia’s results out of Blaise’s hands, not noticing that they were shaking slightly. 

Hermione skimmed through it, noting the differences in their titles and the Ius Sanguinis, her scowl shifting into horrified as she read Arennia’s core health yield results. 

“How did you get soul fractures?” Hermione asked with a tremor in her voice. 

“The first happened when the ritual was broken that had kept my existence hidden for twelve years,” Arennia answered with a grimace, “that one still bothers me sometimes; supposedly it will fade with time.”

“And the other one?” Hermione asked tremulously. 

“I killed a man,” Arennia said nonchalantly. Blaise started laughing, while Theo levelled an icy look at Hermione, who was staring at Arennia in horror. 

“Really, Ren?” Harry asked angrily. Of all the times for his sister to forego tact.

“Well, I did. Everyone is going to know by the time we get to school, she may as well know the whole story instead of the version everyone else will have,” Arennia stated.

“The whole story?” Hadrian asked.

“Do you trust her?” Arennia challenged, leaning across the table.

“Before you were my sister, she was,” Harry replied. “I trust her unconditionally.” 

“I would like to point out that technically I was always your sister,” Arennia said, leaning back in her chair. Harry shrugged again, a motion Hermione caught from the corner of her eye. “You know you’re driving Uncle mad, shrugging all the time, he thought you’d kicked the habit.”

“I did, I brought it back purely to piss him off,” Harry said, shrugging once more with a manic grin. 

“I’m sorry, would one of you care to explain what she meant when she said she killed a man?” Hermione asked, glaring between her best friend and his sister. She was a bit touched he’d basically called her his sister, too, but was more focused on getting to the bottom of whatever they were going on about. 

“Are you familiar with the Peverells?” Arennia asked. Hermione shook her head. 

“Are you familiar with any of the old names in our world?” Theo asked, not unkindly. Hermione took it unkindly, though. 

“No, I don’t know any of the old names flaunted by-” She began, only for Theo to cut off her growing tirade. 

“I wasn’t asking to be rude, Granger,” he said. “I was asking because if you don’t, you should. Not because it’s ‘pureblood doctrine,’ but because it is important to the history of the wizarding world.” He wandered to a nearby shelf, scanning the titles until he found the one he was looking for. “Here, it’s a bit dry, but it does give a pretty good summary of the important family names.” 

Hermione eyed the book skeptically. Harry sighed and accepted it, placing it on the table in front of her. An Overview of Historical Families: Their Plights and Triumphs by Antonius Algiers. Hermione read the cover, but otherwise ignored the book, focusing instead on Arennia. 

“You killed a man?” She pushed. 

“Well, I don’t think so, if you ask me, I exterminated a monster,” Arennia mused. 

“Ren...” Harry said warningly. 

“Fine, fine. We’ll start at the beginning,” Arennia huffed. “Before we left for the dragon reserve, I used a family artefact to murder Vernon Dursley. That action allowed me to be able to claim the Peverell heirship, which resulted in Daddy, Papa, and Uncle finding out what I had done.”

“You- Dur- you’re uncle?” Hermione asked Harry, turning so swiftly that her hair whipped across Harry’s face. He nodded silently. 

“Papa then enlisted a third party to stage a different death, so as far as the public is aware, the person I killed was a Muggle that attacked us in London.”

“He just killed a random Muggle to cover up the fact that you killed Vernon Dursley?” Hermione asked, the horror returning to her voice. 

“No, Mi,” Hadrian said briskly, “the Muggle that attacked did it of his own volition, and it wasn't the first time the man had ever mugged a person. Most of his previous victims died from stab wounds that the police were able to match to him.”

“But did Sirius know that before-”

“He knew the kind of person that would attack him, and that he would be doing the world a favor by getting rid of them,” Hadrian said defensively. 

“Harry, he killed someone!” Hermione exclaimed angrily. 

“My sister could have gone to Azkaban, Hermione!” Harry growled. 

The two had turned in their chairs, facing each other. Their eyes were wild as they glared at one another. They were torn from the staredown when Blaise’s wand started tapping against the table. 

“If you can’t accept this information, Granger, I would be happy to help you forget it,” he said calmly. Hermione gave Harry a searching look, but he said nothing. 

“You would let him obliviate me?” she whispered, hurt. Harry sighed. 

“We faced the trials to the Stone, but I killed Quirrell. You knew that, you accepted it,” He said quietly. “Arennia killed Vernon to protect me. Sirius killed a criminal to protect her. If you can’t accept either of those things, then maybe it would be better if you didn’t know.” The words pained him to say. Hadrian already felt like he was walking a fragile line with Ron; the last thing he wanted was to distance himself from Hermione. 

“Technically, Papa didn’t kill anyone,” Arennia said, earning a kick under the table from her brother. 

“But you did?” Hermione clarified. 

“You’ll find that there’s not much I won’t do for the people I love, Hermione,” Arennia stated coldly. Hermione flinched at the tone. She’d seen firsthand how Panic reacted to threats to Harry; she didn’t doubt what would happen to people who actually laid a hand on him. That Vernon Dursley was dead and not lying derelict in an oubliette was a miracle. 

“I’m not going to betray Harry’s trust,” Hermione said haltingly, eyeing Blaise with distrust. “And I will accept that Arennia did not do what she did out of heartlessness, even if I can’t say it was without malice.”

“So you will play along with the self-defense story erected by Lord Black?” Theo asked evenly. Hermione glanced at him. He was the only Slytherin in their year that took Arithmancy, so she was familiar with his quiet, reticent behavior. This was different. The Theodore Nott who was leaning with an arm on the edge of each of his friend’s chairs looked like he was ready to fight, a notion Hermione found unsettling. 

“If that is what I have to do to keep my best friend, then yes,” Hermione answered. Harry’s expression tightened a fraction as he glared at both Blaise and Theo before he gave his sister an annoyed look. 

“Down, darlings,” Arennia chided, patting Blaise’s arm, while her other crossed to where Theo’s hand was gripping the back of her chair. Blaise gave her an adoring look as he allowed his wand to slide back into the holster, grabbing her hand and brushing a kiss to the back of it. His smirk grew as the blush graced her features again. Theo kept his eyes trained on Hermione, but managed to exchange his hostile expression for something more neutral. He tried to ignore the fleeting sensation of Arennia’s pet name directed at not only Blaise but himself. 

“As you wish, preziosa,” Blaise hummed. 

“I should get back home,” Hermione said after a pregnant pause fell on the group. 

“Take the book with you,” Arennia said, nodding at the book that still sat on the table in front of Hermione. “If you have any questions, or just want to visit, call for Mipsy. She’d be happy to bring you.” 

Hermione glowered, her previous uncertainty vanishing immediately. 

“I don’t need your slave to do anything for me,” she snarled. Harry winced. 

“Oh Godric,” Arennia muttered, leaving her seat to search the shelves. She came back moments later with another book. “Read that one as well. If you have any questions, feel free to ask me or Mipsy. I suppose you could ask Hadrian as well, though he’s still learning as well...” Arennia trailed off. Hermione glanced at the newly offered book. 

“Family Bonds by... Quirkle?” Hermione read the author's name awkwardly. Arennia giggled. 

“Quirkle was a House Elf, I believe he was with the Bones. Famous wizarding law family, you’ll read about them in the other book, of course,” Arennia chattered. Hermione gave Arennia a puzzled expression. 

“I don’t understand...” she said quietly. She wasn’t just referring to old families and house elves. Every time she found herself set in an opinion of Arennia Potter-Black, she found herself stumped. 

At first, she’d thought the girl very similar in behavior to Pansy Parkinson. However, she showed greater kindness than the Slytherin, at least where Harry was concerned. Then she would do something Hermione would categorize as unequivocally horrible, only to have her perspective challenged. Whenever the girl did something pureblooded, Hermione found herself bracing for the insult against her blood status, but it never came. Instead, Arennia offered information on subjects Hermione hadn’t even known existed. Hermione took the elf-written book and pulled on some Gryffindor courage. 

