Chapter 5 - Home and Family Musings
The tour was everything Harry had expected it to be. His ancestral home was grand, majestic and utterly beautiful. Now having been in homes of two great wizarding families, he could easily point out the differences between them.
Where the Black home was dark and forbidding, the Potter home was open and inviting. Both appealed to him in a different way. While the Blacks and their magic were famous for their ruthlessness, the Potters were famous for having the legendary battle magic in their blood. Harry was infinitely glad to have both Potter and Black blood in him. In order to become what he desired, he'll need to hone the qualities that made him both a Potter and a Black by blood.
His own room was one of the most luxurious of its kind he's ever been in. Julius had been generous in preparing it in advance for him, and from his Mum he'd come to know that the room had been empty for the last decade, waiting for its owner to return.
Now, standing before the vanity in the adjoining bathroom, he marvelled at its ornate details, adorned with a large, mirrored cabinet. Below, a double sink, its surface of polished marble, offered ample space for grooming rituals. The taps, a blend of chrome and crystal, added a touch of glamour. Reaching for a neatly folded towel from the heated towel rack, he noticed that they were embroidered with the Potter family crest. A basket of fragrant soaps and lotions, a couple of bottles of vanity potions that he didn't know about, and a small sitting area with a drying rug spread around it just screamed the opulent luxury that Harry had never expected to experience.
It frankly made him giddy and he promised to explore further when he was settled. But that had to come later as now, almost anytime, someone will be arriving to take him to lunch. He'd been granted a generous half hour to freshen up by his Dad, who'd postponed their usual lunch time by thirty minutes as the tour had taken that long, most unpredictably too, as he'd spoken with a smirk behind his wife's back.
He was just pulling his shirt back over his head when a knock sounded on the door.
"Come in," he allowed.
Rose and Dorea entered into the chambers, the redhead's gaze looking curiously at him while the dark haired witch found the unfamiliar room interesting.
"How do you like it?" Rose asked, gesturing with her arms open around her.
Harry shrugged, smiling. "It's beautiful, I never imagined it to be..." he trailed off, "so big!"
Rose laughed. "This is the family wing of the Manor."
Harry hummed in understanding. "And they have the best views too." He held out his arms and Dorea and Rose latched on them on either side. The Quidditch Pitch that his room's tall windows overlooked looked very inviting.
"Shall we?"
The walk to the dining room was full of comfortable banter with Rose while Dorea watched with curiosity and a smile. He found these opposite personalities in his siblings very interesting to see.
While Rose could virtually talk about anything at all, Dorea spoke only when she truly had something to contribute, but otherwise, she simply was content to observe. Harry knew that being the youngest among four brothers and sisters can be tough, and with the added scrutiny that being a Potter brought, so he empathized with her. Once upon a time, his life had been studied under a microscope too.
"-so I decided to skip the club because I wasn't learning anything new," Rose was saying, her head moving from side to side in a gesture that he thought was unique to her.
Harry was frowning. "I don't like it. Aren't teachers supposed to encourage students to read ahead?"
Dorea huffed.
"McGonagall doesn't like us," Dorea admitted.
"Why?"
Rose shrugged while Dorea frowned thoughtfully. "She's always been like this," Rose said after a moment of silence. "I thought the Transfiguration Club was made for students to advance in the subject."
Harry made up his mind. "Well, it doesn't matter then," he said firmly. He might've said it little stronger than he meant to because his sisters' eyes snapped to his.
He stopped them just before the threshold of the dining room.
"When we are in school," he looked from Rose to Dorea as he continued, "I want you to come to me with anything you need help with. I'll help you. If I can't, I'll find someone who can."
They were looking at him wide-eyed. "Alright?"
Dorea nodded but Rose spoke out, looking hesitant, "Harry, you're in Slytherin. It's hard for us to find any time to see you outside of classes, let alone spend time together." It was left unsaid that previously, as long as the other Harry had known his family, he'd never spent time with them voluntarily.
Well, that stopped now.
Crushing a wave of guilt that seemed to well up in him even though he wasn't the one who'd ignored his sisters so cruelly and thoughtlessly, he pulled them both into a hug.
When he pulled back, he saw that they both looked shocked but Dorea was nodding and looking at him with so much happiness that he felt good at having rectified one huge aspect of his life so easily and so soon.
"I'm sorry for not being there for you both for so long," he said in apology, "But now, everything is fine. Promise me, you'll come to me with anything you need help with," he paused, pleading with his eyes, "It doesn't matter when or for what, come find me anytime you want."
Rose swallowed and nodded. Then her face morphed into a teasing grin. "Even in the Slytherin common room?"
Harry gave a resolute nod, ignoring the humour. "Even there. There will be some changes in my house as soon as the school resumes. The stupidity of those inbred purebloods has gone on long enough."
The conviction with which he pronounced must've had its effect on his sisters because they said nothing but accepted his words in silence, Rose squeezing his arm in a show of support and thanks.
Then he turned to them and gave a, what Bella likes to say, his trademark 'scheming' grin. "Now, before Mum comes searching for us and scolds us for being late, let us enter."
Rose snorted, patting his arm. "As if Mum would ever scold you."
Dorea giggled, agreeing with her sister. "I think you're safe for at least a few years, Harry."
--- .
James Potter put on a thick, fluffy robe and bent down to lay a kiss on his wife's cheek. Very few times over the years had Lily been so tired from the day's events that she had to take an afternoon nap, but today definitely counted as one.
Not only had their son come back to them, Lily's dream of reconciling their family had finally become a reality. They'd had a fantastic lunch together and retired to rest in their own chambers, the kids taking to studying on their own and Harry returning to Grimmauld.
And then, in a surprise that had taken him by utter delight, his wife had basically mounted him as soon as the doors had closed behind them. James hadn't had his wife take so much initiative in their lovemaking since Dorea had been born. Their intimacy had taken an understandable hit through their estrangement with Harry, something they had brought on themselves through their own foolishness.
As he gazed at Lily as she slept, her peaceful and glowing face turned to the left and her beautiful, fiery hair splayed all around the pillows, he smiled. Relief, gratefulness, and determination welled up in equal parts within him as he finished dressing to meet his oldest friend in his study.
"Padfoot."
Sirius already had a drink poured, and waved his wand casually to pour one for him.
"Robbing my whisky again, I see."
His friend shrugged innocently. "I can't help it. The Muggles sure do make some delicious ones."
James snorted as he took a seat. "What is it? Twenty-first drink of the day for you? It is just after lunchtime after all."
"Funny. I could swear this was my forty-ninth," Sirius greedily gulped from his glass, "You know how it is."
James' eyes twinkled. "I still don't know how you're not dead from drinking so much."
The Padfooted one's eyes took on a teasing glint. "Why Prongs, jealous?"
"No. Besides, if I even attempted to drink more than two drinks a day, Lily would kill me."
"You are jealous," Sirius guffawed. "Thank Merlin I don't have a wife."
"Oh, my wife is enough to keep you from misbehaving. Perhaps a word to Lily is in order," James said innocently.
Sirius glared at him. "I hate you," and then he poured himself another. "She'll ban me from the Manor for a week!"
James looked smug. "Serves you right for not caring for your health."
Sirius threw up his hands. "You know alcohol doesn't affect me the same way it does other wizards."
"I do know it, but it doesn't matter to Lily as you well know." James shot back, still grinning, "Besides, it's not like you wouldn't rob other people of their stashes, you alcoholic mutt."
His friend simply emptied the decanter in protest. James sighed.
"I'm immune to liver failure," Sirius boasted, reaching forward to clink his glass with his entirely too smugly married friend, and sighed. "Perhaps I should replenish my own collection."
