Chapter 3 - Reconciliation and Schemes
John Potter glared at the book in his lap and shut it with a loud thud. The cover of the 'Standard Book of Charms 4' stared back at him, as if mocking him for his incompetence.
Picking up his wand from the bed, he pointed it at the discarded piece of parchment in the dustbin and spoke the summoning charm, complete with the wand movements.
But no, the parchment didn't stir. Not even an inch.
He huffed in annoyance.
This was impossible. How was it that such a simple fourth year charm was proving to be beyond him? He just wanted to be little bit ahead of his peers before the school started.
When after the eighth try, all he could do was make the parchment float uselessly an inch in the air, he got up and left his room.
Downstairs, the dinner table was being set by the elderly Potter elf.
"Julius, where is everyone?"
The old majordomo of the household regarded his young master. "Master James is in the blue parlour along with young Mistress Rose. Young Mistress Dorea is up in her room and Mistress Lily is out."
Mother is out? At this hour? Whatever the hell for?
"Where has mum gone?" he asked.
Julius shook his head. "I cannot say."
John sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation.
Sometimes, he really thought the elf was deliberately withholding information from him. After all, what can 'I cannot say' even mean other than either not knowing the answer or just a refusal to answer?
"Is Dinner ready to be served?" he asked instead.
"In half an hour, young master." Julius replied, not even looking up from his task.
John resisted the urge to huff again and instead chose to walk to the room where his father was. Maybe he knew where Mum had gone? He did need help with the charm, it seemed, because no matter how much he tried by himself, he came up with nothing.
"Dad?" he called out.
James Potter looked up from a thick Transfiguration textbook in his lap. Rose looked at him from beside Dad with her usual inscrutable look which she'd taken from neither of their parents. Had he disturbed their new advanced transfiguration discussion?
"Where has Mum gone? I was hoping to get her help on a charm."
James raised an eyebrow. "Which charm, son? Maybe I can help."
John resisted the urge to snap from frustration. Here was his younger sister learning and practising from Merlin knows which Transfiguration textbook and he, John Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived couldn't even get a fourth year spell right on his own.
"It's the summoning charm," he muttered with reluctance.
James beckoned him, nodding patiently. He was always patient. "Your old man can definitely help with it. Let's not bother your mum today."
John came to sit beside them both and took his wand out from his dragon-leather holster. It had been a gift from his Mum.
Rose nodded at him, taking the thick transfiguration from their Dad to practise on her own.
"What are you learning?" John asked curiously.
Rose smiled. "Animate Conjuration," she replied simply, "I'm stuck in the part where you're supposed to do infuse the animals with their natural instincts using the Pierce Theory."
John nodded along, as if he understood everything she'd spoken.
"It's a NEWT level transfiguration," James supplied, puffing up proudly. "Not even I was so advanced before my OWL year."
"That's amazing!" John smiled at his sister, hoping it looked genuine, but she was already getting back to her practise.
A full thirty minutes later, he was able to move a book and a few small items from their place. Not into his waiting hand, no, he wasn't so lucky, but a few feet towards him. He was satisfied for now, his good cheer finally returning.
Putting down his wand, he sighed, once again hoping for Mum's tutelage. His father taught well but he had an instinctual grasp of magic that John lacked, so it made some obvious tasks difficult to achieve. His mum always knew exactly which of the basics he struggled with.
"Where did Mum go anyway?" he asked, sipping his glass of ice water.
"She's with Harry. He was hurt from some spell practise," James said with a worried frown.
John's brows furrowed in thought. What exactly could his brother he practising that could hurt him? None of the spells he could do had any chance of hurting him.
"Didn't you check on him, Dad?" Rose asked softly, looking concerned.
James nodded. "He was still resting then, I left but your mum stayed."
They were now heading to the dining room. "Which spell caused it?" John inquired.
James shrugged. "Bella just said that he was doing some advanced stuff in their practise session earlier."
John snorted. "Yeah, right."
Rose pinched him on the arm. "Ow! What was that for?"
"For being unkind," she said testily.
John glared back. "Maybe he blew something up and hurt himself." Rose took another swipe at him and he ducked just in time.
He swallowed, suddenly realizing something. Turning to his dad, he asked, "Did you say he was practising with Aunt Bella? Mum's at Grimmauld?"
James looked at his son disapprovingly. "Yes, Harry is staying there with Sirius and Bella."
But why? John thought, all of his good mood vanishing in an instant. Why did Harry get to stay with Bella, when John had never even spent an entire evening alone with her at a time? And why did Bella invite him anyway? And for the entire summer? Didn't he like spending the summer with those Muggles?
John swallowed down his jealousy with some effort and took a seat at the table. Rose sat away from him, next to James. He didn't mind, not at all.
The circular dining table now had three seats remaining.
"Didn't Mum say she'll be back for dinner?" he asked instead.
James nodded but said nothing. Just then, Dorea barged in, panting.
"Harry was hurt?" she blurted out. Her big, dark doe eyes were wide in concern, looking from her Dad to Rose in question.
What followed was another explanation of Harry's plight to his youngest sister, much to John's annoyance. The concern that his entire family exhibited at the wayward son grated on him. It was as if he evoked more concern out of his family through his absence than John could ever do with his presence.
James asked Julius after Lily.
"Mistress is not home yet, Master," Julius replied with his usual gravity.
Before they could speculate even more on the issue, a massive spectre of light burst unceremoniously into the room. James stood up, wand in hand while John, Rose and Dorea looked on, stupefied.
The ball of light then coalesced into a majestic stag of all things, and it looked like John was seeing a translucent version of his Dad's animagus form.
The stag then began to speak to James in an ethereal Harry's voice. "Dad, I'm keeping mum for dinner at Grimmauld, she'll be back in two hours."
And then it bowed and dissolved into a fine mist of silvery smoke.
John kept staring at the place where the beautiful Patronus had stood addressing them, stunned beyond belief.