“Could I borrow one of the books you told me about? The ones-”

“About the Magical Conservation groups?” Arennia was giddy as she raced across the library to another section. “One minute, there are a couple you’ll want to get a basis. Plus this one, it’s a little boring, but it does go over various wizarding hobbies and activities, some of which I know aren’t introduced in Hogwarts.” 

Hermione watched with wide eyes as Arennia bustled from shelf to shelf, searching for the books. After a minute, her gaze drifted, and a familiar book caught her eye. 

“You have Muggle books?” she asked, surprised as she stepped closer and confirmed that one of her primary school science books was shelved in the Pottery library. Not only that, but other science books filled a floor-to-ceiling bookcase. 

“I have science books,” Arennia corrected, dropping an armful of books on the table they’d been sitting at. “There are also history books. Daddy had me read this terrible Muggle Studies book; the thing was completely nonsensical. So Papa took Hadrian and me to a Muggle bookstore... I also have this section that has plays and poems and other philosophical writings. Socrates has some interesting takes on a person’s psyche-”

“But they’re Muggle books,” Hermione said. Eyes shifting to each of the cases in the little section. They were indeed filled with books on history, plays, and philosophy; there was even a case that Arennia hadn’t gotten to, in which she could see several classic titles settled in. When she glanced back at Harry’s sister, she found the girl had a new, unreadable expression. 

“Her- Miss Granger,” Arennia said. Unsure if she was still allowed to call the other girl by her first name after the debacle the day had turned into. “My- Our mother was Muggleborn. It may not be the world I grew up in, but it is a part of my history that I want to know about. Is it really any different from you wanting to learn more about the wizarding world you’ve become a part of?” 

Hermione took a step closer to the bookcase with the classics lined on its shelves. She took one off and held it out to the other girl. 

“Frankenstein used to be one of my favorites. I was never really accepted by my peers before Hogwarts. I was... odd to them,” Hermione said, reading the familiar title calmed her a bit. “If you have any questions about any of this,” she gestured around the smaller section around them, “I’d be happy to help.” 

Arennia smiled softly, a warm expression that made Hermione question her analysis of the girl all over again. She took the offered book, thumbing through it briefly, before meeting Hermione’s stare again. 

“I’ll read it right away,” she promised. Hermione recognized the sincerity in the green eyes, the only trait that really made it apparent that she and Harry were related. She broke eye contact and moved to observe the various titles Arennia had gathered for her. She noticed 

“I’ll work on these as well, though I can’t say yet which one I’ll start with,” Hermione said with a small chuckle. 

Arennia moved towards the stack and pulled out the book by Quirkle the House Elf, placing it at the top. 

“I would appreciate it if you started with this one,” she said. “House elves are very proud creatures. Mipsy would be deeply upset if someone called her a slave. And I meant what I said, about what I would do for those I love. She falls under that category.” 

“Alright,” Hermione said cautiously, “I guess I will start with that book. If- Mipsy would be willing to answer any questions I might have?” 

“Mipsy woulds be happy to,” the elf croaked, making the girls jump. “Master Hadrian said Miss Mione was ready to be returned home.”

Hermione turned her attention back to the stack of books Arennia had set for her to borrow. 

“Oh, dear, how-”

Mipsy snapped, the books vanishing from the table.

“Mipsy bes taking care of it, Miss Mione. Are yous ready to be going?” The elf asked. Hermione’s eyes were wide, but she nodded. 

“Oh, wait!” Arennia cried, running to the far side of the library for another book. She handed it directly to Hermione. “You can keep this one; we have more than one copy, and I did promise to get it for you.”

Hermione looked at the book; it was gray in a way that made it look like dust had merged with it. 

“An Introduction of Self: Basics of Meditation, Occlumency and Legilimency...” She read the title, remembering the conversation they’d had at the Dragon Reserve. “Thank you.” 

“Don’t thank me, your ability to occlude will benefit me too, can’t imagine what Dumbles would do if he figured out the truth of the heirship,” Arennia stated with a scoff. 

“I think I’m ready to go home now, Mipsy,” Hermione said carefully, brows furrowed. Surely Arennia wasn't referring to the Headmaster...

The elf grabbed Hermione’s elbow and apparated back to the Granger house. 

“I didn’t realize you read Muggle literature,” Blaise said as he finally left his place at the table. He glanced over the various titles with a skeptical brow. 

“She was literally reading Pride and Prejudice yesterday while we were playing Wizard’s Chess,” Theo replied. 

“I thought it was some kind of etiquette thing for girls,” he replied. Hadrian started snickering at Arennia’s offended expression. An expression that quickly shifted into something acidic and coy. 

“Are you implying that I need further etiquette practice, Heir Zabini?” She asked sweetly. Blaise gulped. Arennia was many things, but sweet and coy was not one of them. Not unless she was preparing to gut someone with silver words. 

“Of course not, Heiress Le Fay-Peverell,” Blaise said repentantly. His shift in demeanor served only to add Theo’s snickering to Hadrian’s. “My apologies, Bellezza, clearly I need further education as well.”

Arennia grinned wickedly. Plucking a book off one of the walls. 

“Wonderful, I think you should start here,” she pushed the book into Blaise’s chest, passing him as she left for the exit. “We should have had Hermione stay for lunch, as it is, we may be late.”

An amused Hadrian followed his sister. Theo, still chuckling lightly, moved to see what title she had given their friend. His amusement came back full force as he read it. 

“The Rise and Fall of the Medici’s: Italy’s Most Revered Family,” Theo read aloud, laughing harder by the end of the title. “Congratulations, Blaise, you’ve finally dug a hole you can’t flirt your way out of.”

“Why would I need to?” Blaise asked seriously. “You’ll say some grand rational statement that will have me back in her good graces before the day is out.” 

“I will?” Theo asked, his laughter dying. 

“Of course, you always know how to calm her down,” Blaise said dismissively. Theo blinked rapidly, digesting the information. Do I? He thought to himself as he mutely followed Blaise to the Pottery’s dining room. 

Chapter Text

Theo decided to test Blaise’s statement. He didn't think calming Arennia was a skill he possessed, especially not over his friend, who had a frankly alarming obsession with the girl. Not that Theo wasn’t accustomed to Blaise’s infatuations with the opposite gender. He was there when Blaise would swoon. There again, when Blaise would brag. Ever present when Blaise complained about the inevitable fallout. 

That was Theo’s role. He was the constant that Blaise would always have. Something that Blaise would never find in anyone else. Or so Theo had thought. 

Everything changed with the cobra. When Blaise had insisted that Potter’s new snake had tried Legilimency, Theo had taken the pragmatic approach. Informing his closest friend that no creature, magical or mundane, could perform Legilimency. 

Weeks later, they’d been walking to the library when Blaise had suddenly dragged them off course. The secret room in the seventh-floor corridor had amazed Theo, but he’d been more amazed to learn that Blaise had been correct. He wasn't sure what he made of the red-haired witch Blaise had found, but he’d played along, as ever he did with Blaise’s whims. Theo never thought it would go as far as it had. 

From Blaise kidnapping the cobra, to his giving her a name, and meeting with her continuously throughout the semester. He’d been especially shocked when Blaise, at his own expense, had saved the animagus from a death sentence. At that point, Theo had been determined to keep his distance from the girl. The further in Blaise got, the more concerned Theo was that this time, Blaise was going to be the one burned. He’d been half ready to eliminate the cobra as it sank into an odd depression that had Blaise pleading with it in the Great Hall. 

That was the day that Theo had become thoroughly rattled. The arrival of James Potter and the Black brothers, and the revelation of the girl’s name. Arennia Lillian Potter-Black.The name felt like it had been hammered into his skull. Theo had barely had the presence of mind to stop Blaise from joining the family reunion when Senza- no Arennia had tears shining in her eyes. A motion Regulus Black had caught. 