Then he sat up. "It still wouldn't be as good as this," Sirius admitted, holding up his glass "I don't suppose you'll be willing to tell me where you get this bottle? I swear every time I visit, the whisky tastes even better!"
James shook his head in exasperation. "Only Lily knows it, she has contacts in the Muggle world." He paused and then looked at his friend in seriousness, "Harry was amazing today. You should've seen Lily, she looked the happiest I've seen her in ages."
Sirius met his gaze, sobering up. "He's grown up."
James' eyes crinkled in worry. "Did something happen at Hogwarts? I'll admit I couldn't believe today wasn't all a dream. We've wanted Harry to forgive us for so long, especially Lily who has been so distraught, and now that he's here and it's all happened, I can't help but think that something terrible has happened that made him so...different, either at Hogwarts or with those Muggles."
"I'll admit he looked different, more grown, more serious, more...like an adult," Sirius began, frowning thoughtfully. "I asked him about it and he told me that he's trying to be a better wizard, reevaluating his priorities. I can't guess what the catalyst for it is, though he did hint that things at Hogwarts and the Muggle home played a part in it."
James blew out a troubled breath. "Do you think there's anything to be worried about? I just hate it that I don't know my own son!"
"Through your own actions!" Sirius said harshly to which his friend flinched. "James, it's important that you don't push him to reveal anything that he doesn't want to reveal to you or Lily." He placed his empty glass on the table. "I don't think he will appreciate it."
James nodded, sadly. "I didn't plan to. The last thing I want is to push him away again."
"Besides, this is only the beginning, Prongs. Let the relationship continue normally. I'm sure Harry will grow to appreciate you and Lily soon enough. It's impossible not to," Sirius assured him. "The time you've both lost cannot be returned but at least you have your son back."
The Potter Lord didn't reply and stood up, going to stand near the hearth. "His magic is stronger too. He also has a presence...a confidence that I've never seen before," he spoke.
Sirius clicked his tongue. "It's not just that, he's like a completely different person too!" James turned towards him in alarm, knowing full well how bad that sounded, "It's nothing concerning, at least not from what I've seen," Sirius placated and his friend relaxed, though only slightly, "His magic is extremely strong, unbelievably for an almost fourteen year old. And, to top it all, I duelled him yesterday."
James took his silent pause with impatience. "And?"
Sirius snorted. "Believe me when I say this Prongs, Harry will be surpassing me and Bella by the end of the summer, possibly even before."
His eyebrows now nearly disappearing into his hairline, James sat back in his favourite armchair, and then smiled widely. "I didn't know he was so good! We saw some of his abilities at lunch today, he performed the Patronus charm for us."
Padfoot waved his arm in a sweeping gesture. "That's the least of what he can do."
James chuckled. "I believe you."
"He clearly thinks the world of you if you believe his Patronus," Sirius said with a grin.
"He was good with his Mum too," James added, somberly, "I don't think those Muggles gave him much affection."
"They didn't. I knew that Harry has always been a loner but I didn't know the extent of his loneliness until I had a two-hour long chat with him," Sirius admitted in the same tone but then brightened, "But that only means that his real family will make up for it and more."
"I hope so, Padfoot, I sure do hope so."
"How are Rose and Dorea taking it? And John?" Sirius asked after a moment.
"I'm not sure who was happier to have Harry back, his Mum or his sisters," James replied, unable to contain his happiness, "Rose is usually all stoic and no nonsense like her mother, but today, she was almost boisterous. Dorea was speaking more and even John had a smile as we did the tour of the Manor."
"John will come around, he's just a kid," Sirius chuckled, leaving it unsaid that Harry and John were the same age and they'd never say the same about Harry, "So Harry has won them all in an afternoon. Not a surprise."
James puffed his chest, "Just like his father."
"I'm pretty sure he got his charisma from the Black side of his family, and his brains from Lily," Sirius ribbed him.
James glared. "I resent that. I was the most popular student at Hogwarts, and it wasn't by accident. It runs in the Potter blood. Father was the same."
Sirius snorted in amusement. "I'm sure your wife will disagree with you. As will Bella."
"Lily will agree with me," James said dismissively, but perked up, "How is Bella? I haven't seen her around for a week!"
"She's busy," Sirius replied, "The Ministry is having a hard time with the World Cup preparations. The DMLE is under a ton of pressure."
"You can't lend a hand?" The Potter Lord asked, "I'm sure Amelia wouldn't mind you helping out."
"I'm sure," Sirius smirked to which James rolled his eyes. "But I haven't asked as my Hit-Wizards are still busy with France, and I wouldn't want to concern Amelia unnecessarily too. If I implied that I want to help with the arrangements, she and the entire Wizengamot will think that I'm worried about a threat."
James huffed. "Can nothing be accomplished without stupid politics getting in the way?"
Sirius hummed. "Next to nothing, I'm sure. Although, political machinations don't compare when there's a Dark Lord to oppose."
"Magical power is everything," James agreed. "Are there any developments?"
Sirius took a deep breath, as if readying himself for a troubling revelation. "I've heard rumours of recruitments all over Europe. A few dozen petty criminals and thieves mostly and a few kidnappers and murderers. I've tried chasing down leads but nothing of consequence has been uncovered."
"That means someone is paying a lot of gold to keep it silent."
"Possibly. Bella has mentioned that crimes have gone down significantly here over the past three months. Normally, it would be good news but..."
"With the rumours of Voldemort gaining strength, it means there's a larger force at work," said Lily, entering the study.
James met her eyes. "Did you have a good sleep?"
Lily smiled. "I don't remember when I've had a better one," She turned towards Sirius, "Do you think he's recruiting wand for hires for attempting something during the World Cup here?"
James observed his wife as his friend took a moment to think. She was clad in a deep red Gryffindor robe, her hair open and framing her face and neck in a bright red halo, one side dropping down, ending up draped on her chest, where the fabric of the robe was rightfully strained by the two heavy burdens it was supporting. She looked so fetching that James swallowed the urge to kiss her and tear off that offending robe right then and there.
James wondered if he could just stand up to take a peek down her generous cleavage and then chided himself for such juvenile thoughts about his own wife.
As if sensing his intentions, Lily winked at him and his found his breeches suddenly too tight to think rationally. So he chose to let his friend continue while his wife laid a gentle, teasing hand on his shoulder and came to stand behind him.
"Voldemort is certainly not dead, as we know. Dumbledore may know how but we don't and that's a disadvantage because we don't know how is it possible for him to be still alive. Nor do we know in what form he still lives, how much strength he has or how much power he's accumulated."
James mulled over his words as Lily spoke up. "I'm sure the Dark Faction knows where he is at least, if they're not helping him outright, which I doubt."
Sirius frowned. "They are too powerful and Amelia can't do anything about it. The Wizengamot as a whole, even some in the Light Faction will oppose if we suddenly brought up the idea of questioning anyone without just cause."
"So we have no other choice, short of breaking and entering into Manors and questioning them one by one."
The statement left a gloomy picture of their country and three long time friends couldn't help but agree.
James brought up a distasteful subject that he felt was necessary. "We could question Dumbledore."
Sirius shrugged. "If he doesn't evade in his answers."
Lily said nothing and James squeezed her hand in support. She glared at the burning logs in the hearth. "As much as I want to avoid him forever, you're right. But we can approach him after the summer. I don't want anything to interrupt our time with Harry."
The firmness of her tone left little for argument but both wizards agreed with her anyway. Asking Dumbledore for anything had to be one of the most annoying things ever, but it had to be done if they needed information on the Dark Lord.
"Don't worry about the World Cup," Sirius assured, "We'll be fine. Even if a threat arises, we'll make a plan to keep our Family safe."