"Incredible!" James whispered in awe.
Dorea was the first to recover, a big smile on her face. "That was Harry!"
"That stag looked just like you, Dad," Rose added, also grinning. "Wasn't that the Patronus charm?"
James beamed. "Yep!" he said, popping the 'p'. "I didn't know Harry was so good at it! And at his age too! Just incredible!"
John noted absently that even Julius had been staring on in barely masked appreciation. "Master, may I start serving, since Mistress will not be joining us today?" he asked.
"Of course, of course! Serve away!" James replied excitedly.
As the elf began to bustle about his task, Rose spoke up, her emerald green eyes glowing. "Does this mean Mum and Harry are talking?"
There was an undercurrent of hope in her voice that nobody missed. But that hope had been dashed so many times in the last four years that John barely stopped himself from wincing.
If it was true then had Harry finally taken steps to reconcile with his parents? Has his brother stopped scorning his parents then?
John grimaced, shaking his head to himself. Nobody knew what to expect from Harry. He wouldn't be holding his breath.
James nodded, "It looks like it."
~~ .
It had been a good day, Harry decided, yawning as he reminisced about the decidedly surreal evening he'd spent in the company of Lily Potter. They'd had an enjoyable dinner and after she'd gone back to Potter Manor, he'd retired too, feeling exhausted. His body was, it seemed, still getting used to the extensive use of magic he'd started to demanded from it.
Noting the time to be 5 o'clock in the morning, he got up, no longer sleepy and trudged downstairs.
Stepping outside the large double doors into the sunlit garden, he inhaled deeply, feeling happy.
"Six rounds should do it," he murmured.
Making up his mind, he began to run along the walking path surrounding the shrubbery, covering roughly the entire expanse of the property.
In his fourth lap, he noticed a lone figure standing outside the doors, watching him.
Deciding to have some fun, he took off his t-shirt and continued running the last laps. Making sure that the figure hadn't moved from its position, he finally began to make his way back.
Draped in a slinky emerald silk nightgown, Bella stood there, an ethereal vision that eclipsed the collective beauty of Hogwarts' female student body. Her hair, a cascade of raven curls, framed her heart-shaped face, drawing attention to her slender neck and delicate shoulders. Beneath the gown, the gentle yet substantial swell of her breasts, a subject of countless wizards' fantasies and witches' envy, hinted at the curves hidden beneath the fabric. Her slender waist, taut stomach, and full hips formed an hourglass figure that had earned her the coveted 'Heartthrob of the Year' title from Witch Weekly for eleven consecutive years. A true enchantress, she was whispered to be Europe's most desirable witch, a reputation as timeless as the stars.
"Bella!" he called out, beaming. "Good morning!"
The witch was a little startled on his approach and took a step back. Harry smirked, opening his arms and approached to give her a sweaty hug.
Bella's eyes widened into a glare. "Don't you dare!"
"Oh come on, Bella!" Harry teased, nearing her in lengthy strides.
Bella backed up, leaning against the door with a foot inside the house.
"Harry, don't come closer," she warned.
Harry didn't listen and ran at her to close the distance.
Bella shrieked, barely avoiding him and stepped into the house. "You stink, go into the shower, now!" she commanded but to no avail.
Harry was determined. With a smirk, he bent down intending to scoop her into his arms and she ran.
"Bellllaaa!" he called in a sing-song voice.
The witch whipped out her wand. "I'll curse you, Harry!"
Harry laughed. "You wouldn't."
Bella fired a tripping jinx at him that he dodged. Bella had almost crossed over into the stairs when she felt two strong arms enveloping her around the middle and felt her feet leave the floor.
"Harry, you stupid boy! Put me down!" she shrieked, her face a deep shade of red, from both exertion and mortification. She fervently hoped Sirius wasn't home or he wouldn't ever let her live it down.
"No," came the reply from her infuriating godson as he sat down on a sofa in the small parlour, pulling her against him, her hands flailing and landing desperately on his naked chest as her eyes met his smirking, unrepentant ones.
"What the fuck, Harry?!"
His arms around her, she tried to get up but only ended up losing her balance and straddling him. Harry saw her swallowing hard, now beet red and avoiding his eyes. Harry knew he wasn't particularly muscular, only lean and mostly fit, and her sweet discomfort gave him a confidence that he needed.
"Sorry, not sorry. This is punishment for secretly staring at me," he said in a mock glare.
Bella sighed, resisting the urge to squirm, all fight leaving her body. "I wasn't staring," she shot back.
"Sure you weren't," he teased. "Then why did you run away from me?"
Bella slapped his chest instinctively and sniffed. "I wasn't. I simply didn't want your sweaty, stinking self anywhere near me."
Harry blew her a raspberry. "I hope you are satisfied with the result."
Bella tried to get up but that only led to his hands holding her tighter around the waist. Harry absently noted that the knot holding her nightgown together had come off and her thin, dark green chemise was now visible from the partition. His breeches tightened considerably when he noted how her substantial bust was pushed up against his chest and arms.
Noticing her uncomfortable aversion of gaze from his, he decided that it was enough.
Slowly, he released her while keeping a smirk on his face. Bella discreetly waved her wand and her nightgown restored itself to its previous proper state.
"Anyway, Sirius will soon be here. I'm sure you'd like to be freshened up before he arrives," Bella remarked, still avoiding his gaze but her colour had now returned to normal.
Harry hummed. "Yes, I should."
Then he turned to face her, hoping to meet her eyes. "And Bella," she looked up at him, "Thank you for yesterday," at her confused gaze, he hastened to explain, "For bringing my Mum here and helping me talk to her."
Bella's gaze softened.
"Of course, Harry, it's the least I could do," she replied, "Besides, I should thank you too for relieving her of the burden she and James have been carrying for so long."
Harry nodded.
"Now go get ready," Bella smiled, "Breakfast should be ready soon."
~~ .