Theo had not liked the odds that day. His friend hadn't chosen to toy with just some girl. No, he’d somehow managed to start a dangerous game that would have him at odds with the Black and Potter Lords, the long-lost Black Scion, and Lord Black’s apparent werewolf lover. A mix that Theo didn't think he could protect his friend from, even with his life. 

He’d been ready to silence Blaise when he’d yelled at Ronald Weasley, but Arennia’s laughter had beaten him to it. The sound had left Theo absolutely gutted. Watching the girl speak with venom at the Gryffindor had felt like the final nail in the coffin, especially as he watched Blaise’s dazed expression. He managed to pull himself enough to tease his friend, mimicking the way Blaise had so gallantly kissed the back of her hand through disbelieving chuckles. 

The torn feeling lingered, haunting Theo the rest of that day, right up until the moment she sat between him and Blaise that evening. He was surprised by how well she clicked into place.  From that moment, Theo decided that in every way he was Blaise’s, he could be hers too. 

So he continued in his regular manner, though now he took note of all the little things about Arennia that he already knew about Blaise. A catalogue of their similarities and differences that fascinated him. Even in his silent musings, he was surprised at how easily Arennia included him in everything. Now that she was able to be a person, she wielded that right like a weapon. 

He found himself counting how many times she addressed Blaise versus himself. The number stayed strangely balanced except in the rare instances where Blaise’s name was hissed in admonishment for some statement or action on the Italian’s part. Always, it seemed she would greet them, whoever was closest, never farthest, a balanced greeting that never gave the impression that she held one in higher regard than the other.

The invitation to the Dragon Reserve, even after her balancing act, had caught him off guard. His father had given clear instructions to gauge the current waters of the combined Potter-Black household, trying to determine which house’s traditional leanings the family followed. He was relieved when his father accepted the report of the Malfoy family’s presence as promising and was able to successfully keep Hermione Granger’s name out of it. 

His blood ran cold when he received Hadrian’s letter. The vagueness of it pissed him off, but he was more concerned by Arennia’s supposed state of indefinite indisposement. Theo knew there would likely be consequences for leaving to stay with Blaise without permission, but he didn’t care. He barely managed conversation after stepping foot out of the Floo in Blaise’s home, and again when Mipsy took them to the Pottery. He caught Blaise’s inclusion of him in the negotiations. 

From the books spread around Hadrian to the statement of Arennia’s states as Heiress Peverell, dread had filled Theo. The worst thing he could think of was that whatever she had done had ended with her being kissed by a Dementor. Something that he knew had no known cure. Nothing in the Nott Grimoire could even combat the loss of one’s soul. He found his ability to breathe again when Hadrian explained Sirius Black’s cover-up, something he did not see coming from the well-known white sheep of the Black family. The ritual that knocked Arennia out piqued his interest. 

The first thing he checked when he was able to scan Arennia’s health was that her soul, thank gods, was intact. After further analysis, he learned that the ritual was tethered to her blood. The magical pull was preventing it from flowing enough for her to be alert, let alone functional. Theo knew; he knew he should get permission from her father, either one, before performing the ritual. He knew that it was possible they would participate, perhaps even perform the ritual themselves. 

Theo had been selfish by holding the suggestion back. He wanted to be the one to bring her back. In an ideal world, he wanted it just to be him and Blaise, but he knew it would be better to have Hadrian as well. Not that he would have been able to convince Hadrian not to, the Gryffindor had leaped on the chance before Theo had finished explaining the process. Theo had wilted slightly when Blaise had declared them insane, wondering if maybe Blaise wasn't as devoted to Arennia as Theo had thought. The fleeting notion passed as soon after the declaration, Blaise had given his agreement as well. 

His comment in reaction to Hadrian’s protective brotherly spell had been merely joking, but now Theo questioned everything. Damn Blaise and his careless statement... 

“You alright, Theo?” Arennia whispered, snapping Theo out of his thoughts. “The lamb’s already dead, you don’t have to stab it,” she tittered, gesturing at his plate, where he was, in fact, stabbing the lamb chop harshly with his fork. His grip loosened immediately, regaining control as he mechanically continued eating his food. Theo didn't answer Arennia, not while his thoughts were a wreck. 

An idea sparked for Theo.  Blaise thought Theo could calm Arennia. Theo wondered if she had the ability to do the same for him. 

“Blaise said something,” he said quietly enough that Blaise wasn't able to hear on the other side of Arennia. Arennia’s head tilted to Theo curiously. 

“If he was rude to you, I am happy to hex him for you,” Arennia whispered back. Theo shook his head softly. 

“No, he wasn’t rude, the comment just... unsettled me, I suppose,” Theo replied. He was regretting the rash plan. Especially when Arennia turned to face him fully, with worry in her eyes. 

“Shall I send him home?” She asked. 

“No, I don't want to go yet,” Theo insisted. Arennia frowned. 

“I wasn't planning on sending you off. If he’s done something to make you uncomfortable, I have no qualms banishing him from our presence until he makes proper amends,” Arennia said. Theo gaped. He certainly wasn't calmed by her, but he was moved in a way he hadn't ever been before. 

“You would keep me... without Baise?” Theo asked somewhat dumbly. Arennia snorted softly. 

“Well, I would much rather keep you with Blaise, but if he’s being a dunce, he can wallow in solitude,” she sniffed. Theo grabbed her arm when she went to turn towards Blaise, likely to tell him off immediately. 

“Don’t,” Theo whispered, her eyes moved back to his. “It was... innocuous. Please?” The emerald gaze seared into him, but he didn't waver. Theo found that he would rather prefer to keep her and Blaise as well. 

“Very well,” she relented, “but you will tell me if you change your mind?”

Theo nodded, even as he internally thought, never.

Chapter Text

“A pleasure to finally meet you, Heiress Le Fay-Peverell,” Silvergleam said as the assorted family settled into her office. 

“I have heard interesting things about you, Healer Silvergleam,” Arennia said calmly. Silvergleam grinned at that, something that resembled baring her teeth over smiling. The expression widened as the goblin glimpsed the gold line around the child’s wrist. 

“You have met King Ragnok,” she stated, nodding toward the wrist. Arennia’s eyes narrowed. 

“How much do you know?” The girl asked coldly. Silvergleam held back a chuckle. She liked the girl as much as the boy. They were not afraid to confront her, or anyone, it seemed. 

“Silvergleam’s contract has strict secrecy stipulations,” James answered, “with those came the condition of transparency on our part.” 

“So she knows that I killed Vernon Dursley,” Arennia stated drily. Silvergleam caught the way James and Regulus stiffened with the words. Sirius and Hadrian both were scowling at the men, whereas Remus looked resigned to something inevitable. 

“You are unbothered by that claim?” Silvergleam asked the girl directly. Arennia glared at the goblin before addressing her brother. 

“Does she know what they did?” Arennia demanded. Hadrian gave a hesitant nod that Arennia took to return to glaring at the healer. “My only regret is that Vernon Dursley got it easy,” she hissed. 

“I see, I suppose you’re rather happy with the arrangements you made for your aunt, then?” Silvergleam asked. Arennia snapped. 

“That woman is nothing! She deserves every second of misery she experiences for the horrific way she disrespected her sister’s memory,” Arennia seethed. Silvergleam smirked. 

“But she is your mother’s sister, she, unlike Vernon, is blood-”

“I would sooner burn the shared blood from her very veins than claim her as anything other than a nightmare better left forgotten!” 

“Arennia!” James yelled indignantly. 

“She isn’t wrong, James,” Sirius said darkly, “Even Lily realized her sister was only that in blood and not bond. Hadrian should never have gone to that woman.”

“He would have gone to you if you hadn’t decided to play vigilante!” James countered. 