James nodded. "We can simply not attend the World Cup, if it poses a threat. I'd rather not risk anything." He'd barely finished when he felt Lily leaning on him, her arms falling down to his chest, and her tits pressing against his spine. He suppressed a groan, wishing he could exchange it for his hands, or better, his mouth.
"John won't like it. He'll looking forward to the matches, isn't he?" Lily supplied, her cheek resting on the top of his head. James was sure she would've given Sirius a generous peek down her cleavage had he not been sitting in front of her.
"John will understand the need for keeping all of us safe," James replied.
"Let's decide this when the time comes," Sirius interrupted. "Although, do you really think John is the only one who's looking forward to it?"
James' eyes widened in surprise. "But I thought Harry didn't like flying..."
Sirius grinned. "And who told you that?"
Lily sighed. "John."
"John doesn't understand Harry, none of us do yet," Sirius urged his friends. "I think you should make that decision as a family. Bella and I are going to be right where you are, here or at the Cup."
"And you'll be welcome here, but I'm sure Bella will be busy at the World Cup, her job isn't so forgiving after all," Lily mused.
James exchanged a knowing look with Sirius. This competitiveness between Lily and Bella was quite amusing at times, and scary at others.
Suddenly, mischief popped into his brain and he leaned back into her embrace and smirked. Sirius looked befuddled just before his face took on an entirely different shade of red.
Using a quick flick of James' wand, Lily was lifted of her feet and deposited straight into his lap.
"KNICKERS! I SEE KNICKERS! FUCK YOU PRONGS!"
James caught a pillow to his face as well as a resounding whack on the back of his head, courtesy of his sputtering friend and blushing wife.
"JAMES CHARLUS POTTER?!"
But James was grinning like a fool, a fool that had won this game of tease, he decided, despite the glares of his wife as he pulled her firmly into his lap, ignoring the way her robe had opened from the top and was now riding up her thighs.
"I think I'll be leaving now," Sirius mumbled and turned away and stood.
"That would be for the best," James replied, kissing his wife.
"Fuck you, Prongs."
"No thanks, Padfoot. I'd rather fuck Lily."
--- .
"Thank you, Tom," said Harry as he accepted a plate of fish and chips and a generous glass of butterbeer from the barman.
"Enjoy your meal, Mr. Potter," the old wizard said with a smile and returned to his post.
He'd been on a stroll through the Alley, a new experience for him because he didn't remember even having the freedom to do so at will before. A simple stroll through one of the grandest places in the British wizarding world was a completely novel experience for him. He chuckled to himself.
Harry was instantly recognized in public, but the hysteria that had grated on him for so long was absent in this world. He assumed it was reserved for his unlucky twin. Or lucky, as his brother would call himself.
Tom the barman had greeted him with a smile and a nod and directed him to a good booth on the side, away from both the entrance to the pub and the wall that gave access to Diagon Alley. He assumed that the old man had done this for him multiple times over the years.
Having settled into his seat, his mind wandered to the duel he'd had with Bella just over an hour ago. His abilities had come a long way since he'd first arrived here, and now, he was going into every duel with the intention of beating her. Sure, she still managed to surprise him with some niche selection of spells, maneuvers that he'd yet to learn, and some elemental magic that seemed way too important to not dive into, but he was getting there and he was getting there fast. Somehow, picking up spells just came naturally to him now, his mind clearer than ever. He assumed that it could be a side effect of how his scar wasn't troubling him anymore.
The Black Library had hundreds of books on just about everything he wanted, and combined with the Potter library whose selection on battlemagic that had taken his breath away, he'd found way too many books to read and consume and too little time.
But there had been one subject on which those two libraries had come up empty. He'd found, to his dismay, absolutely no information on how to harness his parselmagic into something usable. There had to be something more to it than just talking to serpents. The other Harry had swept through the entire Hogwarts restricted section but found nothing. Harry supposed that there was only one place remaining that he'd yet to look, and that chamber lay below the school he didn't have access to during the summer.
So instead, he was on this errand, hoping to try his luck in some disreputable places in Knockturn Alley, even if he'll have to pay exorbitant prices for such an item, he decided it would be worth it.
Now, here he was, a hearty lunch later, looking at the books in the third bookshop in Diagon Alley, having made up his mind to venture into Knockturn after this. He'd lost all hope in Diagon Alley.
"Potter!"
A familiar voice carrying a hateful tone brought him back to the present and he frowned.
"Weasley, Granger," Harry said automatically, recalling how bad the other Harry's relationship had been with his Gryffindor classmates.
Ron Weasley looked exactly the same in this world, his red hair clashing badly against his complexion and the freckles on his face and neck giving him an clownish appearance.
Hermione, on the other hand, looked beautiful. One of the best memories of his best friend that he cherished was her frightened yet determined appearance when they'd been riding Buckbeak the Hippogriff together to rescue Sirius from the Kiss. And now, standing in front of him in an exact likeness, with her hair blowing in a delightful chaos around her head and shoulders, he found her mistrustful eyes searching him for something.
Wait. Mistrust?
But not only that. He saw something else in her gaze that took him stumbling into an unknown yet painful chasm in his chest.
Uncertainty and Fear.
It was a travesty.
Harry didn't know what he'd done to deserve such censure but looking at her, it had to be something grave because his Hermione would never look at him like that.
And then his eyes travelled somewhere else. It travelled to the arm around her waist, connected to none other than his other friend from the previous life.
Rage swelled within him like an erupting volcano and his wand shot into his hand as if sensing his unspoken command. But that was the wrong thing to do.
Hermione flinched, taking a step back and half-hiding behind the glaring Ron Weasley.
"Planning to curse us in public now, are you?" Ron spat, and Harry looked at him in surprise.
Harry put his wand away. "I've never cursed you Weasley," he said neutrally, recalling his few encounters with the redhead.
"Sure, I suppose I should thank you, eh? That you kept your cursing to my sister?" he spoke with so much vehemence that Harry was taken aback for a moment.
But then his Occlumency slipped into place and reminded him of a detail he'd been stupidly ignoring for so long.
Not just Ron and Hermione, but many in the Gryffindor House thought he had aided the shade of the Dark Lord in escaping with Ginny Weasley in the Chamber of Secrets two years ago. And the other Harry had never thought or acted enough to remove this rumour from the people he cared nothing about. For a second, Harry wished it was mere indifference that he now had to overcome but it was much more than that. It was hatred and downright mistrust.
Harry cursed inwardly and held up his hands. Weasley looked even more enraged at his actions and took his own wand out. Harry frowned.
"I've never cursed your sister either, Weasley," he said firmly.
"LIES!" Ron roared and Hermione took another step back, and absently, Harry realized that her hands were shaking. The air smelling of old books and parchment that he'd been enjoying had suddenly turned too stifling.
"Why would I lie?" he asked.
"Death Eaters like you don't deserve to be in Hogwarts," Ron threw back, waving his wand at him.
Harry's hand twitched at the accusation and his wand was back in his hand. He looked down at his wand and frowned, genuinely annoyed this time. Why the fuck did his wand keep behaving like this? This was the second time he'd had this problem now. He'd never wanted to take his wand out again and yet here it was.
Keeping his voice steady, he looked at Hermione instead.
"I swear I've never cursed Ginny," he pleaded with his eyes.
But instead of a reaction from her, he got an angry retort from Ron.
"DO NOT say her name with your filthy mouth!"
Just what the fuck was his problem? Harry didn't know what to do to escape this weird and painful confrontation so he looked at his watch and turned around. There was no need to worry about Ron using his wand on him, recalling that the boy didn't even the ability to cast a counter to the slug-eating jinx.
Not having the courage to look at Hermione and see her distrustful, accusatory eyes again, he walked away without another word.
Outside the bookshop, he took a deep breath in the open air, suddenly glad for his occlumency. A stupidly violent reaction to Ron's accusations and Hermione's mistrust was the least worst thing he'd avoided through his calm and collected mind.