Rose Potter knocked on the door of his baby sister's bedroom and entered. Dorea was curled up in her bed, a soft light shining from above her shoulders helping her read. In that moment, she looked so much like her Grandmother Dorea Black that it was almost uncanny.
So engrossed was she that Rose had to go sit beside her on the bed to break her concentration.
"Rose!" Dorea cried, hugging her.
The two sisters snuggled up under the heavy blankets and faced each other. For as long as she remembered, she and Dorea liked to have these cosy nighttime talks to make sense of the world. In Hogwarts, it had been cut short due to them being housed in different dorms, but they still found time to talk, and Rose would swear her little sister helped her as much she hoped she could help Dorea.
"Mum looked so happy," Dorea began.
Rose smiled. "Yes! I was happy seeing her so happy. I almost couldn't believe it."
Dorea bit her lip. "Do you think they really are okay now? Harry and Mum? Do you know if Harry will want to come here and..."
Rose rubbed her sister's shoulders cajolingly. "I'm thinking that all would soon be okay in the Potter household. And when Harry visits tomorrow, we'll know."
Dorea nodded, closing her eyes. "Do you think Harry will like me?" she asked in a small voice.
"It's impossible to not like you, my little sister, and I'm sure we'll all witness how quickly he replaces me as your best friend," Rose replied in mock-seriousness.
"Oh, Rosie!" Dorea opened her eyes and held her sister's hands in her own, "No one can replace you. Just like no one can replace Harry."
The redheaded witch smirked, "And John?"
Dorea sighed. "Will he be okay? He didn't look happy when Mum said that Harry forgave them."
Rose shook her head. "John can be...difficult."
"Why?" she asked, a tinge of frustration marring her soft voice.
"I don't know," Rose began in reply, pausing to collect her thoughts, "I think he's jealous of Harry."
Dorea looked incredulous, as if such a thought was just blasphemy. And Rose thought that she may as well be right.
"That's so stupid!" the dark haired witch exclaimed, not knowing what else to say to that. "It makes no sense!"
Rose looked down at their joined hands. "I agree with you. John has everything that Harry doesn't. He's always had it, and he's still acting weird."
Dorea lay her head back on the pillow and closed her eyes. "I just want Mum and Dad to be happy and there is a chance now that Harry will be with us soon. But if John keeps being weird, they'll still worry."
Her big sister smiled ruefully. "I think it's the job of parents to worry for their children, don't you? No matter what happens, they'll always have something to worry about."
"I know that!" Dorea said, "I just want everything to be okay for us."
Rose grinned with confidence. She was still apprehensive for tomorrow but didn't show it. "I have a feeling it will be."
~~ .
Harry was happy to be back to practising his spellwork, a day's worth of rest had become a day too long to be away from his routine.
The study in which he was sitting, a secluded haven joined to the grand duelling chamber, was a testament to the Black family's enduring wealth and refined taste. Panelled walls, adorned with pictures of Manor homes that he guessed belonged to the family, stretched from floor to ceiling, their dark wood contrasting sharply with the soft glow of the antique brass lamps. A small, mahogany desk, dominated the room, now scattered with his reading materials. A plush armchair, upholstered in deep olive green velvet, sat nearby, perfect for leisurely reading or contemplation. The air was thick with the scent of aged leather and polished wood, a comforting familiarity that spoke of generations of opulence.
Bella had shown her gratitude for making Lily happy by introducing him to the grand library of her home, whose size, he could swear, was bigger than the entire Dursley household. Walking around the rows upon rows of aged books, she had handpicked some tomes for his advancement. Particularly in the art of duelling and battle.
Then, having left to his own devices as his godmother had gone to work, Harry hadn't wasted any time in getting started.
One thing his younger counterpart had excelled in was his theory. He'd been quite adept at reading ahead of his peers, knowing spells that not even the best students in the school couldn't boast of, and had chosen to work to understand the inner workings of magic that almost nobody showed an interest in. Magical theory was something only certified Masters studied to hone in their craft to a degree in the hopes of either working on a project of their own or improving the effects of an existing spell.
Harry found it fascinating, and his thirst for knowledge complemented beautifully with how good he was now with a wand, and improving every day. Bella had gushed at him, but still, in the end, had given him pointers to improve.
He couldn't wait for the day he could beat Bella. If he hoped to meet and surpass the titans such as Dumbledore and Voldemort, he certainly had to, and do it soon.
His magical sensing needed work as did his casting speed. In terms of spell choices, he needed to study more advanced destructive spells, learn to combine them creatively with charms and transfiguration and even keep abreast of his surroundings in a way that normal witches and wizards couldn't. If you could use your magic to see with your eyes closed and defend yourself even behind your back, you could theoretically become invincible.
It sounded simple in theory and in practise, only seven wizards and four witches in history had ever become that good. And two of those were already in his own time.
It was an hour and ten minutes into his work that he was greeted by a knock on the door and he opened it to find his grinning godfather.
"Harry! Bloody hell, you've grown!" Sirius said, entering the study and glomping him. "You're almost as tall as me now, and you're not even fourteen!"
The almost fourteen year old wizard felt a strange concoction of emotions then, most of all, happiness and gratitude.
"How are you, Sirius? And where have you been?" he said, hoping Sirius didn't comment on his hoarse voice.
Sirius dumped himself into a chair and Harry took one beside him. Not only did Sirius look healthy with his shoulder length hair and mischievous eyes, he also looked carefree, like a person who'd never set a foot inside Azkaban. And Harry was immensely grateful for it.
"Oh, here and there!" Sirius said carelessly, "The ICW is being stupid again, with its refusal to lend France a hand in building up. The goblins are demanding reparations for the damage and not a single member nation is willing to lift a finger to agree to the demands of the greedy bastards. Then there is their threat of economic instability, a bank robber who we've been chasing putting the goblins in even more of a foul temper because their security had been lax since the war and the robber took full advantage of it, reports of important people going missing, and the usual rigmarole."