“I spent twelve years paying for that mistake, James, or did you forget my accommodations in Azkaban?” Sirius growled. 

Silvergleam watched the conflict with amusement. Eyes darting between each of the men as they aired their grievances. 

“Accommodations you could have left at any point,” Regulus muttered. 

“And where were you?” Hadrian asked suddenly. “Both of you chose to stay ignorant of the world outside the Pottery. You chose to believe everything was fine. You were just as wrong as Sirius, worse actually, since you had no intentions of checking anything. If Ren hadn’t decided to check in the middle of the night, I’d still be stuck there, Sirius would still be wanted, and Arennia would still be wasting away in the Pottery for Godric knows how long!” 

“Hadrian,” Remus moved to calm him, but was stopped when the glare was directed his way. 

“You’re worse than all of them. You could have checked. You weren’t in Azkaban, you weren’t stuck by some secret ritual, you chose to stay away. I might understand why, but I don’t have to like it.” Hadrian was breathing heavily by the end of his explosion. Silvergleam beamed at the boy with pride. 

“You are perfectly right, Master Hadrian,” she crooned. The older wizards gaped at her. “Do any of you disagree with his observations?” 

None of them spoke, because none of them could deny the terrible truth of Hadrian’s claims. Silvergleam eyed each of them before gazing at Hadrian again, her head nodding in Arennia’s direction.

“You forgot someone,” she said. The already rage-fueled expression darkened further. 

“My sister is a child,” Hadrian said. “She should not be held responsible for circumstances she did not create.”

“I’m not saying she should, but surely you have an opinion on her that would be beneficial for your family to know,” Silvergleam pushed. 

“She found out what happened. She did the footwork to bring us together again. She made sure that no matter what happens, I’ll never have to deal with Vernon Dursley again.”

“She lied to you, pretended to be your familiar, snapped your best friend’s wand, killed your uncle, and set a demon on your aunt,” Silvergleam deadpanned. Hadrian hesitated, enough for Arennia to interject. 

“Is omission really a lie?” She asked. “I told him that I was in Hogwarts for him. I told him what happened, even if he didn’t realize what it was about. I never lied.” 

“You did call him master, playing along with Remus’s assumption that you were his familiar, did you not?” Silvergleam challenged. 

“He is the heir to the Houses of our namesakes, by the old standards that do garner him the title of master in relation to my position in the family hierarchy,” Arennia retorted. 

“So, you never lied, just used omission and technicalities to secure your position?” Silvergleam asked. She was enjoying this far too much. Most young wix weren’t so tactile in their deceptions. Arennia’s deflections fascinated her. 

“I outright fainted when Blaise Zabini merely asked for my name. Short of embracing death, I could not tell Hadrian everything!” 

“When did you faint?” Regulus asked. He didn’t remember her telling them about that. 

“After he figured out I was an animagus. When he kidnapped me at Christmas to warn me that the Headmaster and Professor Snape were both Legilimens.”

“He kidnapped you?” James asked angrily. 

“Blaise Zabini saved my skin last year, and was the only reason I didn’t break Hogwarts apart brick by bloody brick,” Arennia snarled. 

“I don’t think I like the friends you’ve chosen-” James started, only to be cut off as his daughter finally hit the limit of her patience. 

“Why, father?” she sneered. “Because they’re what? Dark? I’m fucking Dark! Uncle Regulus is fucking Dark! Sirius, much as he may have denied it in his youth, is fucking Dark! Your oldest friend, sat right there, is a werewolf! Don’t you dare sit there and tell me that I can’t keep Blaise and Theo because you’ve chosen to be a hypocrite!”

“There is a difference, starlight,” Regulus said softly, “between being Dark and being evil.” 

“Oh, yeah?” Arennia challenged, a mad glint shining in her eyes. “Pretty sure there’s a difference between being Light and being good, too. Too bad we can’t invite Pettigrew to weigh in on that!” 

No one spoke in the wake of her statement. There wasn’t a sound to be heard save her ragged breathing until Silvergleam decided to intervene. 

“You are right, child,” she said, as gently as a goblin could. “Dark is not always evil, and Light is not always good.” Before our next meeting, I think it would be beneficial for both you and Hadrian to write the qualities you believe make someone evil or good. As for the rest of you,” the goblin gave weighted looks to each of the adults, “I believe it would be good practice for you to each choose both a Dark and Light practice or spell, and write a way that each can be used for good and for evil.”

“You’re giving us homework?” Remus asked. 

“Fear not, Master Lupin,” Silvergleam smirked, “the only grade you’ll receive is the children’s judgment.” 

When the group returned to the Pottery, the twins immediately sought Blaise and Theo, and were pleasantly surprised to find an unexpected guest with them. 

“Hermione!” Hadrian exclaimed, greeting her with a warm hug. 

“Are you two okay?’ Hemrione asked, having caught the expressions they’d entered the library with. 

“Supposedly, we’re mentally recovering after a most beneficial family session with our mind healer,’ Arennia scoffed as she curled up on her favorite window seat. Hemrione gave Hadrian a bewildered look, which he returned with a weak smile. 

“We’ll be fine. The session was just.... Heated,” he says wryly. 

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” Arennia declared, accepting a blanket Theo handed her. “What were you three up to before we rained on your parade?” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

James had retreated to his office, glaring a hole into the empty paper he had divided with a line down the center. On one side, he’d written Light, the other Dark, and he could not for the life of him think of something for either that could be both good and evil. It was in the middle of this episode that he was disrupted by a knock on the door. 

“Come in,” he sighed. He expected Remus or Regulus, given that they at least knocked most of the time, Sirius certainly did not, and James doubted either of his children would actively be searching for him at present. 

“If you’re trying to burn that parchment, a simple incendio would suffice,” Severus stated. 

“Tempting,” James said, a smile threatening his otherwise brooding expression. He shoved the paper aside, giving Severus his attention. “How can I help you, Professor?” James asked with a hint of his regular self playing in his voice. Hesitantly, the potions master handed him a vial. 

“I can guarantee it won’t kill you,” he said drily. “It’s a modified version of the Oculus Potion, one that, if my adjustments are correct, should work on an adult.” 

James took the bottle gingerly, eyes darting between it and Severus Snape. 

“Is this what you’ve been so preoccupied with?” James asked strangely. Severus stiffened at the odd note in the man’s voice. 

“It was that or hexing you or Regulus for your idiocy,” he sneered defensively. 

“Right, well,” James started the process of cleaning his damned glasses on his shirt, making Severus wish he’d just gone with hexing the man. After placing the frames back, he smirked at Severus in a way that made him think James knew exactly how much the motion annoyed him, before opening the vial. “Bottoms up,” James raised the vial towards Severus before downing it in a gulp. 

Severus was bewildered by the blind trust James Potter had apparently decided to grant him, not for the first time since the man’s return to the land of the living. Even if he hadn't ever actually died. 

“That,” James said, desperately trying not to gag, “was far worse than the original version.”

“I said it wouldn’t kill you, not that it would taste like the sugar quills you’re so fond of,” Severus huffed. James shot him a surprised look, which only further shifted into confusion as James realized everything had become fuzzy and unfocused. 

“I think you made me blind,” he said as calmly as he could. He could barely make out the exasperated sound that came with the blurry head tilt, as Severus snatched his glasses off his face. 

“Well,” James said, blinking as the world cleared and sharpened better than he’d ever experienced before, “Hallelujah!”

Severus shook his head. He was about to storm out away from the insufferable man, but then James’s eyes snapped to his, and Severus stared. He’d always thought the man’s eyes were a brown and blue hazel, but without the glasses, he could see that that blue was just the outermost ring of the man’s irises. The innermost was almost a pearlescent white color. The center ring was a golden hue bordering on bronze that he’d mistaken for brown. 

“You alright there, Professor?” James asked with a grin. Severus realized then that James Potter’s grin was as unfairly perfect as girls in school had often gossiped, a thought that had his brain screeching to a halt. 