Now away from the duo, Harry waited for the pain in his chest to recede but it was in vain. For as long as he could remember, Hermione had been his rock, his partner and his best friend who had accompanied him on every misadventure out of pure, artless loyalty and friendship. In his lowest moments while recovering in the Hospital Wing after a nasty Quidditch fall, after rescuing Ginny Weasley, after rescuing Sirius, after escaping the dragon, after losing his godfather at the battle, she'd been there for him. If not physically, she'd been in his thoughts and dreams, comforting him, caring for his wounds, both physical and mental, and making him better. He would be dead for at least a dozen times if it hadn't been for Hermione and her quick thinking and brilliance.
Never in his worst dreams had he dared to imagine losing her to anything. That would've been beyond painful. That would've been the end. And now, he'd seen her look at him like she suspected that he'd sell her to Voldemort.
He hated that he'd been such a weak man. It may not be him but still, a version of him had done it to his sweet, innocent, loyal Hermione. He felt a monstrous urge to retrace his steps and take her away from Ron, somewhere where he could explain everything to her, make her believe him and hope that she'll care for him again.
But those thoughts were dangerous. Because if he truly wanted to, he'll be able to do it and that would be disastrous. He couldn't see a single scenario in which Hermione saw his unwanted, unexpected and most suspicious intervention as positive.
So he put it out of his mind for the moment. Gaining Hermione back was just another thing that he had to do. A most critical priority.
Walking briskly to the infamous Alley, he looked around for a bookshop. Finding nothing nearby, he simply pulled the door to a familiar shop open and ventured inside.
A shabbily dressed wizard with yellow teeth and dead, gray eyes looked at him in suspicion and surprise.
"Hello, Borgin."
Chapter 6 - Duels and Friendships - Part One
He could imagine at least 8 different ways Bella could turn it around and spank his mischievousness in the most humiliating manner, because yes, she had a knack for toying with her opponents, er...enemies before she cut them down for good, but he shook the thoughts away. Taking a deep breath, he took a step inside the duelling chamber and got his emotions under control.
His Occlumency was coming along great, so great that he couldn't believe he wasn't able to make head or tails of it in his previous life. Now though, it was like a layer of, how to say it, 'dunderheadedness' had been lifted from his mind and he could just see things more clearly for what they are and some for what they are meant to be.
And Occlumency had never actually been about protecting your mind from foreign influences. No, it had all been, not an outright lie per se because thousands of magicals still learned that way from their books and teachers, but a clever misdirection, like a more childish and simplified way of learning the art. The way everyone learned this precise, mysterious art to protect their minds was like they used their wands to cast spells. It got rid of all the intricacies involved in understanding what you're doing and why you're doing it, and only focused on the 'how'. So people followed directions, very few could in the first place but still, they followed directions and learned it step by step without ever delving into why they had been told to do what they were doing.
Occlumency, as he'd been able to grasp it now, was an art that turned your mind into a weapon. It didn't just help you protect your mind but it helped you control others'.
A clear head, mindfulness, better memory, false memories and mindscapes were all mechanisms to build your mind into a veritable fortress that should anyone ever dare to invade, lost their own bloody mind in the attempt.
And now, he was close, so close to building his first fortress. But before that, he thought taking a deep breath, he had a duel to fight and an opponent to defeat.
A slew of dangerous curses flew to him and he raised his wand and they vanished into smoke before they even came ten feet close to where he stood. Now, he began to execute a plan that Sirius had helped inspire.
"What do you mean play to your strength?" he had asked the day before, exasperated with his godfather's riddles. Merlin damn the mutt, here he was seeking some tips while his smirking dogfather was emulating Dumbledore.
Sirius took a sip of his firewhiskey, before answering him. His Dad was right, Sirius drank a lot.
"I can't tell you what to do because I don't know it myself. Besides, a fight cannot be predicted to go the way you want it to anyway. All I can tell you is that you stop playing to what's expected of you and who you aspire to be and focus on what you are and what you're trying to become."
"Which means what?" that sounded too much like a movie dialogue, Harry thought.
Sirius sat down, giving him a look that meant he was a tad disappointed. Harry felt his ire rising a little. Just a little though, as no matter how much infuriating Sirius got, Harry could never get angry with him for anything. Bella along with James and Lily and Rose and Dorea Potter enjoyed the same privilege.
He began after a few moments of comfortable silence. "Why do you think Dumbledore and Voldemort are revered, in different factions, to be the most powerful wizards of our time?"
"Because nobody can hope to defeat them in battle," Harry answered immediately. "They're both a one-man army. They're even-"
Sirius held up a hand, interrupting him. "Wrong."
Harry blew out a breath. "Because everyone knows how powerful and competent they are at nearly everything and they can't compare?" he tried again.
Sirius chuckled. "That's just how a majority of people lead their lives, Harry, following others to solve their problems because they themselves can't. Or won't. The answer is simpler," he assured, "and nobody wants to admit it to themselves." He left the room with a nod.
Harry fell silent. It was about twenty minutes later that he found Sirius in his study.
"Both wizards are superior in understanding magic," Harry said, "They've both spent years studying the details of every spell when most wizards are worried about performing correct wand movements and chanting spells with the right tonality."
Sirius nodded. "Very good," the sparkle in his eyes filled Harry with pride. "Dumbledore and Voldemort have an understanding of magic that you and I don't. It is as simple as that."
Harry was excited now. "So how does that answer my question?"
"When you think of battle, what comes to mind when you see Dumbledore fighting?"
"His transfiguration," Harry answered immediately, remembering vividly the lifelike creations of the old wizard in the Ministry atrium when he'd fought Voldemort. "He's the best at it. And his defensive magic is unparalleled."
Sirius smiled. "And Voldemort? What does he remind you of?"
Harry didn't even have to think. "Obscure curses. And speed. He has an insane speed of casting."
"Right on both. Most people can cast thirty spells a minute at most. Voldemort can cast almost two hundred," Sirius revealed. "Your mother calculated it."
Harry sat down behind the desk, a shiver running down his back. "Putting that insane number aside, you want me to focus on what I am most comfortable with," he leaned forward. "You want me to use my strengths in a way no one else can."
Sirius raised his hands palms forward and Harry met it with his own in a high-five.
"So the question remains, what branch of magic and what kind of style are you most comfortable with adhering to under pressure?"
In the present, Harry ducked nimbly and proceeded to bring a fissure on the ground of his own making alive and filled with three-headed snakes. Then he waved his wand in an arc to construct a solid yellow barrier and willed the air above to transform into thunderclouds. Then he constructed eight golems in rapid succession and deployed them all to attack the witch from all sides while the back of the room turned into a literal tank and started firing stone balls from its nozzle on the unsuspecting back of the former World Champion.
And finally, he began throwing curses in reckless abandon.
Harry had found the answer to his question after a day of practise and contemplation. What he liked was Transfiguration because of his Dad, Charms because of his Mum, Offensive magic because of his innate ability at DADA, and he thrived in utter chaos. No, not just any chaos. Carefully Constructed Controlled Chaos.
And he decided to use it.
When previously he would try to use some clever transfigurations to neutralize his enemy's offense, some clever charm work and destructive offensive spells to bring her under pressure, now, he'd decided to let it all go. No routine was necessary when there was chaos to inflict.
Did he really need to use transfiguration to protect himself when he could simply move away? Did he need to throw curses at his opponent and intercept hers with his shield when he could instead confuse her with a hundred brainy snakes and a muggle tank and a lightning cloud? Did he need some animation charm to will his golems to attack her after he'd finished defending himself from her deadly creations when he could simply do both simultaneously?
And he could. As he found out only a few moments later.