Harry blinked at him in amusement. "So you've been busy."
Sirius stared at him with narrowed eyes. "Apparently, so have you. You don't look like the Harry I know!"
The wizard in question smirked. "That's right. I've changed."
Sirius guffawed. "So I hear. Bella told me you almost beat her with a wand. Now that is something I'd like to witness."
"I'm sure you will," Harry snorted. "But no, I didn't beat her. Nowhere close. I still have a long way to go," he shifted in his seat, "How bad is France?"
Sirius sobered up a little. "Bad. The almost coup and the recent Goblin rebellion has left quite a mess to deal with. And the new government isn't helping matters."
Harry frowned. "Is there a reason they're butting heads with the DOJ?"
"Pride? Corruption? Carelessness? It could be anything or everything. Still, we've been able to help with securing a ton of cities and more is being done as we speak."
"What, are they still confident with their own loyal Auror force?" Harry asked sarcastically.
"Believe me," Sirius snorted, "the Minister tried. But I've put the country under the Emergency Charter of the ICW, and used the authority to deploy my own hit-wizards. Being head of the department has its perks."
Harry hummed appreciatively. Out of everyone in the family, Sirius was the best travelled and with the most political power, he did literally manage the Department of Justice of the International Confederation of Wizards, after all.
Sirius suddenly sat up straighter. "I've also heard that you've been seducing some witches," he waved a finger at his godson. "I need all the details. Tell me who lost her virginity to my handsome godson."
"Ha! Not a chance. I suppose next you'll be asking me for a pensieve memory?" Harry denied.
Sirius stared at him with his mouth wide open. "She was that good?" he whispered, wagging his eyebrows.
Harry laughed, absolutely loving this version of Sirius. Here was his godfather, an even better version of him, that he'd missed so much!
Internally, he vowed to do everything in his power to make sure this jovial and carefree Sirius stayed exactly the same.
"I'm sure I can share one or two memories of my future...escapades. If I can count on your help with a few things..." Harry trailed off, willing himself to appear nonchalant.
Sirius stared at him astonishment as if he couldn't believe his ears. Then, as if his brain had engaged again, he cried, "Anything! I'd have helped you anyway but now, fuck yes!"
Harry laughed a full belly laugh which his silly godfather joined in and soon, they were catching up just like old times in Grimmauld in Harry's previous life.
"Now, my dear old godfather, how about a friendly duel?"
Sirius smirked. "I thought you'll never ask. And old, really? I'm not even thirty-three."
"And I'm not even fourteen. I'm sure if I beat you, you'll feel even older."
Sirius growled, palming his wand. "Bring it on. We'll see who beats who."
~~ .
Lucius Malfoy had a spring in his step as he exited his Master's chambers. Arrangements were in full swing, and soon, very soon, his Master will be coming out from the shadows and be by his side, taking the world at his will. Lucius, as a proud pureblood, will be there beside his Lord, enjoying his share of the winnings.
The Muggle spoils that he kept for his associates in his dungeons felt puny by comparison.
"Master's plan is perfect, isn't it, Malfoy?" exclaimed his brute associate Tiberius Nott.
"Indeed," he found himself replying, "Bringing in young Barty was a stroke of genius." Even the annoying presence of Nott wasn't going to dampen his spirits today.
Nott snorted. "It's a pity that Master isn't using him to get rid of Dumbledore."
Lucius rolled his eyes. "And betray his allegiances and sacrifice his cover in the process? I thought you had more brains than that, Nott."
Nott fumed. "I don't know why the boy can't be kidnapped now? A full moon in August is the same as a full moon in June, it can easily be done then!"
"I don't expect you to know the intricacies of brewing a potion as dangerous as Master needs, Nott. Besides, Master has his reasons, it's not up to us to question them."
Nott growled but didn't retort. Lucius suspected that he had run out of arguments.
When they turned the corner in his Manor, Nott began to go down the steps, in the opposite direction.
"Where are you going?" Lucius asked testily.
Nott gave him a uncouth grin.
"After seeing how much work Master has ordered upon us, I find that I am in need of some refreshments. It's a good thing you keep those pretty little things in your dungeons, isn't it?" he cackled, running off.
Lucius sighed in consternation.
His Master had been clear that a regular supply of Muggles needed to be maintained for his followers. Lucius consoled himself with the fact that at least he didn't sully himself so badly as to touch those Muggles. Mudbloods at least contained magic, they were much more to his taste.
Thinking of mudbloods made him think of a pretty little Gryffindor witch at Hogwarts that his son Draco had told him about. Draco had been adamant for quite a while that he needed to teach her a lesson.
How was it that he'd described her? Oh yes—uptight, prude, beaver, know-it-all. Lucius almost felt giddy at the thought of finally getting her for himself. Oh yes, he would take great pleasure in breaking her.
For the umpteenth time, Lucius cursed the name of Dumbledore. He was still resisting the idea of hosting the Triwizard Tournament, making him spend more gold at 'convincing' the right people that it was worth it. Had the Headmaster agreed already, so many of his Master's plans could've been moved ahead.
But no. Suddenly, the Headmaster had developed common sense. A sense of responsibility. And his wrath in the first few years of his Master's downfall had been a thing to behold. That blasphemy still made his blood boil in anger.
Lucius had been fortunate to escape Azkaban by his teeth. It was only the idiocy of the Bagnold administration that had unknowingly saved him and his family from receiving the same treatment as so many of his colleagues. Many of his comrades had been punished with life in Azkaban.
Lucius once again suppressed a shudder at remembering what an angry Dumbledore was actually capable of.
No matter, he thought, getting rid of unpleasant thoughts. The world was changing again. His Master was going to rise again.
And he will be able to play with the Mudbloods to his heart's content.
He barely suppressed his glee as he entered his wife's quarters. She would have to do for now. At least until he got access to the Mudblood at Hogwarts.
He liked them young, after all.