“Severus?” James asked, now mildly concerned. The concerned expression was worse, and Severus found himself questioning every interaction with James Potter. He also wondered if he could reverse the Oculus potion so the man would be forced to wear the glasses for an eternity, after all, as he had to tear his eyes from James’s. 

It was luck that the discarded parchment James had been working on was what caught his eye, as it rekindled the flame of his disdain for the man. 

“Light and Dark?” He asked harshly. James glanced at the parchment and sighed. The resigned noise was not what Severus had been expecting. 

“Homework from the mind healer,” James muttered, sliding the paper back in front of himself, tapping the end of a fountain pen against the mahogany desk. The motion made Severus double-take; he’d given that pen to Lily for her birthday, the last birthday before their falling out. Every few taps, James would twirl the pen in a way that made Severus dizzy. 

“I’ve just realized, incendio is a light spell technically, right?” James asked suddenly, the pen moving to the parchment as he glanced up at Severus, waiting for his response. Severus decided he was wrong before. The worst look from James Potter was the imploring one, with him looking up under the fringe of messed hair with his opalescent eyes. Severus managed a nod, confirming James’s analysis.

James immediately scrawled incendio under the side of the parchment with Light at the top. Severus frowned. 

“What exactly is this assignment meant to be?” He asked. 

James finished writing a bullet under the spell, and Severus read it with confusion. 

Good use: Lighting a candle 

Severus was about to ask again, but James had started the second bullet point. 

Evil use: Lighting someone on fire

“There, now,” James grinned back up at Severus, “give me a Dark spell.” 

Chapter Text

Sirius groaned, head dropping to Remus’s shoulder when a rapid series of knocks came from their door. 

“If that is Reggie or Prongs, I am going to castrate them,” he muttered. Remus chuckled. 

“Well, lucky for them, it’s the kids,” he said. The only time Moony hadn’t recognized kit or cub had been when Arennia had been under the lifelock, in addition to being a cobra. Now, after being around them for weeks on end, he doubted even that would be able to prevent him from finding them. 

Sirius immediately fixed his shirt and opened the door. He gave the kids an odd look as Arennia nudged Hermione forward. 

“Arennia gave me some books, and... I tried some of the mind art meditations...” Hermione said, halting every few words. 

“We think Hermione has a compulsion, perhaps even more than one,” Arennia finished abruptly. 

“That... is a suspicion you should probably take to her parents,” Sirius said slowly. 

“We were hoping you would be willing to talk with them, and maybe go with them to Gringotts for the test?” Hadrian asked, his voice barely a whisper. 

“ME? I-” Sirius gave Remus an alarmed look, only to find his partner shaking with quiet laughter. 

“Please, Papa?” Arennia implored. 

“Wouldn’t your Dad or Uncle be-”

“Uncle has issues,” Hadrian stated coldly, eyes darting meaningfully Hermione’s way. 

“And Hadrian isn’t willing to ask Father,” Arennia said, making her brother shoot her a cross look. 

“Er-Moons?” Sirius asked, expecting backup. 

“Congratulations, love, you are now the approachable parent,” Remus said with a grin. “Of course, you could always say no-” he added, with a forlorn look. 

Which is why Sirius found himself sitting at the dining table of Mr. and Mrs. Granger’s home half an hour later. Hadrian and Arennia sat on either side of him, whereas across the table, the Granger parents sat with Hermione between them. The juxtaposition made him feel even less qualified to be the parent his children had thrown into this. 

“I don’t understand,” Mrs. Granger said, petting Hermione’s hair down and searching her daughter’s face for signs of something amiss. 

“Wouldn’t we know if our daughter was acting... different?” Mr. Granger asked, frowning at the man who had introduced himself as Lord Black, Hadrian and Arennia’s other father. 

“Compulsions, successful ones, amplify traits a person already has. Besides that, we suspect it may have been done early into the kids’ first year at school, with them gone so long-”

“You think we might not have noticed it?” Mrs. Granger said with terror. 

“I had one,” Hadrian said quietly. “It made me... inclined towards heroic acts. While I would have likely done most things anyway, I probably wouldn’t have been so... careless with my own life at times.” 

“The test, the one that determined he had one, it can be done today?” Mrs. Granger asked. Her husband gave her a sharp look that she ignored. 

“Yes, and if it determines that she has some kind of compulsion, we can have it gone before the day's end as well,” Sirius said firmly. 

“Monica-” Mr. Granger barely said his wife’s name when she gave him a defiant glare. 

“She will be getting the test done, Robert. I won’t risk something messing with our daughter’s head!” 

“Fine, but we’re taking the car,” he grumbled. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wixen Inheritance Test with Core Health Yield

Wixen: Hermione Jean Granger

Date of Birth: 19th September 1979

Parentage

Biological Father: Rodolphus LeStrange

Biological Mother: Monica Wilson

Family Lineage & Titles

LeStrange - Heir Apparent (Dernier Ressort)

Ius Sanguinis

Psionics - (LeStrange) - Active

Core Health Yield

Magical Affinity: Dark

Aurelin Compulsion - Inflicted 8th November 1991

Authority Allegiance Compulsion - Inflicted 8th November 1991 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mrs. Granger had barely glanced at the paper before she’d paled, her eyes brimming with tears. Her husband rounded on Sirius, who was glad he’d suggested that Hadrian and Arennia wait outside while Hermione did her test. He was beginning to wish he had as well. 

“You did not tell us the test would show her parents,” the man said harshly. 

“I... honestly, I didn’t think it would be an issue,” Sirius said. The wrong thing to say in defense, as Mrs. Granger began sobbing. 

“Who is Rodolphus LeStrange?” Hermione asked. Sirius sucked in a sharp breath. 

“You know that name?” Mr. Granger asked. Sirius nodded while fighting the nauseous feeling that had started growing. 

“What?!” Mrs. Granger said, pulling her daughter into an embrace, pulling her away from Sirius. The terror in the woman’s eyes confirmed Sirius’s suspicions. Mr. Granger moved himself between Sirius and his family. 

Sirius held his hands out, “I swear to you, Rodolphus LeStrange is no friend of mine,” he swore. 

“Who is he?!” Hermione yelled, breaking out of her mother’s arms. Sirius wanted to run. The girl wasn’t asking her mother or her father. No, she was looking at him with eyes brimming with unshed tears. 

“He is in Azkaban, Hermione,” Sirius said as calmly as he could. 

“Why?” She asked insistently. 

“Because he and his brother, Rabastan, were Death Eaters.” 

Hermione turned back to her mother, tears spilling over. “How is he my father?” 

Mrs. Granger shook her head, sobs preventing her from speaking. Mr. Granger pulled his wife into an embrace. Sirius knew what had happened. He was only curious how Mrs. Granger had survived. 

“Hermione, look at me,” he ordered. The girl glared at him fiercely, even as tears continued tracking down her face. “Whatever that paper says, Rodolphus LeStrange is not your father. He did not raise you or care for you or give you the kind of love a father should.” He said sternly. 

“He hurt my mother, didn't he?” she whispered weakly. Sirius tried to keep his composure, but he could tell that she’d seen something through the facade. Her face crumpled into something painful that Sirius couldn’t witness. His gaze met Mr. Granger's.  

“I swear to you, none of this was my intention; however, we don’t have much time,” he said seriously. 

“Time? Time for what?” Mrs. Granger asked in panic. 

“I thought you said the bastard was locked up?” Mr. Granger said dangerously. 

“He is,” Sirius said, “but his father is not, and Corvus LeStrange will not hesitate to take Hermione, legitimate child or not. She is the only person who can carry on the LeStrange title.”

“He can’t just take our daughter,” Mrs. Granger said, sobbing again. 

“Unfortunately, he can. However, another family with a claim to her could petition for protective restrictions, effectively hiding her name from him until her majority.”