And he enjoyed it immensely.
It was beautiful, this chaos. He was dancing about the room letting his instincts take over instead of his brain and he loved it.
His concentration was broken, most satisfactorily at that, when he heard a shriek and a curse and a sound that most definitely signified a fall. Still, he didn't pause and let his wand do the work of securing his opponent physically.
"Fuck."
Bella was lying tangled up in what he saw were at least a dozen snakes hissing at her, tightening themselves around her ankles while her right arm was dangling at an unnatural angle. Her face was covered in soot and her hair was standing at ends in complete disarray and in the smoky room, it looked almost white.
"I'm sorry," he said, clearing the mess and helping her up to a conjured chair and producing a goblet of water. "But I won."
Bella looked at him with a proud grimace. "You were unstoppable," she spoke after a greedy gulp of the liquid, "There was nowhere for me to go to escape your," she gestured in a sweeping motion with her good hand, "numerous traps."
He nodded, sitting down at her feet, and resting his cheek against her knee. "Anything else?"
Bella looked at him in confusion. "What else?"
Harry frowned. "Anything I should improve?"
Bella shook her head. "What are you talki-" she tried, "How are you even-" she stopped, letting out a laugh. "Nothing. I can't think of anything, except perhaps to practising and to keep extending your arsenal of curses, but you don't need to be reminded of that. You're up before dawn every single day doing exactly that."
Harry nodded, patting her knee and turning to cast a simple diagnostic spell on her arm. "It's broken in three different places at least," he said with an apology, "Let's go to St. Mungos."
"No, Andromeda can heal it," Bella protested, "St. Mungos will attract too much attention."
Harry just cast a patronus in reply. Bella smiled in response. "Thanks," he waved it away.
She frowned. "You don't look as happy as you should be after defeating a four time world champion."
Harry burst into laughter.
"Sorry, Occlumency," he replied, taking a deep breath, finally relaxing and feeling the contours of his face become softer. "I am happy," he said with a genuine smile on his face.
He really had done it. He'd won against Bella before his fourteenth birthday. Joy and pride were suddenly coursing through his chest, unrestrained. He couldn't believe it.
He laughed again.
Bella bit her lip. "You are becoming too fancy, Mister," she ruffled his hair affectionately with her good arm, "Are there now two versions of my favourite godson?"
"Possibly," he teased, grinning.
Bella pouted and Harry felt the beginning of another emotion swelling within him. Pouting never looked so good on a grownup, but Bella pulled it off with a charm that rendered him speechless.
Instead of words though, he just let his instincts take over once again. This time though, they were not focused by the conductor of his Occlumency, but far simpler, raw basic emotions and desires.
He lay a kiss on her palm.
In his previous life, Harry would've never attempted this without thinking a hundred times in advance with any witch, not even Hermione, let alone with this grand and powerful one who also happened to be his godmother. But he had changed.
He had no burdens anymore, only responsibilities that he chose and wanted to accept.
Bella let out another tinkling laugh that made his body thrum a little. He felt bolder. He didn't want to wonder what he was gonna do when she was being this adorable and...hot. So bloody hot.
"I will need to be on my guard then, always," she spoke with laughter in her voice, "Lest I be deceived by the wrong version of Harry."
Harry didn't speak. Instead, he lowered his knees to the floor and brought his hands to hold her shoulders gently.
"Never!" he said firmly, looking into her eyes, "You never need to be on your guard with me," he leaned forward to lay a kiss on her cheek.
Bella had forgotten to breathe. "Then how will I know which version of Harry I'm talking to?"
He removed his left hand and let his right drop slowly to her chest, stopping at her heart. Pressing his palm deeply, firmly into the thin fabric of her dress, feeling the contour of the swell of her breast and her speeding heart, he spoke, "Because every version of me cares deeply for you."
Leaning, he removed his palm to let his lips replace them, and for the next few seconds, he placed a kiss of deep, unmoving affection to her heart.
Bella smiled tremulously, her cheek having gained colour from his forwardness. Harry shrugged internally, not at all sorry for letting his emotions out in his manner for Bella.
It was then that the Black elf popped beside them.
"Mistress, Mrs. Tonks has arrived," Kreacher croaked, bowing slightly.
Harry supported Bella as she stood up. She winced but avoided his gaze and he looked down to see that one of her ankles had also swelled.
As they walked out from the duelling chamber, or as Bella walked out with his support, Harry felt a confidence within him that he hadn't felt before. It was alive and visceral and put a smirk on his face.
Sure, he still had to go a long way to be better than the titans of the world, but he had come far, so far in so little time.
And now, he felt ready for anything.
--_- .
"Surely he doesn't need the fourth year books, Lily," James protested weakly, "Harry's way beyond in every subject!"
Lily glared. "Even if he is, it doesn't hurt to have them and not need them."
James stayed silent. Harry snorted. "Every subject except Runes, Arithmancy and Potions."
"What?" James turned to him, flummoxed.
Harry shrugged. "Those are the subjects I'm pants at."
Lily's face softened. "I'll teach you anything you need to know in Potions before the school starts, Harry. Your father and Sirius can help you with the basics in Runes and Arithmancy."
Harry nodded in thanks. "I really need to catch up if I want to take them as my electives this year."
"We'll make sure you're ready," James promised. Lily was busy handing him more books from the aisle they were currently standing in.
As they paid for the books for all four junior Potters, Lily spoke up.
"Oh! I'd forgotten, I got something for you," she said excitedly, "I need to go collect it."
"What is it?" Harry was eager to see what his mother had bought him.
Before Lily could answer, her husband cut in, "Ha! You're late. I already got my gift for Harry," he said, taking a box-sized thing out of a pocket.
Harry was vibrating with excitement. "Enlarge it, Harry," his father instructed.
He simply touched his forefinger to the miniature box and pushed his magic into it. The matchbox sized thing turned into a large trunk with a discrete Potter crest displayed proudly on top.
James looked at him, his eyes wide at the wandless magic. Lily was looking at him in wonder. Instead of raising their voices in public, the Potter parents looked at each other in silent communication and nodded. Harry watched their reactions curiously.
Lily ruffled his hair while James patted him on the arm. "That was incredible," she praised quietly. Harry swallowed at the emotions that rose inside him when both of his parents looked at him with pride.
"Anyway," James said, clearing his throat, getting excited again, "Look what I got you!"
Harry paid more attention to the gift then and found himself appreciating it.
"It's a trunk to store your growing collection of books. A personal library away from home and Hogwarts. And that's not it," James indicated the emblem on the top of the cover. "Push your magic into it, Harry."
Harry did so and a thick tome popped out of the Potter crest. Picking it up, he was taken by surprise by its lightness and noticed that it was hollow on the inside.
"This is what I call 'The Oracle'," James said to which Harry quirked an eyebrow and Lily looked at him in surprise, "When you want to read any book from the library at the Manor, you simply request it and a copy of it will appear in this tome."
"You finished it!" Lily exclaimed, to which James grinned. She turned to her son, "Your father has been working on this charm for over a year now," she explained.
Harry was taken aback at the revelation and took a moment to gather himself before shooting a quick excited and grateful look at both his parents. "Reactive and Non-Reactive Elements," he said to the Oracle, and the hollow book vibrated in his hand before suddenly turning extremely heavy.
He barely caught it before it fell and opened it to see the exact book he'd wanted within it.
"This is incredible," he said, before embracing his father. "Thank you, Dad."
James patted his back while Lily looked on with a watery smile.
"Of course, son," James said, a little bashful but grinning nonetheless. "Oh, I forgot to tell you," he said, "You can also add more connections to it, so you can access books from the Black Library too, with Padfoot or Bella's permission."