Chapter 4 - Reconciliation and Trepidation
"Minister, Mr. Crouch is here to see you," her secretary informed Amelia Bones, making her groan in irritation.
She'd had enough. Enough of her uppity colleagues who cared more about their own image and position than the actual country they were supposed to be protecting.
But still, she couldn't simply dismiss them when they'd come at an earlier agreed upon appointment.
"Send him in," she said resignedly, bracing herself for another round of drivel from a most unpleasant wizard.
Resisting the urge to reach for the decanter of whisky sitting at the table, she gulped down a glass of cold water. It wouldn't do to get drunk so early in the afternoon, when there was still work to be done.
A lot of which was simply tiring meetings with political brats who selfishly wanted one thing or another at the expense of something too important. One such brat was her current Head of International Relations, who entered her office just then, looking like his usual surly self.
His thick moustache curling at the sides, his eyes a dark gray that betrayed no emotion and his gait stiff, he came to take a seat at the end of her desk.
Amelia looked at him from the top of her monocle. "What can I help you with, Barty?"
The wizard in question looked at her with a frown. "I'm requesting you once again to authorize me to make Dumbledore amenable to hosting the Triwizard Tournament at Hogwarts this year," he said in a taut voice.
Amelia watched him with barely masked impatience.
"We need to use this opportunity for buying some goodwill from the world at large. If Dumbledore persists in this foolish endeavour, we'll end up further alienating even our most loyal supporters in the ICW, especially after what happened with France. We cannot-"
Amelia cleared her throat, interrupting him. "What exactly do you mean by 'make Dumbledore amenable' in your request?"
Barty bristled but didn't voice his protest at the interruption. However, at her question, he looked at her with disapproval. "I'm talking about a writ from you, Minister, that gives him no choice but to host the Tournament."
Amelia rolled her eyes. "Barty," she began in a tone that suggested she was speaking to a small child who didn't understand the realities of the world. "Do you really think that we, the Ministry, can force Dumbledore to do anything against his will, much less reconvene a Tournament in hisschool that was disbanded two hundred years ago because the death toll was too high?"
Fixing her sternest glare upon the man, she waited for him to reply. Barty shifted in his seat, holding her gaze but saying nothing. A silent battle of wills later, he looked away, curling his lip.
"I think it's a mistake to let Dumbledore keep so much control over Hogwarts," he argued.
Amelia nodded. "Sure Barty, but that's a separate matter and doesn't concern the present at all. May I ask exactly what did the Headmaster say when you presented him the proposal last week?"
Barty winced. "Bagman presented the proposal. Dumbledore sent him away, but not before asking for each and every task's details, risks, and the needful security measures to be presented to him for him to consider it."
Amelia shook her head. "And am I to assume that you and Bagman haven't done that yet, but have come to me twiceto ask me to force Dumbledore to host a Tournament he knows nothing about?"
Barty swallowed, "Now, you listen here, Minister, I never said that-"
Amelia held up a hand, feeling really tired of dealing with yet another selfish political brat in the day. It never seemed to end! "No Barty, you listen to me. I will never issue a writ like the one that you're asking. To move ahead, I'm suggesting you do as Dumbledore suggests and provide him with a detailed report of everything he's asked for."
Barty stood up in protest. "Minister, I-"
Amelia held his gaze. "That is all I have to say in this matter, Barty. Please, I have to get ready for my next appointment, so if you'll excuse me."
She felt a wave of relief when Crouch simply turned around and exited the room without another word. Sagging in her chair, she summoned a glass and waved her wand to pour a generous measure of whisky, feeling that she deserved it.
Burying herself in the paperwork waiting for her on the desk, she was just settling herself onto the sofa with her second glass of whiskey when her secretary's voice rang out once again.
"Minister, you have Mr. Sir-" her voice was cut off as Amelia frowned. But then came a different voice, a masculine one of someone she knew intimately. Too intimately to handle right now.
"Hello Amy! How're you? May I see you?" came the jovial and demanding voice of Lord Sirius Black.
Amelia steadily put her glass on the table before going to sit on her usual chair by the desk.
Her mind whirring with questions it was too tired to ponder and emotions her tired body just didn't want to ponder, not right now at least, she sighed and indicated for the man to be admitted.
As much as she wanted to turn him away for turning up unannounced at a most inconvenient hour, she knew it was not proper. Not only was he one of her oldest friends, he was also the Head of the DOJ. But that wasn't it. Not really.
Sirius Black was one of the few wizards that she could never turn away. No matter what. She hadn't done it in Hogwarts when she'd been in charge of Hufflepuff and she couldn't do it now when she was in charge of the country. Fortunately, he was reasonable most of the time.
"I brought you something," he said, strutting up to her and embracing her without ceremony. She instantly felt her rigid body relaxing in his arms.
He put an expensive looking bottle of wine on the desk.
He grinned, mischief sparkling his eyes. "For special occasions, if you will."
Amelia rolled her eyes, familiar exasperation with his antics filling her with amusement.
"I don't think I can count today as one. It has been a long day of meetings and more meetings and paperwork," she admitted, rubbing her temples.
"You poor thing," he then poured himself a glass of whiskey from her stash, "Then it's a good thing I came."
Coming to stand directly behind her chair, Amelia felt two gentle hands coming to rest upon her shoulders, slowly kneading to remove the knots that had formed in her taut, overused muscles. An involuntary moan escaped from her throat as she sagged into her chair, feeling her back relax in support from the soft cushion.
Wait...soft? Oh, he must've transfigured it. Too tired to care and feeling too good to complain, she let him continue his ministrations, even as his breath raised goosebumps on the back of her neck as his nimble fingers lay her hair aside for easier access.
Amelia tried not to think of the times when she'd received a similar massage from him, leading to something far more intimate. Shivering a little, she felt his fingers warming her shoulders through the thin layer of her blouse, not even trying to remove it to apply its magic directly to her skin. She resisted the urge to sigh in frustration because if she wanted him to continue, she couldn't demand it, and yet if he did, she couldn't continue because they were in her office.