“We have a claim to her,” Mr. Granger growled. 

“I mean no disrespect, but I meant another wizarding family,” Sirius said. 

“But the test didn’t show another wizarding family,” Hermione said. Her parents gave her terrified looks. 

“No, it didn’t, but it could,” Sirius said. “Hadrian already considers you his sister, as Lord of my own house, I could blood adopt you as I did them. Then I could immediately place the petition before the information leaves this room.”

“You want to adopt her?” Mr. Granger spluttered. Sirius gave him a curious look. 

“You could as well, actually,” Sirius replied. “Blood adoption involves a ritual, one that would make her biologically my child, and, well, it could make her yours as well. Then you both would have a majority claim, something I wouldn’t be able to contest, but I would be able to protect her from the LeStranges.” 

“But when I turn seventeen...” Hermione said, her lips trembling. 

“Then all he will get is your name; my protection will not end just because you become an adult any more than your parents would stop calling you their daughter. Besides, you’ve seen what Arennia is currently capable of doing to protect her only brother, do you really think she would let anyone lay a hand on her only sister?” 

“They would be my siblings,” Hermione said, her expression shifting into mild wonder. 

Sirius faced the Grangers again. 

“I know this is not ideal, but it is a desperate situation,” he said grimly. He could already imagine what Corvus LeStrange would be willing to do. Accidental deaths were most likely, and manipulations that paled in comparison to a few compulsions. 

“We can’t just- this is-” Mr. Granger struggled to find the words, eventually stopping to take a calming breath. 

“Could Harry and Arennia come in?” Hermione asked softly. Sirius glanced at the Grangers, who said nothing in response to the request, and then nodded to Sharptooth, who brought in the twins. Hadrian immediately clocked Hermione’s distress, pulling her into a hug, while Arennia rounded on Sirius. 

“What did you say to her!?” Arennia yelled. The Granger parents watched the interactions, still clinging to each other. 

“Could you show her the results?” Hermione asked, her voice muffled in Hadrian’s chest. 

Arennia grabbed the parchment from Sharptooth, magic sparking dangerously as she read it, making the Granger parents apprehensive. She carefully set the paper down, turning toward Sirius. 

“He’s going to kill them,” she said grimly, making Mrs. Granger whimper. Arennia ignored it as she continued. “And then he’s going to take Hermione, and he’s going to twist her into something just as bad as Bellatrix, possibly worse.” 

“Who?” Hermione mumbled. Hadrian tightened his grip on her. He knew exactly who Bellatrix was and everything she’d done to land herself in Azkaban. He wasn’t sure who Arennia was talking about, but he wasn’t going to let her predictions play out. 

“We have six houses, Ren,” Hadrian said fiercely, “Four without the Potter or Black Lines. Whoever he is, he won’t touch her.”

“Rodolphus LeStrange is her Sire. Hadrian, Corvus LeStrange will do whatever he has to do to secure the future of House LeStrange.” Arennia wished she’d never suggested the Inheritance test. She should have suggested St. Mungo’s; she was just worried that news of the compulsion would make it back to the source. That Hermione and Hadrian would be ensnared again. Here, she knew she could get protective talismans to prevent compulsions from taking root. 

§Then kill him!§ Hadrian hissed, slipping into Parsel as he asked his sister to do the one thing he knew no one else would. Arennia‘s eyes snapped to her brother’s. The two stared at each other quietly. 

“If there is no other solution, then I will,” Arennia said after a moment. Sirius frowned. 

“You will what, Arennia?” He asked. Her eyes snapped to him. 

“Whatever is necessary,” she answered. 

“You can protect her?” Mrs. Granger asked. Arennia refused to turn to the woman. Her eyes dropped from her Papa’s face. 

“Harry, what did you tell her?” Hermione sniffled, stepping back from him and seeing another new expression on the only witch that had made her feel like she actually belonged in the wizarding world. “Arennia, what will you do?” Hermione tried asking the other girl, but the girl’s expression had shifted into something unyielding. There was no emotion. 

“Hadrian?” Sirius asked nervously, only for his son to turn away, ignoring him in favor of the very intriguing view of the iron door behind them. 

“Arennia?” Hermione asked, stepping closer until she could grab the other girl’s hand. Arennia glanced at her before her eyes flickered back to the parchment filled with loathing. “What did Harry ask you to do?” Instead of answering, Arennia pulled a pen from somewhere and struck a single line through the LeStrange name where it was written under Lineage & Titles. Hermione’s eyes widened. “No, you can’t!” 

“I told you before, Hermione, there’s not much I’m unwilling to do for those I love. I may not know you as well as Hadrian, but he considers you a sister. Therefore, I consider you a sister, and I will not allow anyone to hurt you any more than I would allow them to harm Hadrian.”

“I’m confused. What’s happening?” Mr. Granger asked, watching the exchange with confusion. Hermione chose the path of candor.

“If there is no other way, Arennia will kill Corvus LeStrange,” she whispered. 

Sirius’s eyes closed. He wasn’t surprised that that was the solution to the problem the twins had come up with. 

“Arennia, you won’t get within a hundred yards of that man,” he stated, instead of trying for outright denial, as that had worked so well for his brothers. 

“Now wait just a moment,” Mrs. Granger said, appalled by the turn the conversation had taken. “Are you saying our options are the adoption thing or murder?”

“Well, attempted murder at least,” Arennia said monotonously. “Corvus LeStrange will learn his son Sired an Heir within forty-eight hours of us leaving today. It won’t leave much time for planning so much as attempting.” 

“Murder is not the answer, young lady,” Mrs. Granger admonished. 

Arennia laughed, a mirthless laugh. “Neither is torture, Mrs. Granger, but I assure you, Corvus LeStrange will resort to that and worse to mold Hermione into a proper LeStrange. If it’s his death versus Hermione’s well-being, which would you choose?” 

The memory of the assault years ago by a man she’d never had a name for flashed through Monica Granger’s mind. She clutched her husband's hand in hers as she faced Sirius Black once more. 

“You would allow this?” She asked. 

“No,” Sirius replied grimly, “I would aid and abet it. If you do not want to accept the blood adoption, that is your choice. My children have made theirs, and they won’t be changed. If they decide that Corvus LeStrange has to die to protect Hermione, then I will assassinate the man myself. Though I must say, that’s not at all what I had in mind when I left home this afternoon.”

“Wait, blood adoption?” Hadrian asked. “Like you did with Arennia and me?” 

Sirius nodded. “I would be able to petition the goblin nation for protective restrictions, preventing LeStrange from learning anything beyond the fact that an Heir exists. Hermione’s name would be barred from him until her majority.”

“That would be preferable,” Arennia murmured thoughtfully. 

“Would that be a firm enough claim to keep her from - them?” Mr. Granger asked. He’d heard of plenty of adoptions ending when the original parents fought for their children back. 

“Blood adoption will literally make her biologically my child, as well as yours, if you choose, and Monica’s. The ritual is irreversible. Hadrian and Arennia may have been James's biological children first, but the moment I blood adopted them, they became an equal part of mine. If I wanted, I could sue for custody of them, and, possibly, win. It would depend upon which of us provided better care, and, at this age, where the twins would want to go.”

“So you could try to take custody of Hermione?” Mrs. Granger asked fretfully. Sirius groaned. This day was turning into a headache. He really hoped James would pull his act together, because being the active father was like trying to climb the whomping willow for fun. Something he had foolishly tried, and greatly regretted.

“I would be willing to sign a legally binding document, before the ritual, stating not to do such a thing to you. I will not, however, sign away all rights to her. If LeStrange does somehow find her, and I have to face him in court to keep her out of his grasp, it would be an easy win for him if I did.”

“Can all that be done today? How long have we been here?” Mr. Granger asked, looking for a clock. 

“I can activate a time stasis for the remainder of this visit, encompassing the negotiations, blood adoption rituals, and, of course, the cleansing for the compulsions,” Sharptooth said, grinning viciously. 