Harry shook his head in wonder. "This has to be the single greatest gift I've ever received, and so useful!" he said quietly, "Thank you." he said again much to the delight of his parents.
They ventured out in the Alley again when Lily promised to find them in fifteen minutes after collecting Harry's present. After she'd left, leaving James with Harry who were quickly joined by Rose and Dorea.
"Where's John?" James asked.
Rose shrugged. "He found a friend in the Apothecary," she said.
"You both got what you were looking for?" Harry asked to which Rose and Dorea nodded and launched into a brief explanation of the shops they'd been to so far.
Looking at the book in his hand, Rose asked, "What's this?"
Harry smiled widely. "Dad's gift."
Rose and Dorea glanced at each other before their faces melted into matching grins. "Show us!" they said together before surrounding him on either side. Harry laughed and launched into a demonstration of the wondrous gift.
When they were finished testing the Oracle multiple times, James interrupted. "Since your mum is gone, where do we want to visit next?"
Harry knew exactly where he wanted to go. "Quality Quidditch?" he said to which Rose nodded and Dorea sighed, but didn't protest. James beamed.
"That's how I know you're all mine," James jested.
Dorea rolled her eyes.
"You don't like Quidditch?" Harry asked his baby sister.
Dorea chuckled. "I don't, but Rose does and she'd on the team so I watch her matches," she sighed as if the act always pained her.
Rose glared. "Nobody forces you to come," she said flippantly and promptly turned to walk towards the shop. Dorea took it in stride.
Harry watched their interaction curiously while James shook his head good-naturedly.
"If I don't come to watch, you lose," Dorea said simply to which Rose began to protest and their bickering continued until they had entered the shop.
Harry noted that the topic of Quidditch seemed to be the only thing so far that he'd seen his sisters not agree on, and knew from Dorea's logical retorts and Rose's emotional responses while defending the sport that which sister resembled after which parent.
Redirecting his attention to the brooms on display, he whistled.
"Firebolt Pro?" he exclaimed in shock, looking at the new and advanced version of his favourite racing broom.
The wizard behind the counter seemed to notice his interest and came bustling. "The fastest broom in the world, and as insisted by multiple Chasers and Seekers from all over, the best broom in the world!" he boasted.
And then his attention seemed to deflect and Harry followed his gaze to see him eyeing his father with...was that distaste?
"Lord Potter, welcome," he uttered the words, sounding like he'd greeted James at the threat of a curse.
Harry stared inquisitively at his Dad who shook his head discreetly. He cleared his throat. "Can you tell me what its top speed is?"
The man turned towards Harry who remained stoic under his attention. "The Pro is the professional version of the Firebolt, goes up to two hundred and twenty-five kilometres an hour, compared to the original which goes up to one hundred and eighty."
No matter how much he tried to not stare at the racing broom longingly, he couldn't hide it from his family.
"I've never seen you fly at Hogwarts, Harry," Rose said from beside him. He startled and then when her words registered, suppressed a groan.
Harry shrugged. "I didn't want to draw attention to myself."
The lack of eye-contact seemed to make comprehensive dawn on her face. "Because of John?" she asked incredulously.
Harry didn't want to confirm it and yet he couldn't deny this excuse either. Perhaps a lot of his previous behaviour could be explained or excused because of the world's obsession with his twin?
Looking at the broom now, Harry hesitated. Her question had made another adjacent one in his brain to pop up.
How was he supposed to buy this broom for himself? Should he ask his Dad, wasn't that how things worked? Children asking their parents for things they want? But what if his parents refused? He could always ask Sirius or Bella and they'd surely get it for him since he couldn't afford it himself. But that'll mean going against his parents' wishes and he couldn't think of anything worse than knowingly hurting his parents over a broom. Not to mention, he didn't even know how much money he actually had in his trust vault.
How was he supposed to tell his Dad that he had an independent streak within him that will refuse to cower should the parents he'd never had refuse to give him something he needed?
He tried to redirect attention from himself. "Which broom do you fly?"
Rose grinned. "I'm still happy with my Nimbus 1000. I don't need the additional speed."
The shopkeeper seemed to puff up at her words. "It's not just the speed, Miss Potter. The Firebolt has maneuvering capabilities that put every other broom to shame, and has a keying mechanism for additional features."
"Keying?" James asked.
"Supplemental keys can be purchased and added to the broom," Going to look behind the counter, he took a moment before coming back with a brown key with the Firebolt logo on it. "This one here adds charms that activate on speeds above a hundred kilometres an hour and can help you remain safely seated on the broom without a chance of falling."
Harry frowned thoughtfully. That sounded more like a hindrance to him.
"Can it be deactivated mid-flight in certain situations?"
The man looked bewildered while James stared at him in amusement.
"Situations such as?"
"If the rider wants to stand on the broom while flying very close to the ground?"
The man looked at like he was sprouting madness and James guffawed. "You surely have some crazy ideas, Harry."
Harry's hand came up to scratch the back of his neck in discomfort but then he gathered himself and huffed. "Who said they were mere ideas?"
His father sputtered while Rose pulled on his arm to turn him. "Are you saying that you've ridden a broom standing?"
"At over a hundred kilometres an hour, yes," he finished for her and she gaped at him like she didn't know him at all. Which is true, because she didn't, not yet.
James wanted to say something but then stopped himself. Glancing at the shopkeeper observing them without much subtlety, he spoke up, "Rose, wasn't there a servicing kit you needed?"
The thirteen-year old witch noticed his pointed look and understood the assignment. "In six-months probably," she replied. "Not immediately."
James rubbed his palms together. "Perfect, Harry, let's get you set up with that new trunk you're looking for," he announced and walked out of the door.
Harry, who hadn't missed the look, said nothing but followed his father and sisters out. Once they were out in the Alley, James held out a hand on his shoulder.
"I'm sorry for rushing us out like that, son," he apologized, and then looked him in the eye and asked in a serious tone, "Have you really been doing broom stunts in your spare time?"
Harry didn't know what to think so he simply nodded. "I like flying," he said simply.
"Flying and performing stunts are two different things, Harry," James began and then sighed. "I've seen far too many professionals gravely injured from performing acrobatics that they didn't need to simply impress the audience. Or someone in the audience. But since you aren't on the Slytherin team, that leaves," he paused, a sudden twinkle in his eye, "A girl."
Dorea gasped while Rose stared wide-eyed at her Dad at his flawless logic.
"What are you-" Harry began but James cut him off.
"Is there a girl you've been wanting to impress?" he asked bluntly.
Harry tried to backtrack, the last few minutes giving him whiplash. He absently noticed that his sisters were giving him conspiratory looks that signalled he was going to have to suffer another interrogation when they returned home. A part of his mind realized that they were going to tell Mum at the first opportunity too.
Harry gathered himself quickly. "No. There is no one," he denied firmly and he could see that his Dad didn't believe him. "I swear, I only do those...stunts because I like flying, not because I like a girl."
He didn't know what else to say to make them relent so he waited patiently and after a few seconds of silence after his admission, his Dad gave in.
"If you say so," he said smiling, but Harry could tell James looked a bit uncomfortable at his denial. They had just started walking back from where they'd left when the youngest member of their little group spoke up, dissipating all the tension into thin air.
"If you need that broom, Harry, you'll need to do better than that," Dorea piped in.
Harry groaned while James smirked. "Wait till your mother hears of this," he spoke as if enjoying his plight. Harry was glad to see them all comfortable again, even if it was at his expense.
"Wait till I hear of what?" Lily said, walking up to the group, carrying a small book-sized gift-wrapped box.
"Harry has a girlfriend he wants to impress with his new broom," Dorea explained innocently, while James and Rose roared in laughter.
Harry looked at his little sister in shock, embarrassed beyond words. He took a single glance at his Mum's face and realized she had a similar reaction to her choice of words.