"Better?" a whisper in her ear pierced pleasurably through her reverie and she hummed in appreciation.
His hands dipped lower, his fingers now working on her upper chest and her breath hitched.
"You needed this, didn't you Amy?"
Amelia didn't need to say a thing in reply, her shudder along with a breath that escaped her lips at his soothing yet promising tone provided him the evidence enough, at least she hoped it did.
Still, she didn't want to be so selfish.
"Thank you, Sirius," she said softly.
A finger appeared on her lips then, making her startle a little. The other hand held her neck in place.
"I'm glad you're so grateful, but I'm yet to show you what you need, Amy" he chided her.
Amelia felt his hands travel away from her mouth to her chest again, this time teasingly massaging the side of her tits. She involuntary arched her back to his needful touch.
"But I'm also in need of something from you," he spoke huskily.
"Anything!" she replied. She meant it. She'd never denied him anything and she wasn't going to start now.
Those magical hands were now rubbing right under the soft burdens on her chest and she couldn't take it any longer.
"Please...tell me what you need," she cajoled, not caring if she sounded desperate.
"I need your decree to remove the trace from a wand," he said, "And a few other things that I can tell you later."
Amelia nodded, thinking that the former request must be for his godson. It was a most unusual request, not only because of the danger it posed to the public to let an underage wizard carry an untraced wand, but because of how infrequent of a request it was. It would've been easily a most usual request had the taboo around untraced wands not been in place from as long as she could remember in Britain. It was simply unheard of, and not even the Lords of the most influential families ever demanded it for their charges.
Of course, at the same time, it made sense that such a request would be for the godson of the same wizard for whom this rule had been broken almost two decades prior.
If a common wizard or witch was presented with such a request, they would simply say that it made sense that the incredible godson took after the incredible godfather.
Although, she did feel a bit confused at the thought. John Potter surely didn't need the trace to be removed from his wand? What could he ever need it for? The name of Sirius' other godson not even entered her thoughts. She'd heard once that he was just an average, unremarkable wizard.
"It will be done," she promised.
"I need it done today," he pressed gently, "I have the wand."
"Alright," she replied, seeing no reason to disagree on the timing.
Sirius said nothing but showed his appreciation by bringing his rough, demanding palms to her needy tits, pulling and pushing at their softness and making her squirm in her chair. For several minutes, she could say nothing but just enjoy his generous attention.
"Will I see you at The Championships?" she asked when his hands had left her pleasantly aching chest to once more massage her shoulders.
The annual Duelling Championships, simply referred to as The Championships was one of the most important social events of the year. Almost everyone with a recognizable name in Britain attended to show their face and mingle, and with an attendance that usually ranged in thousands from Britain alone, it was guaranteed to be the one event where the Lords and Ladies could publicly taunt and thrash each other in way that was both legal and socially acceptable while their young charges who fought to both show off their talent and bring pride to their family.
Her Susan had been participating since she was twelve, and twice in row she'd been a quarterfinalist in the Under-14 Tournament.
"Of course, but not as a judge. I'll be there as a spectator," he said and she could feel his smile through his tone. Sirius must have given up the position for a significant reason. Why, he'd been a judge for more than five years now.
"Why?" she could admit curiosity at his admission.
Sirius leaned forward and lay his chin on her shoulder, rubbing his bearded chin into her cheek. She gasped.
"Because this time, I want to watch my godsons' performances with the Family," he replied.
Amelia said nothing, but observed his tone. Sirius Black was a perpetually jovial wizard, well, except when he was angry, of course. But still, he was always happy. But now, he sounded happy and proud and... expectant?
Mulling over his words turned her mind to the Family. It was an open belief in the British magical world that the Potter and Black families, collectively called the 'Family', were the most influential in the country. It wasn't just that the Family had so much wealth that they could buy the entire country five times over and still have galleons to spare for a smaller one, but the fact that they produced some of the most talented and brilliant wizards and witches in the generation. Almost every single member of the Family was skillful at some aspect of magic, wielded great magical or political power or was simply brilliant in some obscure way.
It had always infuriated her as a child when she heard tales of some member of the Family performing ridiculous feats of magic that still served for the betterment of the society today. She'd felt the praise to be a result of the sheep being sheep. But she'd quickly been revised of the notion when presented with three generations of the Blacks and Potters who were all unique and amazing in their own ways.
For the thousandth or so time, Amelia wished that a few other families, like hers for instance, had gotten a rare gift of magic that nobody else had.
She was startled back to the present from an insistent voice in her ear.
"Write me the writ and then go lay back on the sofa."
She smiled and opened her eyes to notice that the bright lights of her office had been replaced by soothing amber ones.
Her toes curling in anticipation, she picked up her quill.
"Okay."
It was the Friday morning that saw John Potter waiting in the yellow parlour of the Potter Manor, tapping his foot onto the carpeted floor while waiting for his parents. His sisters were already present and giggling to themselves.
Annoyingly, he didn't know what was the reason that he'd been instructed to dress up in semi-formal clothing but one look into the mirror after he'd changed had changed his mind. He looked very handsome and if the guests that were visiting were truly important, he'd be able to make a good impression, as the Heir to the Potter Family and the Boy-Who-Lived should.
Walking over to his sisters, he smirked. "The guests must be truly important that Mum got you to dress up, Rosie."
Instead of glaring like he'd expected her to, Rose laughed, while Dorea looked amused.
"What?" he asked irritably.
Rose raised an eyebrow in question, "You truly don't know who's visiting?"
John sighed, a familiar irritation at not knowing what was going on in his own home grating on him. "Will you tell me?" Maybe he could've asked Julius?
But wasn't it his parents or the elf's responsibility to inform him? And how did his sisters know it before him? Goddamnit.
"Harry and Bella will be visiting," Rose revealed.