“Yes, yes, for a fee,” Sirius huffed. “Name it.” 

“Twenty thousand galleons,” the goblin stated. Sirius gave the goblin an odd look. While it was a large sum, it was what he would expect for the time stasis alone. 

“For everything, the stasis covering the remainder of our business, as well as coverage for the custody contract and ritual fees for the cleansing and two blood adoptions, as well as the paperwork for my petition?” Sirius clarified, careful to list everything he could think of. 

“For twenty-five thousand, we will also reperform the tests on all three children at the end, as well as provision anti-compulsion rings with the black crest for the twins, and another for the new Scion that will glamor over the LeStrange Heirship ring.” Sharptooth offered. Sirius resisted the urge to gape at the offer, missing the wink the goblin shot Arennia’s way. 

“Deal,” Sirius said numbly, shaking the Goblin’s hand. 

“I’m not sure we can afford that,” Mrs. Granger said faintly, running the conversion calculations in her head. Sirius’s barking laugh stopped her halfway through. 

“Let me put this plainly,” he said, chuckling still, “The House of Black could pay that every day for the next century, and it would barely scrape the barrel. I once swore I’d waste the fortune, now that I have it, I’d have to buy every sinking business on the continent to even put it at risk.”

“We could sell the successful businesses, rent out the additional properties below value, buy luxury items that depreciate astronomically, and reinvest the portfolios into failing businesses,” Arennia chimed in. “If we did all that, we might run the House to bankruptcy within fifty years.” After her statement left the adults gaping, she turned to Hermione again. “I know you may not want it, but taking the LeStrange Heirship would be the cruelest thing you could do to the LeStranges.”

“Plus, you’d have access to a LeStrange trust vault, so you can actually make the LeStranges pay,” Hadrian added quietly. 

“You’ll also have a Black trust vault, which I encourage you to bleed dry just to spite my mother’s memory,” Sirius huffed. 

Chapter Text

Hadrian and Arennia chatted while Hermione received the cleansing ritual. Sirius negotiated the custody agreement with the Grangers. Which really meant he accepted their very extensive conditions. Rather than feeling put out, he was relieved his only responsibilities would be maintaining the trust vault, something ironclad with the Black family as it had been for all families, and intervening if Lord LeStrange found out about her. By the time he signed his name, he was beginning to think Hermione might become his favorite child, not that he would ever admit that to another soul. 

“Ren, you don’t think... anyone else could have compulsions?” He asked while Sirius was still nodding along to the demands of the Grangers. 

“Like Ron?” She asked, raising an eyebrow at her brother. 

“He is rather... emphatic with his beliefs at times...” Hadrian said uneasily. Arennia hummed. 

“I’ll talk to Uncle Regulus,” she said, “I’m sure he’d be happy to take the concern to Ronald’s brother.”

“Bill didn’t seem to like him much,” Hadrian said hesitantly. Arennia snorted. 

“Perhaps not, but Charlie liked Uncle a bit too much,” she said as she filled him in on the kiss and vanish act she’d witnessed on the Reserve. 

“I wish I could unhear a thing,” Hadrian groaned. 

“I wish I could unsee a thing,” Arennie replied sagely. 

Silvergleam stopped in as the custody negotiations continued. 

“I heard you offered to kill another person, Miss Arennia,” she chided. 

“Technically, it was requested, not offered,” Arennia said with a smirk aimed at her brother. Hadrian turned bright red as the goblin gave him a searching look. Silvergleam smirked before leaving as suddenly as she’d arrived. 

“She’s probably going to tell James and Regulus,” Hadrian lamented. 

“Probably, at least you get prodigal son privileges,” Arennia said with a snicker. 

“I do not!” Hadrian snapped. 

“Oh, Hadrian,” Arennia said teasingly, patting him on the head, “you very much do. But it’s alright, I don’t think I have the figure to pull off ‘prodigal son.’” 

Hadrian breathed a sigh of relief when Hermione returned from the cleansing ritual looking the same as she’d gone in. He didn't think her parents neglected her in any way, but he felt better about having their care for her proven in some way. 

“Alright, blood adoption time,” Sirius said with a clap. He steered Hermione to a chair. “Not sure how it will affect you exactly, but when the twins were blood adopted, they slept for four hours straight, a miracle for newborns. 

“I’m not a baby,” Hermione said crossly. 

“No, but you are being blood adopted twice in a row, and I’d rather not have Panic bite me if you collapse when there’s a perfectly good chair available,” Sirius said, shooting a wink Arennia’s way that made her roll her eyes at him. “Robert, if you would like to be first,” Sirius said, gesturing toward Sharptooth, who had a medieval-looking chalice on the desk.

The man straightened his posture, even if he felt rather skeptical of the entire process, and stepped forward. 

“Palm,” Sharptooth asked, holding his hand out for Robert to place his. After doing so, Sharptooth sliced a dagger through it, making Robert jump and glare at Sirius. 

“You didn’t mention that,” he said angrily, while Sharptoth held his bleeding hand over the chalice. 

“It’s a blood adoption, Robert. What were you expecting?” Sirius asked innocently. 

Sharptooth let go of the man’s hand, and pulled what looked like a sugar bowl from one of his drawers. When he opened it the contents were a dark gray. 

“What is that?” Monica asked. 

“Phoenix ashes,” Sirius answered, as Sharptooth stirred a scoop into the blood. 

“And that?” She asked as Sharptooth took a what looked like a matching cream dish an almost black liquid in next. 

“Stewed Mandrake,” Sirius replied. 

Sharptooth placed another, identical chalice on the desk, draping what resembled glowing cheesecloth over it, before using the dagger hilt to press the cloth into it. 

“The cloth is made of unicorn hair,” Sirius explained before Monica could inquire. 

He poured the contents of the first chalice into the second, wringing the cloth until only pulpy ash and bits of mandrake remained. He then pushed the new chalice toward Hermione. 

“Drink,” he said. 

“That’s it?” She asked, eyeing the mixture with her nose crinkled. 

“I will warn you, it tastes terrible,” Sirius said. 

“How would you know?” Hadrian asked. 

“You think I fed that to my godchildren without trying it first?” Sirius asked sharply. “Luckily, a person can’t blood adopt themselves. Lily was ready to send me to an early grave. Although I do think she was grateful someone tried it before we gave it to her babies. Even if you both pitched terrible fits through the entirety of the bottles.”

“None of this is particularly encouraging,” Hermione said briskly. 

“Sorry, shall I fetch a bottle?” Arennia asked sweetly. Hermione narrowed her eyes and gulped the dark red liquid. After finishing it, her features twisted in disgust. 

“That was worse than Po-”

“Pumpkin juice, I believe it,” Hadrian said quickly. Three parents frowned at the blatant cover-up. Sirius, the only one who had an inkling of what Hermione was about to say, made a mental note to ask about it later. Then immediately tossed the mental note out a window, because he didn’t want to be the responsible dad any more than he had to. Sirius rewrote the mental note when he decided he was too curious about why his children were familiar with polyjuice, but added making sure they knew he wasn’t going to punish them for whatever shenanigans brought them in contact with a restricted potion.

While Sirius struggled with his inner thoughts, the others were observing the slight changes the mixture fanned across Hermione’s features. Her hair darkened from her mother's chocolate brown, closer to Robert’s rich chestnut color. Brown eyes lightened to an olive color. Somewhere between his hazel and her mother’s brown. 

Sirius supplied his blood for the next chalice with a bored expression, fully encompassing his been here, done this attitude to the experience. Like Hadrian, Hermione’s bushy hair mellowed a bit and darkened slightly further into an ashy brown that appeared black in the shadows. The thinnest ring of the Black silver lit in her olive irises, only noticeable when the light hit just right. 

“Well, that isn’t fair, you look more like Hadrian’s twin than I do now,” Arennia commented. 