Dorea received a quiet admonishment while James received a punch to his arm in reply. "What are you both laughing at?" Lily hissed at her elder daughter and husband, "Look how uncomfortable Harry looks," she said and James sobered up a little, "If he wants to tell us about anything, he'll do so in his own time."
Rose and Dorea quietened up with matching guilty looks but not completely letting go of their amusement while James looked contrite. "I'm sorry," he mouthed to Harry who waved it away.
He shook his head, smiling wryly, finally realizing and accepting two things. The first being this novel experience at having a family and how they teased and joked with each other was so surreal and wonderful that he never wanted it to end. The second, he chuckled to himself, was that his Mum apparently was the most mature one in the family. He had suspected the latter but it was nice to see the evidence.
They returned to the Manor only ten minutes later, John having joined their group after taking leave from Weasley, the friend he'd encountered earlier. They'd just retired to lunch when Bella was shown in by Julius.
Harry looked up from his food just in time to see an identical version of his white feathery friend inside a cage held by his godmother.
His got up so fast that his chair almost toppled backwards. His heart skipped a beat when he realized that the friend he'd left in his own world had returned to him as a gift from Bella.
He didn't realize Bella had been speaking as he embraced her quickly before reaching for the cage and opening the tiny door. Hedwig, or as she will be named by him soon, flew out and came to sit on his shoulder.
She nibbled affectionately at his temple and he blinked away the tears that had suddenly threatened to fall.
"Thank you, Bella," he said simply and the purple-eyed witch beamed.
"She's beautiful!" Rose gushed, in response to which Harry could swear his new owl swooned.
"She's already taken with you," Bella said, "In the Menagerie they said that she'd bitten and scared off nearly everyone that had come to take her in the past few years."
"Do you want something to eat, girl?" he murmured softly to which the intelligent owl bobbed her head. He laughed, momentarily forgetting everyone else in the room as he summoned a piece of chicken from his plate. His feathery friend quickly snatched it from his fingers and flew to a windowsill.
"She will be called Hedwig," he said to no one and everyone.
Turning to Bella who was observing him with a warm smile, he gestured to their table. "If you're not in a hurry, join us for lunch."
Bella agreed. "I'd love to, I haven't had breakfast today, had to pull an all-nighter at the office."
Julius wasted no time in popping and arranging another chair around the table, seating Bella in between Lily and Dorea.
As conversation began to flow again, Harry looked at his assembled family with happiness and pride.
This is the only thing worth living for, he decided firmly.
His inner musings made him not notice the matching conspiratory grins that his Mum and Bella had as they planned something on the other side of the table. It was a good thing, otherwise, he'd later think, he would've definitely protested.
--_- .
"John! Hurry up, will you!" Rose bellowed in half amusement and half annoyance.
Lily was standing close by as she fussed over Harry's untameable trademark Potter hair. Everyone else was already here and her difficult brother, like always, was taking too long in getting ready. Their patience had always been tested at times with his tardiness, but today, she was especially agitated because it was the day of the Duelling Championships.
Dorea stood to her side, offering their parents her silent support. James was standing quietly to the side, dressed in flashy yet elegant battle robes, ones that were sure to make an impression the moment they entered the arena. Lily was clad in a colour matched set of robes with a green tint, similar to Harry's shirt, their dresses bringing out the vibrant emerald of their eyes.
As Lily groaned and then set out to fix his hair once more, Rose exchanged a silent amused look with her father. She was not one to give up but Harry's hair was a beast that Rose knew would take a lot more to tame than simple cosmetic charms.
"I'm here, I'm here..." John said, climbing down the stairs two at a time. His robes were similar to hers, a hazel coloured one that were in quality, an exact replica of Lily and Harry's.
Looking at her difficult brother, Rose exchanged an exasperated look with her sister and decided that once again, they'd been made to wait to satisfy the vanity of their elder brother, who looked like he was visiting an upscale restaurant rather than going to fight for glory.
Lily looked ready to reprimand him for his tardiness but once again, James intervened, pointing out that it was barely eight and they were supposed to be present by eight-thirty.
Lily huffed in response and took Harry's arm again as they went to the fireplace.
"Are you ready, Harry?" James asked neutrally.
Harry nodded. "I am. It's gonna be fun," he said with enthusiasm.
As John looked at his twin in disbelief, Rose rolled her eyes. She could tell he looked ready. After the glimpses of what they'd seen of his power and control here and there as they spent time together, she was eager to see how much did her formerly estranged brother could surprise them all in the tournament.
As they approached La Grande Arène Valmont, they felt a sense of awe and anticipation in the air. The massive structure loomed before them, sitting majestically at the border of France and Germany, its design a stunning blend of both magical and architectural grandeur. The Arena was so vast that it seems to stretch beyond the horizon, an imposing monument to the centuries-old tradition of magical duelling. Rose had enjoyed visiting here for the last two years in support of John, the rich magical structure and the level of duelling always making her fill with awe.
The exterior was an intricate blend of ancient stonework and modern enchantments. The outer walls are made from shimmering silver-gray stone, etched with runes and symbols that glow faintly in the evening light. These magical engravings told the history of duelling tournaments, tracing back to the earliest magical societies in Europe. Arched windows with enchanted glass rose high above, their surfaces reflecting the colours of the setting sun, while large, golden flags waved gently in the breeze, emblazoned with the emblem of the European Duelling Federation. The architecture was a marvel — a marriage of gothic spires and grand marble columns, with enchanted murals and tapestries depicting legendary duels and historic magical figures.
As they make small conversation and move closer, the massive bronze doors that lead inside the arena creak open in welcome. The air shifts as they step inside, the cool breeze of the outside world replaced by the rich, warm scent of magic and excitement. The sound of murmurs and hushed voices fills their ears as participants, spectators, and officials alike converge toward their destinations.
They follow the path toward the registration area, passing beneath the towering statues of famous duelists from across Europe. Each statue seems alive with magical energy, their eyes glowing with fierce determination. The path is lined with elegant, enchanted lamps casting soft golden light, guiding them forward as they approach the grand marble archway that leads into the interior of the arena.
Inside the registration hall, the Family pause as Sirius joins them, coming as a spectator to the tournament for the first time in many years. After some brief greetings, they join the queue for the Under-14 Tournament Registrations.
The atmosphere is one of organized chaos — competitors from every corner of Europe hustle about, some familiar, some new. Large, gilded counters are staffed by Ministry officials in sharp black robes, their faces impassive but focused as they check in each participant. Behind them, enormous banners flutter with the names of the three divisions: Under-14, Under-17, and The Championships. The walls of the hall are lined with trophies and memorabilia from past tournaments — each relic shining with a story of its own.
They're halfway through the queue when something Harry says that causes James and Lily to gasp and raise their voice a little. Rose tried to follow the conversation, breaking out her musing.
"But isn't that too advanced, Harry?" Lily fretted, "We thought you were participating under the Under-14 Tournament!"
James hummed, looking anxiously at his son, searching for any signs of hesitation or anxiety. He tried to not to show it, but Rose could gather that he was equally ill at ease as Lily.
Harry didn't budge. "I'm prepared for it, Mum, Dad," he said looking at them with no hint of anxiety. "Besides, it'll be a great learning experience in any case," he said and grinned, his confidence draining some of the tension from their shoulders.
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see John's face locked in a strange mixture of jealousy and joy. She wanted to make sense of it but couldn't hazard a guess. After John had registered for the Under-14 as usual, they moved to join the Under-17 queue for Harry.
After registering, they moved towards the main arena. The entrance to the duelling floor is an immense archway adorned with sparkling diamonds that shimmer with every passing step. As they step onto the arena floor, Rose's breath catches and she could also notice her sister looking around in appreciation. The central duelling stages are circular, floating in an enormous, open space, surrounded by magical barriers that pulse with energy. There are more than a dozen stages, all scheduled to host a match in the near future.