John couldn't tell what it was that made him chuckle but he refused to think too much on it. If Harry, his shy, socially inept twin wanted to meet the entire family at their home, who was he to stop him? Just imagining Harry trying and failing miserably to greet and mingle with his own family like a normal wizard brought a smirk to his lips. Maybe this day could turn out to be fun for John after all.
Not to mention, Aunt Bella was also visiting. Now that was a prospect John was eagerly looked forward to. It'd been too long since he'd last spent time with his gorgeous godmother. Suddenly, he was doubly glad to have dressed well for the occasion.
He could swear that nothing could drown his good mood this morning.
So even when his parents entered the parlour and told him and his sisters to put a smile on their faces and behave normally, he didn't mind. He'll do everything it took to make a good impression on Bella.
"Mum, will Aunt Bella be staying?" Rose asked.
Lily smiled brightly. "No, she has to go back to work, so it'll just be the six of us."
James addressed his wife, "Is it really necessary to stay home for the entire morning? It's a beautiful day. We could go to Diagon Alley, have lunch and-" he winked at Dorea, "ice-cream?"
John saw the mischievous smile on his Dad's face and wondered what he'd planned. His Mum clearly didn't have an idea since she was observing the fireplace with an unbreakable concentration.
"I'm sure we'll manage, James," Lily said firmly, then turned to her husband, "And are you forgetting that Harry has not seen his own home properly yet? Why, the tour itself could take all morning!"
James turned his face away from Lily and rolled his eyes, sharing his amusement with his daughters, who looked bemused at their parents' antics.
"We could let Harry decide," Rose suggested.
Lily nodded, not finding anything wrong with the suggestion. "We can."
John had lost himself into daydreaming about Bella when the fireplace turned green. He was giddy with excitement and couldn't wait to both meet her and later, regale the story to his friends and anybody who'll listen in Gryffindor as to with whom he had met and spent some quality time with. Every male in the Tower will be jealous at his good fortune!
However, when he saw a lean, handsome figure step into the parlour and brush the ash off his immaculately dressed self, John felt a little of his good cheer disappearing. However, he did still feel excited when Bella stepped out from the fireplace after the figure and stood beside him.
Focusing only on the object of his interest and attention, John was dismayed a little to see that Bella stood where she was and waved a quick smile to him and then turned to his sisters who also received a quick hello. He felt himself bristling.
Not even a hug for him and he'd dressed up and waited all morning to see her? What nonsense was this?
Finally, his eyes travelled to see the handsome figure beside Bella who grinned brightly to his parents and came up to hug his mother.
John gaped in shock.
What the fuck?
Deciding that the shy, scornful and moody Harry would never hug his own parents, he was further shocked to see him confidently embracing his father too and then quickly stepping to his sisters who stood together as one.
"Rose, Dorea," Harry said softly, his throat fighting hard to form the words with the emotions that seemed to be visibly coursing through him.
Lily was leaning against James for support as Harry embraced Rose first and then Dorea and in a sudden fit of mischievous inspiration, ruffled Dorea's hair. Dorea shook her head and giggled. Harry grinned.
Speechless, John smiled at Harry as he shook his twin's hand cordially for the first time in his life.
Then Harry was stepping back and regarding them all with moist eyes.
"Thank you for inviting me," he spoke.
Just when his eyes had travelled back to admiring Aunt Bella, John saw the older witch step forward to embrace Harry, who didn't even pay attention to her, and kiss him on the cheek.
"I'll see you later," she said before stepping back into the fireplace. "Have fun!" she called as she disappeared into the green flames.
John felt a deep jealousy flare in his chest as his mind struggled to make sense of the closeness Harry shared with Bella. He, John Potter had known Bella the longest, and yet, Harry Potter was enjoying the benefits of her attention. Hell, the lucky bastard was living with her!
Never one for enduring awkwardness or silence, James stepped forward and put a hand around his long lost son's shoulders. "So, Harry, we have two plans for you today. Would you like to hear it?" he asked, looking at his wife with a smug look.
Lily shook her head at her man-child husband, too happy to whack him on the back of his head.
Harry seemed to notice it all because he laughed heartily. "Go on, Dad."
James' eyes seemed to lit up at the appellation. "We could either give you the tour of the house and have a family lunch here at the Manor, or we could go out to Diagon Alley for shopping and have lunch and ice-cream there."
Harry observed his family. "Which option do we all prefer?" he asked to gauge their reactions.
Rose shrugged, and looked at Dorea who nodded. "Either is fine with us," she said for both of them.
Lily hesitated a little but said, "We can do what you like, Harry."
Harry looked confused and James came to the rescue.
"Your mother wanted to give you a tour first," he admitted.
Harry made up his mind instantly. "Then that is what we'll do," he said, "And lunch at home sounds perfect too."
In a minute, they had gone from a hesitant, awkward bunch to a boisterous family, even little Dorea contributing to the burgeoning discussion about the tour of the house and their favourite rooms.
When they, now as a complete family, finally left the parlour to come to the entrance hall of the Manor, they came upon a small, diminutive figure standing around the large oak double doors.
James made the last introduction for the day. "Harry, this is our head-elf, Julius. He's been with us since your grandfather, Charlus Potter, was a boy."
Harry took in the elf who was looking at him with teary eyes and dropped down to his knees to hug him. The elf was taken by surprise, his large eyes going wide as saucers.
"Master Harry, welcome back to the family," he said when Harry pulled away.
James and Lily exchanged surprised glances that conveyed satisfaction and sheer julilance at such a beautiful reunion that they'd shared.
"Harry, shall we get started?" Lily said, coming forward to lock her arm with his.
"Can't wait," he replied, grinning in anticipation.
~~ .
Daphne Greengrass heard the commotion from downstairs and felt a terrible fear grip her heart. Letting the book she'd been reading drop unceremoniously on the desk, she ran downstairs across the expanse of her home and only came to a stop near the open door of her father's study.