“Are the children ready for their second tests?” Sharptooth asked after clearing away the assorted supplies from the blood adoptions. 

“I probably shouldn’t,” Arennia said, remembering how Sirius had arranged the alteration on the original version. Sharptooth cackled. 

“The magic of our works will not go against King Ragnok’s decree,” he said, holding the dagger out for Arennia to prod against the pad of her thumb. She did so with bated breath as the results bloomed across the parchment. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wixen Inheritance Test with Core Health Yield

Wixen: Arennia Lillian Potter-Black

Date of Birth: 31st July 1980

Parentage

Biological Father: James Fleamont Potter

Biological Mother: Lillian Evans

Blood Adopted Father: Sirius Orion Black III - Performed 1st August 1980

Family Lineage & Titles

Black - Blood Adopted Line - Scion

Emrys - Patriarchal Line - Scion

Le Fay - Matriarchal Line - Heir Apparent

Peverell - Patriarchal Line - Heirship Claimable - Effective 1st August 1994

Potter - Patriarchal Line - Scion

Slytherin - Matriarchal Acquisition - Scion 

Ius Sanguinis

Alchemistry - (Potter) - Latent

Elementomancy - (Emrys/Le Fay) - Active

Metamorphagus - (Black) - Dormant

Necromancy - (Peverell) - Active

Parseltongue - (Peverell/Slytherin) - Active

Psionics - (Le Fay) - Latent

Core Health Yield

Magical Affinity: Dark

Massive Soul Fracture - Inflicted 19th May 1994

Minor Soul Fracture - Inflicted 27th July 1994

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Interesting,” Sirius stated, as he realized the date was in fact showing as the altered one over the true one, even on the new test. “Maybe we should start celebrating your birthday on August first, kitten,” he teased when he realized the altered date was the same as the day he blood adopted the twins.

“Whatever you’d like, Papa,” she laughed. 

Sirius eyed the last section briefly and made the mad decision to begin researching soul magic to figure out soul healing. Regulus was already working the Horcrux angle, but maybe if he could get that figured out ,he could figure out how to fix the seemingly unchanging fractures to Arennia’s soul. 

“It’s only been two weeks, Papa,” Arennia said quietly. Sirius pressed a kiss to her temple before pushing the haunting paper aside. 

“I know, doesn’t mean I have to like it,” he grumbled. 

Hadrian stepped in next. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wixen Inheritance Test with Core Health Yield

Wixen: Hadrian James Sirius Potter-Black

Date of Birth: 31st July 1980

Parentage

Biological Father: James Fleamont Potter

Biological Mother: Lillian Evans

Blood Adopted Father: Sirius Orion Black III - Performed 1st August 1980

Family Lineage & Titles

Black - Blood Adopted Line - Heir Apparent

Emrys - Patriarchal Line - Heirship Claimable - Effective 4th June 1992 

Gryffindor - Self Acquired - Heirship Claimable - Effective 29th May 1993 

Le Fay - Matriarchal Line - Scion

Peverell - Patriarchal Line - Scion

Potter - Patriarchal Line - Heir Apparent

Slytherin - Matriarchal Acquisition - Scion 

Ius Sanguinis

Alchemistry - (Potter) - Latent

Elementomancy - (Emrys/Le Fay) - Active

Mage Sense - (Gryffindor) -  Active

Metamorphagus - (Black) - Latent

Necromancy - (Peverell) - Dormant

Parseltongue - (Peverell/Slytherin) - Active

Psionics - (Le Fay) - Latent

Core Health Yield

Magical Affinity: Light - Neutral Leaning

Soul Trauma - Horcrux - Inflicted 31st October 1981

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So insightful,” Hadrian scoffed. Besides the shortened Core Health Yield section, his test was identical to the original. 

“No news is good news, pup,” Sirius said, brushing a hand through Hadrian’s hair. 

“Alright, your turn, Hermione,” Arennia encouraged. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wixen Inheritance Test with Core Health Yield

Wixen: Hermione Jean Granger

Date of Birth: 19th September 1979

Parentage

Biological Father: Rodolphus LeStrange

Biological Mother: Monica Wilson

Blood Adopted Father: Robert Aaron Granger - Performed 14th August 1994

Blood Adopted Father: Sirius Orion Black III - Performed 14th August 1994

Family Lineage & Titles

Black - Blood Adopted Line - Scion

Dagworth-Granger - Blood Adopted Line - Heirship Claimable - Effective 25th December 1992

LeStrange - Heir Apparent (Dernier Ressort)

Ius Sanguinis

Alchemistry - (Dagworth-Granger) - Latent

Metamorphagus - (Black) - Dormant

Psionics - (LeStrange) - Latent

Core Health Yield

Magical Affinity: Dark

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Who are the Dagworth-Grangers?” Hermione asked, reading over the changed results. Sirius looked over her shoulder. 

“Well, paint me gold and call me a snitch,” he muttered, making all three of the kids share bizarre looks. “Robert, I think you may have descended from a squib line. Hermione gained a second Heirship with you in the mix. Hector Dagworth-Granger founded the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers in the fifteenth century. I wonder... If she claims the Dagworth-Granger Heirship, would she be able to access any remaining family vaults?”

“So long as there are living descendants, the vaults remain active,” Sharptooth said harshly. “As there is no acting Head of House, she would indeed be able to access the vaults.”

“Wait,” Hadrian said, frowning. “Does that mean that Ren and I can access the Emrys, Gryffindor, Peverell, and LeFay vaults?” 

Sharptooth gave him a toothy grin, “It does indeed, little wix.” 

“Let’s just do the heirship ring for today,” Sirius said nervously. “I promise to get you back here to explore the vaults before school.” 

After Hermione had donned the rune-adorned silver ring of the LeStranges and the gold ring with a teardrop peridot that strangely resembled a potion beaker, Monica approached Sirius directly. 

“The children could come back to ours, spend the night, they did just become siblings after all,” she offered. Sirius almost gave an overzealous yes before remembering that Arennia’s friends were still at the Pottery. Arennia immediately remembered, though. 

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Granger, I’m afraid we have guests visiting. They’ll be staying until the Quidditch World Cup. However, we could return with Hermione after the World Cup if that would be alright with you?” 

“Oh, of course, that would be lovely,” Mrs. Granger said, seeming oddly relieved. 

“Perhaps, if you're amenable, Hermione could stay there a couple of days?” Mr. Granger said, eyeing his wife with concern. “Of course, I wouldn’t want to overcrowd you-” He said, realizing the girl had just said they already had guests. 

“Nonsense,” Sirius said, “we would love to have her, if she would like to come, that is?” He asked Hermione directly. 

“That could be fun...” She said hesitantly. Arennia pounced, pulling Hermione into a hug. 

“No, fun is going to shopping Diagon tomorrow,” Arennia said, a mad glint shining in her eyes. As Monica and Robert departed, Sirius slipped a note to Sharptooth to make sure that the trust vaults of all three kids were capped at a hundred thousand galleons. He wouldn’t put it past Arennia to drain those first purely to make Walburga spin in her grave. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I thought we were worried about losing her. We just sent her off, just like that,” Monica said as she closed the passenger door. 

“Darling, we have a very thorough contract written with that man; besides that, he looks like he’s a half step from taking a hiatus in America. I don’t think he wants to keep her,” Robert said with a low chuckle. “Besides, right now I am worried about you. You tend to welcome distraction when you aren’t doing well, love.” 

“I’m fine,” Monica huffed. Robert shook his head, taking her hand as he put the car into drive. 

“No, darling, you aren’t, but that’s okay. Now, we are going to that Italian place that I hope is still open since we’ve not been in five years. I became a dad today, you know?” Robert teased. 

“You were always a dad, you daft fool,” Monica said, rolling her eyes. 

“Your daft fool.” 

Monica gave her husband a fond smile. Maybe a night or two with just them wasn’t the worst idea.