The floor itself is composed of enchanted stone, a blend of smooth marble and dark basalt, with runes carved in concentric circles that shift in patterns depending on the duel. Sirius had explained to her once that each rune contains ancient wards to ensure fairness and protect the participants. In the very centre of the arena lies a massive crystal orb, which, upon the start of each duel, glows with an ethereal light, projecting the duel's realtime image across the arena for all to see.
The seating surrounding the duelling ring is another extraordinary feature of the venue. Massive tiers of seating rise high into the air, stretching up like the steps of a coliseum. The Family takes their seat at the one of the highest levels, Sirius having secured a empty box for them due to his rank with the ICW.
Enchantments are at play everywhere. The seating itself is beginning to be filled with a mixture of wizarding elite, who arrive in elegant robes of velvet and silk, as well as fans from all walks of magical life. The air is filled with murmurs of excitement, foreign languages blending into a harmonious hum, as spectators settle into their seats. The atmosphere is electric, a mixture of the grandeur of a royal event and the fervour of a sporting match. Rose notices a few of her Hogwarts classmates arrive with their families, the tournament being an occasion that attracted almost all reputable families.
"It's a two-day tournament as usual. Under-14 will be concluded by lunch today," Sirius explained. "Then Under-17 begins after lunch and the Open Championships will be held tomorrow."
Lily held James' hand in her own, Rose and Dorea sitting on either side of their parents. John and Harry had already gone to prepare in the backroom.
"There's a surge of Under-17 participants this time," Bella said to fill the silence, "Lots of new faces from Germany."
Lily shook her head and glared at her before turning back to face the stage where John will be facing his first opponent. James, who was rubbing Lily's arm in comfort, gave Bella a look of apology.
"How far do you think John will go this time?" Rose asked to no one in particular.
James whistled. "I'll expect him to be a semi-finalist at least."
"Has he been practising?" Sirius inquired.
Lily nodded. "I've seen him reading some Duelling books this summer."
Sirius clucked his tongue. "Books will only take you so far," he said, "Has he engaged either of you in practise duels?"
Rose saw her parents exchange a look as her Dad replied, "No, he's been practising on his own."
That was the moment when the bells rung and the first round began.
By the end of the first hour, thirty-two out of sixty-four participants had been eliminated, John Potter being one of them.
--_- .
"Well, Daphne," Nott said in his usual raspy voice, and she resisted the urge to get up and run away from the wizard. "There's nothing to see here anymore."
Daphne glared in the general direction of the stages, doing her best to ignore the wizard who was once again sitting too close to her. All her expectations had come crashing down in a single hour of duels, not that anyone knew what they were, apart from her father from whom she could hide nothing. "Indeed," she hissed.
Her housemates, who took delight in the incompetence of the Gryffindor Golden Boy, chortled. It was truly a marvel how foolish she and every other witch and wizard in the British Wizarding public was as they'd put their saviour on a pedestal, a saviour that wasn't even within the best eight Under-14 wizards in Europe.
Potter was truly as undeserving of fame as he'd ever been and she chided herself for having raised her expectations. After the impending disaster that threatened to tear her family apart, she'd had no choice but to form some sort of designs on the deemed saviour of the wizarding world, thinking that this might be the year she could strike some sort of friendship with the boy if he proved his mettle in the tournament. But no, those hopes had been dashed and she felt well and truly bereft, having no plan to help aid her father in their fight to stay safe within the upcoming war.
As much as she wanted to disagree with Nott, he was right. There was nothing to see here anymore and she wanted to go home. She knew her father will agree with her, no matter how much Astoria protested.
As she shot to her feet, the familiar chubby figure of Blaise Zabini came sprinting towards their group panting and leaned down to relay a message to none other than Draco Malfoy, who was sitting some distance away. She could see that the information was of some interest as his eyes went wide.
"Well, well, well, what's this?" he murmured with a dangerous grin, and all of them in the vicinity strained to hear. Daphne hated that they, including herself, were so eager to know what he'd just learned from the Slytherin's resident gossip.
"What is it, Draco?" Parkinson asked in her shrill voice, groping his thighs almost to the point of indecency, all in public view. Daphne shuddered but paid attention anyway. She will die before allowing herself to be debased in such a way, ever, to a wizard like Malfoy.
Malfoy chuckled. "It looks like we'll have more entertainment today," he announced, milking the information to make them all even more eager to know the news. "Guess who is participating in the Under-17 this afternoon."
The group silently mulled it over and Daphne couldn't even begin to guess. Who could it be that raised Malfoy's interest like no other? She couldn't guess.
"Is it Diggory? Or Bones?" a fifth-year spoke up.
Malfoy shook his head. "Bones has already been eliminated in Under-14, weren't you paying attention?" he spat, and then turned to the group, "Diggory is participating as usual, but I don't expect him to go anywhere beyond the round of 16."
Daphne looked at the stages. Diggory had been a regular participant of these tournaments but always lacked a certain ruthlessness and... something else that she couldn't name that caused him to falter at the more difficult stages. Not that she'd ever had any expectation from him. He was skilled, probably the most skilled student in Hogwarts by a mile, but still not so skilled that they'll call him the second coming of Merlin.
"Don't tell me that Flint is participating," Pucey jested to which he had to duck as a hand came to swipe at his head.
"Then who is it? Nobody from Hogwarts surely?" Nott speculated loudly, "We don't have anyone that'll even think of participating at this level!"
Malfoy grinned a shark smile. "I'm afraid, Theo, that we have someone new hoping to try their luck this time."
When a few more guesses from others, including some upper years went in vain, she was at the limit of her patience when Malfoy chortled.
"Today, Harry Potter is participating in the Under-17."
A slew of gasps lit up their box, everyone looking at each other and Malfoy in disbelief and some in downright amusement.
"That has to be a joke," Nott protested, "What are you playing at Draco? I don't see how Potter, our Potter will have any chance at going a single round without humiliating himself."
Malfoy shook his head. "It is no joke. Tell them Zabini," he ordered.
Zabini told them what he'd discovered but Daphne wasn't paying attention anymore. It did seem like an exercise in humiliation for Potter, unless he'd grown a pair and had gotten somewhat good with his wand.
As she watched her group beginning to take their seats once more, this time more animated than usual, she sighed. Perhaps a few more hours of this wouldn't hurt. It'll allow her parents more time to meet some of their friends too, and hopefully a few can extend their support like they'd done in the previous war.
But Daphne wasn't going to hold her breath for it.
She knew how selfish the world could be, especially the faction which her family belonged to. If they had a chance of saving their own hide at the expense of others, they'd take it without blinking an eye.
--_- .
Harry took a deep breath and readied himself a final time. The backroom had been empty when he'd entered and now, they were filled to the brim with participants for the Under-17. A lot were boisterous and some were quiet and Harry somehow knew that it was always the quiet ones that were the most dangerous in these things.
He'd gotten all kinds of looks when they'd come to learn that he, a not-yet fourteen year old wizard from Hogwarts, who was a non-entity in the duelling scene, was here for the Under-17. Some were pitying and disbelieving and many were hateful and sardonic.
Harry kept his thoughts to himself no matter how much he was taunted and ridiculed by the more mouthier members of the room. There would be no better way to tell them that he meant business when he went out and crushed them all on the stage. No better way to let them know just who they'd been taunting earlier and to see the fear in their eyes as they lay on their back in defeat, their will obliterated and their body beaten.
The gong sounded and his wrist flicked, his wand releasing with a click from his new holster, a gift from his Mum. He stepped out and walked to the stage to his first professional duelling match, the round of 128.