Entering with trepidation, she saw him being lowered onto the comfortable sofa which he often used to entertain, which she as a little girl had spent hours reading from her father's books. Her mother and her household elf were supporting him and helping him become comfortable.
Feeling the prickling of tears but refusing to let it flow, she willed the turmoil away.
"Father...?" she said fearfully.
Her father looked so terrible that she could hardly believe it. Growing up, she'd seen a lot of sides to her father; he'd been strict, studious, strong, funny, witty, and charming. Never had she seen him so weak and trembling.
As she came to sit on a chair opposite him, she took in the harsh red lines on his face and neck, his eyes looking down at his palms and not at her. Daphne met her mother's eyes and she shook her head.
"What happened?" she asked, unable to rest any longer without knowing what had made her father into this mess. Last she'd seen him was two days ago before he left for work. Then he'd not come home and her mother had assured her that it happened sometimes, which Daphne considered doubtful.
Even if he couldn't come home for the night, he could at least relay a message through their elf or use the floo. But that hadn't happened. And she, Tori and mother had waited anxiously for his return. All of their friends had said they hadn't seen him and they didn't know what to do except go to the DMLE.
But he had returned. And now, he looked like he'd been through something so terrible that he couldn't speak.
"We have been so afraid that something happened to you," her mother began but received a look that made her fall silent.
Daphne wondered at that, not knowing what was the reason for this sudden strangeness between her parents. It had been like that since she'd last Christmas, but at the time, she'd chosen to ignore it as some adult antics that she wasn't privy to. But it had persisted into the summer and become worse.
Refusing to dwell on it now though, she waited impatiently for her father to tell them what had befell him.
When her father finally met her eyes, she stifled a gasp. He looked broken and hollow, barely the man she knew and loved so dearly.
"He wanted to speak to me," he said so faintly that she had to strain to hear him.
"Who?" her mother voiced.
Her father didn't look away. "He. You-Know-Who. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. The Dark Lord. He wanted a word with me," he spat.
"No! This isn't possible! He's dead!" her mother wailed.
Her father said nothing, simply stared into the distance with a blank expression.
Daphne felt her insides frozen at the admission.
"How is it possible father?" she asked nervously.
Her father shook his head. "I don't know. He's alive, and planning to come back. And this time, he's looking completely different, somehow even worse than before," he looked at her then, adding, "a young, charismatic young man with untold evil in his eyes."
Daphne was stupefied in shock. Never had she felt so terrified in her entire life.
When the Dark Lord had been killed, she'd been but an infant, too young to know what havoc the First Blood War had on the people who'd lived through it. She'd grown up in the aftermath of You-Know-Who getting killed by a mere babe, a Potter who'd been the same age as her and had yet done the impossible.
The world had become a different place then, and her country had transformed into a more peaceful and prosperous version of the one that it had been before.
Then when she'd first come to Hogwarts, like most of the world, was eager to see and learn more about the legend that was the Boy-Who-Lived. She'd even admitted a faint wish in her heart at the time of coming to know the wonder boy, and since he'd be in the same year as her, perhaps also become friends with him.
But all her hopes had been burned when the Boy-Who-Lived had arrived in Hogwarts and shown himself to be a barely average boy with little to no skills that could've ever helped him vanquish the Worst Dark Lord in history. Not only was he an insufferable and immature Gryffindor with a nincompoop as a best friend and a muggleborn witch who liked to alienate everyone with her bossy attitude, the best abilities he possessed was a penchant for getting into all sorts of trouble and being decent at Quidditch.
So deceived was she by him that Daphne had vowed to never believe any fairy tales, rumours and news that came from people who clearly had a selfish goal in mind. Not only was the Boy-Who-Lived a stupid boy, he had a twin apparently, one who his parents had abandoned to raise the 'hero' without distractions, according to the rumours apparently, and when the time had come for the twin, Harry Potter, to attend Hogwarts, he'd resented his parents for their selfishness and utter betrayal and refused to do anything with them.
There even had been an incident where Harry Potter had made a blatant show of scorning his parents in front of many witnesses in Hogwarts, in her second year after the debacle with the Chamber of Secrets.
Daphne had respected Harry Potter in his moment of rebellion more than she'd ever done his twin in two years. Not that this Potter was any special. No, a stark opposite of the Golden Boy, he'd been shy, reticent and a complete mystery for the entire first year of their school. He'd been bullied a lot, something she'd taken pity on him for the first few times but had resorted to ignoring because she just couldn't be bothered with it any longer. And then he'd faded into the background, a victim of the Slytherin bullies who didn't want someone from the other side invading their pit. She'd stopped caring then, not only because he'd never shown any initiative, but because any indication that he was different from the others was in vain, the others who bowed to either Dumbledore or the Dark Lord because they couldn't or simply didn't want to look after themselves.
She had no desire to be friends with someone like that, and at the end of the day, he was just as unremarkable as his brother.
"What does He want from us?" she asked.
Her father let out a shuddering breath. "He just asked his lieutenant Lucius to kidnap me," he looked at her mother then, something utterly terrifying in his look that made her flinch and look away, "and kept me there along with a few others to remind me that there would be no neutrality in the war this time. We are going to have to choose a side."
And it better be the right side, was the unsaid thought.
Tears running down her cheeks, her mother shakily got to her feet and almost ran out of the room.
Daphne looked on, scared and bewildered, not knowing what to say or do.
As she looked at her father also trying to get back on his trembling feet, she hurried to help him. The elf also popped in to support him and then made sure to bring him a glass of whiskey.
Her father smiled sadly at her, before walking into his chair and sitting down with a relieved breath.
"What do we do, father?" she asked then, standing there, completely lost.
Her father gave her a sad smile. "I'll have to figure it out, Daphne. Until then, we continue as we are, living our normal lives, even though, all normality has or will soon be gone from the world we live in."
Daphne could only nod as she left the study, no longer able to restrain her tears.